Megalloway

Awake before dawn, I was wrapped in my sleeping bag and some extra blankets. I was warm and didn’t want to get moving. The rental I was driving had more than enough space for sleeping with the seats folded. I was literally “car camping”. This far north and being fall, temperatures were too cool for me to want to bed down on the ground or sling a hammock.

My trip was taking take me to Mount Megalloway, in the far reaches of northern New Hampshire. The mountain was one of the few remaining hikes I required to finish my list of peaks for the 52 With A View. In the far tip of the state, I was just a short distance from the Canadian border. The land is rugged, and many peaks up here are bushwacks. Megalloway would be the exception. The Coot trail was actually an old fire warden’s access road to the summit. According to my research, there was a fire tower at the top that would offer panoramic views.

I rolled out of bed, slipped on a pair of pants and shirt, broke camp and headed for the mountain.

Let There Be Moose

The SUV glided down the highway in the predawn light. Cruise control was turned off. I was hoping to catch sight of a moose. The road through Pittsburgh is known as “Moose Alley.” Being on the road early might mean an encounter. I have never seen a moose in the wild and thought this might be my best opportunity in over a decade of hiking. If I did meet up with one, I wanted to be sure that we didn’t “meet by accident” People can be seriously injured in a vehicle collision with them, so I kept my wits about me while scanning the roadsides.

A glorious sunrise appeared over the mountain, and Megalloway River. What a great harbinger of things to come!

Shocks and Springs

The road to the trailhead is used mainly by the loggers. It’s rough, with deep potholes and washouts, and interminably long. In reality the road was only seven miles to the trail head, but driving over that washboard felt like it took forever. I winced as the rental bounced around and tires crunched the sharp stones underneath. Finally I arrived.

Expectations are not Reality

I’ve been on some hikes, and this was certainly going to be one for the books. I’d not soon forget what an underwhelming hike this would be. The trail was basically an eroded steep track full of rough stones, gravel and mud. It went up, up, up, like a ski slope. As I huffed and puffed my way to the summit, the sky began to cloud up, enveloping the peak in a shroud of white.

“A real pea soupah” you might say if you were a salty old sailor from Boston. I always remind myself of the bright side: “when you look to the sky and see a cloud, you now know what it’s like to be in one without paying the airfare.”

My arrival at the top meant no view, no photo. That was ok.

“Vendi Vidi Vici”- I was Caesar for a moment, standing at the base of the tower. I took a breath.

I would take the sunrise back with me, and the sum total of the experience. I knew most certainly that of all places, I would never return here.