I don't ski.  There are reasons for this.  Some are economic.  Some are physical.  I am simply not  very coordinated. Also, part of it was that I was thinking about other things at the age when people were learning how to ski.  For a brief time I tried cross-country skiing.  However, I encountered a certain level of toxicity directed at me and other beginners in the places I went. I could tell stories and name names, but what would that solve? It is all good now.  I don't feel like I missed anything.  Also, I do feel like all those skiers have helped to preserve a number of classic mountains and climbs for those of us who move from boots, to spikes, to snowshoes and back again.

I have climbed a number of "ski mountains" over the years. In addition, there have been many others where the archaeological record indicates that skiing used to be a thing.  This isn't really much of a surprise.  Practically every geographical rise has been evaluated for that purpose.  In fact, many had their moment in the ski firmament only to disappear after a time. There are reasons for the rise and fall, of course.  There are weather concerns made worse by climate change. Also there is a cost in time and money.  All hobbies are investments, but...at different levels.

If you are interested in the history of these mountains, I would recommend a web page for you. NewEnglandSkiHistory.com  does its best to track the various cycles both generally and in some cases at an extremely granular level. 

I would refer you there for the details.  However, the general story as I understand it is that the industry really picked up after the Second World War.  A recently demobilized generation started looking for new outlets for their post-war energy.  Also, for the New England industry, there was the promise of all those bored suburbanites and city-dwellers just a few miles to the south.  That intersection of eco-tourism, extreme sports, and a large willing populace really got things going.

No doubt there was some undiagnosed PTSD for many of the pioneers of the sport here.  Certainly that was the case for my grandfather, a combat veteran and former POW.  A physical, active project fit the bill for him and many others.  It wasn't just the thrill of sliding down the hill standing up!  They also had to work together to cut trails, build lodges, and generally explore the wintry landscape that in many cases  existed far from their workaday lives.

​Note: Most of these have alternate routes to the ones I describe!  Sometimes, even in winter, you can get to the top of a ski mountain where the resort hasn't made separate accommodations...you just go up the back.  Some of those trails are much harder though (like Wildcat D where the alternate also probably shouldn't be attempted in winter) or just...dull (Tecumseh) so plan accordingly.

​Mount Tecumseh is my favorite winter hike and it is home to the Waterville Valley ski resort.  There are two ways to the peak, but the majority of people take the trail right next to the parking lot for the skiers.  It is a good hike any time but...be warned.  It is pretty much a converted ski trail and mostly straight up! 

If there isn't any snow there are a LOT of steps to deal with.  How do you like your stair climber?  Snow fills in the rough patches and creates a more gentle approach.  My recommendation: make this your first big climb after getting into snowshoes.  The view is improved when the accumulation lifts the hiker above the treeline.  Also, there are many side trails and diversions that take you to the ski trails themselves so you can eat your lunch watching people cruise down to the lodge below.  Click on the title to find a longer post and a video of when I made a winter ascent with my friend Andy.

Cannon Mountain I did not climb this in winter but it is similar to Tecumseh in that there is a designated hiking trail away from the actual ski trails.  This means it can be--with adequate preparation--climbed all year!  Also, it has a gondola that runs most of the time so you could ride up and hike down if you wanted...

Saddleback: This was a pretty hike.  It was on the ski trail so off-season is definitely the call. That said, it was straightforward and the views were fabulous.  The Horn--which we climbed the same day--is not a ski mountain so prepare for a "regular" hike once you are tired at the top.

Wildcats!  Like Saddleback, there is a ridge hike at the top.  Wildcat D is the ski mountain, but you can hike down the alphabet to Wildcat A by taking a strenuous climb across a ridge.  Unlike the previous mountains, the alternate route--reputedly the steepest half-mile on the AT--is more popular (but do beware please).  We took the designated ski trail, though, and liked it.

Wachusett: Actually if you want a warm-up hike on your snowshoes before hitting Tecumseh, this is a good one.  Gotta love this smallish ski mountain.  Thoreau did.  I believe I have hiked every trail there and it is a joyful place. My winter hike was part of the Mid-State Trail.  The views are just OK...but the climb is a good test and during the winter there is a ski lodge, food, and bathrooms at the bottom.

Sunapee: There are plenty of fun trails around this NH mountain. This was one where we mostly spent time on the back side, away from the slopes.
​
Killington I just wrote about this one so--briefly--it is fine, but be aware that your hike is a long a service road/ski trail that is also used by mountain bikers.  It is a good hike...just "other people" forward.

Now here is a quick run-down of just some of the mountains that have old ski equipment and other evidence of the industry on them.  Just about every mountain we have climbed in New England inspired somebody to at least research the possibility of putting a lift on it.  These are the ones where the ghosts are thickest.

Watatic: Also a good starter or solo winter hike.  The most obvious ski relics here have to do with the way the trails are laid out and with the service road to the top.  People still do some light telemarking or cross-country here.

Grace: Its time as a ski mountain was brief.  The Civilian Conservation Corps tried to make something of it and it failed.  However, you can find some of the old gear rusting in the woods.

Agamenticus: A cute hike in Maine with plenty of old buildings at the top.

Greylock: There is a telemarking community there still.  I list it here because it is more "hikey" these days.

Like I said, there are more.  The ski mountains have an interesting history and an aesthetic all their own.  While it may not be everyone's cup of tea, hiking up a ski trail off-season is worth trying out at least once!

HIKED ON: September 20, 2025
There are grueling, epic challenges on the New England 4,000 footer list.  Then there are medium challenges.  Then there are a few that--while not easy by any means--are demonstrably easier than the others.  Killington is one of the relatively easy ones.  I am not complaining.  As a legendary ski mountain--where trees have been cut to make gnarly trails for the winter denizens--there are plenty of views on the way up and the way down. In fact, the relative ease made for a rather pleasant ascent...for the most part.  There was, actually, one point where we stopped for too long and my legs rebelled.  However, we were already near the top...and there were witnesses.

This hike was around 4.7 miles long and about 1,700 feet of gain. If you are using All Trails, it is labelled the "Killington Peak Loop".  We started counter-clockwise on that loop but returned the same way we came up.  Apparently there was road maintenance going on along the other leg and we weren't into picking our way through that. For the vast majority of the hike we were on a service road. I am planning a post for this week about hiking ski mountains, but for now I will say that this is a common approach, at least on the off season.  

We started early enough that we didn't see too many people as we climbed.  That said, we were passed by a group of "best men" heading up without packs or water. They were expected later for a wedding.  The group was so amiable that I barely resented their pace and fitness.  As the day wore one we encountered others heading down.  It turns out that Killington runs one gondola all year for sightseers.  Some of them ride up and then hike down, which is not allowed for "peak baggers."  Also, the gondolas had racks for the purpose of stringing up mountain bikes.  The bikers barreling past us made it both startling and exhilarating! We tried to stay to the side of the road, particularly on our way down.  We also kept sudden movements to a minimum to give the riders enough room to maneuver.

All that was fine, of course.  When you hike on a mountain like this--particularly on the weekend--you do not expect to be alone. I was actually surprised by how much time we had to ourselves!  All that changed, however, just below the peak.  Here we and the wedding party merged with the immense gondola traffic.  There were porta-potties, an observation deck, a bar that was closed for the wedding prep, and a food-truck.  Also--behind the food truck--was a slow moving line of people heading for the top.  When I say "slow" I mean it.  Most of the people in line had been sitting for some time.  We did our best to work our way around them when we could.  Then we emerged to spectacular views.

Anyway, it wasn't all that bad.  It was just...a lot.  After a little break we turned back down.  Along the way we met at least one person who was struggling.  She had ridden up and decided to climb down.  However, she hadn't considered that even with gravity on our side there are challenges to a big, steep mountain.  Her knees were hurting and her party had slowed to help her out as much as possible.  Someone climbing up had already--as politely as possible--suggested that next time she should invest in some hiking poles.  I suspect it was cold comfort in the moment. We did our best to commiserate and cheer her on.  Then we moved on to give her and her friends some privacy.  I bring this up just as a warning.  Killington is easy for a big mountain...but it is still big!

HIKED ON August 31, 2024
I dimly remember climbing this mountain before.  Maybe it was during Outing Club in high school.  I was not the most active in that group.  I had theater, sports, and other interests. Anyway this was the sort of thing our advisor "Uncle Don" would have liked.  It's all cables and trust falls for a while.  There are places on the loop where your heart does race a bit.  I used both hands so there are no pictures. It is also textbook youth group material, which is another candidate for who I went with. 

Anyway, that was then and I am grateful that I had grown-ups to plan these things. Adults are always concerned about making sure that kids can be anything they want and conquer any challenge.  The problem is, even when plagued with self-doubt as a teen (and I was), it feels a touch wasted on me.  Adults need these reminders, too. Maybe the church should have its own Outing Club.

We did this climb as an upside-down lollipop loop from the parking lot at Grafton Notch State Park.  It was about 7 miles long.  The elevation gain was around 2,800 feet.  That is plenty.  Old Speck is part of the White Mountains.  We forget that geographical features are not beholden to political lines.  Usually we think of the Whites as a New Hampshire thing, but this is in Maine...just. When we got to the top--having completed all the New Hampshire 48 and half of the smaller NH52 With-A-View mountains, we would have known just where we were...if we weren't socked in.

Oh yes...the cables.  At the beginning of the hike one is presented with a choice.  You can take the steep-but-not-scary way or you can scale, slowly, a series of cliffs.  There are cables to hold on to, but footing is less than ideal.  We went up the hard way and then down the easier way.  Our reasons were strategic.  The cables kept us thinking about footing rather than the pain in our lungs from exerting ourselves.  On the way down we just wanted to be done.

Anyway, those cables hit you right away. Then there is some sliding around. Then the more conventional climbing picks up.  This is a beautiful mountain that promises a fire tower view.  We, however, were battling weather all day.  A little inclemency creates some lovely effects, though.  We enjoyed that on the way up.

Parts of this hike are on the Appalachian Trail, which is always nice. The AT is the east coast interstate of hiking but the "traffic"--in the form of intense multi-day hikers--helps to break the monotony.  You have to keep an eye out for them since many are in their own world chewing up the miles, but they are a key part of the outdoors community.  After the white-blazed AT we ducked off on a blue blazed trail for the final quarter mile to the top.  There we met a couple on a date.  We left them more or less alone.

​ No doubt emboldened by the cables we climbed the wet ladder to the foggy top. We then ate our snacks. Finally we turned back to civilization.  Near the top and along the stroll back, we saw some stealth(ish) camping sights.  On a dry day it must be a beautiful place to wake up.

It takes little effort to type this but it took us quite a while to get up and down.  It also was a bit of a drive both ways.  Even in the Whites, once you are outside of NH the infrastructure lessens.  This is by design.  The convenience of the New Hampshire hiker commute is a double edged sword.  On the one hand, it creates an incredible opportunity for tired and nature-starved people to the south.  On the other it means crowds in some places along with pollution and trail degradation in others.  Most of the Maine hikes on this list are a road trip as well. That has its challenges and benefits, too.

I wish I could remember the first time I went up.  I bet we had a view.  Still, it was good to do it again.  No doubt it won't be the last time.

HIKED ON August 27, 2024
It looks like I have some catching up to do!  At least I would like to do so.  When I was writing the previous post about Mount Abraham, VT, I realized that we hadn't climbed a new 4,000 footer in slightly over a year.  What a year it had been.  We have been busy with life.  It feels like almost everything has changed since that time.  Of course there was hiking.  I completed the Mid-State Trail and hit some other smaller mountains when I could.  However, what with the change of jobs, Al's doctoral work, and the big move to Western Massachusetts, the ME 4,000 footers just didn't get properly logged.  I think I would like to remedy that...to the best of my ability.

So the first hike on that Maine vacation in 2024 was up Saddleback Mountain then along a picturesque ridge to its companion peak, Mount Horn.  The total distance was about 6.5 miles.  The elevation gain was around 2,700 feet. I had to go back to All Trails to figure that out.  I have to say that my average elevation-per-hike has dipped quite a bit in the intervening year!

The name of these two mountains--perhaps not surprisingly--is from the shape of the land between them.  "saddle" is the general term for the sloping ridge between two peaks.  In this case it takes some doing but with a broad-minded acceptance of the vagaries of nature one can imagine an actual saddle, with the "back" at Saddleback and the "horn" of the saddle at...well...you know...the horn.

These mountains are home to the Saddleback Mountain ski resort.  I remember their advertisements when when I was a kid.  They leaned into a southwestern theme for a while and the whole place had a 1970's Marlboro-man-with-skis vibe.  They have reinvented themselves a few times since then and actually closed for a while.  Now it seems to be going fine.

This is significant (not the '70's part) because the generally best way to tackle these mountains is to start at the lodge and climb straight up one of the ski trails.  We have done this before, notably on Wildcat D. It is brutal in many ways.  The trails are built to go fast down which means the climb does not relent.  That said, there are views the whole way and that is something special.

On this particular day we arrived in the fog but decided to make a go if it anyway. Sometimes we get into a "views optional" state of mind, particularly when we have had to stay over somewhere.  I am glad we did it. The clouds lifted over the first hour or so.  Then the whole trail stretched before us.  Different ski mountains have different relationships with hikers.  Some do not want hiking there at all.  Others--like Wildcat--designate a particular trail.  In this case the company maintained a "regular" trail that meandered its way up.  The only thing that made it different from a normal route was that there were no trees around us and plenty of ski equipment!

That situation ended at the lift mechanism and a small lodge.  Honestly, if someone bought a lift ticket for me, I could see riding up in winter just to hang out. As it was, everything was closed and a small crew was clearing brush in preparation for the season still months away.  From the complex of buildings, it was little trouble to find an actual "trail" to the top that wandered across the ridge to the peak of Saddleback. 

After Saddleback I was inclined to head back down.  This happens to us frequently!  Allison, caught up in the climb, is ready to keep going. I am usually tired and almost always cautious, so I tend to want to stick to the less ambitious plan.  On this day Al convinced me to move on so we did.  On other days--particularly on longer hikes where our resources are failing--I prevail.  It is a good system. In this case it meant having the Horn basically to ourselves.

After that there isn't much to say.  The walk to the Horn and back was definitely not smooth.  There are some tricky bits and crevices.  Also, I think I remember at least one false peak.  That said, the hike both out and back had near-constant views of a relatively remote part of Maine.  Did the views even wear a bit on our slog back down the ski trail?  Yes, of course.  Still...it was a fabulous day.

Hiked On August 28, 2025

Bible nerds will know that the prophet and patriarch Abraham originally went by "Abram" until God changed his name in Genesis 17.  The meanings of the two names are very similar.  Abram means something along the lines of "exalted father" in Akkadian.  Abraham--at least according to Genesis--raises the bar to "father of many nations".  Whichever name you choose, he is traditionally seen as one of the major patriarchs of the western religious tradition and plays a role in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. 

For our purposes today it is worth noting that people like to name things after him. They sometimes use one, the other, or both names when referring to those things. Mount Abram in Oxford County, Maine, for example, is a small ski mountain...but sometimes the mountain--separate from skiing--is referred to by its legal name...Abraham.  That can be a bit confusing since there is another Mount Abraham in Franklin County, Maine (Mount Abram Township, actually)...which is over 4,000 feet. 

​Mount Abraham in Vermont is a 4,000 footer that looks down on Sugarbush Ski Resort...which is a bit closer to Mount Ellen.  Sometimes it, too, is called Mount Abram. It keeps you on your toes when telling people where you went.

​Anyway...we hiked the Vermont Abraham in our quest to complete the "New England 67" 4,000 footers. We have already done the NH48. We have chipped away at the ME14, completing 4. Vermont has only 5 mountains that fit the list requirements. Southern New England has none, though their (our) mountains can be both pretty and challenging. With our immediately previous hike of "Old Speck" in Maine a full year in the past (August 31, 2024) and Abraham in the books, we only have 14 more to go!

The trailhead--at least for this hike along the Long Trail--was relatively high up, making Abraham an easy--in the context of 4,000 footers--attempt. The parking lot was slightly higher up than usual, on the ridge that is home to most of the Vermont mountains on the list. The Green Mountains run roughly north-south forming the spine of the state in a long series of connected peaks.  We weren't at the top by any means! However, In Maine and New Hampshire it always felt like you were beginning at the "bottom" of the mountain. This felt like a head start.

The one sobering note: there were a number of signs at the lot warning us of possible theft.  Regular hikers know the risk at popular trail heads. It isn't just your wallet they are looking for.  They also want chunks of your car. Hikers should plan accordingly, if only mentally...

One advantage of our starting point was that it only took about 30 minutes to begin to feel that mountaintop environment.  We were encouraged by the seemingly immediate rewards of a steady breeze and glimpses of the valley below. We had taken our two "training hikes" up Williams and Monadnock.  This was harder than Monadnock but comparable to Williams. The only major challenge was a scramble near the top along with stretches of bare rock that could be slippery if it ever rained.

Along the way we met a number of other hikers.  Most of them were very willing to pass the time. It had been a moment since any of us had experienced this brilliant a hiking day.  The heat seemed to have broken for the season. Also, with the threat (or, given the drought, the promise) of rain the next day most of us had made some adjustments to climb on a Thursday of all things.  We, in fact, had moved our youngest into his dorm room the day before and had planned a slow drive to our motel for a Friday adventure.  In the end, though, we got up early like we used to during our NH48 phase.  Thankfully the trek was not super-difficult.

On the trail there are a number of warnings about the fragility of the alpine ecosystem. This is not a surprise, of course. Outdoor sports are growing and Vermont--like New Hampshire and Upstate New York--are easily reached from population centers just to the south. I was a bit surprised to see the amount of string they used to guide us to the trail, but I didn't mind.  A step off may not seem like a big deal...but it is if you are what is being stepped on.

This is a hike I would do again. At 5 miles and 1,700 feet of gain, it was doable and a workout. When we climb we have different desires.  There is the draw of a physical and mental challenge.  There is also an aesthetic pull.  Standing at the top looking over Vermont and New York was inspiring in and of itself. The mountains were unfamiliar, which is different from the other places we explore.  That is part of the fun, too.

The next day we had hoped to climb Camel's Hump or Ellen.  Instead, thanks to the rain, we did some sightseeing and ended up at the Shelburne Museum outside of Burlington.  On another day we might have hiked in foul weather, but sometimes it is OK to do other things.  The museum was great.  Downtown Burlington was fun. So were the few short days of our summer vacation. 

A couple of weeks ago I took some vacation time and went to help my middle son move out of his apartment in Amherst, Massachusetts.  After the furniture was gone, my job--just as my father had done for me--was to sweep all the remaining detritus into the center of each room, remove the change and other small keepsakes, then sweep it again and again until the pile was gone.  It was just short of three years since we moved him in.  He and his girlfriend were trying out living together while they wrapped up their college courses.  Three years later, it is time to move on. 

They are dividing their time between her mom's house back in MetroWest and our house in Farley.  There are still a couple of rooms worth of furniture on the porch.  In fact, I had to collect some of it from the lawn during yesterday's tornado warning.  Life feels like a tornado sometimes. I worry about them and about all of us as we watch the dismantling of what our society once was.  Every day is a hard choice.

Of course, transitions are part of life and we are all forced to be relatively mobile, or at least flexible.  I looked back at what I was writing in 2022 when we moved the boy in.  His big brother was on the AT, finding his own path after COVID. His younger brother was in high school, finally "in person". My posts back then were already filled with questions about the future of The Eliot Church where I served. Maybe not all of the membership understood that, but the signs were there. We could feel the changes in our bones then.  We feel it now, too.

In the American psyche there is this idea of a "home town" where people live their whole lives and where things never change. It isn't real. Maybe a few people manage to stay in the same place, but...they themselves change. They adapt to stay there, even if they don't think they do.  The place they call home changes, too. Heraclitus was right.  We don't step in the same river more than once.  Life rolls on. We can acknowledge the change. We can prepare for it. It is stressful, of course. That said, there are rewards that come with traveling downstream.

These days, though, so many Americans prefer denial. These folks tell stories that demonize the seeming "new thing" and that celebrates a comic-book past. Many of the problems of today are because of this denial. Living a life of openness is the only real way to go.

A couple of days after moving my middle child out of his apartment in Amherst, we moved our youngest to campus.  He transferred from UMaine to UMass this year seeking a better fit. This year the commute from home was much shorter. He also kept his job at a grocery store near his dorm. However...it is still a change. The flow of life is teaching him, too.

We are nesting a bit. This week we went to the Franklin County Fair in Greenfield.  The fairgrounds are just up the hill from 2nd Church where I serve. I love fairs.  I have been going to them all my life.  Each one is unique, but so much of it was familiar, too. I was never a midway person. I spent my time in the agricultural section like I always have. The county fair draws all kinds of people who these days would never rub shoulders otherwise. We don't have many places like it. Do we talk to each other? Not really.  However, we do have to see each other at least...

Anyway, it was a step toward making space in a new place. All this moving and changing over the past three years has been a lot. It would be good to get settled a bit in this landscape we know through hiking, but that we have never inhabited for an extended period of time. 

​The fall has arrived and so we mark the time. Yes, technically one day is like the next and nothing really begins or ends exactly. School is in, but it only ended recently.  The new church year begins on September 14, but we were in church on September 7th. Still...we have to stop and take stock sometimes. These "beginnings" in the ongoing and interconnected stream of life are like the mountains we climb. At the top is the view of where we have been and where we have yet to go. The pause is worth it, I think. Then...we move on. 

After church yesterday we went to see a new friend sing at a local brewery.  It has already become a "local" for us. We humans are good at building patterns. Some of those patterns can help us make a home in a new place, or accept new people to our old places. We stay connected through the story of how we got there and where we are going. These are good instincts to have. May we always operate in this way when we can, fighting back the fear of the new. If we do, we can see what glorious opportunities await.

Hiked On August 22, 2025

Legend has it that Mount Monadnock is the second-most climbed mountain in the world after Mt. Fuji.  It tracks.  Like Fuji it is relatively close to major population centers.  It is easy to get to.  It is hard...but not too hard.  Why the heck would you not climb it?  This is what we did a few weeks ago.  I have climbed it many times, actually.  It is a wonder that I cannot find a record of it on this blog!

The usual first-time hike up is on the "White Dot" trail, which is kind of too bad.  There is nothing wrong with going that way.  It's just...well...it is steep and crowded.  Knowing that there will be plenty of people at the top, why not take a less traveled route?  On this day we went up "Old Halfway House" to "Monte Rosa Trail" then down "White Arrow".  Our reasoning has already been mentioned.  Also, it is the first hike of our new project.  After "section hiking" the Mid State Trail, we have decided to hike the Metacomet-Monadnock/New England Trail.  This project will be a bit longer...and it will take us right past my house.  So that is fun.  Anyway, the "M&M" starts with the White Arrow, so that is where we started, too.

Actually we started White Arrow at the top.  First we went to take a look at Monte Rosa.  It is a trail that Allison and I had climbed before. Old Halfway House trail started from the parking lot at a moderate steepness.  After a while it split to create the top of our "lollipop loop" for the day. We took the Monte Rosa trail to our left and things got steeper. We would take White Arrow down to that same intersection on our way back.

The smaller peak is more lightly climbed and is worth a visit.  The view of Monadnock is lovely.  It also creates a sense of remoteness that is in short supply on this mountain.  While there we met a couple of other hikers.  Both of them were very chatty and wanted to let us know how much they loved the mountain.  That was good to hear.  All natural places need their passionate lovers these days.

In my previous post I compared Mount Williams in Massachusetts to Mount Monadnock and said Williams is harder.  In the case of our hike today (see my note at the end), it was definitely true.  However, every hike is strenuous in some way.  There are steep parts and challenging bits.  Monte Rosa/Monadnock is no slouch in either department so we took care in our ascent. Emerging onto our first peak of the day we were rewarded with a most excellent view.

The hike between peaks is relatively straightforward, though the scrambles begin in earnest shortly after leaving Monte Rosa. Stay patient.  You will get there.  As we went, we saw more people converging from different directions.  This is normal.  Then we hit the peak and saw the usual 360 views one can catch there on a good day.  Usually windy, things were relatively calm so we sat and enjoyed our lunch before heading back.

It can be a bit confusing finding the right trail back.  There are plenty of options and they do not all go to the same parking lot!  Most of the main trails have names that are symbols--White Dot, White Cross, White Arrow, etc--look for those symbols! We all know people who didn't and had to climb back up to the top to get back down to their cars.

I do not have a lot of pictures of the first part of the hike down.  White Arrow is very tricky in places.  There are scrambles and vertigo-inducing moments.  This, sadly (or not sadly, depending on your tolerance for these things), is true for most of the trails.  Be prepared!  We made it.  So can you.  One advantage of the slow pace and the need to problem-solve is that you are exercising your brain.  Also, you save on water. It is good to save on water...right?

There isn't much more to add.  Once we got to the split between White Arrow and Monte Rosa we were ready to get down so, like many people before us, we got on to the Halfway House Road (a literal access road) and strolled down in relative comfort.  In a couple of weeks we will be back to snag a little part of the M&M trail that we missed and keep heading on south to the ocean.

Note: There are harder and easier ways up Monadnock and it is worth doing some research.  One of the steepest and least interesting (in my opinion) loops is achieved by taking "White Dot" up and "White Cross" down.  These trail heads are right by the bathrooms at the main parking lot.  Plenty of people take this way not knowing what they are getting into. They may not even know they have options. It is rough!  It is also crowded and--while plenty of people are enjoying themselves--there will be a number of people--not all of them children--experiencing their own drama. 

I have done White Dot to White Cross at least three times and I bet there are a few more times that I don't remember. When I want to challenge myself in that way I climb taller, less crowded peaks.  When I want to experience this incomparable mountain, I find different ways. For an early explore of this mountain, I recommend "Birchtoft-to-Red Dot" or just take the Dublin Trail.  They will also kick your butt, but you will have a better time.  Or just do Monte Rosa, have a picnic, and go down....

Hiked On August 16, 2025

If you want to be no fun at parties when the topic of hiking in the Berkshires comes up, you can mention the fun fact that Mount Greylock--the shining star of Berkshire County and the highest point in Massachusetts--is actually part of the Taconic Range  and not in the Berkshires at all. The same can be said for the entire "Greylock Range," including Saddle Ball, Prospect, Fitch and Williams, among others.  The tallest point in the actual Berkshire Range (also the Hoosic Range) is Crum Hill, which is mostly in Franklin County...and you can't climb it because of a wind farm at the top.

There...party buzz killed.  You are welcome.  We went up Mount Williams recently to get in shape for Mount Monadnock after that long hiatus from "serious" hiking which I have mentioned in earlier posts.  It was a fabulous climb.  However, at almost seven miles and around 2,400 feet of elevation gain (as an out-and-back)...we should have reversed the mountains! It may not be as legendary as Monadnock, but Williams hits harder.

In any case, it was a great hike.  The weather was beautiful and--while hot--not as bad as most of the summer has been.  There were a bunch of Appalachian Trail through-hikers heading north which kept us on our toes.  Most of them were friendly.  A few were trying to eat up the miles to Katahdin and shot past as if we were trees in the way.  That was fine, too.  We weren't there to hang out with them either. 

The only thing to say about the start of the hike is that there is a gun range nearby!  The first mile or so is flat...but there can be gunfire...very, very close gunfire. We kept moving, of course, and I suspect that--knowing that they are adjacent to a state park--they have kept the guns pointed away from us.

After the gun range, the trail began to climb.  There were a few actual switchbacks which is a rarity in New England but much appreciated both by us and the cruising through-hikers.  The incline was steady and moderately steep with no real scrambles or hazards.  Then, after another mile, the trail opened up to a view of Williamstown and Williams College in the distance. Yes, they are all named after the same person.  Ephraim Williams was a militia colonel and landowner who died during the French and Indian War.  The war was part of a larger series of conflicts somewhat confusingly named the French and Indian Wars (note the "s").  He died in Lake George, New York in 1755 near the close of the entire series.  

Along the way we met a fellow hiker and his dog. He mentioned that while he was researching this hike, a great deal of the reports stopped at the overlook.  We concluded that probably there were a substantial number of people who thought it was the top!  In actuality there is an intersection right at the view.  Straight-on leads to Mount Prospect.  A turn left (and down) leads to the actual peak of Williams still over a mile away.  This final stage is a mixed experience.  The forest is pretty.  However the trail undulates at the moment when our legs were getting tired.  Of course, it undulated on the return trip too! Near the peak, one crosses the access road to Mount Greylock, itself.  It can be a strangely dispiriting experience to be reminded that your six-plus mile hike could have been under one mile.

Still, the "hard way" was the best way this particular day. Mount Williams is worth the time and effort.  Yes, the title of Massachusetts' fourth-tallest is a somewhat unimpressive one.  However, it is a workout and an adventure.  With great nature and good views.

I am just starting to see the change of colors on the mountain this week.  It comes off as a spectrum of green, mostly.  However, recently it has been a fairly uniform wall, like a hedge that has grown well out of proportion.  Now it is noticeably more diverse. Up on the ledge the various hardwoods are slowly turning to their cold-weather state. The fluffy darker pines continue as if nothing is happening.

​No doubt species will have something to do with what our impending palette will be.  I suspect there are roughly equal numbers of sugar and red maples, for example.  There are also oak and ash.  Maybe there are a few birches too.  Each will have its own way of going about the change of seasons.  Also, some are on rock shelves that I can see from the porch. For others the soil or water may be more plentiful.  I know from my own explorations that there are a few small drainage streams wending their way to the Millers.  Their mini-biomes seem rich to my untrained eye. 

Anyway, I have noticed the trees noticing the beginning of the transitional season of fall. The weather is colder, too...just a little.  It even rained this week!  Most of the grasses are still very dead.  Yet one can have hope for August and September.  It has been nice not to mow...but only in a way.  I am very busy with church and family and don't mind dropping a task.  That said, it does feel strange.  The earth is changing in ways that seem obvious to some and less to others.

During the heat wave and drought, I put together a new composter.  The house came with one of those black vertical barrels featuring a small door at the bottom.  The critters figured it out well before I got here.  I "upgraded" to a rotating one, which may buy me some time.  Realistically, though, it is also a stopgap.  In the end I will be building a keyhole garden...hopefully in September.  Then I will fill it with leaves, vegetable bits, and finished compost over the winter. Then I will plant it out in the spring. 

This makes sense to me. Both the old and the new composters I have now are built for the suburbs. I don't really live there anymore. You have to accept that there is more wildlife than domestic and they will have their way. I would have just gone straight to some other plan but I don't have the time. The problem is that there are still stumps to pull where the keyhole bed will go.  One can only move so fast...

Thinking about compost has been a good exercise.  The magic of transforming "waste" into "fertility" preaches without my help.  I feel it.  The old and battered and used gets--not discarded but--stored in a sort of dark, warm sabbath container.  Then out of that rolling barrel--or bin or dirt pile--something new comes of it.  That new thing, though is very different.  A handful of finished compost derived from pounds of kitchen scraps, leaves, and newspaper is more altered than a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon a butterfly.  I think compost is a better metaphor for the transformation many of us look for.  We settle for butterfly. Who doesn't celebrate when we manage it! Still, compost is the harbinger of the new thing.  We change not so much to alter ourselves but to alter the world, right?

Anyway, that is all for now.  I am looking forward to the changes, seasonal, agricultural, and otherwise. Who know what will come of us or the world?  We shall see.  Let's do our best to make the location wherever we end up into a fertile place.

Hiked On August 8, 2025

We managed to get out on a hot Friday for a warm-up hike over Mount Toby in Sunderland, MA.  Every state seems to have a Mount Toby so it is worthwhile noting the address.

We have been trying to get back up to "hiking shape" lately.  Allison has been wrapping up her doctoral work.  I have been getting settled in my new congregation.  We both engaged in an elaborate move. I put in a small garden and have been stretching myself with a great deal of "new owner" activities that have left me a tad fragile. Normally we are climbing 4,000 footers this time of year.  However, we aren't really ready for that just yet.  This hike--a 6 mile loop with a short spur that ends with a brisk climb totaling around 1,000 feet of elevation--was designed to get us moving once again.

Readers of this weblog will know that we already climbed a couple of local mountains across the street from our house. This time we drove 15 minutes to the Mount Toby State Forest.  Yes, this is part of why we moved west to Franklin County.  We--and especially I--have spent a lot of time out here in nature.  Now the commute is so much easier to manage.  It was a little eerie, in fact, to hop in the car with our gear, not stop for snacks, and end up at the trailhead in the amount of time it took to drink my first cup of coffee.

There are a number of places to park along the perimeter of the State Forest.  There is a veritable nest of trails, many of which intersect with a road. We chose one of the longer approaches for the reasons I already mentioned.  We needed the practice! On All Trails our route is labeled as "Mount Toby via Sugar Farms to Summit to Tower Loop".  It may go without saying that those are the trail names...but I said it anyway.  We went counter-clockwise to hit the mountain last.  Going the other way, I suspect, would have been a bit easier.  My legs were pretty tired by the time I hit the foot of the main ascent.  If that thing was just a little taller we would be having a different sort of conversation.

The highlight of the long approach was the spur off Sugar Farms Trail to the "Caves".  They weren't actually all that cave-like.  However...they were massive holes in the ground and that was fun.  We spent some time there exploring and then moved on.  The trail up to that point was fairly accessible and the caves seemed to be a popular picnic spot.  There were a few other groups there and evidence of at least one more.  The caves themselves seemed best not to mess with.

Things remained flat for quite a while after returning to the main trail.  We passed through a forest of mixed trees and vegetation.  In many places the canopy was rather thin, particularly where maples dominated.  There we found a number of grassy areas which created multiple pleasing layers of green.

Heading up was--as I mentioned before--a bit of a chore for me.  Al sprinted ahead shouting warnings and encouragement as I grappled with the steepest parts.  I kept going by reminding myself that I was the one who chose the route for the day.  Also, I remembered that we have some bigger plans soon.  With this in mind, powering through was the only choice!  My personal philosophy is that all hikes are hard.  It depends on the day and the body whether we breeze through whatever challenge faces us.  Still, it was a good, solid test for things to come.  It could, for someone else, be an ultimate goal to work up to!  That is also fine. It is a lovely way to spend the day.

We didn't see anyone along our long, looping approach.  However, there were a few groups at the top, happily lining up to get the view from the fire tower.  The tower is the only panoramic view.  However, the general forest walk was also pretty. We went down the way they came along a relatively short--maybe around 2 miles--relatively gentle service road.  That was nice, too, though the gravel fill used to top the dirt road was slippery in places.  There were a number of other side-trails each promising a different distraction.  However, those will be for another day.

​ We hit the car with little trouble.  I suggest finding your own route to the top.  Bring plenty of water and snacks.

Earlier I mentioned two other hikes in the area.  ​Here are my posts for Mount Tom and The Seven Sisters.  These are both old posts from my "How It Began" series.