Peak Above the Nubble
Submitted by Pat
Stats
Mountain: Peak Above the Nubble (3,813)
Date: September 18, 2011
Time: 5 hours, 19 minutes
Weather: Mostly cloudy, occasional sun, 60s
Miles: 5
Elevation Gain: 2,163
Trail: bushwhack
A bitter sweet day. On the one hand I was overjoyed to be heading to the White Mountains with Pinta to climb a mountain that counted toward the NE Hundred Highest list, a bushwhack, and that I would be hiking with friends who knew how to use map and compass. All week I had been anticipating this hike with Eileen and Bernie, so glad they let me know their plans and invited me to come along.
On the other hand I was leaving behind two sweet old dogs who had been part of my family for the last 7 years. A week ago Ariel, the female, had another stroke; she couldn’t eat, was almost blind and mostly deaf, was confused and couldn’t walk straight. Sam was completely deaf and could barely stand to eat his breakfast. They were both 14 years old and today Mary, my housemate, was having them put down. It was time for them to rest.
Sam and Ariel came to live with us when Mary decided she wanted to learn how to mush with sled dogs. Nancy actually had a sled she gave to Mary and she tried to learn with these two old sled dogs that had been retired from serious mushing. They were outdoor dogs, had never lived inside a house, and didn’t have the same social skills of say Pinta, a dog that lives inside. But they were sweet and brave and loved to go for walks. Sammy stayed very close to us when we walked, his lumbering gate and blue eyes gazing at us at all times, prancing his way down the trail, never straying far. Once Ariel got used to actually walking without a harness or a leash she loved to go for walkies. But she liked even more to explore on her own and sometimes came back to the house before the walk was over so she could eat horse poop or get into some kind of trouble with the trash.
I walked out to their pen and there they were, their heads together, leaning against each other, brown and blue eyes, cloudy and open, looking at me, hoping for breakfast. I gave them each a bone and touched them and said good-bye.
So it is with tears in my eyes that I urge Pinta into the back seat of my car and we drive to the White Mountains. The drive is quiet. I feel Nancy’s absence though I am comfortable with myself. Alone, I’m still okay. I drive right by Bernie’s truck that’s parked at the trailhead and have to turn around. But first I pull off the road because I have to pee really badly. I step behind my car and start to go when a truck comes by and pulls into the turnout too. I skootch around the car, pants down, pee flowing, no way to stop it, cursing. What are the chances of another car parking near me when I’m out in the middle of nowhere taking a pee? I laugh out loud.
We gear up, take our trailhead picture, and start off down the herd path. Bernie has already climbed Peak Above the Nubble, but, unknowingly, had used the herd path that went straight up the side of the mountain, very ecologically unsound, and the 4,000 footer committee asks hikers not to apply for their patch if they hike via that route. So Bernie is going back for an honor hike, to get it right.
I feel good, strong, happy, excited. I also let in the fact that Nancy isn’t with me and how much I love to hike with her. She writes about that in her trip report called The Space Between Us and I think a lot about that report as we climb. Here I am, hiking without her, and I’m enjoying it. Not only am I hiking, but I’m bushwhacking and enjoying it. I know a lot about the pain of missing people, the pain of losing friends, and I’m content on this day to be with me, inside my own skin, hiking with Eileen and Bernie.
We reach the start of the bushwhack after about 15-20 minutes of walking. Bernie takes out his GPS and sets a waypoint for our exact location, then we set the bearing of 40 degrees on our compasses. He takes the lead as we walk over rolling terrain and fairly open woods. The going is easy although we never move more than a few feet in a straight line. He’s jigging and jagging trying to find the easiest way through the woods and through the hobble bush. It’s kind of fun. I’m smiling. We reach the ridge in short order, take a GPS waypoint and set a compass bearing of 170 degrees and start up along the ridge.
I take over the lead at one point on the ridge, and almost immediately find that if I don’t look at the compass every few feet I find myself drifting off to the right. The woods on the ridge are open, very few spruce, but lots of hobble bushes to trap our feet as we walk through them. Mounds of moss and leaves and rotting bits make for soft, spongy footing in places. In fact I have to watch out because I posthole a couple of times when I fall through leaves covering holes between rocks that look solid but are not. The terrain grows more and more steep and I feel my calves complaining about the cruel treatment. Occasionally we stop to rest, but mostly we keep up a steady pace.
At the steepest point in the bushwhack we come out and hit the herd path that Bernie knows is up there, which will lead us the rest of the way to the summit. But first we walk left to check out the views and for Bernie to show us the herd path looking like it goes straight up the side of a cliff that he had climbed the first time. The herd path, although not officially maintained, is easy to follow and it’s beautiful up around 3,000 feet. The path isn’t steep and we walk comfortably upward until we find the summit canister. Way cool! The first mountain in years that I’ve climbed that actually counts toward an official list! I’m thrilled.
We walk to a clearing and admire the view of the nearby North and South Twin, Mt Hale and the more distant Presidentials. Interesting view. I don’t think I’ve ever seen those peaks from this angle. It feels wonderful to sit in the sun and eat my lunch. Bernie reads the entries from the log we find inside the summit canister. Also inside the canister is a laminated piece of paper commemorating the life of Ray Loring, who died of a heart attack climbing Peak Above the Nubble in September of 2008. Eileen reads the tribute out loud.
Finally we pack up our stuff and start back down. From where we intersected the herd path on the way up we start down another herd path, but that peters out after a few tenths of a mile and we are on our own. I lead the way down although Bernie has to correct me a couple of times because I keep heading straight down instead of traversing both to my right and down. At one point, we enter a moose parlor and I see a single antler lying on the ground. I pick it up to show Eileen and Bernie and they insist I keep it. Eileen carries it down the mountain for me. We reach a low lying area that must have been logged some time ago because the views are expansive and the walking difficult as we push through hobble bush and thick brush. We follow what looks like a path toward the east and eventually meet up with the main herd path that leads back to our cars.
Pinta is happy to hop in the car and lie down. I’m happy to take my boots off and sit down. I wave to my friends as they head for home and feel a good, warm glow inside my heart. I have accomplished something that I wanted. 11 more summits to go, all bushwhacks. I feel great!