Boston Globe, April 28, 2002

A Man, A Boy, and A Mountain

It was nearing 10 am on the first warm day of spring when we caught a glimpse of that broad-shouldered peak Henry David Thoreau called a "sublime mass." "Is that the mountain?" asked my 5-year-old son, Jake, looking up at its majestic bulk that forms a solitary silhouette in the landscape. My friend Jeff Katz concurred and then his 9-year-old, Alex, shrieked with joy, more at the thought of getting out of the car then of actually climbing the damn thing.

Neither boy had ever bagged a mountain before. But when we saw them sprint up the trail to the Blue Hills observation tower last fall, we knew they were ready. We also knew that their first climb had to be up Mt. Monadnock. Just over the border of Massachusetts in southern New Hampshire, Monadnock is less than a two-hour drive from Boston. Its accessibility and locale, smack dab in the center of New England, has made it the second most popular climb in the world (averaging about 130,000 climbers a year). Only Mt. Fuji in Japan has more foot traffic.

That's not exactly a turn-on to Jeff and me. We tend to pick trails that have more chipmunks than chumps. Yet hiking on one of the many trails that climb to the top of Monadnock has undeniably become a rite of passage in these parts. Especially between parent and child. We chose to go up the White Dot trail, one of the steepest ascents to the peak, but also one that rewards with you with incredible vistas in a very short time. "More bang for your buck," as Jeff says. Hopefully, the views would drive the kids on to greater heights. Little did we know that scrambling up the rocks was far more enticing to them.

We decked the boys out in their nifty new hiking boots, polar fleece, and CamelBak water-carrying pouches, and started on the 1.9-mile route. The trail begins as a wide dirt path through a forest of spindly white birches. Jake clutched my hand as we walked, perhaps feeling insecure in these unfamiliar environs. Within five minutes, he no longer wanted to carry the CamelBak. Another two minutes and I was carrying his polar fleece jacket. Less than a quarter-mile from the car, Jake blurted out that he was tired.

The last thing I wanted to be was a wicked taskmaster who traumatized his son forever from venturing outdoors. So I did what any sane father would do. I sat him on a rock and gave him a bag of trail mix that was heavy on the M & Ms. He continued to hold on to me as we strolled through the dense hardwood forest. Then he abruptly let go of my hand and went running after Alex who was now scampering up the rocks on a steep section of the trail. I'm not sure if it was the sugar kicking in, the thought of Alex beating him to the top, or, more than likely, he just needed to feel comfortable in these surroundings. Whatever the reason, Jake was back to his determined self, a curious Kindergartner full of pride eager to tackle the path that lie ahead.

The White Dot Trail veered straight up a staircase of rock. Jake and Alex had fun finding grooves in the boulders, hand and footholds, that would help them to clamber onward. A little more than an hour later we were at the halfway point. Above tree-line, the forest gives way to open ledges covered with low-lying shrubs like mountain cranberry bushes. This gives the hiker ample opportunity to rest and peer down at the classic New England setting below-a soft carpet of treetops budding, small towns with their requisite white steeples, a smattering of lakes and ponds, and farms that fan out to anonymous ridges. In the distance, snow could still be seen on the ski slopes at Massachusetts' Mt. Wachusett.

"I can see everything!" Jake exclaimed before running off again.

The low treeline is a result of a fire that wiped out much of the forest in 1800. It also helps that Monadnock is isolated from other mountains that might obstruct the view. Indeed, its name stems from an Indian word for "mountain that stands alone."

As we drew closer to the top, we had to climb over exposed gray boulders that offer no protection from the stiff cool wind. It helped that the skies were clear and the sun was beating down. "Come on," Jake shouted as he jumped the last remaining granite atop the 3,165-foot summit. It was just past noon when the boys had reached their crowning achievement. We took in the 360-degree panorama, looking north to the Lake District and White Mountains of New Hampshire. Then we called the wives to tell them how the kids did. The first words out of Alex's mouth were, "Mom, can I play Nintendo when I get home." So much for reflecting on the moment.

Thoreau would have been appalled to see us using cell phones. From Concord, he would take a train to nearby Troy and then walk up Monadnock, settling in for couple days to record his observation of the plants, wildlife, and, much to his annoyance, other humans. He was aghast at watching his fellow climbers in the mid-19th century inscribe their names on the summit as a testament to their accomplishment. "Several (visitors) were busy engraving their names on the rocks with cold chisels, whose incessant click you heard, and they had but little leisure to look off, " he wrote. This didn't stop Thoreau from writing in large letters atop the biggest boulder "H.D.T. Ate Gorp Here, 1860." I'm joking, but you can see many other names clearly marked like "T.S. Spaulding, 1853."

We stayed for an hour, dining on sandwiches, fruit, and more candy in the guise of Power Bars and Cliff Bars, before making our way down. We would take the White Cross trail back, sliding down boulders and jumping from rock to rock over gurgling brooks and other little pools of water formed by the spring thaw. Even in the mid-afternoon hours, there was still a steady steam of hikers making their way up. The mountain is so vast, however, shaped by a widening series of rock ledges, and laced with more than a half-dozen trails, that you never feel overwhelmed by people. Unless, of course, you're a modern-day version of Henry David Thoreau.

Tired from a long day, Jake took my hand once again as we made our way back through the shaded forest. When we reached the car, I took off his boots and socks to let his feet cool. Within moments of driving away, he passed out.

Seeing that little tike, half my size, atop that massive mountain, it was easy to get teary-eyed. It's like dropping your child off at school that first day, amazed that they're not still in diapers. Or comparable to how I feel now that the Patriots are Super Bowl champs. They could be a losing team for the next decade and I wouldn't care. Jake has now earned the right to crash on the couch, suck down bags of Cheetos, and watch Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory until the tape breaks. Because, when he was five, he climbed Monadnock.

Directions:
From Boston head northwest on Rte. 2 to Exit 25. Jog northeast on Rte. 12 toward Fitchburg and Ashburnham. In Winchendon, continue north on Rte. 202, crossing into New Hampshire. At Jaffrey go west on Rte. 124. Just after Jaffrey Center, turn right to Monadnock State Park. Primary entrance, visitor center, and camping are in the southeastern corner of the park. The park can also be accessed from the north, off Rte. 101 near Dublin. Day use of trails costs $3. Children 11 & under are free. For more information, call 603/532-8862.