Hiked Most Recently on September 9, 2022

Most people I know--be they casual walkers or intense backpackers and peak baggers--have a favorite hike or walk.  For some people it is the longest (or most difficult) trip they had.  Maybe it is the hardest (or tallest) mountain.  For others convenience and accessibility are key. Maybe there is a pretty spot involved.  Sometimes it is a place where an important personal event occurred.  As with most heart-centered choices, the reasons vary.  For me, the decision really comes down to how it makes me feel.

What I want to talk to you about today has to do with the internal dimensions of hiking.  We live in an anxious world. Some of us internalize that anxiety as we move through an era that tries its best to push us away from our center.  Make no mistake, this is intentional.  Anxiety (along with a number of negative emotions) makes us feel empty and unworthy.  It also makes us buy stuff to fill the emptiness.  The Man gets rich off our unhappiness.

I know this feeling very well.  I start worrying before I get out of bed in the morning.  I worry all day. Sometimes I worry in my sleep. Every moment of every day, even when I am doing or thinking about something else, I am anxious about something.  What that thing is doesn't really matter.  It can be big or small...but it is always there.  So when I think about what I need in a hike, the "challenge rating" is not foremost in my mind.  Availability is.  Remoteness is.  Primarily, though, I am looking for a chance to transcend that worry. 

I want to be away from everything.  I want to be insignificant in the face of the vastness of the universe.  I want to sink into my surroundings until I know that whatever personal failing or foible that is concerning me is insignificant, too.  This technique is different from things like positive self-talk designed to build ourselves up. I am a believer in that too.  However, when I hike (or walk or whatever) I am trying to find my way to a positive connection with the Divine. I am trying to be part of a whole that will lift me up as I swim in its current.

I want to snicker at the trippy prose of transcendentalist philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson when he writes in his book Nature, "Standing on the bare ground, — my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite spaces, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God."  I can't though.  Not really.  After all--when I am out in the world trying to feel the wind in the air and the rock beneath my feet--what the heck am I doing if not stumbling toward the same thing?
​

So when I need to clear my head, Mount Watatic gets the nod these days.  It is right of Route 119 (in Ashby and Ashburnham) and a little over an hour from my house.  The climb can easily be made into a 4 mile loop by including Nutting Hill and heading over to the New Hampshire border at the end.  It gets busy on the weekends and on many weekdays too.  However, if you get up early, you can have the place to yourself.

This is what I did on Friday.  I left the house at 4:45 and arrived a bit after official sunrise.  I walked to the top--getting turned around a couple of times--and made it to the ledge just below the peak where I sat alone for an hour. 

Watatic is a Monadnock which--as I have mentioned numerous times--means that it juts out alone over an otherwise flat landscape.  Wachusett is easily visible. That is another great hike. To the north one can see a number of larger peaks across the NH border. It also serves as a trail end for the Wapack trail that heads up the Pack Monadnocks to the north. It is also the northern end of the Mid-State trail that heads south across Massachusetts. Or, at least, the NH border just beyond it is.

Anyway, on Friday I spent the hour at the ledge not thinking very hard.  There is plenty going on in my life right now, which is typical for most everyone.  We need to slow down and shake off some of that burden when we can. As often happens, this became a theme in my sermon Sunday.  It was already a theme for sabbatical just around the corner.

It took a while to get in the mood.  I put my bag down, had a snack, and wandered around the ledge trying to decipher the 19th century graffiti scratched into the rock.  Finally, though, I settled in.  After that there isn't much to say.  I didn't make it to "transparent eyeball" status by a long shot.  However, there was a moment when my brain stopped sprinting toward numerous finish lines. That was the longest period of not worrying I have had for a long time. Both my body and my mind were grateful for the break. 

​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 the ones in this series are NOT posted at or near the date I actually hiked them.

DECEMBER 14, 2021

Sometimes there are good things on even the least promising of days.  This was a busy day for me.  Holiday prep was in full swing.  We had family things and church business going on.  My post-surgery back had taken a turn in the wrong direction.  There were other tragedies--not my story to share and therefore not discussed here--that occurred even as we took this walk.  It is hard sometimes to separate all that from the trip up to Mount Tom by way of the Mount Tom Ledges, but I will.  Somehow in the midst of all of the mess of life, this hike stands out as one of the best.

Now, some of you may recall that the name "Mt. Tom" has already come up in my post about the Tom, Field, Willey, Avalon post about a loop over three 4,000 footers and one slightly shorter (and super-gorgeous) mountain in New Hampshire.  This is not the same Mountain.  Apparently "Tom" is an evocative name when it comes to these sorts of things.  This hike occurs back in the Pioneer Valley, my old friend.  It is yet another rocky ridge surrounded by flat plains enabling stunning views wherever the trees part, or are low enough.  This hike was about seven miles out and back and featured around 1,200 feet of elevation.

I really did not feel well.  I was tired and distracted by a million things.  We almost stopped at the first overlook (which was fabulous) but then--after a quick rest--we continued forward at first tentatively, then with purpose.  I had to stop occasionally to answer emails and check messages which is something I never do on the trail.  This really was a different time, though, so I made a couple exceptions.  However, perhaps the chaos outside the moment made the time on the ledges that more special.  

After that first overlook the landscape became rocky and rolling with constantly changing views into the farmland below.  We covered a couple of smaller peaks and then moved along toward Mount Tom, itself.  One of the big differences in hiking in Massachusetts is that there is much more evidence of humanity.  With each view we could see houses and sometimes whole towns stretched out below us.  We also passed cell towers, power lines, and windmills. There were decaying and somewhat-unidentifiable pieces of metal and glass sticking out from the bushes.  There were service roads as well.  Finally, on the very top of Tom there were a few industrial-looking buildings obviously there to maintain the radio towers that dominate the peak. 

Also on the peak was a massive metal and wood star with Christmas lights on it.  It turns out that this star is a local tradition in Easthampton.  I love Christmas lights.  Somehow all this evidence of humanity worked.  There wasn't any "litter" to speak of and I loved the industrial elements.  They seemed to go with the gray and hardy rock that was everywhere.  Yes there was evidence of people communicating, celebrating, and making the mountain a centerpiece of their lives.  That--at least on this hike--made all the sense in the world.

After a while we turned back around and experienced all the views again.  I am tempted to hike this in every season eventually. I can only imagine that it has plenty more to give.

​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 the ones in this series are NOT posted at or near the date I actually hiked them.

OCTOBER 8, 2021

History nerds will remember Shays' Rebellion, when a band of veterans from the Continental Army rose up to resist the entrenched interests of eastern Massachusetts and set off a series of events that ultimately culminated in the writing and ratification of the Constitution.  If you don't remember, check it out.  It was one of those iconic turning points in American history but in many schools you only get a day to digest the whole Articles of Confederation-to-US Constitution move and Daniel Shays gets merely a mention. 

These days folks with just enough information will try to shoehorn this second revolution into the mythology of today's "red v. blue" divide.  It is a futile endeavor.  They were protesting a number of issues, like not getting paid and being taxed without adequate representation. Underlying their oppression was the economic desires of the landed interests in Boston.  The story is a Rorschach test for activists. You can make of it what you will. My suggestion is to just take it for what it is, on its own merits and in its own context. It is a moment in time, and a romantic one in its own way.  The actors in their story are the closest we get to the legends of Robin Hood or Rob Roy MacGregor.

I bring up this historical tidbit because you can check out Shays' old stomping grounds without too much difficulty.  The Pioneer Valley--where the rebels were primarily from--creates a defensive bowl of ridges and rocks where Shays and Co. could hide out when the heat was on.  I already mentioned the Seven Sisters hike.  There are more to come, but this post is about Norwottuck, the site of their final stand.

The hike, itself, isn't that long.  Also, the elevation isn't very high.  You don't have to go too far up to get a commanding view when the land around you is flat as a pancake.  From the parking lot I head into the woods and then passed an active quarry to my right.  After a bit of confusion, I managed to locate the trail I was looking for and found the footing easy for a while. Then it became ledgey and more difficult. The total walk was four miles round trip.  It included the sort of rolling hills that I now know as a key part of hikes in the region. There are some steep parts up toward the peak and then down the other side.

After a short scramble up the ledge to the top.  I found numerous perches from which one could look out over the valley.   That tacked on some time as I sampled many of them.  I was working on a sermon, after all, and could use the inspiration.

Even though they were farmers by trade, Shays' army had already fought one revolution.  They knew how to choose the terrain.  In addition to those many lookouts, the land is rough and rocky, with many places to hide and take cover.  I had no trouble imagining a musket or two peaking around the corner.  It would be an unsettling place to try to attack if you knew it was defended by locals.

Dropping down from the top I eventually hit a flat area known as the "Horse Caves." Legend has it that Shays hid horses in holes in the cliff.  If this is the case they must have very tiny horses!  I would say there was room for maybe three goats.  Still, it was a very cool spot to be.  The flat area seemed like a likely location for their final encampment and it wasn't hard to imagine them there, waiting to face the militia from Boston.

In the end, though, they surrendered.  The commanding officer of the Boston militia claimed in his reports to have surprised them and captured everyone involved.  Strangely, Shays was nowhere to be found.  Nor were the other officers whose capture would have resulted in their trial and death.  My guess is that neither side had much interest in killing and--perhaps after some negotiation--the leaders were allowed to slip away.

A little research will reveal what happened to everybody from that point on.  It did, in fact, prompt some reading for me.  The hike was relatively easy, but it is one of my favorites.  The story, the views, and the general vibe of the place got me going.  I have tried to go back but it is also very popular with other folks and on the weekends it is hard to find a parking space.

I don't really know where to start with this mountain.  I have hiked it a number of times, sometimes with family and sometimes alone.  This particular hike was a solo one on a fabulous fall day.  I took some time at the top to work on a sermon before hiking back down to have coffee with a friend and colleague who lives and serves nearby. 

Wachusett is a monadnock, which is to say it "standeth alone without society" in Thoreau's words. Monadnocks rise up as a single hill in an otherwise lower landscape.  There are a number of these in the area.  Two of which--Watatic and Monadnock, itself--will be written up soon.  This means that--much like the ridges of the Pioneer Valley--they have an unobstructed view in spite of the relative shortness of their peaks.

My trip was about 4ish miles (give or take a mile).  I started at Balance Rock Trail (because I am sucker for big rocks) and headed up Old Indian to Semuhenna to West Side Trail back to Old Indian Trail to the top.  After exploring a bit, I settled on to the observation tower to do some work and to eavesdrop on a group of birdwatchers who were cataloguing raptors.  My way down was even more of a ramble.  Be sure to have a map with you.  There are a bunch of trails leading to different locations and trailheads.  Honestly it wasn't my favorite trail up. That would probably be Harrington/Mid-State Trail.  However it worked for the day.

The one thing that is worth noting is that Wachusett is a ski mountain.  In this case that means that there are many great views that would not otherwise be possible, thanks to ski trail clearings.  On the other hand...it is not as remote or wild as Thoreau's time.  It is an extremely accessible place, with both the good and the bad that go with that. Unlike even many ski mountains, it has a parking lot at the top.  It can be a bit jarring walking off a secluded trail and encountering a scrum of humanity and their cars. This is still Henry's "Watchtower of Massachusetts" but now...it actually has a tower on it. I suggest weekdays in the morning.  Then there are fewer people. 

That said, I do love this mountain.  The walk up and down is always worthwhile.  Both the views and the foliage are worth pausing and examining.  Fall is best, but spring is nice too.  Summer and winter can be a bit chaotic, but other people experiencing and loving nature isn't the worst thing, right?​

Update: I have been up Wachusett since I posted this and--in April of 2023--I made a short video of a slightly different hike from the one described here.  I ended up on the same peak...but it was quite a bit longer.  Here it is!

​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 the ones in this series are NOT posted at or near the date hiked.

SEPTEMBER 18, 2021

Not every hike is in New Hampshire, right?  Another place I like to go is the Pioneer Valley in Central Massachusetts.  The drive is easier and shorter, which is good.  Also--while the mountains are not tall-- since the valley is so low and flat, the views they provide are spectacular...most of the time.

Our first excursion was the Seven Sisters range between Bare mountain and Mount Holyoke.  The name "Seven Sisters" is in honor of a group of historically women's colleges that were conceived as being a female counterweight to the ivy league.  Most of them remain women's colleges today.  However Radcliff College merged with Harvard and Vassar College (the alma mater of one of my sons) became co-educational.  Two of the sisters (Mount Holyoke College and Smith College) are in the Pioneer Valley and--as you may have gathered by the shared name between college and mountain--this trail has something of a special significance to those communities.

I will say this, the low elevation fooled us.  It is actually a pretty challenging trail.  This was particularly true in our case as we hiked it both ways, treating it as an out-and-and back to Mount Holyoke.  It is 5 miles one way and, although they are short, there are about 10 distinct peaks (not 7).  So double those numbers and you get a sense of what we did.

We were going up or down constantly.  While we have since learned that many of the trails in this area have fairly constant views, this trail was more closed in. My back hurt. I was dehydrated and filled with a good dose of despair.  I am glad my wife didn't leave me.  I was awful.   Strangely we weren't even the only people who misjudged.  Every 5th person we saw was in some state of despair as well.  It kinda perked me up a bit, actually....

Fortunately the visitors center at Mt. Holyoke was open so we could refill our water bottles for the way back. Also, the view from the porch at the center was great and made the trip worthwhile. On our way back, knowing what we were up against, we slowed down quite a bit and managed to get back in fairly good order.

I learned a few things about hiking on this trip.  I learned to check the map and be honest about my abilities.  I learned you can never have too much water.  I also learned to enjoy what I can when I can.  I also learned about the area and the cool natural features it offers. The views we did get were great.  Later hikes in this area went well...including some of my favorite hikes of the year.  So there will be more from the Pioneer Valley.  However, I do suggest leaving a car at the other end of this one...