The Horn, The Bulge, Cabot, Terrace, Weeks

On North Weeks summit

Eleven Mountains on 11/11/11
Eric and Matthew Gilbertson

November 11, 2011 (11/11/11)

The Horn (3905 ft)
The Bulge (3950 ft)
Mount Cabot (4170 ft)
North Terrace (3650 ft)
Middle Terrace (3650 ft)
Terrace Mountain (3655 ft)
North Weeks (twice) (3901 ft)
Middle Weeks (twice) (3684 ft)
South Weeks (3885 ft)

21.2 miles hiking

“That gate wasn’t closed when we came in,” Matthew observed, as we pulled our Subaru Outback to a stop in front of a big metal gate across the road. We were on the dead-end side of York Pond road in northern New Hampshire, having just completed a long hike and looking forward to a new set of mountains in Maine the next day. But those plans might change if we got trapped on the wrong side of that gate. I jumped out of the car to investigate, and as I got closer it looked like a fat lock hanging from the end securing the gate in place. Uh oh.

…

The trip started with a night drive through torrential rain, fighting tons of other cars all trying to get out of Boston for the long Veteran’s day weekend. That rain was supposed to change over to snow up in northern New Hampshire, and for the first time I can ever remember I was secretly hoping it would stay all rain. We were trying to climb the Horn, North Weeks, and South Weeks to push us past 90 of the top hundred highest mountains in New England, and the shortest way to do all three in a day was a 21-mile loop. That distance is no problem on a dry trail, but throw a foot of snow on top and you might just double the length of your day.

We pulled in to the York Pond trailhead at 10pm and luckily the rain hadn’t changed to snow yet. But, it was still raining so we decided to practice the purest form of car camping and sleep in the car that night. Fortunately the Subaru Outback we’d picked up from Budget had fold-down seats that made the rear just long enough for us to throw out the sleeping bags for a comfortable night.

The next morning the ground was soaked but not snow-covered, so we donned our running shoes and headed up the Unknown Pond trail at 7am. By the second mile we started seeing a dusting of snow, and soon everything was blanketed with a fresh inch. The running shoes were no longer the right tool for the job, so we switched out to our normal, less-comfortable, hiking boots.

We soon passed Unknown Pond and then the side trail to The Horn. I remember a few years ago passing this same side trail on my way to my last New Hampshire four thousand footer – Mount Cabot – but deciding the 0.3-mile side trail was too far for a mountain not on my list. When planning this weekend’s trip I had thought “dang it, if only I’d had the foresight back then to tag the Horn, then I’d only need to do a 12-mile trip today instead of the full 21-mile loop.” But there’s an appeal to always having some remaining unclimbed mountains to work on, and it’s not really possible to forsee every future mountain list I might work on.

I suspect in the future I might look back at this weekend and think “dang it, if I’d only had the foresight to bushwack a quarter-mile farther from The Horn, I could have tagged Unnamed Peak 3752.” But this time around I didn’t care too much about Unnamed Peak 3752, so it would just have to wait.

It turns out the Horn is one of the few mountains I’ve encountered in New England that involves non-trivial scrambling to get to the top. The summit is topped off with a huge boulder that you actually have to scramble up to reach the true top. It was even more interesting with a thin layer of slippery snow on top. Matthew took the standard slabby route up on the West side, while I tried my hand at climbing a big crack on the East side. I imagine there would have been a cool view of the presidentials from the top of that boulder, but we were socked in by clouds so couldn’t see a thing.

We soon headed back down and continued over The Bulge (also one of the New England Hundred Highest), and then to Cabot. For some reasons the mountains in this area actually have signs on the summits with the mountain’s name, unlike almost every other trailed peak in the whites besides Mount Washington. It was getting pretty cold now and thinking about snowing again, but luckily for us the old ranger cabin near the summit was still intact and able to provide shelter. I thank the local boyscout troop who keeps the cabin in such good shape.

After a quick lunch at the cabin we headed down to a col, and then up and over the three local maxima that constitute Terrace Mountain. On the way we encountered one trail heading southwest with a sign saying “trail no longer maintained.” I remember hearing a few years ago of an angry land owner at the base of this trail who posted on the Views From the Top hiker forum that anyone crossing his land to get to one particular trailhead would be shot. I suspect it was this trail.

Our last leg of the day was an out-and-back stretch to hit North and South Weeks. We thought about leaving any extra gear since we’d be coming back here anyways, but since we had already brought the bare minimum of clothes, food, and water, we couldn’t really afford to leave anything. By this point in the day I was beginning to regret still hiking in the old boots I had on. They weren’t really that comfortable, and I could feel several bad blisters forming. I guess the only reason I was hiking in them at all was because I’d gotten them for free from a friend who didn’t like them. I had to endure the pain this time, but vowed this would be the last weekend for those shoes. My grad student stipend could cover a new pair.

We made it up to North Weeks no problem, then down and over Middle Weeks and finally hit South Weeks. Ninety-one mountains done from the New England Hundred Highest! We were six miles away from the car now, and covered the remaining trail back over Middle and North Weeks no problem, making it back just before needing the headlamps.

When we encountered that pesky gate on the way out, it turned out it was only fake-locked to deter people from entering. I easily swung it open and Matthew drove through. With the last hurdle overcome, we pressed on into Maine that night for our next set of mountains – Redington and Abraham.