Camel's Hump

You may have noticed that I'm slightly obsessed with Camel's Hump. It is the mountain that Barre has the best views of; one can see it from nearly every high point in town. I take pictures of it all the time. This is my favorite.

I also love how serene it looks. It was the first mountain in Vermont that I could identify by site, and no one had to tell me what it was. I saw it and thought "There's Camel's Hump."

For Mom's 50th birthday, she wanted to climb a big high mountain, so she came to Vermont and I suggested that we climb Camel's Hump. Something about staring longingly at a mountain from all over town made me really want to go immerse myself in it. Mom's birthday is on April 10th though, which is not late enough, on any year, for the snow to have melted. That was the year of the Perfect Valentine's Day Storm, dumping 4 feet of snow in 24 hours in the middle of February. We knew we'd hit snow on the trail, we just didn't know where. We were prepared and left with snowshoes, a campstove and plenty of food and water.

We didn't anticipate how soon we would hit snow. About 1.3 miles into the 3.4 mile hike to the summit, we had to put our snowshoes on.

I'm sure that Mom could have made it, but I tired quickly and at the 0.9 miles to summit sign had to stop, and refused to move further. (Joanna's second sit down strike?) We had lunch, during which Mom continued to plead and prod that we continue. We were so close, after all, it would be a waste to turn back now. But I am stubborn, (Mom says my Indian name is Stomps-With-A-Fist), and we didn't make it to the summit.

This unsuccessful summit attempt haunts me. Now every time I see Camel's Hump sticking up behind the closest hill I think "I should have kept going. (What a terrible daughter.)" With our time in Vermont drawing too quickly to a close climbing Camel's Hump became a gnawing yearning which presented itself as an urgent necessity. I continued to take pictures of it everywhere I went:

Meanwhile, Seth is preparing to take his Applied Behavioral Analyst Certification Exam, which he had put off after getting a job at the local school where they preferred a teacher's license. This certification will be more helpful for getting a job in his field when we move though, so now it's finally time. He has been very good about studying for it, and has declared that for the next few weekends all he can do is study. What a huge sacrifice for him, giving up some of his last precious weekends in Vermont studying to take an exam so that I can go home.

On Saturday I decided that we don't have time for waiting: On Sunday I was going to climb Camel's Hump by myself. I was going to make it to the top, and the only real question was whether Thunder got to come. The very top of Camel's Hump is an alpine zone with a delicate ecosystem. If you bring your dog it has to be leashed when you enter the alpine zone. After a bit of hemming and hawing, I decided I would bring him since we hadn't gotten him out to run all week.

I checked the weather and found the chance of rain wasn't predicted to arrive until 4pm. Plenty of time to get up and down if I started early. Starting after 11:30 would be cutting it close. I packed a backpack with trail mix, granola bars, a bladder of water and my darn tough camera. I strapped on Thunder's leash and a raincoat.  (Mom has trained me well.) I layered towels in the back of the 4Runner in anticipation of a muddy dog. (Seth has trained me well.) I slathered myself with sunscreen. (Kelly has trained me well.)

I've done the first section of the trail several times now, and it is a perfectly lovely New England Hiking trail. Steep in sections, meandering in sections, with water diversions, tiny streams, and always rocks. Since we were just there last week it was fun to see the difference one week made in the leaves and flowers. The little yellow flowers that had been blooming last week were all shriveled up, but there were new lovely white flowers to take their place. The leaves had transformed from buds into an actual canopy which mostly shaded me from the sun. There were a few mosquitoes here and there, and some grey flies occasionally, but the dreaded Black Flies aren't out yet, which was relieving.

Hiking up the mountain was like going backwards in time. Soon I was no longer in shade, the leaves on the trees were only budding. The yellow flowers from last week were in full bloom and if I hadn't been in the sun it would have been slightly chilly. Thunder's favorite thing to do is reorganize the forest. He picks up the biggest sticks and finds their proper resting place. (Usually Thunder thinks their proper resting place is in the middle of the trail, and we have to move them off to the side.) Thunder can be seen zig-zagging the trail, moving sticks and logs from one side to the other, constantly working at his task. Seth and I joke that he got his penchant for organizing and cleaning from his Grand-Mama, which is really just a silly thing to even consider, considering the mess he creates in the house.

Suddenly the sky was no longer blue, and I could see grey clouds enclosing the mountain from all sides. I was slightly distressed, thinking that I was only about half way up and knowing that the top would be very rocky (read slippery). I found that, being on the side of a mountain I had terrific cell phone reception, so I checked the weather which still said the rain would hold off until 4. Since the sun was gone it was getting chilly though, so I put my rain coat on and kept going. I passed through evergreen glades and birch stands, climbed boulders and jumped from rock to rock across the streams. Soon I got to the point where we turned around last time. (What a terrible daughter.)

After this point, the trail turned into what I can only describe as an enchanted elf kingdom. Every rock and root was covered with a thick layer of green moss. The boulders stuck out and created little alcoves of dark mossy stillness. It was so beautiful.


I came to a clearing announcing the beginning of the alpine zone. I leashed Thunder and we shared a Nutri-Grain bar. I continued, slightly nervous about what Thunder on a leash on a mountain was going to be like, and then I hit snow.

Just a winding sliver of slippery snow, covering the trail for about 50 feet. It wasn't too bad, though, Thunder was pulling so hard on his leash that I didn't have to do much to let him pull me, sliding up the trail. (Going down might be more treacherous, I thought.) Next up, rock climbing. Not really, but it was rocky, and these weren't boulders you could hop up easily with a dog pulling you off on every side. We poked ourselves out above tree line and swiftly found the summit. There were a surprising number of people there, picnicking and enjoying the brilliant view of fog. I found the pin and sat down by it, trying to get Thunder to calm down so that I could get my camera out and take a picture of it. He didn't want to sit down though, and then a bird flew by, and then another dog arrived on the scene, and I could feel my precarious perch becoming more dangerous by the second. I dug my phone out of my pocket and took a quick one handed picture of the pin for mom. Then I carefully stood up and tried to corral Thunder back to the trail, back down to the bottom of the alpine zone where I could unleash him.

I passed three girls sitting on the edge, and one of them commented "That's a heavy duty leash!" I was so absorbed in not letting Thunder pull me off the cliff (after the dark eyed junco that had just taken off) that I couldn't even focus on responding. Then they noticed Thunder straining against the leash, and me straining against it, and said "Woah." I was desperate to get out of there and leave the poor picnickers in peace.

Finally back under the alpine zone, Thunder and I stopped for a real photoshoot at the clearing. We're both still a little stressed from our harrowing descent.

We made our way slowly through the enchanted elf kingdom, enjoying every sight and the piney scent. It started raining. I put my hood up and decided it really didn't matter if it was raining or not, as long as I wasn't on the summit during a lightning storm I could stand being wet. I was on my way down now, after all, and I had made it! I climbed back down the boulders, hopped rock by rock through the streams, and skipped through evergreen glades and birch stands. Down towards the bottom again, the rain was only making things greener! The low American Beech trees had leafed out and I felt like I was surrounded by bright green from the forest floor to the sky above me. I absorbed as much green as I could and walked a little faster as the downpour intensified.

I signed us out at the trail head and was surprised to discover that my arms and fingers were almost completely numb, and, I was in fact REALLY cold. I could hardly wrap my fingers around the pencil!

When we got back to the car Thunder ran right up to it and sat until I caught up, waiting to get inside. This is not a normal occurrence, and I figured he was tired hungry and cold. (I was pretty glad that I had layered towels all over the back!) We got in and shared some more power bars. Thunder curled up and fell asleep for the ride home. I let Seth know that his rag-tag duo of intrepid perambulators was headed home, and drove off. I had the heat blasting but couldn't get warm. The sun came back out, of course, and by the time I got home it must have been hundreds of degrees inside the car. Seth greeted us and said he was cold just looking at me! I hopped in a hot shower and Seth toweled Thunder down and gave him a hearty portion of food.

I kind of want to go back without Thunder so I can properly enjoy the summit.
On a warmer day, perhaps.



PS - This picture comparison sort of demonstrates how much snow there was last time we were there!