Day 2 Backpacking the Presidential Traverse
Day 1 Peaks Bagged:
Mt. Madison, 5,367
Mt. Adams, 5,793
We let ourselves sleep in. But I’m still surprised when I look at my phone and see that it’s after 7am. I’m thankful again that The Perch Tentsite has cell reception as I check the updated Mount Washington Observatory (MWOBS) higher summits forecast from the comfort of my sleeping bag. It looks similar to yesterday with chances for rain and thunderstorms, particularly in the afternoon, but now the wind has kicked up. Winds are now predicted at 50-65mph with gusts up to 90mph. Dan checks his Garmin inReach GPS weather forecast and it mentions near century-level winds (aka 100mph). Again, I picture us flattened to the rocky summit of a mountain, crawling our way to safety under the weight of our packs and fighting the wind. I imagine us at the peak of Mt. Washington, road walking it down or begging some tourist to take us to safety in their minivan.
We start to pack up our sleeping bags as we discuss options. I tell Dan again, as I had morning, “I’m up for whatever you want to do”. It’s good to feel like you’re on the same level of risk taking vs. self preservation as your hiking partner. The same level of crazy? Maybe. We review our bug out options, summit bypass routes, and alternate campgrounds if we can’t push it to today’s mileage goal. If we make it to Washington, I know of the Hermit Lake shelters along Tuckerman Ravine (Tucks). But that’s a big down climb. Doubtful we could recover that amount of lost mileage to finish the Traverse on day 3.
We’re going for it -- and we know our best bet is to shred as many miles and bag as many peaks as we can early in the day. We boil water for breakfast and try not to focus on our pending defeat. My face is puffy and I wonder why I decided not to bring Zyrtec on this hike. My allergy season is over in Pittsburgh, but here it still seems like there is something in the air. We have Benadryl, but I don’t want to risk any amount of drowsiness. My face is unpuffed by the time we hit the trail.
Starbucks VIA instant coffee hits the spot as we pack up camp and wait for our communal pot of Kodiak Cakes chocolate chip protein oatmeal to inflate. Breakfast in the mountains tastes amazing. We both agree that we’re feeling pretty good, not too achy this morning, but Dan still lets me lead a short and stretchy 12 minute pre-hike yoga to warm up our legs and stretch our low backs. Yoga every day for me means wherever, whenever, but this morning it doesn’t feel like I’m trying to cram it in. Using yoga to complement another workout or to aid in recovery is the absolute best.
There are a couple of campers still lingering at their campsite as we make our way down from “the crow’s nest,” and a quick chat with them reveals that their plan is the same as ours...and that gives us hope. Other people are also choosing to hike on. We’re not the only ones. We fill up on water at the stream and make one last stop at the composting privy before hitting the trail.
Dan finds us a slightly shorter alternate route up to Israel Ridge, meaning we don’t have to completely retrace our steps from our down climb last night and that boosts morale. We feel good as we start to move. The sun is out and the wind we feel as we start to make it out of the trees is refreshing and cool. The views are clear and beautiful and it’s impossible not to be endlessly in awe of the mountain views that surround us. We’re on the trail around 9:15am and it’s less than an hour before we’re starting to make our ascent towards the summit of Mt. Jefferson.
Before we broke camp, I thought I was being smart when I made the decision to hike in the clothes I slept in (my rationale, if we got soaked today, I’d have super fresh dry clothes tonight at camp) - I’m wearing old yoga pants and a Patagonia mid-weight capilene thermal top. It’s the perfect choice for the day -- except at this point in the hike I realize that I’m hiking commando (!) and roll with it for the rest of the day! (Sorry, not sorry.)
Approaching Jefferson, the relatively clear, flat saddle between the mountains suddenly becomes a steep wall of rock and we start the scramble upward. There are more hikers ahead of us now, and with each person we see out on the trail we feel a little bit lighter and less like daredevils. Yesterday, we encountered few other hikers headed in our direction beyond the Valley Way Tentsite. The Appalachian Trail thru-hikers are (mostly) headed northbound, in the opposite direction. We climb up the path over rocks and find ourselves at a snowy pass. We chat with another hiker in a neon thermal and very little gear, attempting the Traverse in a single day. I’m in awe of people that can do this, at least 20 miles (or more, depending on route), with 9,000 feet elevation again and challenging trail conditions -- not that I would want to do it that way. To me, this experience is one to savor.
We take our time to pass across the pre-set footprints in the snow, and for a little fun I feel like I need to throw a snowball. My mind flashes back to an old black and white photo of my Grandmother on her adventure out west in 1940, holding a snowball and wearing summer clothes, high in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
We hike on, the path is challenging but pretty nice compared to the endless tumbles of rock at some of the other summits. The weather is gorgeous. We’re already sweaty. Today our goal is to pace ourselves and take lots of snack breaks to maintain our energy. It’s going to be a full day of hiking to get to where we need to go. We stop at a rock not far from the summit and share Belvita cranberry orange crackers slathered in Spiced Chai Almond Cashew Trail Butter and half each of a Lemon Blueberry ERG! Energy Bar. This powers us to the top of Mt. Jefferson, 5,712 feet.
It seems a little silly as we hike the final steps up to it. We arrive on a flat crossroads of trail where maybe ten or so people are spread out having snacks or lunch, all around this huge pile of rocks. Is that the peak? It’s only maybe 50 or so feet to scramble up, but as we climb the final steps the wind kicks it up a few notches. I’m creating my own scientific scale of wind speed as we hike. How much wind does it take to gently steal a hat away? What yoga pose can I pull off in wind like this...or this...or this? Tree pose was not possible here, so I settled for a side plank variation beside the summit marker. At this wind speed, the allergy snot is suctioned out of my nose against my will. It’s an interesting phenomenon, creating the snot rocket of my dreams! (Again, sorry, not sorry.)
We climb down from the peak of the peak and march on at a victorious and giddy pace. Mt. Washington lies ahead and the weather is holding. According to Dan’s inReach super localized GPS forecast, which he checks again at Jefferson, we’re in the clear until at least 4pm. It’s 11am. Here we go! Today, we’re embracing the suck and telling ourselves we love the rocks, but on this stretch coming down from Jefferson the trail is beautiful and clear. I’m giddy for it, scampering along the clear swaths of the path and making good time. The flowers, purple and white, scatter colorful patches along the craggy alpine landscape. We can see the group of hikers we’d met at Jefferson just ahead. Soon, we come to the intersection of the Sphinx Trail, a known respite for hikers on windy days. We don’t stop. The wind is pretty constant but not unpleasant. We pass a woman hiking and she tells us that the wind was at this level when she was at the Washington summit. We’re a little over two miles from the top.
We pass Mt. Clay and don’t take the summit route (since Clay is not a president). We hike on, expecting to pass a small stream that is a water source, but either miss it or it is dry. We’re doing okay on water. We stop around noon for a final snack/power break before summiting Washington and split a pack of Jelly Belly lemon lime Sport Beans, hoping they give us power to fly up the mountain. I envision myself as Clark Griswold in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, rocketing off with a bang on his greased up saucer sled. In a way, it kind of feels like that as we take off from our candy and trail mix break, Mt. Washington or Bust. I feel like I’ve found my stride, feet practically flying over the relatively even rocky path, and soon we spot the Cog Railway climbing the mountain in the distance.
In some of our research for the trip, one blogger mentioned that the biodiesel fueled trains of the Cog put off a French-fry smell, but either it is too windy of a day, or that was just the writer’s sense of humor. We sniff and sniff but smell no fries, somewhere that blogger is laughing at how gullible we are. Carried on by our energy burst toward the base of the climb up Washington, my legs give out on a rock at an odd angle and I drop to the ground. I rebound up in a flash and laugh it off. Silly legs, you’ve got a long day ahead.
One mile to the top of Washington, we fly on and I laugh at how simple and tame the meandering rocky path of the Gulfside Trail is compared to the boulder field on Tuckerman Ravine. Near the top, we get good views of the Cog Railway cars as they pass, descending the mountain and we wave to those onboard. Up ahead, we get to cross the tracks and I imagine it as a long straight luge run and what it would be like to sled down. It’s the race to the top as the observatory comes closer and closer into view until we’re right beside it and all of the huge weather instruments that protrude from the summit, making it easy to pick out from anywhere we go. We climb the final boulders up to the top and the arrival here at the weather station and summit marker...and yes, the visitor center, is way less anti-climactic than walking breathlessly onto an auto road and parking lot from the Tucks approach. Also unlike last year, there are people at the top enjoying the beautiful day, and a short line of people waiting to take pictures at the one and only true summit sign on the entire Traverse.
Earlier in the hike I joked that in inclement weather they should have an express lane set up for anyone with a pack on their back so they could get off mountain as quickly as possible. We wait our turn, delighted to be here, and the wind isn’t bad -- around 40 mph with gusts at 56 mph. We strike a victory pose at the sign proclaiming the 6,288 foot highpoint, and then take our time at the summit, taking pictures, using the restrooms and checking out the gift shop. Most importantly, we stop to talk to the knowledgeable staff at the hiker/weather information station. Here, they have a computer screen that shows all the current stats like temperature on ground and at summit, wind speeds, and trends. I talk to a woman who calls another woman over to get her take on our outlook for the traverse. She seems to be the most familiar with the route and asks us our average speed (~1.5 miles per hour) and maps it out for us indicating areas of shelter and which parts of the trail are below tree line. Talking with her puts our minds at ease and makes us feel like we have a good probability of making it all the way to Nauman Tentsite, still around five and a half miles away. She tells us we may get wet -- which we’re prepared for, that weather is coming in from the Northwest, and obviously if we see lightning to get below tree line.
We fill up on water as a horde of tourists arrives on one of the railway cars, while others wait to board. Moving away from the crowds, we find Crawford Path, our route down toward Mt. Monroe and the AMC Lakes of the Clouds Hut. The trail is lined with cairns, each capped with a piece of white granite, almost giving the appearance of a row of street lights or torches to light the way. Dan and I are in good spirits on our descent, and making good time. I think my past experience with bad weather on Washington made it my greatest fear for the weekend, that we would have to bypass or bail out.
The stretches of trail where you can build a semi-normal stride across the rocks make you feel like you’re flying and making up time. We pass other hikers that are taking other routes down the mountain, and a trail runner or two. We can see Lakes of the Clouds long before we arrive and it becomes a beacon, our next checkpoint. The high mountain lakes are beautiful, a bit whimsical because they are so remote and relatively secret. A dog taking a dip photobombs us as we snap a picture near the water’s edge.
At Lakes of the Clouds it’s time for a proper lunch. The weather has deteriorated a little with clouds threatening rain, and we decide to go inside and get out of the wind. We choose a table with views, surrounded by windows and break out Dan’s epic feast of everything bagels, salami and cheddar cheese. The self-serve tea station is a little cheaper here, and we spring for $1 cups of tea and a big $2 bowl of pumpkin soup! Rain patters against the windows as we relax and refuel for the last big push of the day, 2 peaks down, 3 to go.
By the time we step back outside, the rain has stopped but the clouds remain. Dan is talking to a woman who hiked all the way from Valley Way and is feeling drained. As I join Dan outside, the couple we met yesterday on Valley Way walk up and we greet them with warm familiarity. Yesterday, it didn’t seem like they were planning to go this far, but maybe the good weather has pushed them on. It sounds like we’re all bound for Nauman Tentsite, which worries us a little -- what if they run out of space? We’re sure we’ll be coasting in on fumes at the end of the day with no option of hiking on.
With this motivation, we set off up Mt. Monroe, 5,372 feet, climbing fast, and it seems to only take a few minutes to reach the summit. Here, I’m able to strike a proud tree pose with Mt. Washington in the background, as we watch a wall of rain move toward us. Before descending, we shift into our rain gear, donning rain coats and slipping rain covers over our packs, and hustle on, ready to tackle the weather. I’m forced to carry my trekking poles, since they don’t fit under the pack cover -- but I won't make another attempt to use them.
By the time we reach the end of the descent, the rain has shifted courses and we start to shed our jackets, having only been hit with a few drops of rain. I’ve been sending silent messages to my Dad throughout the weekend, requesting good weather. I feel like if anyone has a karma pass to cash in on, it must be him. The trail ahead of us between peaks is gloriously flat, with crunchy small ground gravel that our feet can travel quickly on, and we’re surrounded by sprawling flowers. We hit another mini summit -- Mini Monroe or something similar, and it feels like a rip off. Extra work for no gain. We rejoin Crawford Path after the Monroe Loop and the couple from day one has pulled ahead of us after taking the bypass.
We catch up, saying hello again as we pass and then hang a left for the short side trail to bag Mt. Franklin, 5,001 feet (and not a president -- we’re kind of bad at history). The side trail didn’t cost us our lead on the other hikers, and we move on toward Eisenhower, looming in the distance.
Up in the high summits, it’s possible to see where you’ve come from and where you’re going during clear weather and we’re continually impressed as we watch landmarks shrink into the distance while others come into view. Okay, at this point in the day, we’re not necessarily thrilled at seeing more peaks that we need to conquer, especially ones that look like Eisenhower as we approach.
The trail banks down towards a mountain lake as Eisenhower rises, high and abruptly over the landscape. It reminds me of the feeling of hiking Angel’s Landing in Zion with the false summit, and looking on in disbelief at what’s to come. There is a bypass route, but that’s not an option for us as we head towards the Eisenhower scramble and summit head on. For as high and steep as the mountain looks, we make incredible time, feeling like mountain goats, finding the route up easier than we anticipated. By this point we know, the ascents are the easy part -- climbing down is what sucks time and hammers your joints.
Climbing to the top of Eisenhower, 4,760 feet, there are steps built into the trail and a change in the color of the rock to more burnt tones of red and orange. At the wide, flat summit there is a large pile of rock and I mark our 4th (5.5th) peak of the day with an eagle pose. The downclimb takes some time and Mt. Pierce, our next target, still looks far off and challenging, even though it is mostly below tree line.
We need energy. I’ve been silently singing the mantra, chorus “Keep Moving” by Jungle in my head, so I play it on my phone for Dan as we hike and it motivates us. I feel a little dancing lilt to my step as we try to pick up the pace on our climb down the rocks and a ladder-like short set of steps that is more like an obstacle than an assist in our tired state.
We’re still ahead of the other hikers coming down from the summit, but they’re hot on our tail and I’m feeling gassed, ready to make camp. We can’t stop. We dip below tree line about 15 minutes after Eisenhower, and the embrace of the pine gives me a boost of happiness. I refuse to stop for a snack break, so Dan pulls out a bag of nut and peanut butter cup trail mix that we can snack on as we continue to hike. I realize it's a challenge to breathe at a hiking pace while chewing. We’re traversing the trail now with many small bridges built up over areas of the trail that get muddy and it’s fun to walk on these boardwalks. The handfuls of trail mix that Dan pours refuse to give me any peanut butter cups and by the third mouthful I’m frustrated.
This trail is challenging. Rated 5/5 difficulty on the sites we researched and I’ve been debating on whether or not I agree. Dan was less prepared than I was for the terrain coming into this weekend, and says he can’t imagine a more challenging trail. This trail is definitely a challenge, but not to a degree where it has cost me my happiness. Now, at this moment, tired, at the end of a long day, a bit of my happiness starts to fade. This is where the challenge really sets in.
It’s 6:20pm when we arrive at Mt. Pierce, 4,312 feet, in kind of a, “wait, is this it?” moment. It’s not much of a peak, at least compared to the others we’ve experienced, a small rocky area surrounded by pines. There is a geological survey disk formally marking the summit, and here I strike a dancer pose, and a victory pose with Dan. We have technically completed the traverse. Mt. Pierce is considered the final mountain to bag, although we’re headed on to Jackson in the morning. For now, this victory is a great way to cap off the day.
It’s less than a mile to the AMC Mitzpah Hut and Nauman Tentsite, our destination. We feel like we have it in the bag, flying over nice wooded trails...but then we hit the rock. Sheets and tumbles of rock to traverse down over 500 feet before we reach camp. It is frustrating and brutally slow, punishing our sore muscles, ankles and knees and we keep watching, hopeful that the camp will come into view.
In reality, forever is actually about 40 minutes after our summit of Pierce when we drag ourselves across the small bridge to the Nauman Tentsite. We are welcomed by the caretaker, and luckily, they have a place on a tent platform that is big enough for both of our tents. They are at capacity, but fitting in every trail weary hiker that they can. I let the caretaker know that there may be a few more hikers with hammocks behind us.
There are bugs here. Nothing serious, just pesky small gnat-like flies that don’t bite, they just swarm. We spritz ourselves with Natrapel and set up camp, as quickly as we can next to the two other tents that are sharing our platform. We’re expecting some rain and wind overnight, so I’m thankful I picked up cheap, yellow paracord at Walmart at the last minute, and we tie down our tents to the anchor rings set into the sides of the platform. We’re exhausted. I tumble into my tent while Dan finishes setting up, and I try to organize my life in backpack form. Changing into warm, dry clothes is a game changer, but with the cool evening wind I wish I had one more warm layer. When I emerge from my tent, there is just a narrow path between the two tents, but enough to sit in as Dan starts to boil water for dinner. He hands me a flask of his homemade gin Manhattan and we toast to tackling a challenging day. Over ten hours of hiking and 5 presidential summits. We did it! I can’t imagine a better friend to share this incredible experience with.
We fill and stir our dehydrated dinners, leaving them to cook while we walk to the spigot at the Mitzpah Hut to refill our water. We realize a bit late that we are directly adjacent to the designated cooking and eating area for the campground, but we break the rules since we’re so close and eat at our tents -- rather in our tents for warmth. Tonight, I’m eating Good To-Go’s Pad Thai and Dan has Outdoor Heribvore’s Pesto Presto Matchsticks. We pass the gin Manhattan flask between tents, and later finish off my flask of Brown Sugar Bourbon, toasting to Dad for sending us good weather. I am amazed by my Pad Thai...completely smitten with it. I go on and on in ravenous appreciation, commenting again and again for about ten minutes on how good it is. But -- rookie mistake, I should’ve bought the double portion. I’m still a bit hungry after eating and we boil some extra water and split a pack of chicken flavored Ramen noodles.
It starts to rain and we build a small ceiling between our tents by layering our rain flys. As we finish dinner, we pack all our remaining food into the Ursack to be placed in the bear box across from the food area, and get ready for sleep. My phone is the only one with reception, so I pass it back and forth between tents so Dan can catch up, texting updates to Naomi. Tonight, I’m borrowing his Therm-a-Rest Neoair Uberlite sleeping pad, and it feels amazing as I climb into my sleeping bag and listen to the wind and rain.
After such a long day, I’m thankful that reception isn’t strong enough to share progress posts on social media, but I do take a moment to look back at pictures from the day before closing my eyes. A moment to soak it up and Just. Be. Amazed.
The final chapter from the trail is out now! It’s not the stroll in the park that we were expecting. Also, be sure to check out Dan's reflections of our time on the Traverse -- it's a quick read! Until next time, Live Wildly!
