Sometimes our roles intertwine. We are tourists. We are hikers. We are genetically wired to avoid pain. So the idea of taking a train up the tallest mountain in New Hampshire and hiking back down makes perfect sense.
The Way Up
The Mount Washington Cog Railway was built in 1869, making it the oldest of its kind in the world. It started as a railway, scoffed at by the New Hampshire legislators who called it the “railway to the moon,” and began catering to the elites of the Northeast who would vacation at the giant resort hotels nearby. Through several different owners, busts, booms, and breakdowns, it still chugs today to bring folks to the top to enjoy the views and the history.
The engineer guides are proud of their system’s survival; winters are harsh here, there are only about 65 clear weather days, and the winds are ferocious. Mt Washington holds the world record for wind speed at 231 mph in 1934 and ties for second for the world’s coldest place at -34° F.
‘The Cog” is the world’s first mountain-climbing cog railway (rack-and-pinion railway). Both steam and biodiesel-powered locomotives to carry tourists to the top of the mountain. It is the second steepest rack railway in the world after the Pilatus Railway in Switzerland with an average grade of over 25% and a maximum grade of 37.41%. The railway is approximately 3 miles long and climbs from 2,700 ft to the mountain’s summit peak of 6,288 feet at 2.8 miles per hour.
Sitting among the other tourists we could sense the fun and wonder among the wide-eyed kids, smiling parents and picture-snapping travelers. Clearly this was not just a destination for the Northeast (and Southeast Canada). It was a part of heritage and culture for the “Live Free or Die” state.
And the Down East accent of the guide was priceless. There was a haze in the sky from the fi-ahs in Manitober. And you could see the glimmah of the Miker in the rocks.
The Way Down
We’ve done our share of these kinds of cheater hikes, riding gondolas, chairlifts and cog trains in mountains. This hike connected to a section of the Appalachian Trail (in Down East, “Ah-pa-lah–chun”) and ran above the treeline for miles. So we thought we’d turn the 5 mile descent into a healthy 10 miles with some out-and-back and then down. Within a quarter mile of negotiating the rocks that form the base of the Jewel Trail, we changed our minds. These rocks in these mountains have no discipline; they’re round and craggy and old and really hard to negotiate. Do all metamorphic rocks make such crappy trails? I realized we’ve been spoiled by too many great trails and thought a lot about crystalline structure and geology. We slowed to a pace of just over 1 mph having to carefully watch our footing.
A visible, smell-able haze set thickly above us, denying the giant views (reported to be of five states, the coast and up into Canada), and setting a damper on the day. Yet we still could appreciate being in the mountains again, and the views were nonetheless gratifying and part of the White Mountains experience.
In retrospect we managed to enjoy the hike, and chocked up another learning experience – we’ll look a little more at trail descriptions and photos next time. From this hike of 5 miles (5 miles! That’s nothing! Or we used to think so) of careful toe placement and balancing on every step, our sore, stiff calf muscles two days later are reminding us of the worn but deceitful mastery of the old rocky trails of the eastern mountains.
