Vermont's 4,000-footers Day 2: Camel's Hump, Mansfield

Day 2: Camel’s Hump and Mansfield

As difficult and long as Day 1 had been, I figured that, at least comparatively, my second day of tramping in the Green Mountains would be a walk in the woods, so to speak. Those were some fighting thoughts, considering the tallest mountain in the state was on the agenda.

My day began at the base of a washed-out road. Luckily, I only had to walk an extra 0.4 miles up the dirt road with huge crevices in it to reach the base of the Monroe Trail up Camel’s Hump.

I was just a little farther north than I’d been the previous afternoon.

The Monroe Trail wasn’t much different from the trails of Day 1. It was a steady ascent on a trail with fairly easy footing. But it felt very long. And because there was no escaping the trees, it was impossible to see how close I was to the top.

Sweating profusely as I continued at a steady clip — although my legs still felt sore from the previous day — I came upon a woman and her German Shepherd named Eli. I would see another five dogs on my way down.

Camel’s Hump — mountain of the dogs.

Judging by Eli’s appearance, I didn’t anticipate too much difficult, technical climbing. However, the steep final 0.3 miles didn’t surprise me, although they were made easier by the rapidly increasing cloudy views around me.

Upon gaining the summit, I was greeted by 20mph winds and swirling clouds in all directions. I put on my long-sleeve AMC shirt, took some pictures — sorry, fans of the sun and clear days, but clouds make everything, including picture opportunities, better! — and sat down to inhale some trail mix.

I’ll say it again: There’s nothing better than being on an open summit, giving you that top of the world feeling, and food tastes 10 times as good when consumed in such a spot.

I didn’t stay for too long, though, as I still had one more climb and, yes, one more breathtaking ascent.

Mount Mansfield might be best known for its array of ski slopes that are jam packed every winter in the resort town of Stowe. But hiking the mountain is one heck of an adventure, too!

Just like with Mount Washington, Vermont’s tallest mountain offers an array of routes up it varying in length, steepness and scenery. Having ascending three 4,000-footers (and Pico) in the previous 24 hours, I opted for the “easiest” route up via the Long Trail — more white blazes!

It was only 2.3 miles to the summit. Nothing, right?

Of course, it was also an elevation gain of 2,800 feet.

So I knew that from the base of the trail, I’d be climbing. And, sure enough, it was a steady and often steep, if not difficult footing-wise, ascent through the woods.

Unlike the previous three hikes, though, once I had sweated and exhausted myself for two miles, the final stretch — which was a very long 0.3 miles — was completely in the open. As I emerged from the pines, the summit of Mansfield, called “The Chin,” lay in front of me, a rock-covered cliff similar to New Hampshire’s iconic Mt. Chocorua. I could see dozens of people slowing making their way up through steep crevices between rocks or using their hands — and butts — to lower themselves down the precipice.

(Side note: I have discovered, and I’m sure I’m not the only one, that it’s much easier to hike when in the open. Even if a daunting ascent lies before me, if I can see where I’m going, it feels easier mentally than when I’m exerting all that energy in the woods without much of an idea how far the destination is.)

I joined the throngs of people, slowly making my way toward The Chin. Once on it, I was greeted with the expected and read-about views in all directions, including Lake Champlain to the west. To the south lay The Nose, a shorter summit of Mansfield that is home to a couple TV towers and doesn’t, appropriately, situate hikers.

I talked for a couple minutes with the summit caretaker, who was in charge of making sure visitors to the summit don’t trample the fragile alpine vegetation (side note: Vermont’s Green Mountain Club does a tremendous job of protecting the alpine zone with certain areas up high roped off and caretakers on both Mansfield and Camel’s Hump. The rope is nondescript enough and not abundant enough to take away from the specter of the summits, and the caretakers are your average nature enthusiasts who only intervene if someone is way out of bounds. I understand this because especially on Mansfield, you can drive up a road by The Nose that’s just a mile from The Chin and its alpine zone. People can also take a gondola up the mountain. Those kinds of non-hiking types often don’t understand such things). The caretaker was really cool and we chatted about hiking 4,000-footers in New Hampshire and Vermont.

She took my picture on top to commemorate reaching all of the state’s 4,000-footers. Mission (not easily) accomplished.

The caretaker also advised me on a way down that would allow me to do my first loop. So despite adding a mile or two — by that point, I wasn’t counting! — I took the ridge toward the nose, which offered interesting views from a different perspective of The Chin — then walked down the road half a mile, zigzagged my way down a steep ski slope, and finally entered the woods on the Hasselton Trail.

An hour later plus a short hitchhike on Route 108 that probably wasn’t necessary, I was back at the Civic by 4 p.m. It had been a short day.

Hah.

To summarize, Vermont’s highest peaks take some adjusting to. Unlike New Hampshire’s tallest, Vermont’s are mostly wooded without much ridge hiking above the tree line. This makes continuing to push onward more difficult, especially when hiking alone.

But I still enjoyed each hike not just for the sense of accomplishment, but for the peacefulness of the trails and, of course, that great feeling I got when I did, finally, emerge from green to a rocky summit.

That feeling never gets old.