Bayle Mountain
Submitted by Pat
Stats
Mountain: Bayle Mountain
Date: October 26, 2024
Weather: 50s with a brisk 20 mph wind, mostly sunny
Miles: 3
Elevation Gain: 795
Nancy and I meet at the Village Kitchen in Moultonborough for a hearty breakfast. I can’t believe how long it has been since we last saw each other. It is wonderful to give her a hug. During breakfast, I tell her that the Sentinel Mountain trail (our second mountain planned for the day) may be closed. There are problems with logging and private landownership. We decide on a “we’ll wait and see” attitude.
The day is cool with temperatures in the 50s and a brisk, 20-mph wind sends thousands of leaves frisking through the air. It’s sunny with grey clouds scudding by, some carrying a quick rain shower. I’m relieved when the rain passes us by.
We walk on a snowmobile trail that begins at an orange gate within sight of a wooden bridge. The path is wide, allowing us to walk side by side, and is littered with leaves. We walk and talk, feeling relaxed and at ease with the day. We come to the Bayle Mountain Trail marked by a small cairn on the left side of the path and begin walking up the spine of a short ridge.
The trail starts easily through deciduous forest with the occasional fir tree. The walking is easy until we’ve traveled a couple of tenths up the trail, and leaves form a brook where the trail is supposed to be. Rocks stick their granite heads up through the leaves in warning. The walking becomes tentative because beneath the leaves hide rocks, roots, and other detritus.
The trail steepens and climbs through a boulder field. Leaves cover everything that isn’t at least 6” tall. Our poles are lifesavers. As we climb, the steepness increases. We stop to rest often and I’m thrilled that I don’t experience any shortness of breath.
[Note: I’ve been struggling with occasional shortness of breath since the mid-2000s. They thought I had asthma. Nope. The latest effort to find out what’s going on with me was a full cardiac workup. After wearing a heart monitor for a week, it showed that I experienced some intermittent v-fib during moments when I experienced shortness of breath. It doesn’t happen all the time and the prognosis is good. I’ve decided to keep hiking.]
We see several other hikers as we walk. I’m surprised by the ease I feel when greeting and talking with them, chatting – something I hate to do although I can chat with the best of them. Many have dogs, and I’m enchanted by the variety of canines we see.
Eventually, we start walking on steep slabs. We come to a long, steep slab that is dusted with leaves. I walk up, not without anxiety over the possibility of falling, managing to get up without a slip. Nancy starts up and immediately her injured Achilles tendon begins screaming. I suggest she save her tendon by sidestepping up, but the fear bubble has been pierced, and she starts to cry. Nancy hates feeling scared. I hate feeling scared. Being scared destroys the moment and the whole hike suddenly feels scary. She gentles her courage muscle, and I rub her back. We continue walking.
As soon as we hit tree line, there is nothing to block the wind, so we stop and put on another layer. The summit offers 360° views, and we realize we’re not yet hungry so we take some pictures and begin the slip/slide back down.
This is the first hike with Nancy since our trip to the Canadian Rockies last September. Life gets in the way. I’m amazed at my strength and stamina, considering how insanely out of shape I am. I feel strong, and at the same time I realize that this short, 3-mile hike is enough for me. I’m trying not to push so hard anymore.
Once below tree line, we encounter the leaves. It’s like walking on ice without spikes. I rely on my poles for forward balance and the slow, measured placement of my boots. Step by slippery step – we are intensely focused on the descent. I don’t remember seeing anything but my boots desperately seeking purchase with each step.
We are relieved to finally reach the lower ridge again. My guess is that Nancy wants more exercise for the amount of driving she does to get up here. I don’t blame her. For me, I’m happy to have gotten out of the house and hiked a 3-mile trail to a summit that counts towards a patch. I, for one, feel pleasantly exercised. Climbing another steep, slippery mountain feels like pushing. Even if it’s only 1.7 miles in length. I ask what Nancy wants, and she acquiesces, saying I have already said what I want. I feel like she lets go of her desire for more exercise quickly. Finally away from the slippery leaves, we both return to the present and grow calm, wearing the end-of-the-hike glow of contentment.
Reaching the car, Nancy said she could go for a Chai Latte, and I suggest the Cup and Crumb in Moultonborough. Yes! It’s open! The latte, accompanied by a gluten-free chocolate chip muffin and a maple-pecan pastry for me, is delicious. Most important, though, the latte is HOT.
We leave each other in the parking lot of the Village Kitchen with promises to hike next weekend if all goes well and bag Big Ball Mtn. or Mt. Flagg to get ourselves closer to the Ossipee 10 patch. I love my friend, Nancy.