Submitted by Pat
Stats
Date: June 3, 2025
Weather: Mostly sunny, high 70s
Mileage: 12.19
Elevation Gain: 1,289
Trails: Woronoco Tr, Round Pond Tr, Mountain Tr, South Ridge Tr and Connector, Old Road
Nancy and I hike 12-miles in Pawtuckaway State Park today. We meet at Danielle’s Diner in Epping, hoping for a better experience than we had last week. There’s no sign on the road for Danielle’s and I almost drive by. I stand out by the road and wave when I see Nancy’s orange Jeep. Her eggs over easy are too easy and my scrambled eggs are undercooked. I eat them anyway, concealing them in toast and sausage. We plan our hike and drive to the main parking area where we meet a ranger who tells us how to get to the Woronoco Trailhead.
The day is cloudless and still as we walk the 3/10s of a mile down the main road to the trailhead. We have half of the Woronoco Trail to trace and it’s a beautiful trail as it weaves through undulating forest. We walk out and back. Once we return to the intersection, we turn right down the Round Pond Trail which is as wide as a road and saturated with mosquitoes. The Ben’s bug dope we put on works well, but I forget to spray my ears, hair, and the back of my neck. Once I take care of that task, my frustration with the buzzing insects lowers to a more moderate level.
The Round Pond Trail eventually reaches a park road where we see people parked there. That means we can park closer to the trails that we still need to trace the next time we come. We hike a short section of the Mountain Trail and return to the road. We decide to climb Middle Mountain – adding another two miles to our day. I feel anxious about my ability to maintain an uphill slog and slog we do, while the mosquitoes buzz around us, sweat drips, and breathing becomes louder, while the oven birds make their distinctive teacher, teacher, teacher call. He is heedless to my struggle.
We reach the summit, take a selfie, and sit on a rock eating a delicious cookie Nancy brought for us. I only eat half of mine – not sure why. While we sit, Nancy notices a beautiful, delicate wildflower that reminds me of columbine, but these flowers are yellow and pink. I take a picture and identify it using PlantNet as a rock harlequin. What a great name!
After a decent break, we head back down. As I walk, I see a flash of something flittering away to my right. I look toward the movement and spy a small nest on the ground with four blue eggs. Perfection. We take a quick picture and leave so the mom can return to her unhatched brood. Next time, maybe put your nest far away from a hiking trail.
Once back on the park road, we gird our loins for a short, 4/10s of a mile climb up the Tower Trail to South Mountain’s summit. Wow, after 9 miles, my legs are toast. I stop every fifty feet or so and bend over, stretching my back and breathing. The trail is weirdly marked and in poor condition from erosion since it is straight up.
We arrive at South summit and take a break. Nancy eats an apple while I eat half of a sandwich. I try and sit but for some reason I can never sit and relax on a hike – to sit, rest, and look around. I stand after sitting for a minute makes my butt numb. A thistle feeder hangs on the guy wire from the tower, and several goldfinches come to feed. A young man in jeans, a cotton shirt and sneakers carrying a small thermos of water arrives as we are packing up to begin the long walk back to the car. He is moving fast, working hard to outpace the mosquitoes. We see few other people on this day.
We begin the descent on the South Ridge Trail, which is a well-worn trail over ledges and strewn with pine duff and leaves from last fall. I lead for most of the day and move fast because the bug dope on my arms is losing its effectiveness and the skeeters are biting me. Ratchet up the panic. We arrive at the Mountain Trail and continue our journey with hundreds of mosquitoes as our color guard. I feel raw with anxiety and finally give in and put on more bug dope, knowing I am going to smell like Ben’s on my hour and a half drive home.
The Mountain Trail is one of the corridor trails that caters to snowmobilers in winter. We walk around a dozen wet spots, black, oozing mud and lo and behold, more skeeters. We finally make it to the end of the trail and, without pausing, begin climbing the last 3/10s of a mile up the road. Hot sun, no breeze and no mosquitoes worth mentioning. Those last tenths of a mile on asphalt at the end of a long day are tough. We hike twelve miles, and we are cooked, done – well done.
Back at our cars, we share a cold drink she so kindly brings and revel in our accomplishment. I feel tired and proud, and the drive home via country roads listening to a little reggaeton relaxes me. I did it. Me. Out of shape me. Happy.