It’s a blustery winter morning and we’re at the start of our ascent. Clouds whirl above us while winds swirl all around. Beyond us are deep snowbanks we will power through, deep valleys we will gaze down on (when the clouds temporarily part) and a journey upward toward deep, frozen tundra.
“See that?” Our guide Marc exclaims while pointing down at a bank of clouds, “That’s the regular world weather!”
“See that?” He pointed up, “that’s our weather. No place like this on the earth! You know how many times I get to say ‘the coldest or windiest on earth up here? Lots!” We forge ahead, pushing against the wild wind and snowbanks to make it to our destination: The base of the sub-arctic tree line area of massive Mount Washington.
We’re tough. We’re hardy. We’re unabashed adventurers, out in nature on a bitter cold and beautiful day.
We started out tucked snugly into the Mount Washington Snowcoach (https://mt-washington.com), a spacious mega-van set on a triangular four track in place of wheels that can bomb through just about any snowbank, hold tight against strong winds, hug corners and charge upward despite a 12% grade, and serve like a capsule of warmth to transport you through not one but three ecological zones and up to what in the depth of winter feels like the cold – and beauty – capitol of the world.
It’s a change to be rugged while staying safe and warm – though you are offered a chance to get out and experience it first person.
The SnowCoach is based at the lovely Great Glen Trails Outdoor Center (https://greatglentrails.com), just up the road from Wildcat Mountain in Jackson, New Hampshire, directly across the road from the start of the famed Mount Washington Auto Road, which will be our route up the mountain.
We load there and right off, our guide Marc is a wealth of information. The Auto Road, he tells us, is our nation’s longest running manmade tourist attraction. Debuting in 1861, it was a summer thriller for many: six-horse carriages carried guests upwards all summer. It took four hours to summit and two to come back down.
The winter ascents began more recently. We’ll be out there about 90 minutes. Marc tells us we will be passing through three types of flora as we ascend to our spot at the base of the tree line, 4,400 feet up.
First, we wind up through a forest of hardwoods, the familiar New England trees that create our vibrant foliage each year. This day, they are barren; sleeping through the winter while enduring cold and wind. As we climb, the forest transitions to spruce and pine, evergreen and able to handle the higher winds.
In the summer, this road is jam packed. An average of 45,000 cars a year earn their very own “This car climbed Mount Washington” sticker. But in the winter months, it’s pretty much just us.
Marc tells us that other than meteorologists and other scientists who study atop Mount Washington and the crew that maintains things, we’re the only vehicle access up there on winter days.
You can feel it. We pass two vehicles with huge plows set aside the narrow road. “That’s to get to the very top, or help us out when we need it,” Marc explains.
We cross into our last ecological zone before tree line. Here the trees, called krummholtz, are stunted and gnarly, yet super strong. I marvel at their ability to hold tight: because of the rocky terrain, their roots aren’t at all deep, yet they take a beating with aplomb – swaying in the high winds from their very base but never letting go.
I think of them as the Wes Welker of trees. It’s like nothing can bring them down.
Above them, Marc pulls aside and offers to take us out. We’re at the base of the tree line – they don’t take guests above that in winter – and it’s amazing.
Pushed by the strong winds (gusting about 60 mph, Marc tells us; when it is steadily higher they don’t go up, so this is a powerful day to be out there), we make our way to an overlook, hoping to gaze into the heart of Wildcat Ski area. The clouds do not cooperate for that this day, and in a way, I’m glad.
I’d been up before on a sunny, less windy day. The view was spectacular; I’ll never forget it. But this day, a day that gives us a true feel for what nature can do up there – it’s special.
“I get that,” Marc says when I mention it. “When I take folks up on a rare non-windy day, I almost want to apologize!”
We hike upward for a bit and at one point, another woman on the tour reaches out and grabs ne as I am pushed a bit sideways by nature (I’m not Wes Welker, apparently).
Back in the van and charging downward, I notice we’d left no tracks and were forging a new path again. Back at our base, where you can grab a hot cocoa or coffee and snack or sign on for some Nordic skiing, tubing or snowshoeing, we all feel like we’ve conquered the world.
It’s only 11 a.m. and we’ve gone full-on adventure. Now that’s a morning in the mountains.
