A man at the top of the mountain picked up his banjo and played some of the most beautiful music you would ever want to hear. Like that movie “Deliverance.”
It was my reward for having climbed atop Mount Mansfield—the highest peak in Vermont—on one of the hottest days of the year.
I sat with my hiking partner high on a ridge overlooking Montreal, Lake Champlain, the Adirondacks, and the village of Stowe all in one fulfilling glance. On a clear day, yes, you can see forever.
This musician happened to be a ranger whose life is the mountains. As he played, he regaled us with stories of his hiking experience. I found it odd that after climbing precisely 4,393 feet over rocks of gargantuan size in weather more suitable for Death Valley, that music would be the ultimate gift.
“My banjo goes where I go,” the ranger told me. “If you think this is something, I ran into a fellow who hiked the Appalachian Trail with a tuba. How he managed with a backpack, too, is beyond me. Either he was loco or just driven by his music. Either way, it drew attention.”
That morning sitting down to a light breakfast at the motel, I had serious reservations about our ordeal that day with my hiking companion Karekin Soghigian. One weather report called for triple-digit temperatures.
Since we were 3.5 hours from home and had coughed up two days’ booking fees, there was no turning back. The wives had yet to join us at the breakfast table. Their hiking plans were a little less intimidating. They would be museum hopping while we were leaping across the rugged terrain.
Mansfield was on my list of hiking the tallest New England peaks. After navigating Katahdin in Maine, Washington in New Hampshire several times, and Greylock in Massachusetts last year, three states remained, including Vermont.
Through the eyes of any traveler, Mansfield covers a lot of ground. Looking at the various peaks, they resemble a face and carry names like the Lower Lip, the Chin, Nose, and the Adam’s Apple.
The threat of rain had postponed two earlier attempts. Calls made to the ranger station at Mansfield warned us of the risk. Though the elevation wasn’t that of Washington, trying to negotiate a wet trail can be rather precarious.
I recall the struggle encountered on Katahdin some years back when we were warned of a possible turbulence but decided to take our chances anyway since we were already at the base.
What developed at the summit was Mother Nature’s fury. Rain. Hail. Wind. We made it below the tree line on the descent but no further when darkness intervened. That night was spent sitting on a rock, my companion and I, exchanging stories of our lives and newspaper careers. Had it been any colder, it could have been fatal.
On this day in Mansfield, we chose the Laura Cowles Trail upward—a 45-degree slant laden with spectacular views and rather tricky obstacles.
On the way down, we switched to the Sunset Ridge Trail, an easier approach we were told, though much of it was atop a ridge with exposed sun. Once we reached the tree line, the shade welcomed us like a cold Bud. The climb had suddenly reverted to a hike.
All said and done, we had spent seven hours at Mansfield, covering five miles, at times exercising sheer will power to reach our destination.
There are reasons why people gravitate toward mountains, and none of it is ludicrous. For one thing, it’s as close to nature and God’s environment as you’re ever going to get. Aside from the exercise and physical challenges, you meet some of the most interesting folks on these trails.
Although birds are rare at this elevation, we did sight a hawk spiraling above and a few ravens gawking. More predictable sights were the alpine flowers and the heavy scent of pine, along with mountain cranberry.
Of the 12 people we encountered that day, none hailed from Vermont. One woman was from Denmark visiting. Two gals were from Wisconsin. We met a couple from New York spending a week mountaineering. Another man from Boston wearing a knee brace shouldn’t have been there at all. He was hiking alone which didn’t make sense.
A family with two children chose to take the gondola, and the kids were excited to be on top of a mountain sharing the view and hearing a banjo played.
All that remains on my hiking itinerary is Connecticut with its Bear Mountain (2,316 feet) and even smaller mountains in Rhode Island. I can hear them calling my name.
Tom Vartabedian
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Bravo Tom, Viewing Nature from a mountain top is like viewing God’s artwork. It’s like going to church! You were also blessed with a clear day. .
After you do Bear Mt. please consider Mt. Marcy in upper NY State. Many hikers consider it part of New England and not to be missed. From its peak you look down at little Lake Tear of the Clouds and see the origin of the Hudson River and the Western NY Water Shed. And all around you are mountains begging to be climbed!
Will you be doing a slide show of your trip. “Vee”