Mount Osceola and East Osceola Peaks
Location: Town of Waterville Valley, New Hampshire
Background
One of the silver linings of COVID-19 was being forced to do one of the most socially distant activities you can do: physical exercise by way of hiking and being with nature. One of my goals for the next two years is to hike all of New Hampshire’s Forty-Eight Four-Thousand Footers in the White Mountains. The “4,000-Footers” are a group of mountains in New Hampshire that are at least 4,000 feet above sea level, and there are 48 of them. I got inspired by a great friend of mine who summited Mount Kilimanjaro a few years ago, and when he came back and spoke about the trip, he recommended I read the Snows Of Kilimanjaro, a short story by Ernest Hemingway (thanks, CT!). I took his advice and read the wonderful story, and was in awe about Kilimanjaro’s west peak, called the Masai, or “House of God,” and it immediately inspired me to start my own hiking goals (albeit much closer to home!).
I had not thought about hiking until recently, when I was afforded the opportunity to spend a few nights with family friends at their condo in Waterville Valley. After a weekend of hiking 11+ miles in the “Valley,” I was instantly hooked. Hiking and connecting with nature offers a very real physical benefit to your body, as well as incredible mental clarity, due to your brains’ endorphins firing off. It also humbles you, as the feeling of being on top of a vast mountain range gives you some perspective and makes you feel part of something much larger than yourself; a sense of being and inter-connectedness to the larger world around you.
A few months ago, I was yearning for a “Hemingway-esque” exhilarating experience with nature. After a few phone calls and a sales pitch, my friend Matt agreed to come with me to conquer two of the forty-eight four-thousand footers, the Mount Osceola and East Osceola peaks, named after the famous Seminole Tribe leader, Chief Osceola. With our plan set, I got up around 4 am, picked up my buddy Matt, and we drove more than two hours to Waterville Valley in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. As soon as we were out of the Greater Boston area and slowly started to enter the White Mountains region, the air suddenly turned cool and crisp, with a lingering fog hanging on the tops of the trees along all of the ever-present mountain ranges; a scene reminiscent to the Lord of the Rings movies. In our trance, we realize the exit snuck up on us; we pull off and stop at a local gas station to get some supplies. We savor and appreciate the ninety-nine cent gas station coffee with the ubiquitous fake powdered milk and glass sugar dispenser which invariably has coffee stains and straw paper stuck to the side. We also get some trail mix, cheese sticks, beef jerky, and fill up our Nalgene water bottles. We jump back in the car and drive farther and farther into Waterville Valley, now running parallel with the Mad River, and eventually making our way on to Tripoli Road. As we drive, I affectionately recall a full day of skiing, with respite at the end of the day enjoying a pint inside the warmth embrace of a pub I am fond of in the middle of the Valley, called “Legends Sports Bar.” We do a quick loop around the valley, and notice that Cochran Pond is as still as ice, and a small lamp is shining bright inside Jugtown, the valley’s General Store. I ask Matt if he can also smell the bread and pastries wafting from the oven; he smiles and nods his head in agreement.
Mount Osceola and East Osceola
After Google maps loses service from the limited cellular tower presence, we follow our instincts and eventually find what we believe to be the trail head road. We continue on the dirt road and start to see cars parked on the shoulder sporadically; as we continue driving, the cars become more frequent – we realize we were not the only ones with such a clever idea. We pull over and park, and notice license plates from all over New England. As we are getting ready and adjusting our gear, Matt walks by the car with the doors all open and repeats an old hiking adage, and told me to remember, “Don’t be silly, dress chilly.” The idea here is that in the morning it is cool and chilly, but as you descend to the top of the mountain it gets warmer as the sun comes up, while you’re also burning calories – thus dress at the start of the hike feeling “chilly” – I oblige. After paying a small fee for continued mountain and wildlife conservation efforts, we hang our day pass on the window and move out on to the trail. We hike, climb, and jump for a few hours, chat about work and life, tell rather difficult riddles, and focus on the immense beauty around us.
There are waterfalls, rugged terrain, and tall pines that become commonplace as our altitude rises and we hike further and further up the mountain. Legs, calfs, and ankles burning, we stop for a water break to chat with some campers who are taking shots of Jameson, as they recently finished a 3-day on the mountain with nothing but the essentials. We press on undeterred and we both note that the treeline is rapidly starting to fade, indicating we are very close to the summit. We hike for another hour, and the land becomes flat and rocky and opens to a large clearing: we’ve finally made it to the beautiful Mount Osceola summit, and the view is indescribable. We hang out for a few minutes and enjoy the vast beauty around us, while people watching; tourists, kids on school field trips, dogs, etc. After a half-hour, I am ready to take the 3.5 hour trip back down the mountain. Matt, however, who wants to “kill two birds with one stone,” mention’s we can crush another 4,000 footer and have two under our belt, since it is only 2 miles away. I begrudgingly accept, although I ask many hikers along the way what Matt keeps referring to as the infamous “chimney,” which is a hiking term and something I will have to climb. What I later gathered, is that the “chimney” is a vertical rock structure that looks like a legitimate chimney on a house, albeit rock – hikers fall and get hurt on these types of rock structures all the time. After about twenty minutes, we get to the vertical structure and I hear FDR in my head saying “there is nothing to fear except fear itself,” and I head toward the structure and move fast. Coming down the “chimney” was simple; but climbing up it was a bit more challenging, since you have to literally scale a vertical rock structure and hold on for dear life. We move on, and hike for a half hour and make it to the summit of East Osceola, which is only indicated by a man-made rock formation and unfortunately, no view of the surrounding landscape.
We start our descend, and every person we meet on the way down keeps indicating we “only have a half-hour” left. Those are famous last words for the next three hours of hiking. However, the people you meet hiking are some of the friendliest, helpful, and resourceful people you will ever meet. Dehydrated, our hamstrings zapped, we are mentally and physically exhausted after a 6+ hour round trip hike. We haphazardly load up the car by throwing all of our gear in the trunk, and give ode to the hikers just starting the hike with camping gear, and head out of the valley. For the twenty-five minutes from the trailhead back to the highway, there is silence as we both look at the beautiful expanse of wilderness and wonder around us, exhausted from the physical turmoil of hiking a mountain that is over 4,000 feet above sea level.
Covered Bridge Farm to Table Restaurant
Before leaving New Hampshire altogether, however, we stop at a local restaurant, called the Covered Bridge Farm to Table (formerly the Country Cow), featured on the Food Network show “Restaurant Impossible (S9 E5),” and meet the owner. It was strange to see her just recently on television and then meet her in person. We each get a pint of local beer from a well regarded brewery, and a well deserved bacon burger as nourishment, and admire the view of the Pemigewasset River. After an hour, not wanting to leave, we say goodbye to some local residents who we had the pleasure of chatting with, head back to the car, and drive back to Massachusetts talking about how great the experience was.
My hope is that I will be able to continue to conquer the remaining 46 4,000 Footers so I can eventually become part of the 4,000 Footer Club: http://www.amc4000footer.org/
For those who are interested for more information, check out local hiker and New Hampshire resident Steve Smith’s book on everything 4,000 footers: http://www.mountainwanderer.com/proddetail.php?prod=NHH05
Get outside and up north before it gets too cold and ski season starts.
Happy hiking!
