Chase Outdoors

Ascending North Baldface Photo: Dave Boyle

An almost cloudless sky, light winds and temperatures in the high forties, a near perfect winter day for a mountain hike with significant exposure.  Our choice, one of the finest alpine loop trips in New England, the Baldface Circle Trail. Dave and I had been waiting for the right opportunity to take on this beautiful and demanding winter mountaineering challenge.  Conflicting trail signs measure the distance between 9.8 and 10.6 miles.  Mapping the trip for our book, Mountains for Mortals – New England, we measured 8.7 miles.  Regardless, with two summits to traverse and a total elevation gain in excess of 3,300 feet, it’s a workout. 

This lovely morning, we were witnessing the change in seasons as winter was exiting like a lamb, ushering in a prematurely spring-like day.  Unfortunately, Dave and I were experiencing our own change of seasons since both us were among the “walking wounded.”  I was nursing a two-month old hamstring injury, while Dave was dealing with chronic leg cramping.  We attributed both our problems to that most unrelenting physical adversary – old age.  Reassuring one another with melancholy reminders of friends and loved ones departed, or those suffering from worse afflictions, we asserted “the trip was on.”   Younger readers may not relate to our geriatric ruminations, but I offer a solemn prediction “your time will come.” 

At the trailhead we exchanged greetings with a backcountry skier who hoped we were her overdue companions.  Alas, we represented another disappointment. Her skis reminded us decisions needed to be made regarding foot gear.  We agreed crampons would probably be required on the steep ledges of South Baldface Mountain, but “What about snowshoes?” we asked one another.  Since conditions at higher elevations were unknown, we opted for the added weight and greater security of carrying snowshoes – a good choice as it turned out.  Most winter mountain hikers agree, “When in doubt, bite the bullet and take snowshoes.  You’ll feel better about yourself in the morning.”

Our choice was to do the loop clockwise and ascend the ledges of South Baldface, normally a safer option than descending them.  Traveling was easy bare booting on a well-packed path for about 2.5 miles to Baldface Shelter, an aging lean-to situated at the foot of the ledges.  The next mile is most likely the source of the mountain’s name, consisting of precipitous, open ledges followed by a steep, barren above-tree line environment.   We wore boot crampons and used ice axes for our climb.  Dave, an experienced technical climber, led the way on the ledges.  Conditions were optimal with a partially frozen two to four inch blanket of snow covering a thin layer of ice.  When we encountered fault lines in the snow near the top of the ledges, we carefully moved below protruding rocks and mountain scrub to avoid involvement in a slide. 

Glorious views greeted us as we crested the shoulder of the mountain and climbed steadily on ice-covered granite slabs to the summit of South Baldface.  From the top, a panoramic vista of Mount Washington and the rugged Presidential range in the west was our reward.  The decision to carry snowshoes paid dividends crossing the ridge to North Baldface where the trail was essentially unbroken with pockets of deep, crusted snow.  Navigating the harsh terrain exacerbated our nagging injuries, particularly scaling the abrupt North Baldface cone. At the summit, we rested our aching limbs while savoring 360 degree views.  Relaxing, we realized we hadn’t seen a solitary hiker or skier since leaving the trailhead.  “Everyone must be on Mount Washington,” Dave observed.  “If we had a telescope, we could probably pick out our friends climbing in Huntington Ravine.”

The descent from North Baldface was a precipitate combination of snow covered granite shelves and dense, mountain scrub. The glistening ice and snow covered ledges of South Baldface stared back at us as we crossed an open ridge towards Eagle Crag in the east. Just before reaching the crag, we encountered meandering snowshoe tracks which ultimately led down a series of open ledges to Bicknell Ridge Trail.  Descending more gradually, several problematic stream crossings and sore leg muscles were the primary obstacles during the remainder of our trip.  Amazingly, a pair of backcountry skiers returned to the trailhead almost simultaneously with us, and several cars were parked nearby.  Somehow, we’d managed to avoid significant numbers of hikers and skiers the entire day. 

Despite the physical obstacles, we’d survived to hike another day and entered the post-trip treatment zone for the elderly: ibuprofen, ace bandages and ice packs.  But, we’ll be back in the mountains next week, God willing.