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Published: February 2nd 2016
Peak Foliage on Crotched Mountain
Hiking Crotched Mountain in New Hampshire"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the once less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
Robert Frost
Robert Frost was sometimes called the poet laureate of New Hampshire. He spent much of his working years in the state, and his poems certainly reflect its rugged rural individualism. Today is a story of a time I took the trail less traveled, and the difference it made.
Of all the seasons, many New England hikers love fall the most. Sure, we get that glorious carpet of color, but it’s almost a bonus. The air is warm but not enough to cause sweat, the nights are pleasantly cool, humidity drops significantly, and most of the mosquitoes have been killed off (ticks remain, unfortunately). The low humidity eliminates much of the summer haze, creating the clearest views of the year.
Today dawned in the mid 60s under a nearly cloudless sky.
Reports indicated foliage this year would be especially good, with the brightest colors in years. The current color map showed southern New Hampshire close to peak. I had to get outside.
A day like today has an obvious destination, Mount Monadnock. An isolated bare peak in southwest New Hampshire, on a clear day its summit provides the largest view available in New England. Unfortunately, seemingly everyone
Parking lot foliage
When the parking lot looks like this, imagine the hike! in the region knows this, making a hike as crowded as a city park. Years ago I decided to find other trails. Today, I chose
Crotched Mountain, a lesser known peak in the same general area that I’ve never seen.
The drive to the mountain alone was worth the experience. The first part was a well-developed road and rather boring except for the foliage along the sides. This was bright with lots of red. I reached a town where the map said another state road branched off. I couldn’t find it! Rural New Englanders are only half-joking when they state that not knowing how to get somewhere means someone isn’t meant to be there. On my third slow trip through downtown I finally found the small green sign with the name of the next town I needed and an arrow.
I followed that arrow into another world. The road became narrow and twisting, with trees arching overhead. Except for the pine trees, nearly all of them had full color, yellow, orange, red. Pavement dropped into a river valley and followed the (very low) steam, still surrounded by bright trees. Drives like this in a convertible can be quite dangerous,
First viewpoint
This beauty was only five minutes from the parking lot because I want to look everywhere except where I’m going!
As beautiful as it was, the drive got even better. The road pulled away from the river and passed a series of old houses with bright red maples in their front yards. Next, it passed through a series of old small towns straight from every New England fall postcard in existence. White churches with tall steeples and obvious stables behind sat next to tiny town meeting houses, surrounded by yet more peak foliage.
This region forms part of the rural New England that every visitor dreams about but so few actually see. Finding it requires getting far off the major roads, places so tiny they barely appear on the map. I saw no outside license plates on this part of the drive, even from my state next door.
I loved the drive, but actually came here to hike. Finally I reached Crotched Mountain itself. The mountain has three main trail heads. I chose the one on the grounds of the
Crotched Mountain Rehabilitation Center. They’re a treatment center for the physically disabled. The center has built a very special trail that is worth the visit by itself.
Those with
Accessible trail
Hiking the accessible trail up Crotched Mountain movement difficulties have notable issues getting into the wilderness. I hope the reasons why are obvious. With a mountain right on their doorstep, the rehabilitation center decided to do something about this. Working with the US Forest Service, they designed
a trail accessible for wheelchairs up part of the mountain with sweet views. This time of year those views will cause sensory overload. The trail allows access for people who rarely get this experience.
The parking lot dropped hints of the wonders to come. It was surrounded by deciduous trees, all in full color. Finding a spot proved to be difficult. Past the handicapped accessible portaloo, two signboards described the trail and the center’s mission. The hike began immediately beyond.
Within five minutes, the path broke into an open field. It slanted downward, revealing a carpet of colored trees along the edge. Even better, it had a view of a long low mountain range in the distance, all covered by still more colored trees. A signboard along the trail pointed out the major peaks. I could probably turn around now and have a satisfying day.
At the far side of the field, the trail made a sharp turn to the left.
Foliage and pines
Pine trees against glorious fall foliage It crossed about half the field, and then made another sharp turn to the right. Sure, the view looked the same, but when it looks like this one that doesn’t matter a bit. Those switchbacks are the design secret of the trail. They decrease the grade enough that wheelchairs can make it. The trail surface is crushed gravel with no big rocks. The center designed this trail so well that without the signboard hikers may not even realize it’s specially built.
Beyond the field, the trail entered forest. At first, the trees were mostly pine. It says something about a New England fall that I found that rather disappointing. Soon enough, deciduous trees started mixing in. These were all peak, yellow and fiery red. Seeing them against the green pines made an unexpectedly pleasant contrast.
Further along, the trail passed another open field. From the edge, the field appeared obviously artificial, with the trees deliberately cut back. A sign along the trail stated why. When settlers first entered the area, the mountain was entirely forested. They clear cut the land and turned it into fields. Farming this tough rocky soil proved incredibly difficult, so when the Midwest opened
Accessible trail
Still more color along the accessible trail, Crotched Mountain up in the early 1800s, they all left. The soil is slightly acidic, which made the now abandoned fields perfect for wild blueberries. By the late 1800s they covered the entire area.
By the early 1900s, those wild blueberries had become an important agricultural product. Frederick Corville, head of the US Department of Agriculture, took samples of the many varieties on the mountain. He then cross-bread them into varieties hardy enough to farm commercially. Every farmed blueberry in the United States has its beginnings on this mountain. While that was happening, plant succession proceeded apace and the forest reclaimed the blueberry fields. The center decided to create the current fields to preserve that heritage. Once again,
wild blueberries grow on Crotched Mountain.
After the fields, the trail entered forest for good. It becomes all deciduous trees, and the sort of place many hikers dream about. Everything contained color. Yellow and orange leaves, plus the occasional red, filled the view at every step. The floor now contained a carpet of green ferns. It’s so good I almost forgot the long distance overlooks from earlier. It also showed the genius of the trail designers; except for the lack of big rocks
Endless color
The peak foliage just goes on and on! I’d have no idea this was an accessible hiking path.
Eventually, the trail passed though another set of switchbacks. These were like the previous sets, short paths between tight turns. Thanks to all that foliage, I honestly barely noticed, and certainly didn’t care. I wanted this trail to go on forever. Instead, it reached another open field, this one covered in grass. Unlike the previous ones, it also had areas of open granite. The appearance here is natural, caused by the wind. The trail passed an obvious fork and ended at a viewing platform. I’ve reached The Knoll.
The Knoll looked southwest, over a very good view of southwest New Hampshire. A high solitary peak dominated the left part of the view, as it does nearly all views around here in its direction, Mount Monadnock. A low mountain range ran in front of it across the entire view, the Wapack Range. A few lakes sat in front of that. Naturally, all of it was covered in thousands of pretty colored trees. Part of me wished I had high powered binoculars, so I could see the thousands of people now crowding Mount Monadnock.
The Knoll was pretty enough
Mount Monadnock
The signature mountain of Southwest New Hampshire, from the Knoll. that it could mark the end of a very satisfying hike, especially in this season. For those with movement impairments, it does. If that sounds inadequate, remember how rare it is for people to reach any sort of wilderness without the ability to climb. For everyone else, the trail so far is just an incredible appetizer.
The Knoll also had a view of a low ridge with an obvious notch in it, Crotched Mountain itself. The view perfectly showed where the strange name came from. Early settlers thought the split ridge resembled a tree where two trunks grow from one base. They called such trees “crotched trees” and applied the name to the mountain too. (Yes, there’s another obvious source of the name. Given that Crotched Mountain is one of the state’s best family hikes, lets ignore that one for today, OK?)
Back at the fork, the right branch headed for the mountain through the field. It was now a classic hiking trail, a groove worn through the grass about six inches wide. Like the trail before, it had an easy gradient. The path then entered a pine forest. Thankfully, that lasted about two minutes until it entered
Watatic Range
A carpet of color leads to the Watatic Range, from the Knoll another cleared area.
Unlike those before, this area was completely covered in bushes. Thanks to the season, I couldn’t tell how many of them were blueberries. The bushes, thankfully, were high enough to make the trail obvious. The trees beyond, sadly, were all pines. The lower portion had a great view of Mount Monadnock.
Slowly and steadily, the trail twisted upward though the bushes. I met a number of other hikers on this stretch, some with young children. The main trail has a gentle grade nearly to the summit, making this one of the best hikes in the area for families. Near the top of the field, I finally found trees with colored leaves. The path headed for them, and then reentered forest at the very top of the slope.
One yard beyond, the trail split. Like Robert Frost’s traveler, I now faced a choice. The left branch was relatively wide, well marked, and clearly went to the top of the mountain. The right was a barely visible two inch wide scratch through moss. The map showed it loops around the mountain to a completely different trail network. Like Robert Frost, I took the trail less taken
Upper clearing
Crossing the upper clearing beyond the knoll. on the right. If nothing else, if I’m going to get lost, I want to do it while I still have enough daylight to get out safely. Needless to say, this decision made a big difference.
The early going was through yet more pines. Hiking obscure trails in pine forests can be a real challenge, because the trail looks no different to the carpet of needles everywhere else. This one was much easier, because the path was lined by yet more moss. I found it surprisingly pretty, especially given that it had no foliage whatsoever.
After twenty minutes, the trail reached a rocky hillet surrounded by pines. It had absolutely no view. Beyond it the path began to drop. I then got a surprise, an abrupt change from pine trees to deciduous. Ecologists will realize quickly this can’t be natural. I’ve entered another area of old fields, and this time nature has taken its course. Like before, these trees had plenty of color. Most of them were yellow. Surprisingly a high percentage were still green.
Following the trail in the pines was hard, but this stretch was even harder. The trees have dropped leaves, which covered the
Trail Less Traveled By
Path barely wider than a hiking boot through moss trail all over the place. Clearly, few people have been here the last month or two, which is how I like it. Saving my sanity, the trail was now clearly marked by little blue plastic sheets nailed to the trees.
After two stream crossings, the path reached a place so classically New England it would probably bring tears to Robert Frost’s eyes. The trail reached and followed an
old stone wall. They aren’t just for show. New England soil has thousands of rocks dropped by glaciers. Farmers turned up those rocks every single year trying to plow. They had to put them somewhere, so they built walls at the edge of their property. The walls also, of course, clearly delineated who owned what. “Good fences make good neighbors”.
The path finally ended at a junction with another stone wall. An old road, barely visible in the overgrowth, followed this wall up the mountain. Originally, it connected area farmers to town. Now, it’s a part of history surrounded by thousands of yellow leaves, yet another classic view of New England.
I loved standing at this junction. The area’s history, in a region that values it so highly, seeped from every
Historic walls
Stone wall junction serves as the sole reminder of former settlers on Crotched Mountain. stone. I could feel the generation of farmers that tried to rip a living from this hostile landscape, and finally left it to the elements. The fact that I had this place to myself, on one of the busiest hiking weekends of the year, only added to the thrill.
From the junction, I followed the road a ways up the mountain. As expected, it was ramrod straight; farmers’ property lines followed the landscape only when they had to. The stone wall followed it throughout. The path was surrounded, of course, by yellow and green trees to the limit of vision. Another classic New England autumn landscape, as far from the crowds as one can get.
Five minutes later, I came to another barely recognizable intersection. I would have missed it entirely except for the tiny sign. The old road met one created later as a logging road. The map showed the current road heading directly for the notch in Crotched Mountain, while the logging road looped around to the far end of the ridge. I would get more scenery with the latter. Measuring the mileage, I would be pushing darkness by taking it, but I figured I could
Old farm road
Old settler road surrounded by peak foliage handle it. Remember this decision for later.
The initial portion was just as hard to follow as the trail before, all fallen yellow leaves over rocks. Many many yellow trees surrounded the path, with the occasional red maple. Pushing on, it finally widened into a logging road, wide and easy to follow.
The road went on and on across the rounded ridge. In places, it crossed shallow streams. All the trees along it were small second growth, except for a few huge specimens. Farmers left a few trees behind when they cleared the land, to provide seeds for future wood and to mark property lines. Much of the trees were in full foliage, a glorious landscape of yellow and orange to get thoroughly lost in. This was New England hiking at its very best.
Getting lost spiritually was great. Getting lost physically would have been a huge problem. The road went on so long that I became afraid I would miss the trail junction I needed. Eventually, the road reached a grove of birch trees, all with yellow leaves. There I found a small sign with the trail I needed. Very easily I could have walked right
Old logging road
Old road beauty fest by it and not noticed until I ended up on a paved road far from my starting point.
The contrast between the road and my new trail couldn’t be much larger. The former was wide and pretty obvious. The latter was narrow and completely indistinguishable from the surrounding forest except for the trail markers. The former was nearly flat. This one headed for the obvious rocks in the distance and would soon get steep. They did share two important things in common however: a seemingly unending carpet of peak foliage, and the complete absence of other hikers. Judging by the fallen leaves, I’m the only one who’s been here in weeks.
Slowly and steadily, the trail reached the rocks. They were all grey granite, the rock so identified with New Hampshire. These were all split into pieces, broken by ice off the nearby cliff. That cliff marks the easternmost portion of Crotched Mountain.
Once at the boulders, the trail twisted though them heading upwards. As in most New England trails, this involved careful scrambling between the rocks; no stairs or water bars here! At least the path was well marked, with clear markers on the trees. Honestly,
Peak foliage
Brilliant foliage along the old logging road without them everything would look the same.
Near the top of the boulders, the path reached the bottom of a steep rock filled gully. It headed right in and climbed through the rocks. This was lots of work, climbing slowly from poor foothold to poor foothold. At least the trees growing between the rocks had beautiful colored leaves!
Halfway up, the gully narrowed to the point of impossibility. The trail made a sharp right turn here and climbed a side gully instead. This led to a truly glorious vista of red and yellow trees. With the sun shining on them, the former almost appeared to be on fire. After a steep ascent, the trail reached the ridge and things get a little easier. The path had a long view through the trees here, the same distant long ridge seen near the parking lot.
Once on the ridge, the trail climbed upward along it. This was a harder hike than I anticipated, constantly scrambling over granite ledges, up and down. Some of the surrounding forest was pine trees due to the higher elevation and wind exposure. A surprising amount was still green. The constant scrambling slowed me down,
Climbing Crotched Mountain
Steep gully to the top of Crotched Mountain which has an obvious implication for later. I resolutely ignored it and pushed on.
After much work, I reached a trail junction. The right branch went to an obvious ledge. Trees grew just below it, so finding an unobstructed view required careful scrambling. The reward was well worth it, a huge view to the northeast. It showed a seemingly endless series of ridges and hills, covered in a carpet of colored trees. The far distance showed something special and rather familiar, a ridge of tall mountains. This is the Sandwich Range, the southernmost part of the White Mountains, over 100 miles away. I last saw them a year ago from my foliage hike on Mount Major.
Past the overlook junction, the main trail became a tough rocky hike through lots of colored trees. Like the rest of the mountain, they were yellow with some red. A bit surprising, since the higher elevation should have created a colder climate. I reached another of the mountain’s many summits, with an open view to the south. It showed the same view I saw from the climb up, a ridge in the distance and a carpet of colored trees in front of
Crotched Mountain foliage
Colorful trees near the first summit of Crotched Mountain it.
The trail continued onward through more rocks. When it wasn’t climbing through them, the path went up and down dozens of little slopes. Needless to say, the constant elevation changes were starting to wear me out. I finally reached another partially forested summit with the first view to the northwest. It showed the stretch of the Appalachian Mountains between the Green and White Mountains, endless rolling summits. The highest peak was Mount Sunapee.
By this point in the day, the vista showed that shadows were starting to get long. This still has an obvious implication, which I resolutely put out of my mind. I don’t have any choice but to keep going, really.
Beyond that summit, the vegetation finally changed. It switched from deciduous to all pine trees. At this time of year, pines are much less interesting, and the dense needles block all views. The trail climbed some more and reached yet another summit. This one was completely forested. I then passed through an area of blown down trees. Thanks to the wind, the soil is very shallow here leading to shallow roots. A big winter wind storm brought down the trees. Interesting to look
Crotched Mountain view, northeast
Carpet of color looking northeast from a Crotched Mountain summit at, but nasty to hike through.
After the blow down, the path entered yet more dense pine forest. This was starting to get repetitive, just endless rock scrambles and pine trees with no foliage in sight. Finally, I reached another open summit. This one had a big view to the south. Mount Monadnock appeared to the southwest, glowing in the late afternoon light. The next summit dominated the view to the east, next to the notch that gives the mountain its name. Sadly, that summit was covered in pine trees and all green.
By this point, I started to worry. Shadows have grown very long, and I was nowhere near where I needed to be. Scrambling over the rocky ridge had slowed me down more than I ever anticipated. Carefully, I checked my headlamp, and then pushed on. Without a trail junction, I don’t really have a choice.
Beyond the summit, the trail became a steep rock scramble downward into the notch. Unexpectedly, the foliage switched from pines back to deciduous, with great color. Lots of yellow, of course, with orange and red against grey rocks and green moss. Along the way, I passed two crotched trees,
Sandwich Range
Carpet of color leading to the Sandwich Range in the far distance. the mountain’s namesake. Very pretty, on a mountain filled with pretty.
At the bottom of the notch, I got a painful unexpected surprise. The trail I had branched from hours ago ultimately reached the summit trail. I had assumed the logical place was the lowest spot in the notch. When I got there, it was nowhere to be found. With no other choice, I climbed the other side. This was another steep rock scramble, just as tricky as the other direction.
At the top, I finally found that trail junction I wanted. Here I faced a difficult choice. According to the map, continuing on the ridge would actually require less work. The drop from the final summit will be relatively gradual, making for an easier hike if I can get there. However, descending now would probably be safer, at a higher risk of getting lost down below. I calculated I had enough time to make that summit before light faded out. This may not be the most logical choice to make, but it’s the one I took.
From the junction, the path climbed gradually to the next summit. I appreciated this, less scrambling meant I could move
Crotched Mountain scrambling
Typical view scrambling across Crotched Mountain faster. It was completely forested, so all I saw was pine trees. Beyond it, however, the trail followed the top of an open cliff. From that cliff, I saw one of the best autumn views I’ve ever experienced. The actual valley was the same one I’ve seen from other viewpoints, but now the sun was setting. The final light of day turned everything orange and red. This brought out the colors of the foliage in a way I hadn’t expected. Then I saw it.
Spend enough time among grizzled old hikers in this region, and one will likely mention the Pillar of Fire. The phenomenon only appears from exposed summits with a view to the southeast, in southwest New Hampshire or north-central Massachusetts, on days with at least one hundred mile visibility, in middle October, at sunset. The John Hancock Tower in downtown Boston has walls of mirrored glass. At this time of year, the rays of the setting sun hit a section that acts as a giant concave mirror, sending rays of bright red light a long way. For better and worse from now on I will be one of those grizzled hikers, because I saw a fiery
Crotched Mountain view, south
Still another carpet of color looking south from a Crotched Mountain summit. This is the same view as the first overlook, from much higher up. red light on the distant horizon, just as I’d heard about.
I hope it’s obvious why I hadn’t seen the Pillar of Fire before now. The realization of what it implied, and the difficulty I now had to handle, seeped deeply into my brain. Images of a cold hungry night out here, or getting hopelessly lost, filled my mind. Those thoughts in turn created a slowly boiling panic. I reacted by trying to hike faster to cover as much territory as possible with whatever light I had left.
The ridge became a boulder scramble heading upward. Moving too fast here would be genuinely dangerous, risking a slip and injury. I still had light, but it was dropping with every passing moment. Finally, the trail left the ridge and reentered trees. If anything, this was worse because the trees screened whatever light remained. Fear of getting lost rose accordingly, and I made double sure to sight every following trail marker before passing the current one.
Finally, I reached full-on panic. I could barely see, and needed to get out of here! I have enough experience to know that this was the worst thing to do. Quick unthoughtful movement
Crotched Mountain view, north
View north into western New Hampshire from a Crotched Mountain summit. leads to getting lost, falling, or worse. I forced myself to stop, breath deep, and drink water. I’ve had to do this before; I have the skills; I have experience. I repeated this over and over until I finally believed it and calmed down.
Ten minutes later, with barely any light remaining, the trail entered pines. This was even worse than deciduous forest, nearly complete darkness. I saw a marker pointing toward an open area and went for it. The path burst onto an open cliff with a huge view of Mount Monadnock and the surrounding area in final twilight. A picnic table sat on the edge. I must point out that anyone trying this deliberately should bring a camera capable of long exposures, because the twilight view looked fantastic.
I must have reached the place I needed, the last summit of Crotched Mountain. Everyone hiking the main trail wants to reach this cliff. According to websites I read, Crotched Mountain is one of New Hampshire’s favorite night hikes due to the low difficulty of the trail. Like it or not, I was about to find out.
Unfortunately, the start of the path is not well marked.
The Crotched Mountain notch
View across the notch that gives Crotched Mountain its name I forced myself to systematically study the open cliff in twilight until I found the small sign attached to a bush pointing to a downward rock slope. Normally, this would be a very bad thing, scrambling rocks in near darkness. Here it was exactly what I needed, a rock slope for people who’ve never done one before; many obvious footholds close together. Falling on this slope was unlikely, even in very low light.
The slope ended at another ledge, with the same view. The sky was now dark enough for lighted buildings to show in the valley far below. This was a little disconcerting; because they showed the distance I have yet to descend. Beyond the ledge the trail descended yet another rock slope, with the same excellent holds as the last one. I’ve rarely been so thankful for my sensitivity to low light levels than here.
The second slope ended in a pine forest. Pine needles block light really well, so I was now in complete darkness. I finally put on the headlamp. This was a very good thing, because the trail forked immediately afterward. The sign for the path I needed originally seemed like a mistake,
Notch foliage
Still more peak foliage, in the Crotched Mountain notch because it pointed directly toward a big rock! I finally realized I needed to climb that rock, onto yet another rock slope. Like the last two, it headed downward with good holds. Thanks to the trees, the view wasn’t nearly as good.
That slope ended and the trail entered pines for good. Hiking pine forests at night can be scary, because every direction looks the same and they have little undergrowth. The trail could be literally anywhere, with the markers the only clue. I hiked this stretch slowly and carefully, sighting every next trail marker before passing the current one. At least they all headed downward, a good sign I was on the right path. This continued until the trail made a sharp left turn onto an obvious logging road.
Once on the road, the path became the easiest night hike imaginable. With tall vegetation on either side, the path was obvious. I did check regularly, to make sure the trail did not turn without warning. The road itself was essentially straight. Other than crossing a few brooks, it had no obstacles either.
The road went on quite a ways. After a while of unchanging views, I
Sunset foliage
Carpet of foliage from a Crotched Mountain ledge at sunset. I hope to never see this view again : ) began to wonder whether I had missed a turn somewhere. It finally reached a short rise with a lighter area showing through the black of the trees. At night, these areas can be open fields or just an illusion from the curve of the hill. I was very hopeful for the former as the road climbed. At the top, I encountered a very familiar trail junction at the top of a field. I’ve come full circle.
Ironically, crossing the field was harder than the woods. At night everything looks the same and the path could be anywhere. I found it by looking for crushed grass between the bushes. At one point it crossed open rock, and I nearly got lost. I forced myself to slowly examine the vegetation along the edge until I found the path again. I passed through pines briefly and another field, finally arriving back at the Knoll.
The Knoll has a great vista in daylight, but at night it was truly special. Mount Monadnock was silhouetted against the stars to the left, behind the faint lights of towns in the valley below. A carpet of stars filled the cloudless sky above. It was dark
Mount Monadnock near sunset
One of the last scenes with enough light for my camera. I still have so much hiking to go. enough out here for the Milky Way to be visible, plus two planets. The air was pleasant but cool, just enough to signal that winter will arrive soon. This is the type of experience that dreams of New England, certainly my dreams of New England, are made of. From the Knoll, the hike down the accessible trail was straightforward.
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Off the path U.S.
I love reading your blogs because you go off the path and write blogs about things we don't often see. Great photos. Great blog.