Camel's Hump: Wisdom on the Mountain

The route I chose to hike Camel's Hump started in Duxbury, looped across three trails to the summit and back down. Steep climb through woods and exposed rock; the hiking guide said it was a difficult 7.5 mile hike.

The morning was gorgeous, heading out at 8 a.m. from the winter parking lot. The path to the top went from the Monroe Trail, Dean Trail, LT and Monroe Trail. The hike was just me and forest most of the way; I crossed paths with just one hiker on the way up, and otherwise had the trail, the birds, the trees and the views to myself. At the top, I chatted with the summit care-taker, settled into a nook in the rocks away from the wind to read and eat my lunch. When I headed down, I really should have heck the trail map one more time, but I thought I had the route committed to memory.

I had reach the summit from the south on the Long Trail, and left the summit still heading north. I intended to turn right on the Monroe Trail and back to where I started, but I managed to blow straight through the really obvious trail head, not reading the sign posts or realizing this was my trail to take. By the time I figured out my mistake, I had the choice of going back uphill to get to the Monroe Trail, or add more miles and keep heading downhill to pick up the Alpine Trail.

I chose to keep going "downhill" which turned out to be and lot of up and down stretches across a trail that seems little used and was poorly marked. Every cobweb I walked through reminded me no one else has crossed through here recently, every stream and washout made me question which direction the trail actually went. Yellow blazes were faded and too few, but every one was a relief when I spotted it.

At one point, I groused out loud to myself, "I hate getting lost!" And as soon as the thought was fully formed, I had a nice reality check. I wasn't lost. I was on a trail that is on a map and I was heading in the right direction. I wasn't where I wanted to be, but I wasn't lost. A good distinction to remember, in hiking and in life.

From that point forward, I high-fived every yellow blaze I crossed and told it, "Thank you, friend!" When the Alpine Trail finally merged with the Monroe Trail, I was so happy and relieved. Shortly after, I started crossing paths with a steady stream of hikers heading uphill, each of them looking tired and asking, how far is it to the top?  Really, it's as far or as close you make it.