April 29, 2022         

                                          "One can do worse than be a swinger of birches"  Robert Frost

Easter is over at church--which is a relief--and spring is finally here, even up north.  Normally I take Mondays as my sabbath but this week I took it on Friday so I could head up Mount Shaw with Allison.  Shaw is a member of the 52 With-A-View list.  While I am certain that I have climbed some before.  I do not remember them well, so I am starting over.  Shaw's neighbor is Mount Roberts--#1 on this go-around.  Shaw is #6. 

Mount  Shaw is reachable from the "Castle in the Clouds" park in Moultonborough, NH.  The park name comes from one of the industrialists who used the area as a private playground in the early 20th Century.  It was originally the name of his house. Mount Shaw is also named after one of those industrialists.  During Shaw's time as owner, Robert Frost--through a complex of social and family connections--used to hang out there.  

That is something to think about while hiking.  The guy had a good eye for nature.  He is worth examining a bit past the school curriculum poems if you have the time.  In any case, this mountain is a poetic place.

We hiked it on a clear, cold, windy day.  The route we took was about 9 miles and meandered through leafless hardwoods (probably not many birches, actually) and over smaller hills on it way to the top.  Spring is a good time to head up.  The walk consists mostly of a network of snowmobile trails, which are busy in the winter.  In addition, this mountain is very close to Lake Winnipesauke, which means in-season traffic and crowds.  We were there before the chaos.

There were others on the mountain of course but we had our immediate area pretty much to ourselves most of the time.  This was particularly true at the beginning. In fact, we had an early hike encounter with an adult Black Bear and two cubs.  We stopped in our tracks and waited for them to make their way to wherever they were going.  We couldn't get a clear picture and weren't about to disturb them.  It was very, very, cool.

The color palate on the walk was mostly browns and grays with the occasional evergreen breaking the landscape a bit.  The bare trees gave us some great off-season obscured views we wouldn't have had otherwise.  The walk was relatively easy, with a few hard-working, sweaty bits--at one point we were walking up a rocky stream bed--but generally manageable.  The one piece of advice that I think is pretty darn important is to either bring a map or take a picture of the one on all the kiosks near the bottom, or both.  There is no direct route up Shaw.  We hit five trails on our way.  Each is color coded to the map so, if you have a map, you will ultimately make it.

We made it to the top for some fabulous views north into the White Mountains.  There is still snow on some of the taller peaks.  It was very windy so we tucked our way into a side trail for rest and snacks before heading down. 

​As we were on our way back we met and chatted with a retired couple previously from near where we live in Massachusetts.  They live in NH now. They had done "the lists" and made their own to work on.  I like hikers in the north.  In the 'burbs if you say "hi" to someone on the sidewalk they usually react with fear or annoyance.  As a Mainer it took me quite a while to get used to not talking to strangers when I am walking in town.  This was a great opportunity to be back in northern New England and not feel like passing the time of day with a stranger is an imposition to them. 

We took this hike to get in shape for things to come as mud-season fades.  That said, it was a workout in and of itself. 9 miles on the flat will get to you.  These ups and downs make it more of a challenge.  That said, it was a great hike.  It took us about four hours, including a slight detour to catch the lake view on the other side.  Times may vary.

September 10, 2021

Tecumseh is another one of those NH 4,000 footers people argue about.  Some folks suggest it as a "first hike" in the 48 since it is relatively short. Tecumseh is a mere 4,003 feet tall but the elevation gain on the 5 mile long trail is 2,250 feet.  Also, the views from the top are just OK.  The other views come thanks to yet another set of ski trails and require a little extra (easy) hiking to reach.  I hiked this on my own as Allison had done it earlier.  For the record, she didn't like it much.  I loved it and it ranks as one of my top 10 all around hikes...ever.  However, I get what folks are saying when they complain.  It really depends on whether you think you might enjoy miles of stairs.  Yup...miles...

At first there are no stairs and the hike is fairly gradual, then there is a dip.  Then a stunning view from a nearby ski trail off a side trail to your left.  But the stairs begin shortly thereafter and go on and on.  One of the books suggests--unironically--that you can distract yourself by thinking of how much work went into putting these steps in.  Honestly that just made me even more tired.  After the super-epic steps part, though, things smooth out a bit. 

​The bigger challenge for me came from being by myself.  I tend not to bring headphones on a hike so I am alone with my thoughts, which can be fine.  That said, I do like talking. I spent a lot of those stairs singing to myself, which would have been weird if there was anyone to hear.  However, I had the mountain pretty much to myself on the way up, with the exception of a trail runner...and they don't talk.

One of the great things about a straight climb like this was that the whole thing didn't take very long!  It would have been even shorter except there were tons of people coming up as I was going down and almost all of them stopped me to ask how much longer they had to go and if there was a view worth working for. This actually was a bit strange as Tecumseh has the reputation for being under-hiked. As a verbose person I had developed quite a little song-and-dance by the end.  After all, it is a "love it or hate it" mountain. I may not have been super helpful...but I think I was entertaining.

​This was another hike where the view was fine but the foliage was off the handle.  Again, those stairs give you plenty of time to contemplate the trees, moss, and fungi that grow in abundance along the trail.  On my way down I went out to see the side views, which were pretty nice, too.  Then on down to the car.

In the end, you can make your own opinion about whether it was worth it.  The last half mile or so was very "elfy." I thought it was pretty magical even without the unobstructed view one might hope for.  If elfy floats your boat, you will be pleased.  If you need that view and don't want to do the extra stuff...there are other hikes. 

Update: I feel like when I wrote this post I didn't do the mountain justice.  I was starting the weblog and managing my job, planning for sabbatical.  I really loved it, though.  So recently I went back with a friend for a winter climb and made a video of how things went...

Dear Folks,
​I am in the process of catching people up with some early hikes and other encounters with nature that I thought people might find interesting as part of a "How It Began" (HIB) series.  Mostly this will describe specific hikes and perhaps some lessons learned along the way...if there are any.  They are meant to be short and, perhaps helpful in some way to other hikers or fellow-travelers.  I will post the dates of when I hiked a specific mountain since these are NOT posted at or near the date hiked.
​

September 6, 2021

​I don't remember the views from North and Middle Tripyramid, the 3rd and 4th of my NH 48.  What I do remember is an LOTR-level pile of rocks that the trail went through.  So, so many rocks.  Also, I remember rain.  As I crawled over the rocks I reached a particularly attractive bend and thought "This is beautiful.  I will totally take a picture of it when I head down."  Instead it poured on the way down and all I could do was watch my feet.  Still...it was gorgeous.

These two mountains (4,180 feet and 4,140 feet respectively) are pretty much always done together.  There is an easier way (still hard) and a harder way.  We took the easier one; a 9.6 mile out-and-back that presented us with plenty of pretty foliage and the occasional obscured view.  The hike between the peaks was rather anticlimactic.  The worst was over once we hit North.  Then there was a relatively easy stroll to Middle--or that is how I remember it--and an acceptable view of 48's and 52's we have yet to climb. 

Even though we took the "moderate" trail, the Tripyramids were no joke.  None of these moutnains are, actually. It was long. Also, there were a couple of steep sections, including the massive boulder-strewn switchback that I resent not having photographed. For me the rocky grade meant a lot of crawling and I inched along well behind Allison, losing her frequently.  Strangely, though, I found the challenge and the weather pleasantly distracting. It wasn't just wet and the footing wasn't merely sketchy.  It was wet and sketchy in an interesting way which actually saved the hike.  There was a problem to solve--namely forward motion--and I needed to take my time.  Frequent breaks helped.  So did snacks.  This was one of the only mountains where I found it necessary to put my poles away for an extended period and put all my limbs on the ground.

I don't think I would climb it again on purpose...but I did like it once I got into the groove.  I did this by focusing on what I could most easily see.  I could see the ground, mostly, and what was on it.  I think I managed to appreciate what I saw for the noble facets of creation they were. 

Probably, upon reflection, I would hike back up for the photograph I missed.  Then I would turn around with my Tripyramids experience complete.

August 27, 2021

There are a range of opinions about Cannon Mountain (4,100 feet).  The trail is relative straight but also rather sandy and there are parts where one struggles to maintain their footing on large, flat rocks that create a challenge going up and down.  While this may be your thing, it isn't everybody's.  Also, there are few hikers who enjoy the constant car noise that permeates most of the hike as it is right up against I-93.  To add further insult to injury, we share it with a ski resort and a gondola.  As a non-skier I find that rather interesting.  Still, it is strange to arrive at the top and see a snack bar and random folks who took the easy (but scenic) way up. 

​However....if you have ever driven on that part of the highway and looked out to see the massive stone lump that Cannon is, you know that there is a primal part of you that wants to go sit on that rock and look out over the valley.  I have sat on that rock and...yeah...it is pretty damned impressive.

​What I learned on this hike was that there are many different ways to tackle a mountain.  The gondola folks seemed very happy, of course, but so did the slow moving party we passed on our way up.  There were three people, one of them was talking constantly and stopping at steady intervals.  We actually started by taking breaks whenever they took one, but we got impatient and moved past after they stopped us for a short chat.  On our way back down--and after taking quite some time at the overlooks and the peak--we saw them again still heading up.  They were still talking--and we chatted with them again--and they were still enjoying the day. 

I don't know if they were bagging 4,000 footers, or challenging themselves physically or if they even cared about those things.  What I do know is that they we truly enjoying their time together and getting the most out of controversial Mount Cannon.  I have nothing but respect.

On the way down I wiped out in a big way that almost jeopardized future hikes.  The bad footing is no joke!  After much swearing I collected myself.  Allison backtracked to find me.  Shortly thereafter the now-welcome noise of the highway increased and we found ourselves at the bottom safe and sound.

​Dear Folks,

​I am in the process of catching people up with some early hikes and other encounters with nature that I thought people might find interesting as part of a "How It Began" series.  Mostly this will describe specific hikes and perhaps some lessons learned along the way...if there are any.  They are meant to be short and, perhaps helpful in some way to other hikers or fellow-travelers.  I will post the dates of when I hiked a specific mountain since these are NOT posted at or near the date hiked.

August 21, 2021

Moosilauke--pronounced many different ways by people who think they nailed the pronunciation--is a fabulous mountain.  If you are planning to do all the 4,000 footers in New Hampshire.  This one (4,802 feet) is a good candidate for your first one.  It isn't the easiest but it is on the easy end and the views--while not the best you will find on your journey through the NH 48--are spectacular. 

Parking is strange, though.  It is along a dirt road and, frankly, you can add a mile to your hike in the blink of an eye during the peak hiking season. Don't sleep in on this one!  Get an early start.

I spent much of the hike following behind my wife.  It wasn't that long after Mount Roberts so I was still recovering and still--more pressingly--getting back in shape.  She would wait for me, which was nice, but I took my time and was probably a bit of a burden.  Our itinerary included the main peak and then a smaller one (South Peak) before heading down.  The way up was relatively gentle for a big mountain...just long.  There weren't any extended scrambles to worry about, just elevation and some pretty forest landscape. 

There was a broad ridge the last mile or so before the peak.  Our energy picked up as the views did and we made it to the top. That said, I was gross and sweaty by the time we got there and it was crowded!  It wasn't "Monadnock-mid-summer" crowded but...there was a lot going on, including a couple older hikers wandering around giving occasionally-welcome advice and perhaps snacks to promote their social media presence.  

This is where I remembered that I used to bring fruit with me when I hiked.  I saw a couple of people eating apples and was so very envious.  I really wish I had remembered then, but I have forgotten fruit on every hike since.  It was a great place for a picnic and the energy bars and water just weren't cutting it.  It is worth noting that when you are out for an entire day pushing yourself, your food and water choices are super-important!

After South Peak, we started down.  Here is where I need to talk to you a bit about despair.  Pretty much every time I go hiking there is a moment where I completely fall apart.  I question why I am there, of course.  However, I often get more generally depressed.  The hike feels like a mistake and so--in the moment--do pretty much all of my life choices.  Hiking does not make me feel competent.  I feel awkward and uncomfortable instead. 

For about a mile or so of the hike down I was feeling completely miserable.  This wasn't Moosilauke's fault.  It was just the logical result of a long, hard walk that pushed me pretty much to the end of my rope.  This stuff happens.  It is worth knowing that it happens to many folks who do this.  I have learned to call it my "despair practice" and let it go once it passes.  On my way down from this mountain, though, it felt like every little thing I had stored up during the plague came out in one rush.  Since this time, I have had that feeling more than once.  The highs are high and the lows are low no matter who your are and what challenges you.  Hiking reminds me of that.

Anyway, the total hike was about 8 miles.  It was my first of the 48 4,000 footers.  At the time I didn't think it could be topped but, honestly, it was topped over and over again enough so that it doesn't actually come close to hitting my top 10.  Still, what a great way to get going.  We went home, posted some pics, and--and with the pain mostly forgotten--planned for another one.

JULY 24, 2021  

I hiked Mount Roberts to test my back a bit before going on to other things.  Previously I had done smaller mountains on my way to rehab and things had held up OK.  Roberts was the first of the "52 With a View" list, which served as a bit of a motivator as well.  I had actually climbed a few of them before--like Monadnock and the Moats--but this was the first time I was aware of the list (and the first after surgery) so it was the first I actually counted.  My wife had been (and still is) climbing the mountains on the slightly larger "New Hampshire 48" 4,000 footers list.  I am too now, I guess, but in the beginning--and still--I was/am attracted to the somewhat more accessible but still challenging list of New Hampshire mountains under 4,000 feet that always promise a view.

A rather popular mid-sized mountain for NH, Roberts is 5.2 miles round trip with about 1,400 feet of elevation gain. The actual mountain is 2,584 feet tall, so fairly substantial with some guaranteed (by the list) views.  Parking is also easy, and can be found at "Castle in The Clouds" which is not a castle, but a park located in Moultonborough. The hike, itself, is fairly straightforward although finding the trailhead can be a bit of a challenge.  We ended up starting on the way to Mount Shaw but were set right by a local.  I remember the grade feeling steep but doable.  I may not have found it so rough today but, as I said, it was the first relatively substantial hike I took for my rehab.  There were a few views on the way and a nice ledgey area to sit for a while.  I remember being pleased to get to the top but a bit deflated when I realized that the group coming up behind us also trucked along some lawn chairs for a picnic.  Aspirations right?

All told it was a good trip and I highly recommend it.  The few other hikers were well behaved and we all gave each other space.  The way up was manageable and the view was worthwhile.  I had no profound revelations while I was up there but, still...worth doing again.

So by "it" I mean...ultimately...the project of finding inspiration outside of church that precipitated this blog.  There will be much more to post about that as time goes on.  It is still in development, after all.  But like many ideas these days--large and small--it came out of the pandemic and began as a hope. 

​My pandemic story--and we all have one--involves an injury.  Literally days before we shut down I hurt my back at the gym.  Over time, I managed to injure it even more until I went from someone who walked 5-10 miles a day and went to the aforementioned gym a couple times a week to someone who could only move a few steps--and those in constant pain.  I slept on the floor for months.  I stopped eating much at all.  All the while I did my job--like everyone else--pastoring a church remotely.  Which, as it turns out, was the only way I could have kept up in any case.  Like many of my colleagues, Zoom, YouTube, and the like pretty much enabled me to perform my ministerial duties in the midst of an unprecedented crisis.  It also meant I could function at a level where many people didn't know how bad things had gotten.

Long story short.  I had back surgery.  Then I started rehab and--as the world slowly began to open back up--I was able to move around enough to get out and start to do the things I used to be able to do.  One of the things I had missed the most was hiking.  I watched hiking videos on my back constantly.  I realized that I needed that connection to nature that was already lacking in the suburbs and now I missed it even more because I couldn't get out of my house for so long.  ​

​

​This became the project; my wife Allison had been hiking the 4,000 footers of New Hampshire for a while and now, slowly and with permission from my surgeon, I was going to start hiking again, armed with a new appreciation for what had previously already  been super-fun and sometimes challenging.  I have to say...that it hurt a lot!  Also I got pretty tired during these outings. I had become (and still am) pretty out of shape, after all.  Allison started me on relatively flat hikes on Saturdays and then would leave me at home with the kids to go hike a big mountain on Sunday.  I did parts of the Monadnock-Sunapee Greenway in New Hampshire and the Fowler Pond and Freezeout Trails in Maine.  There were others, too, whose names I forgot.  Sometimes we would bring our youngest son but mostly it was just us.

We sweetened the pot with stops at microbreweries when we could.  At one point we contemplated a sort of "Hike and Beer" blog but our drinking went down and our hiking went up.  Still, it was a step.  It was great to be out and to be with Al in a wild place rather than the domesticated confines of the living room Netflix marathon.  The physical challenge was (and is) offset by the company and the environment.  

Since that time I have hiked a great deal and also developed a closer connection to nature, itself.  I am gardening again (probably poorly) which is nice.  Also, I am now making a study of ecology, ecojustice, and religion.  But it started with getting back out after the plague and walking around.  In this occasional series my plan is to catch you (and myself) up on those early hikes that got me to where I am.  So you can look forward to the second Chapter of HIB (Mount Roberts) as soon as I have time.

Yes... I know that this is the non-church blog.  Still, this is more about nature and spirituality than anything else and that is really what this is about.  I am taking a course/workshop online about ecojustice and ecological literacy for religious leaders.  We had an assignment to write a "psalm of praise" for our local social ecosystem.  The "praise" part hung me up a bit because humans--even well-meaning ones--make quite a negative impact on the environment wherever they live...and that is pretty much anywhere.

But this is what I came up with after taking the kayak out on the Charles River (Quinobequin in Algonquin).  I could praise the river and the life it supports, and the people who are fighting to restore and protect it...

April on The Charles: A Psalm of Praise   
by: Adam Tierney-Eliot

Praise God for the awakening of creation
In the In the temperate biomes of New England
In the Inland marshes and deciduous forests of Massachusetts
In the fertile valley of the meandering Quinobequin

Praise God in all the miraculous wonder
That emanates from its waters
From the kin-dom of animals;
The turtles;
     Both sliders and painters
          Rolling off the logs at another's approach
The rustling on the banks of new life;
     Of Rodents and their predatory foxes
          finding their place by the water
The swans on their nest,
The geese (mostly Canadian),
And mallards on the river current
     Searching for insects darting under the surface
And in the air;
The red-tailed Hawk,
The Herons hidden away
     Waiting for their fish,
And the frantic flight of the red-winged black bird
     Reveling in the new growth
          Of new buds and insects on the old decomposing logs

Praise God for the kin-dom of plants, too;
Growing river grasses pushing up amid the spindly burning bushes
     on the wet, spongy soil
          Too new to know their names
And the first buds on the pines, the maples,
The milkweed,
The native skunk cabbage
     That thrives early on Quinobequin’s banks

All these many organisms and more
Diverse yet overlapping helping, feeding, being fed upon
Native, non-native, and invaders
In a constant cycle of life, death, and new life
Each organism reaching out to others
     Both hostile and hospitable

Praise the power of life and wildness
    To flourish in the cramped confines
         Of human sprawl
And praise the river-keepers
And dam-breachers
     Working for its return
          Walking onward toward reconnection
              To the ecosystem no living thing can escape

Praise God for the power of creation
From the small local habitats
To the grand biomes
That ebb and flow
According to the shifting
Of temperature, water, light, heat and cold

God’s creation is beautiful in its complexity
And its interconnection

Beautiful Creation in its complexity
   We are connected and interconnected

Praise for all God’s people
Praise all God's beings
     Who also praise and act
          And bring us closer
To the divine universal interconnection