The Moose and the Supermoon That Wasn't

I am now firmly convinced that there is a direct, negative correlation between the degree of preparation and eager anticipation for an event and the likelihood that it will actually happen as planned - especially when it involves something as fickle as the weather! 

 

It all started early last week when I heard on the morning news that the moon's closest encounter with the earth (this year) was to happen on August 10th.  It was not going to be just another full moon, but it was to be the closest and largest "supermoon" of the year.   I am a sucker for cool and dramatic displays of nature so as soon as I heard about it, an idea was born!  I have seen a few supermoons in my time, but they have always been an unexpected surprise  - and I am usually in the most mundane place imaginable when they occur (imagine a giant orange moon, perfectly framed by power lines, as it rises over a grocery store...yea, not what I'd call picturesque).   But now consider this:  simultaneously watching the sun set and the biggest supermoon of the year rise from the top of a mountain - what could be more epic than that?   Umm...Nothing!!!   The very thought left me giddy with child-like excitement.   But I knew there was one very important variable that could make or break my plans - the weather!  So I quickly hopped on the internet to check the higher summit forecast for the weekend - it was still a few days out, but it was looking good!  Woohoo!!

 

It wasn't difficult to pick the perfect mountain for this adventure.  Mt. Moosilauke (aka "the Moose") met all the criteria - it boasts 360 degree views from the summit; it's relatively short and easy (good since I'd be hiking down in the dark); it is the closest to home of all the 4,000 footers; and, most importantly, I hadn't climbed it yet!    The more challenging task was finding someone to go with me.  I normally don't mind hiking alone, but I had to admit that I was a little intimidated by the thought of a solo moonlight hike.  My husband was my first choice for a hiking companion (and not just because he's got mad photography skills), but unfortunately he had to work.  So I asked my trainer (nope), some hiking buddies (nada), and my niece and nephew (a last-minute date with busy teenagers on summer break?  Ha!).  As a last resort, I started telling everyone at work about my plans, hoping to lure someone in with the promise of an exciting adventure.  And it was there that I finally found a victim volunteer!  With all the details worked out, everything was coming together quite nicely - or so it seemed!  But now I'm getting ahead of myself...(rewind).

 

The day of the long anticipated adventure finally arrived.   That morning I got a last minute 5 minute tutorial from my husband about how to use his camera and tripod (no inferior camera phone for this adventure!) and by mid-afternoon I was off to pick up my hiking buddy.  The drive up was fun and went by quickly.  

 

 

We arrived at the trailhead right at 5 PM.  The moon was scheduled to rise at 7:35 PM, leaving us about 2.5 hours to climb the 3.7 miles to the summit.  Some of the neighboring peaks were in clouds, but sky over the Moose was clear and blue! 

 

Here we are looking fresh and happy at the trailhead: 

 

 

 

As implied by the name, Gorge Brook Trail follows along a river.  There were several foot bridges to assist with the multiple river crossings.

 

 

 

 

As we hiked deeper into the woods, we left the Baker River behind, but the trail continued to flirt with a pretty moss covered woodland stream for another mile or so.

 

The beauty of the trail was further enhanced by cool lighting from the late afternoon sun streaming through the trees.

Lots of birch trees lined the path...

About 2 miles in, we encountered our first viewpoint.  We were a little disappointed to see the sky was starting to cloud over, but there were still pockets of blue so we were still hopeful.

But it wasn't long before we started to hear some distant rumbles of thunder.  And storm clouds...

The thunder seemed to be getting closer, but the sky above our summit didn't look quite as menacing.  There were even hints of the sunset.  By this point we knew were not likely to see the moon rise, but we still wanted to reach the summit so we soldiered on...

And then it started to rain.   We continued on for a little while, but it was very slow going.   My co-worker, who had never hiked before, was in a lot of pain from brand new hiking shoes.  She kept insisting that we keep going, but she was wincing with every step.  I knew we needed to turn back.  The last half mile was along a totally exposed ridge.  It was already getting dark, the storm appeared to be getting closer, and my friend was in so much pain that I didn't think she'd be able to run for shelter if it came to that.  So, with the summit in view, we reluctantly and somberly turned around and headed back down the way we came. 

It rained steadily as we made our way back to the shelter of the deep woods.  The wet rocks were slippery, making the descent even more tedious.  At first we hiked down in silence, both of us lost in thoughts of disappointment.  Then we passed the time by telling stories, and talking about life, love and religion.  LOL.  After about 45 minutes, the rain stopped and the sky began to clear.  We even caught a glimpse of the moon through the trees.  Of course, it had already risen high in the sky by that point, so it just looked like a normal full moon. 

Despite my disappointment over how the day had gone, I couldn't help but notice how peaceful the wilderness is at night.  I thought I would be on edge hiking in the dark, seeing bears lurking behind every dark shadow, but I wasn't nervous at all (that's a good thing too - since it took over 3 hours to descend!)  We finally arrived back at the car right around midnight - tired, sore and still a bit disheartened that our adventure was such a dud.  But as I drove home, I realized that, for me, this summer is all about stepping outside my comfort zone.  I've always been a very cautious person, which usually means I tend to play it safe and don't often take risks.  I will probably always be more cautious than not, but I decided back in June that I was going to try new things and seek out adventures.  Sometimes things just don't turn out exactly as I hope they will.  The important thing is to not let the disappointment stop me from enjoying life to the fullest. 

So....I hear there will be another supermoon in September.  Who wants to do a moonrise hike with me?  :)

P.S.  Yesterday (August 16th) I returned to Mt. Moosilauke to take care of some unfinished business.  I had already hiked the Osceolas that morning and I didn't have a lot of time so I made quick work of it.  I reached the summit in 1.5 hours and jogged most of the way down for a total round trip time of 2:37.  The Moose and I might be 1 for 1, but at least I got the last word :).

Nature's Therapy - Hiking the Osceolas

Since mid-June, I’ve spent every weekend hiking in the White Mountains.  On Saturday mornings, I am usually awake before dawn and eager for my next adventure to begin.   But today I wasn’t feeling the usual anticipation.  It had been a long and rugged week and the beckoning call of my bed seemed much more compelling than that of the distant mountains.  Yet I knew the mountains were exactly what I needed to get my mind off the negative and back into a good space.  So I threw my gear together and off I went.  

All week I had been debating which peaks I would tackle this weekend.  As I drove up, I still wasn’t entirely sure of my plan, but I knew I was starting with the Osceolas from Tripoli Rd, an 8.4 mile “out and back” route with just under 3,200 feet of elevation gain.  I briefly considered taking the slightly shorter and steeper trail up from the Kancamangus, but I settled on Tripoli Rd for no other reason than because I have a certain fondness for it.  Tripoli Rd (well, not the road itself, but the exit sign from Route 93) is the location of my favorite view of Franconia Notch.  I look for it on every drive up; it is my official “you have arrived at your happy place” landmark.  One of these days I’ll stop and take a proper picture.  In the meantime, here is a shot I took while driving (I know, bad habit).  I hesitate to post it because it doesn't even begin to do it justice!

I arrived at the Osceola trailhead just before 9AM.  This is a popular hike, but apparently I wasn’t the only one getting a late start because there were only a handful of cars already there.  It was cloudy and cool for an August morning – just the way I like it!   After dousing myself with woodland perfume (aka bug spray), I slung my trusty backpack over my shoulders and made my way to the trailhead.  I never used to take pictures of trail signs, but it seems all the hikers are doing it, so I have conformed!  

As usual, I found myself getting drawn into the solitude and uncomplicated existence of the forest life as I hiked.  It's like a magical world where stress and racing thoughts simply disappear.  I couldn't tell you what I think of when I'm hiking alone; I'm not sure I think at all.  Generally the only thing I'm aware of is the sights and sounds of forest critters,  babbling brooks, the rhythm of my breathing, and the cadence of my feet hitting the trail.  It is very therapeutic.

The trail's terrain varied from very rocky and rough...

To smooth and gravelly...

There were also several sections with long slabs of smooth, angled, slippery rock...

There were a few challenging sections, but overall, the trail was fairly easy to navigate.  I hiked quickly, stopping only briefly to snap some pictures along the way.  I made good time, arriving at the main summit in 1 hour, 16 minutes.  As I approached the summit, I was happy to discover that the clouds had started to break up while I was hiking.  There were still some wispy clouds clinging to the mountains, but I had a nice view of Waterville Valley below to the right...

And East Osceola, my next stop, dominated the view to the left...(although in this picture, it's the peak on the right).

There were several other people on the summit already, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that the view was enhanced by silence, so I found a rock to call my own, shrugged off my pack, and enjoyed my mid-morning snack in quiet contentment.

The air was still cool, but the sun was warm.  In fact, it was so pleasant that I was tempted to remain in this spot for the rest of the morning.  But East Osceola beckoned from afar.   My trail guide had already given me a heads up that the trek to the East peak was going to be a bit more arduous and the summit itself would not offer any views as a reward for my effort.  But I've become a peak bagger - if it's on the list, I must go! 

East Osceola, here I come!

Shortly after I started hiking again, I heard rustling in the woods.  I knew it was caused by something much larger than a squirrel, so my first thought was that I was about to have a run-in with a moose or bear.  But then I heard the familiar jangle of metal dog tags and, seconds later, a black dog emerged from the woods with no human companion in sight. 

He seemed friendly and eager to see me, so I patted him on the head for a bit before continuing on.  He followed me for quite a while before scampering back into the woods.  I briefly wondered if he was lost.  (I found out later his name is Jackson and he always hikes far ahead of his owners.)

The trail to East O. was fairly steep in sections, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated.  Some sections looked like a narrow channel that had been cut by a machine...

Other sections were littered with broken rocks...

And then there was "The Chimney" - a fairly steep climb up a narrow section of rock wall that looks a bit like...you guessed it...a chimney!

This way up!

Close up view...



For the most part, there were plenty of hand and foot holds, but there was a brief moment halfway up where I thought to myself, "okay, now what?"   I did eventually figure it out and felt rather proud of myself for having navigated this section with relative aplomb and no panic attacks!

(Those who are familiar with this trail may notice that I'm taking some liberty with the natural order of things here.  I did not have to ascend "the Chimney" until my return trip to the main summit.  There is a less steep by-pass for the descent which I gladly took advantage of.)

After "the Chimney," the trail eased up some and, once again, I found myself zoning out - so much so that I cruised right past the summit cairn without noticing!   My GPS finally drew me out of my reverie with its announcement that I had travelled a total of 5.0 miles so far.  I was supposed to reach East Peak at the 4.2 mile mark...oops!  I was wondering why the trail had been descending rather than ascending for so long!!  Right after that, I encountered another couple going the same direction.  I asked them about the summit and they confirmed that I had indeed passed it almost a half mile back.  Instead of being disappointed that I went too far, I was secretly glad (in a way that only a Fitbit owner would understand) - 50 extra "floors" to my credit!  Woohoo! 

Not to mention, I would have missed the only view if I had turned around at the summit...

After about 10 minutes of steady climbing, I saw the summit cairn.  It was about 4 feet tall and stood prominantly at the highest point on the trail.  I had to wonder how I managed to miss it the first time!

Selfie at the Summit...

There wasn't much to see at East Peak but the pile of rocks, so after the requisite summit picture, I did an about-face and headed back the way I came.

When I arrived back at the main summit, I saw that the clouds had dissipated even more, so I stopped and snapped a few more pictures of the incredible views.  The summit was a lot more crowded than it had been earlier that morning and the hushed silence was gone.  I didn't linger long.   

The remainder of the trip down to the trailhead went by quickly.  While I generally prefer loop trails, I do also enjoy the out and back routes.  I like to see how many rock formations, trees, stumps, trail sections, etc. that I remember seeing on the trip up.  It's a little game I like to play; today I counted 30.

Before I knew it, I was back in the parking lot - peaks 25 and 26 done in exactly 4 hours!  On my way down, I had made a decision about how I would spend the afternoon.  The "Moose" (aka Mt. Moosilauke) and I had some unfinished business to take care of after last week's failed attempt.  But I'll save that story for another blog post.