What had begun as a childhood dream of becoming an Adirondack 46er soon expanded into a quest for hiking all four-thousand-foot peaks in the neighboring state of Vermont; once relocated to the fine state of New Hampshire, tackling the New Hampshire 48 four-thousand-footers seemed the natural next step. Why stop there, though? Such a sweet temptation to embark on the “lifegoal” to ascend all 115-peaks above four-thousand-feet in the northeast.

With the completion of the New Hampshire 48, New England 67, and the New England 115 - all atop the freshly snow-dusted summit of Mount Carrigain on November 9th, 2019 - naturally, I turned to other similar lists and noticed, with my prior peak bagging endeavors, most of the AMC New England Hundred Highest had already been summited, why not keep going with those?!

*Sunrise atop Equinox Mountain in Vermont*

Most of the remaining peaks on my new “to-do” list were trailless, “bushwhack” climbs - or at least had been at one time - necessitating map and compass skills and basic knowledge of orienteering. I was pleased to find during my adventures that, by now, most of the New England Hundred Highest had some degree of herd path from the recent rise in NEHH awareness and popularity.

Occasionally, I’d rally friends to climb these remaining Hundred Highest peaks, often including them in the day’s itinerary without any knowledge to the others of my climbing party (little did they know, the level of fun they were to be embarking on!).

*Morning sunrays while trekking to Mendon Peak*

Several early morning jaunts were enjoyed with a longtime mountain running friend and (conveniently) physical therapist/A Talk in the Woods blog post editor, Chris, who lives nearby. Due to familial and occupational constraints, Chris and I generally begin our twilight ascents around 2 or 3am, striving to stand atop any open summit for a good glimpse at sunrise – we have caught some truly spectacular scenes while visiting these magical White Mountain places.

More often than not, these peaks were ascended solo, driving to the trailhead just to slumber before or after the climb in the backseat of my 2010 Subaru Impreza. I’ve developed somewhat comfortable methods of fitting in my backseat, such as folding the legs in an “accordion-style”. One of the more memorable outings done in this fashion was a night spent in the Sugarloaf ski resort in Bigelow, Maine; amidst 34-degree morning temperatures and moderate snowfall, I ascended Sugarloaf rather early in the day, just to press on southward to summit Spaulding, then came Mt Abraham as the whispy clouds whirled tumultuously overhead, I then backtracked northward to the Appalachian Trail, crossing a very swollen Carrabassett River, in order to access the Crockers. South Crocker to North, and back to South Crocker and henceforth Mount Redington – which, up to that October 19th, 2019 ascent, was (in my humble opinion) my most significant hike, as it was, in my mind, my first real bushwhack – a first real taste of beautiful herd path trekking.

More recently, I had spent several days getting to know the backseat of my Subaru all over again as I roamed the old logging roads of Rangeley, Maine while climbing more trailless peaks. White Cap to Kennebeck Divide, back to White Cap, with a bushwhack northwesterly to Monument 450 Peak where I would then proceed to the summit of Boundary Peak by way of the Canada/USA border swath – what gnarly, muddy footing I’d soon find in that col! There is simply no way someone can walk into these trailless peaks and exit the same person. To round out the evening, I’d drive several minutes south to summit Snow Mountain (Cupsuptic) for sunset before heading northeastward for a star-lit slumber in the Snow Mountain - Chain of Ponds region. After standing atop my second Snow Mountain of that excursion at 8am, I moseyed back down while on alert for any more moose activity and had a brunch ascent of East Kennebago on my return home.

*Summit register jar atop the trailless Big Jay Peak in northern Vermont*

I began hiking with a newfound friend while she was working on her round of New Hampshire 48 4000-footers, we eventually hiked all 48 together. Naturally, I sprinkled in a few from my list as well – which was very eagerly received during the planning phases. Alanna had a brief “intro to bushwhacking” as we clambered from the summit of Vose Spur to Mount Carrigain. A sea of dense, young fir branches often blocked our view straight down to confirm our foot placement, which, to our chagrin, was usually atop rotting logs and deep blankets of moss! We brought home funny stories along with several new scratches from that hike – evidently, the bushwhack could not have been overly traumatizing as we went on to climb in the Sierra Nevada’s, Tetons, Cascades, and all over the Appalachian Mountains while fulfilling a grant I had won from the American Alpine Club during the month of August 2023. Alanna and I became engaged in the Sierra’s and now look forward to more exploring anywhere in the White Mountains together.

*Boundary Peak in Maine via the US/Canada border swath*

Looking back at the list of peaks on the New England Hundred Highest, I am often filled with joy, the names conjuring up visions of moss-lined single track herd paths meandering through a coniferous web of interlaced spruce branches; the sweet scent of coconut and balsam fir lingering in the cool, misty mountain air; spotting brightly colored mushroom caps emerging from a virescent blanket of moss and lichen – these peaks fill me with immense joy and sense of adventure into the unknown. Stepping into the wilderness where you can find these trailless peaks, one knows not whether they will run into wildlife – but how much wildlife they may see on their forested outings.

*Views through the dense forest of Elephant Mountain*

Scaling the New England Hundred Highest grew a comforting familiarity with spotting the PVC canisters upon reaching the high point of each climb. I grew to appreciate registering my ascent and finding these treasures in the backwoods so much that I started carrying extra summit log books, as well as spare pens and pencils in the event my destination might need new gear – inadvertently becoming a caretaker of these backwoods destinations and wanting to make the experience just as memorable for the next who venture up these rugged slopes.

While Vermont certainly had many noteworthy climbs - such as bushwhacking from Mendon Peak to Killington by way of a stunningly lush, moss and lichen-draped forest – what a heavenly place to find oneself! Scaling the peaks on this list certainly brings mountain explorers to unusual places where we would otherwise likely never find ourselves, and planning routes that might otherwise never be considered in attempting, had these peaks not been suggested by the Appalachian Mountain Club members back in 1967.

*Beautiful herd path to Fort Mountain in Maine*

At the end of September, Alanna and I found ourselves in Baxter State Park for a celebratory birthday weekend. At 6:30am I took off up the Marston Trail as leaves transitioned to yellow, orange and a burnt reddish hue, eventually falling from their branches and plummeting all around. Smoke from Canadian wildfires hung low on the topography as the hazy air smelled of punky woodstove. Not much was visible that morning from the summit of North Brother – my final destination was but one long ridgeline which stuck out in the gloomy air soup. Finding both a glorious herd path bookended with scrappy, dense fir, I was both delighted to step atop Fort Mountain and find the old radio equipment - and left searching for something more substantial, as my final peak did not have a canister in which to log my 100th NE Hundred Highest ascent. Alone I stood and glanced back at North Brother, wishing to linger just a while longer on the remote, trailless ridgeline.

*Hazy views along the Fort Mountain ridgecrest*

Thanks to the New Hampshire Hundred Highest, I am now fully anticipating winter to break the snowshoes and winter gear back out for some snowy bushwhacking – there is nothing like floating atop a 3-4 foot base of powder and romping right atop all the fallen trees, ferns, and dense understory foliage. Now, to keep checking off those NH 3000-footers and tracking down more summit registers.

Happy Climbing!

Erik Hamilton

Co-author/creator of A Talk in the Woods

New England Hundred Highest

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