Monadnock has the distinction of being the most-climbed mountain in the country, and the volume of people on the trails this past 4th of July weekend did nothing to disprove the claim. We were advised at the gate (after paying the $4 apiece) to take the White Dot Trail up and the White Cross Trail down, but ended up taking the White Cross Trail both ways.

This was a steeper and rockier ascent than what I am used to, and it was also my first true “hike” up a 3,000 footer. It took me about two hours up and 1:30 to come down, during which time I was never alone on the trail for more than a few minutes. I was surprised to even see a few families with young children, even on the more dangerous last third of the hike, which involves climbing up the bare, treeless summit. The winds at the summit were amazing; one hiker had his backpack blown out of his hands and back a ways down the slope! I noticed that the highest rock lacked a BM, but there were indications that a BM or other marker had been there once. I did locate two reference markers on rocks near the summit.

Lamoille County, VT: Mount Mansfield, Adam’s Apple 4120+ feet

My brother and I decided to tackle Mansfield by foot, since he had developed a taste for mountain climbing while in Europe last fall, and the topography around Gaming, Austria is apparently very similar to the Green Mountains. We ascended via the Long Trail, beginning at the trailhead just past the Gondola station.

This ascent made Monadnock seem easy. I recalled a report on cohp.org which theorized that fast hikers could make the ascent in an hour or less; we booked it, and still it took two hours to ascend the 2.3 miles and approximately 2,500 feet of gain. The terrain was muddy and extremely wet, and there was a constant risk of slipping. Still, the trek was well worth it for the views along the way, as well as the amazing panorama which we took in while sitting atop the Adam’s Apple. I noted that Mount Washington, Jay and Big Jay, Camel’s Hump, Signal Mountain (I think) and Mount Marcy were all visible. East Mountain may also have been visible, but I didn’t have a map for reference.

After my brother’s ascent to the Chin, we descended in about 1:30. Congrats to Tyler for his first state highpoint in the U.S.!

As for myself, this makes 31 county high points.

Greylock, at 3491 feet, is the highest point in Massachusetts, and there are several ways to get to the top. The popular Thunderbolt Ski trail, accessible from the down of Adams, is a steady (but steep) approach from the east. There are several approaches from the west via the Hopper Trail, and two roads (Notch and Rockwell) which provide motor vehicle access to the summit.

Hikers looking for an alternative eastern approach might want to check out the Chester Harbour trail, which is a steady easy walk-up and should take less than two hours. This was my target route, but confusion regarding the directions and signage of roads in Adams caused me to arrive too late, since I was attempting to outrun a coming thunderstorm. But for everyone else’s benefit, this is how you get to the CHT trailhead: from route 8 headed north, in Adams, take a left onto Prospect, and then a left onto Harmony street. Follow Harmony street past the park and stay left at the fork, where it becomes Fisk road. Follow Fisk road until it ends and take a right onto West road, and then a left onto West Mountain road. Follow this road to a garden store with the trailhead on the left. The trailheads in this area are signed, so it isn’t hard to find the right one once you’ve navigated the roads.

Note: Although West Mountain Road is also “Camp Hamelin Road” and referred to as such in some reports, it is not signed as Camp Hamelin Road anywhere along its length from the turn off of West road all the way up to the trailhead. I am not sure why it is called by both names, and even google maps show alternating names. Do not let this throw you off! Simply turn onto West Mountain road from West road, and follow it to the lot for the CHT. Simple!

Having arrived too late to do the hike, I chafed at the idea of having to come back a fourth time (!) to bag this highpoint, so I swallowed my pride and drove to the summit via Rockwell road. Rockwell and Notch appear to be open now after having been closed for improvements. The drive up is pleasant and picturesque, with several good views to the west and, as you round the summit, to the east and northeast as well. Kim and I reached the top in about 16 minutes and parked in the lot there (make sure you have $2 for parking–we didn’t, but the ranger was nice enough to let us in anyway). From there it is a stone’s throw to the memorial tower, which we circled and climbed for good measure. The views from the top were very impressive, especially looking down on Adams.

Among the peaks which were visible from the summit: Berlin and Stratton Mountain, Mount Haystack, Crum Hill (via the Hoosac Range), Mount Monadnock, Hogback Mountain, and Wachuset Mountain. Visibility was 40+ miles.

That makes 5 SHiPs and 29 CoHPs (inclusive). I have 16 CoHPs and 2 SHiPs so far this year.

The pathetic thing is that I have lived just a stone’s throw away from the high point, and yet only managed to get up there once. Considering that I was only eight or nine years old at the time, I don’t consider the highpoint “got” because I wasn’t looking for it at the time. On a whim (which is the way these things usually happen) I drove up there from the much more popular Nevers Road Park, leaving my car in the dirt lot off of Niederwerfer Road at the town wildlife sanctuary.

I’ve come to this spot a couple of times before, intent upon getting to the high point. But I must confess, the inherent spookiness of the place is overwhelming; the trail is kept relatively neat, but the tall and dense conifers which surround the trail give the impression of a dark, dead forest. This area is also a problem if you are EMF sensitive, because of proximal power lines which pass near the trail and, at two points, which you must pass under on your way to the high point. Personally, I find the combination of the EMF (perceived as a sensation of being on “pins and needles”) and the low, constant buzzing that these wires emit to be very unnerving, and on one occasion two years ago I turned back rather than pass under the wires.

This time I decided to go anyway, and ran (literally) under the wires to the other side, and came out of the woods at the top of a broad slope. Looking west from a bench at the height-of-land, you can see Barber Hill (home to a Christmas tree farm) as well as the Metacomet ridge and Hartford Skyline. It is not a bad view at all. I also located BM Neider just off the trail, a reference marker. The height of this point is estimated at around 424 feet. It turns out to be higher, more exciting, and less aggravating than many of the high points in Rhode Island. Hmm.

My hike began at the Mt. Washington State Forest headquarters in (you guessed it) Mount Washington, MA, at 11:30 in the morning. I wrestled with the idea of driving further down East Road and parking at the AMC lot nearer to Mount Frissel, but thought that the hike up and down Frissel would be needlessly strenuous.

I set out on the blue-blazed Alander Mountain trail after signing in at the register. Trip reports about this hike are accurate insofar as this portion of the hike IS deceptively easy, at least for the first couple of miles. The trail passes over a few picturesque streams and climbs steadily upward at a slow pace until about the 2-mile mark, not long after you pass the primitive camping area. At this point the trail begins to climb more steeply up Alander’s eastern face for the remaining mile and a half, passing a shelter and then emerging near the rocky summit. At the intersection with the white-blazed South Taconic Trail I turned south, toward the summit, and followed this for 500 feet or so until I stood on the former site of a tower of some sort. A BM was in the rocks nearby, indicating the summit at 2,239 feet.

The summit of Alander is in Berkshire county, MA. This means that the high point of Columbia county NY is farther down the trail, at about 2,110 feet on the mountain’s southwest slope. To get to this point, I followed the trail south, guided by white blazes painted on the rocks. The views from near the summit were spectacular, and I stopped to rest on a rocky outcropping (and possibly near the Columbia high point) and ate my lunch while looking down on the Hudson River valley. Looking directly west, the Catskills (including a very prominent Hunter Mountain) were clearly visible. I have to confess that, despite what happened after this point, I couldn’t have picked a better day for the view from this point. The Catskills are around 40 miles from the summit of Alander, and the view in all directions seemed limitless. The view was so expansive that it may be possible to see Mt. Greylock looking north, not necessarily from Alander, but from Brace. Whatever the “hump” was that I could see in the distance was clearly more distant than the Catskills, although I suppose it could have been one of a few other peaks to the north as well.

A few minutes after leaving my perch, I passed the state line marker which Dan Case described as “433′ Southwest of Bound 9,” and which is supposed to indicate that you are in the vicinity of the Columbia high point. Ultimately, I wasn’t satisfied with the readings from my GPS and decided to revisit the point on my way back. From here, I continued south on the trail, toward the distant Brace Mountain. My hike so far had taken 1 hour and 40 minutes, and covered 3.5 miles.

The descent down Alander involved a treacherous hike/slide/roll down the south slope, and I began to understand why “easy” hikers prefer the eastern approach; simply put, the trail descends over 500 feet in just over .33 miles, and much of this is poor trail composed of dust and loose rocks. By the time I reached the col between Alander and Brace I was exhausted, and had to take a few moments before I was ready to hike again. Thankfully the hike up Brace from the col was much easier. After about an hour of hiking I came into a clearing with a clear view of Brace and its storied cairn, and a short while later I was standing triumphant on the summit. And seconds after that I collapsed in a heap on the ground and lay there gasping for some time. It was 2:40 PM, and it had taken me about 1:50 to go the distance between Alander and Brace.

The good news was that, after touching the Cairn, I could claim the Dutchess high point at 2,311 feet. The only problem I had at this point was whether I was in the right place: Ron Tagliapietra’s report indicated that a small trail behind the cairn led the way to the “true summit.” I sighted the area but was confused; the cairn was clearly the highest thing around, and there was no trail anywhere to be seen. It was only later, after I arrived home again and did some additional research, did I realize that Tagliapietra was describing Mt. Frissel’s high point, not the high point of Brace. The telling detail is his description of Riga Lake as being “to the southwest;” Riga Lake is southEAST of Brace, but could be construed as south or southwest of Frissel. The description of the Cairn and the trail leading to the “true summit” would accurately describe the approach of Frissel from the west, so I can only assume that his report was based on this rather than Brace. In any case, the cairn on Brace is the high point, no question, no doubt.

After spending a few minutes rejuvenating, I started back down the trail and made a nearly fatal decision to revisit Mt. Frissel. This involved a 2-mile detour (round-trip) along a red-blazed trail, which diverges from the South Taconic trail just a little ways north of Brace’s summit. After passing the famed NY-CT-MA tripoint marker, it was another half-mile to the inglorious green stake that marks Connecticut’s highest point. I felt that visiting the CT highpoint evened the score a little bit, and now my successful attempts tied my failures, 2-2. It was 3:10, and by my count I had hiked 9 miles in roughly 3.5 hours.

So having reached this point, the only question that still remained is whether I could survive the hike back to my car, or get out of the forest before dark. I must confess that I am a novice hiker, and a 5-mile hike would have been the longest hike of my life, let alone a 9-mile hike, and let alone a possible 18-mile hike. But I didn’t really have a choice, so I did it.

On the way back, I stopped again at the summit of Alander to explore and see if I could divine the high point, which sits on the county/state line. Ultimately I did find it, apparently on the first rise about 100 feet north of the county line marker, and at the advertised elevation: 2,110 feet. I reached the point at 5:00 PM, and then descended back to my car by 6:40.

Ultimately, this hike nearly killed me. I was out there for 7 hours and hiked over 18 miles. But I did manage to complete the Taconic Triad, and wasn’t eaten by any bears in the process.

Ultimately, the name “Taconic Triad” is a bit of a Misnomer. The high points of Bennington cty VT, Washington, Rensselaer, Columbia, and Dutchess counties in New York, Litchfield county Connecticut and Berkshire county MA are all members of the Taconic range, to my knowledge. So the Taconic Septuplets is more appropriate.

A few days later, on 4/23, I was passing near the New Jersey high point in Sussex County, and decided to bag it. I won’t say much about it because it was an easy drive-up from NJ-23 to the high point (called “High Point”), and a short walk-up to the monument at 1,803 feet. This was my fourth state high point and my 28th high point overall.

Essex County, MA: Holt Hill, 420 feet.

At the time of the ascent, Holt Hill was the lowest high point which I had climbed. I arrived on site at 11:55, parked at the Ward Reservation parking lot on Prospect road, and walked past the private homes to the trailhead. I thought I would do a quick ascent, but ended up on the Rachel loop trail instead. This extended my hike time by 5 minutes or so, but it was a pleasant side-trip around a smaller hill and through a small wooded area. Looking left from one point on the trail, the view across the hill looked remarkably like a classic Windows desktop. In the end I was glad that I took this trail rather than the shorter summit trail, since the Rachel loop took me past some interesting ruins as it climbed Holt Hill.

The summit of Holt Hill is home to a nice view to the south, with Boston visible in the distance. On the summit itself are a series of solstice stones, a tower, and two large reservoirs. I sighted the ground and determined that the highest elevation was next to the first reservoir, but this was clearly artificial. I Lobdellized around the solstice stones and tower, and in the process found the BM. This may or may not be on the highest ground, so I recommend gridding a bit to make sure. All in all, this was a nice short hike with a pleasant summit and good view. Much more rewarding than either of my last two highpoints in Rhode Island, even though they were higher. I returned to my car via the shorter summit trail, passing a Death Star-like reservoir hidden in the trees north of the trail.

Once back at my car, I read the reservation signboard and took an interest in the bog, which is southwest of the hill and accessible by skirting the boundary of the private property next to the lot. A sign indicates the direction to the bog, so walking this way appears to be OK. The bog itself was interesting; a narrow boardwalk winding perhaps .25 miles, if that, through a bog and out to a quiet pond. I saw a snake and disturbed a pair of ducks along the way. The air definitely smelled like a bog. On my way back I passed several other hikers, and returned to my car at 12:45. 15 minutes to hike the hill, and 30 minutes to wander the bog. I then set my GPS for Suffolk County.

Suffolk County, MA: Bellevue Hill, 330 feet.

It took nearly an hour to locate this point, mostly due to congestion in Boston. I have heard rumors that the transit authority in Boston is planning to cut service substantially, and I would hate to see traffic on this route during rush hour with mass transit cut. The hill itself turned out to be pretty anti-climactic, a short walk up a driveway to a pair of large reservoirs at the summit. The highest ground appeared to be between a tree and a metal pole, directly in front of my as I walked up the drive. Some workers were chatting in their trucks next to the spot, and I felt very self-conscious wandering around up there. I didn’t stick around too long, and was back in my car after only 8 minutes. It was 1:45.

Norfolk County, MA: Great Blue Hill, 635 feet.

Great Blue Hill is only about 20 minutes from Bellevue, so I was willing to stop here first before getting some much-needed lunch. I parked at the museum lot and started to work my way up the trail. The trail eventually terminates where it meets a paved road, which I followed to the right. Eventually, the road is intersected by the Red Dot Trail, which is signed as a trail to the summit. This is true, but you can probably get to the summit faster by just following the road. The Red Dot trail took my through a Devil’s Den of rocks and boulders to a false summit with an observation tower and a few cairns strewn about. I saw higher ground, though, and followed a faint trail (little more than a game path, really) to a parking area and, beyond that, the larger Observatory at the actual summit. I reached the summit in just under 30 minutes, and determined the highest natural ground to be the rocky shelf next to the tower, directly in front of me as I approached. There was no BM or marker, so I stamped around a bit and also circled the observatory for good measure.

There were nice views to the east and west, and this would not have been a bad place to linger for a while. As it was I had an agenda to follow, and walked around for a few minutes before walking briskly back down the road to where it met the trail again. I reached my car at 2:50, for a total climb time of 45 minutes.

Interestingly, I have read reports suggesting that Great Blue Hill is the “highest point on the Eastern seaboard south of Maine.” The East Peak of Meriden Mountain in CT, at ~900 feet (I can’t remember exactly) is also sometimes given this title. I may have to do some research on this topic, but something in my heart suggests that both claims are specious.

Bristol County, MA: World War I Veteran’s Memorial Park, several knobs, ~390 feet.

I arrived at the WWI park at 3:40, after stopping for lunch across from Foxboro Stadium (or Gillette Stadium, you corporate sellouts). I was surprised to find the park heavily populated with small children and other wild animals, as their is a petting zoo on site. I parked in the lot right next to the zoo, drawn to the lure of animals. For some reason, I never lost that childish fascination with petting zoos, and took many pictures of the animals as I walked toward high ground. Actually, the highest lot can be found by following the road past the petting zoo and parking at the base of the observation tower. Here, there are three obvious candidates for the highest ground: a large rocky contour directly next to the lot, another rocky rise behind the observation tower, and a picnic area to the southwest. A fourth “invisible contour” is also supposed to exist, but is apparently lower than the other three.

Now personally, I’m no fan of small children and even less of a fan of their over-protective, paranoid parents. I felt very uncomfortable wandering around trying to find the high ground, enduring the stares of bewildered onlookers as I hopped from one rise to another, attempting primitive hand-levelings and snapping pictures as I went. I determined, and later confirmed based on concensus, that the rise behind the observation tower is higher than either the picnic area or the rocks next to the lot. I recommend visiting them all to be sure, and doing so should only take a few minutes anyway. I was back at my car by 4:00, and antsy about getting to Newport.

Newport County, RI: Pocasset Hill, 302 feet

I hopped on the highway and headed toward Pocasset Hill, which is the highpoint in Newport County, Rhode Island. A traffic jam along the way slowed me down, and it started to rain, so I was having doubts about being able to do Bristol County, RI, as well. I eventually reached Pocasset Hill road at 5:00, and parked in the turnabout at the highest point on the road. It was immediately obvious that high ground was not directly in front of the reservoir, but next to the road off a short path into the woods. Here a rocky outcropping and scattered boulders presented several possible highpoints, so I stepped on all of them. I also located a BM, although this was not on the high ground. I got back in my car five minutes later and assessed my situation. It was 5:05, and I still had plenty of light. The rain had also abated, so I decided to go for it and finish Rhode Island.

Bristol County, RI: Mount Hope, 221 feet.

I arrived at Tower street at around 5:15, after a terrifying drive over the most frightening bridge I’ve ever seen; the narrow, high, two-lane (!) Mt. Hope Bridge. The sign at the turn said that the Museum’s galleries were closed, which didn’t bode well. I continued to drive and figured on scouting the area, and found it heavily posted. It was also apparent that the road which was noted in some reports was private, and possibly owned by someone other than the Museum. Past that intersection the road was signed as private museum property, and I grew increasingly nervous. However, at worst I could plead the “I was lost” defense, and in a sense it would be true. I parked at the gated jeep trail and sat in my car for several minutes, going over my options.

Finally, I decided that I had come too far to turn back. I sprinted around the gate, up the road to the second fence and crawled through the hole, listening as I went for the sound of vehicles. Once the road ended, I followed game trails through several thickets and thorn plants until I reached a rocky area which appeared to be high ground. After Lobdellizing and fist-pumping over my victory, I descended back to my car, cautiously.  From a distance I thought I saw another car and freaked out, thinking that I was caught! But it turned out to be my own car, sitting there unmolested. I climbed in, caught my breath, and the booked it out of there.

The history of Mt. Hope is kind of interesting. It seems that Metacom, or King Phillip, maintained his war council there during King Phillip’s War, and was actually killed on the mountain. In actuality, Metacom was a fairly cosmopolitan individual who purchased his clothes in Boston, rejected Christianity because he believed it would impede his ability to govern, and who resisted the encroachement of colonists and other native tribes. The Metacomet Ridge, which bisects Connecticut, is named after this “Osama Bin Laden” of the colonial era.  But one wonders: 400 years from now, how strange would it be  if we named landforms after Osama?

The total time for the ascent and descent of Mount Hope was 15 minutes, with no views, cairn, or BM. But this completed the wholly uninteresting state of Rhode Island, where my highpointing journey began.

That makes 25 CoHPs, including 3 SHiPs. I’ve ascended 12 CoHPs this year (in the last four weeks, really) which already matches my total from last year.

On an interesting side note, I stopped by Gates Hill for the third time, with the intention of wandering around and chilling in the graveyard. I arrived to find that the wooded area behind the graveyard has been cleared of trees for about fifty feet, making determination of the high ground easier. Several candidates, including the ground around the stone wall between the towers, and another rise and boulder next to the northwest tower, are more easily seen and compared now.

Kim, two of my brothers, and myself were on our way to Providence to visit a friend at JWU. I took this opportunity to persuade them into going slightly off-route so that I could bag a couple more of Rhode Island’s nondescript and boring highpoints. I had previously been to RI in 2007 when I bagged the state highpoint, Jerimoth Hill. But at an underwhelming 812 feet, even the highpoint of this state is boring and anticlimactic, which didn’t bode well for the smaller county points that I was climbing on this day.  From I-95 northbound, we took exit 4 and hung a right onto RI-3, and following a very short drive turned left on RI-165 and right onto Black Plain road. The grassy access road to the point is just after the number 97 mailbox coming from the south. We parked and, with Kim and Brendan waiting by the car, Tyler and I sprinted up the path to the clearing.

The clearing at the end of this path is small, dirty, and piled high with tires and automobile entrails. It also appears to be pretty flat, and the rises that we did see appeared to be manmade. I was disappointed, but took a reading of about 574 feet, with a certain margin of error. None of the natural landmass in that area appeared to be any higher. Upon returning home, I checked other trip reports and found that there was some discussion about where the high point is, since the contour is large and flat, and any of a number of candidates could be the true highpoint. I don’t believe there is a significant elevation difference between the clearing and any other area on the hill, so I think if you find this spot (endorsed in other reports as well) then you have found the point. In any case, we didn’t feel like wasting our time by looking around any further.

Kent County:  Bald Hill, ~650+ feet.

After hopping back on I-95, we took exit 5 and followed RI-102 west (or north?) over some rises and then hung a left onto Plain Meetinghouse Road. The road climbs around Bald Hill, and we stopped in front of the house at mailbox number 218. A large boulder sat in the front yard and looked like a good candidate, so I hopped on top of it and then jumped back into the car. On the way back down, I noticed the dirt road just a few feet from the boulder, with a “for sale” sign, so we drove down that and back. There were several good candidates for the high point, and I sat on one boulder that looked like a good choice. The actual summit here is impossible to determine because of the development, and even the boulders may not still be in their natural locations. I thought that height-of-land might be in the backyard of the house at 218, but it was impossible to tell. The difference of elevation between the yard and the boulders looked like less than a foot, so I considered this one done and we continued on our way to Providence.

Normally I would be a little pickier about staking out the exact points, but we were on a schedule and didn’t feel like wandering aimlessly through people’s yards. Neither “summit” has a view, cairn, or any other marker of distinction. Truly boring. I have two more counties to finish RI, but I’m not all that enthusiastic about driving out there again. That makes CoHP’s numbers 18 and 19.

I set out at 7AM and found myself on the south shore of Plainfield Pond in Plainfield, MA at about 9AM, after a pleasant drive from Hartford to Holyoke, Northampton, and then into the Berkshires. My previous experience of the Berkshires was slightly to the south, in Hamden County, when I climbed Round Top Hill in August. I found that the area around West Mountain had a very familiar feel, which mitigated some of my anxiety about hiking alone, which is not my usual modus operandi. Although I had wanted to hike alone in order to escape some of the pressures and stresses of my busy life at home, I found that I missed having that added moral support when my high anxiety surfaced. But in any case, I arrived at Plainfield Pond and parked in the most westerly pulloff, and proceeded to berate myself for having forgotten the memory card for my camera. I had also neglected to factor in the possibility that there would still be snow on the ground, since most of it had melted away in Connecticut. Rookie mistakes. I trudged on anyway, making my way due directly south toward the summit of West Mountain.

West Mountain attempts to fool you with mock summits as you ascend, like a step-pyramid. I found a fairly well-defined ridge and followed it, again staying on a southerly bearing. The snow was thick and hard enough to support my weight as I glided across it, but this presented difficulties on slopes. More than once I lost my footing and slid back down a few feet. However, after about 25 minutes I made it to a flat, rocky summit maybe 60-80′ in diameter. I immediately hopped on the largest rock and looked around the summit for anything higher, but could not find anything. I stamped around a bit to make sure I had the highest groung (and found one of the BM’s in the process, just southeast of the rock) but could find no higher ground. I descended in 20 minutes, mostly by sliding down on my rear. Not a bad hike, but no views from the summit. I can imagine that the views would be spectacular if the summit were clear, particularly with the pond peeking teasingly through the trees at points. Other trip reports indicated the presence of a lumber company sign, as well as a cemetery, but I found neither. I was back at my car at 9:50.

Franklin, MA: Crum Hill, 2841 feet and “spot elevation”  1800′ north of Crum Hill.

I proceeded to follow 116 toward Adams. Originally I had planned to access Crum Hill by going through the State Forest in Savoy, but I found the road impassable in my decidedly NOT 4 wheel drive vehicle. I opted to head for Adams instead, and eventually made my way over a ridge and was greeted by the looming megalith that is Mount Greylock. Now, I don’t know if you’ve seen it or not, but Greylock is the most intimidating mountain I’ve seen yet. It rises up out of the valley with a topographic prominence of 2,470 feet–it is the highest mountain for miles, and seems almost like it doesn’t belong there. I had plenty of good views of the mountain as I passed by, but remarked sadly that my objective lay to the northeast. I continued on MA-2 up a terrifying switchback and into Florida/Monroe, MA. From there, I took a left onto Tilda Road and followed it to the intersection with Bliss Road, where there was a small parking area. Directly across the road from where I was parked was the trailhead, signed as a snowmobile trail. Signs also indicated that the owners of the property nearby wanted hikers to stay on the trail, which I did.

However, this was not easy. Although this hike would be simple in good weather, the snow became an even greater problem here than it was on West Mountain. Snowmobiles had packed the snow down, reducing traction on the path itself, and this was particularly dangerous as some portions of the ascent are steep. I managed to make it up to the first summit, the point “1800′ North” of Crum Hill’s true summit. Here, just a short bushwhack from the trail and at the edge of a large clearing, is a tall cairn. The clearing is obvious as you reach the top of the trail, and I continued on the trail around the clearing about 70 feet before bushwhacking to the cairn. Apparently the cairn is more difficult to see in the summer months. From this point, looking north, were good views of some of the mountains in Vermont, including (I believe) Stratton Mountain. To the northeast it has been alleged that you can see Monadnock in New Hampshire; this is probably true, but I wasn’t looking for it and did not see it. Visibility was fantastic though, and the view was phenomenal. To the west, you cannot see Greylock but you can see the intimidating Blackpoll Mountain, which looks higher but isn’t, according to topo maps.

After lingering here for a few minutes I went back to the trail and followed it due southeast, bearing right at the well-signed intersection, until the trail reached a second clearing. Here, the downed remains of the wind testing tower were strewn about on the ground, and I was extremely glad to see it. My vertigo is intense when I’m close to tall objects, so I was happy not to have that variable to deal with. I continued through the field and followed the trail as it began to wind around the southwest side of the now-obvious rise which is Crum’s true summit. After a few minutes I broke off the trail, bushwhacked to the large, flat summit, and hunted around for the register. The snow made any search for a specific height-of-land almost impossible, and I’m not convinced that there really is a distinct “point” on this summit that is measurably higher than any other point. I found the register, which was hanging about three feet off the ground, and then returned to the trail, sinking in the snow several times along the way, one time as deep as my thigh. (Incidentally, when I re-read trip reports, I found that the register was hung “about two meters” above the ground, which meant that I was walking on the crust of three feet of snow). I returned to my car and started writing notes. My total time up was 35 minutes including a short search for high ground on the summit and time to admire the view at the spot elevation, and 25 minutes of sliding and tree-grabbing terror as I caromed downhill back to my car.

Others have hand-leveled in an attempt to determine which of the two points on Crum is higher, but I did not take readings at either point. My opinion would be that the spot elevation is more “worthy” (having a cairn and a view) but I think you need to reach both points in order for it to count. Having conquered Crum Hill, I then followed MA-2 through the gorgeous Hoosac Range and the Deerfield River valley, with spectacular views all along the way, until I arrived at I-91. This was CoHP number 14 and 15.

Incidentally, apart from the Greylock range, Crum Hill is the highest point in MA. The best view of Crum was from MA-2 just east of the turnoff for Tilda Hill, at the Moore’s Summit (or Whitcomb Summit) area. There are amazing views from here, but looking north you can see both bumps of Crum Hill.

Westchester, NY: BM Bailey, 980 ft.

From CT-116 in Ridgefield I turned onto Barrack Hill Road and followed the winding and sometimes precarious street up to where it splits, veering left onto Pine Lake road. The road becomes a dirt/gravel/rock road at a gate, which was closed when I arrived there. So I simply parked and walked up the road for perhaps .3 mile, and then bushwhacked to the obvious ridge. A path with orange reflectors on the trees went to the right from the road, but I ignored it. This is not a difficult bushwhack and I got to the top in 20 seconds or so. I found the orange witness marker, which would have been difficult NOT to spot, but was unable to locate the BM even after much frenzied digging. Between the fallen leaves and intensifying rain I gave up on the BM, stamped around a bit to make sure, and then returned to my car. Total time up and down was less than 40 minutes, but had I not spent time looking for the BM I could have done this in half the time easily. A boring high point, but I was excited to have a high point in my sixth state.

Fairfield, CT: 1 mile south of Branch Hill, 1290+ feet.

From there I took CT-116 to where it intersects with NY-121, followed this to US-6 west, and then hopped on NY-22 northbound. This was a very pretty drive, particularly between Haviland Hollow and Pawling, with nice views to the west. In Pawling I made a right onto Quaker Hill Road, also signed as NY-67 (although my GPS stated that this was Mizzen Top Road/NY-67). I then took a left onto Kirby Hill Road and ascended to the driveway signed as 61 Kirby Hill Road. As previous reports have indicated, the driveway was heavily signed but not gated. I was most concerned with the sign regarding the armed patrol, but steeled myself for a sprint and drive in, parked at the woodpile, crossed my fingers and set out with my handheld GPS.

Now, the signage at this high point is very important. The owners are alleged to not be home during the week, but there is a caretaker at one of the houses (who has granted permission to hikers in the past), and I qould advise hikers to get permission before hiking, even if it’s a short sprint. I was feeling antisocial and thought I could get away without asking permission, but this is not advisable.

I had marked a waypoint based on a topo map, but it didn’t take me long to realize that my waypoint didn’t match what I was seeing at all; rather, from my starting point by the woodpile, the waypoint had me following a path directly southeast. Had I followed it, I would have ended up on the state line in the neighbor’s chicken coop, so I jettisoned my original plan and picked a path to follow, clumsily trying to remember other reports After about 20 minutes of stamping about I found no sign of any marker, either near the stone wall or further down the slope, and I was beginning to worry about being discovered in my state of blatant trespass. Tired and frustrated, I gave up and returned to my car.

At that moment I remembered that the GPS which I use in my car, unlike my handheld, shows state boundary lines. So I retrieved it from my dash, turned it on, and then made a B-line through the woods to the state line, roughly NE from the woodpile along a mossy path for about 300 yards or so. Once on the state line, I found myself on a shoulder of land which continued south, and I followed it along the line until I stood face to face with the dull, gray, moss-covered marker mentioned in other reports. I touched the marker, checked my GPS, and let out a sigh of relief–and then heard a car drive up and sprinted back to my car in a panic. Thankfully it was neither the owners nor the police.

Previous reports mention following the stone wall north from the woodpile along the state line until you reach a marker; however, the stone wall is not on the state line, but actually a few hundred feet into New York based on my GPS reading. I don’t think that any marker found near the stone wall actually qualifies as the high point because it would seem to still be in New York (although to be truthful, I never found the “second” of the monuments supposed to be in this area). I would make the argument that the smaller monument NE of the wood pile is the high point, based on the GPS reading and the way the state line passes (clearly) on the slope of the land there; from the monument, following the line in either direction takes you downhill, and it is easy enough to see that the monument stands at height-of-land on the line.

This hike completed the state of Connecticut, 8 counties total, and brought my total CoHP count to 17.

We did get a chance to explore Rutland whilst searching for someplace to eat, including the minature Diamond Run Mall and some of the historic areas of town. There really is nowhere to eat in town, at least nothing that interested our palates. We found a Price Chopper and procured ingredients for a tasty chicken and fetuccini alfredo dinner and then finished it off with pints of Ben & Jerry’s. There was also an interesting program about the Hell’s Angels on A&E which I watched for a while. Gotta love that gang warfare stuff.

After checking out the next morning we followed U.S. 7, much as we had on our previous trip to the area. This time we stopped to check out the Vermont Teddy Bear factory in South Burlington, but were scared off by a creepy guy sleeping amid the bears. It was weird. And our objective was in the Green Mountains anyway, so we hopped on I-89 and headed toward Waterbury, passing the Camel’s Hump along the way. Once in Waterbury we stopped for gas along a stretch of road whose vistas included glimpses of a very tempting Mount Mansfield to the west; as noted in previous entries, I’ve had the chance to summit on several previous occasions, the most recent being three years ago. I felt the call of the mountain and sat back down, turned to Kim and declared my intention to summit at whatever cost.

The cost, as it turned out, was $25 to ride the summit toll road to a “Base Station” at about 4,000 feet. Given my failure at Equinox Mountain, I was unsure whether this would be a comfortable experience or not; I’ve driven this road before, successfully, but Equinox had fried my nerves somewhat–curse the mountain. In any case, we drove the very pretty 4-mile road in about 15 minutes, just enough time to work through some Devin Townsend before we came to a rest in the highest parking lot.

Because this was spur-of-the-moment, we were a little unprepared, swapping normal hiking gear for whatever extra clothes happened to have been discarded in the back of my car in the previous few weeks. Thankfully, this consisted of several hoodies and undershirts, and we bundled up and hit the trail. The trek from the parking lot to the summit is a 1.5 mile traverse of the summit ridge, heading north. The easiest part of the trail is the first .8 miles or so, between the “nose” and the “upper lip.” Once you reach the lip, things get more difficult. I passed beyond my previous “high point” and continued on the trail with Kimi following behind, until we reached the top of the “bottom lip” about .5 miles from the summit. Here the winds picked up, and looking south, we were now looking down on the rest of the trail. At this point we were concerned about the weather, so I sprinted the remaining .5 miles up to the summit, crossing through krumholtz and what Kim called “hobbit forests” of stunted trees. Near the summit there was snow and rime ice, and the winds continued to gather speed.

This is NOT an easy sprint, and I don’t recommend taking this trail at speed. Parts of the last half-mile are tricky or even dangerous if you don’t watch your footing, either because of ice, poor footing, or difficult trail. I made the last half-mile in less than 15 minutes, and then collapsed and sat on the benchmark while I caught my breath. A friendly park ranger took my picture at the summit, and then I descended. The descent was marked by winds the likes of which I’ve never felt before, and I was worried about anyone still left on the summit being blown off into oblivion. Kim and I made the descent back to the car in about 30 minutes, for a total round-trip distance/time of 3 miles/100 minutes. Once back at the car the heat came on, and I basked in the glory of my conquest: 4,393 feet, the Chittenden county and Vermont state highpoint.

N.B.: from the summit ridge looking west, I am fairly sure that you can see a distant Mt. Marcy, New York’s state high point, if you can distract yourself from the view for long enough to survey the landscape out there. After the descent, Kim and I stopped at Cold Hollow Cider Mill on route 100 in Waterbury, where we purchased some superlative maple syrup and other items. This place is awesome; visit it. Also, I broke ranks so to speak and have yet to ascent Mt. Greylock, but will hopefully remedy this soon.

The first attempted ascent was no attempt at all, but a Gondola ride up to the lodge in 1995-96. Considering that I was with my mother at the time, who was herself 50 years old, and had two younger brothers there as well, and none of us were too eager to get to the summit for some reason, we contented ourselves with a gondola trip descent and more than likely didn’t get above 4000 feet. On the second attempt, in 2004, I ended up in Stowe with a (now) ex-girlfriend and her younger brother and sister, and we managed to locate one of the trails which extends from Smuggler’s Notch up to the Long trail, coming up the eastern face of the mountain. These trails are rated fairly high in difficulty, as we ultimately discovered, and we ended up doing other (and probably unprintable) things. I have no idea how high we got that time.

A year later I managed to come back with the same girl, this time by ourselves, and against her protestations I took the auto toll road up to the parking lot and steeled myself for the hike. Using photographs from that trip and topo maps located online, I’ve been able to surmise that the legendary turning point was roughly .5 miles and 243 vertical feet from the summit, on the “Nose” of the mountain at about 4120 feet. At this point Beth refused to move another step because she was afraid of falling off and dying; if I remember correctly, her exact words were something to the effect that if I went over the edge, no way in hell was she following me. Excited though I was to be within striking distance of the summit, this comment deflated me and we descended. The actual spot is located right about HERE, and as you can see, it is a pitiful jump from our ending point to the summit.

Sadly, my summit attempts with companions suffer a relatively dismal failure rate.