DATELINE: Adams, Massachusetts, October 24, 2015
Ascent of Mt. Greylock via the Thunderbolt Trail
It would have been time to complete the Northeast States with a quick trip to the Berkshires during peak color. Unfortunately, my plan for New Jersey in early October was foiled by Chris Christie. His State of Emergency over Hurricane Joaquin ruined my plan to bike 80 miles, from Cherry Hill to Ocean City, in the MS City to Shore. My home state will have to wait. I want to do something big for New Jersey, having lived here for all of my 53 years.
No matter, Massachusetts beckoned. Laura and I hit the road for a mid-week weekend based in North Adams, Massachusetts. We traveled the Taconic State Parkway and saw no other cars. Had it to ourselves. Autocorrect prefers the Laconic Parkway, which means it is a road of few words. Since the highway had nothing to say, we listened to Taylor Swift on the way up, and she asked, over and over, “Are we out of the woods? Are we out of the woods, are we out of the woods?” Nooo. The whole idea is to be IN the woods.
We stopped on the way up at the southwest corner of the state for a quick warm-up hike at Bash Bish Falls State Park, which boasts the highest falls in the state. We were straddling the New York/Massachusetts line, and could practically have set each foot in a separate state.Before descending to the falls, we hiked up a steep boulder and took in the incredible vista.
Bash Bish proved a very accessible and easy hike. We picked our way down the slope and were treated to this:
We were tempted to take a dip in the swimming holes, astoundingly clear. Locals told us that skinny dipping is common, despite the NO Swimming signage. I won’t say whether we indulged or did not…
From that point, we drove old rural Route 22 North on the New York side of the line, stopping at a Greek diner and treating ourselves to Bailey’s Irish Cream lattes, then crossed back over into Massachusetts. Rain made our next decision an easy one. We had two spare hours, and we spent them at the wonderful Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, MOCA. We saw three floors of painted walls by Sol Lewitt, hand painted tents with a political leaning, a flaming Barbara Bush, and a convention of gnomes, which we joined enthusiastically before zig zagging uphill out of the valley to our Air BNB accommodation. We had no trouble finding a room in North Adams during high season for under $70. Do not attempt this on the weekend on the spur of the moment!
We caught an early dinner, bought Gatorade and power bars for the hike the following day, and at 8 pm, it was lights out. We had a terrible struggle to remember the name of the highest mountain in Massachusetts: Greystone? No, that’s the New Jersey State mental institution. Greystoke? No, that is a Tarzan movie. Oh, yes, Greylock, 3,491 feet up.
We fueled up the next morning at Oh Crepe!, feasting on bagels with peanut butter and Nutella, surrounded by used books and antiques, also for sale. The sleepy young guy who had the early shift filled our water bottles for us, and we made it to the trailhead while the sun was still very low in the sky. It was windy and the temps were in the low 30s, so we were extra anxious to get moving.
The Thunderbolt Trail is historic, cut in 1934 by the Civilian Conservation Corps. It has been the site of the US Ski Championships multiple times. Clearly, the guys wanted to make this the shortest possible ski trail and move onto other jobs, because it remains the shortest, steepest way to climb Mt. Greylock. Elevation gain is 2,500 feet in under two miles. In the beginning, the trail lulls you into overconfidence with a traverse and a few switchbacks. Like most trails, it is sometimes clearly marked, sometimes indecipherable. It changes names for a short stretch for no reason at all. It has some sections with nicknames: The Bumps, and the steepest section by far, The Big Bend. That Big Bend is a Big Pain, two ascents of quad- burning vertical near the summit.
Just after the Big Bend, the Thunderbolt meets the Appalachian Trail and parallels it to the summit, marked by a war memorial.
Despite the cold, we explored the summit area for a while. A friendly motorcyclist had followed the paved tour road to the summit, and we saw two other hikers. It was 10:30 am at the height of leaf peeper season, and we had near solitude on the highest mountain in Massachusetts.
In addition to the Thunderbolt Ski Shelter, built in the thirties of stone picked off the mountain top, the highlight of the summit area is Bascom Lodge, a lovely restaurant and hiker’s rest that has been welcoming through- hikers on the Appalachian Trail since the 1930s. We were unlucky- today was the day that the windows were being boarded up to protect them from the winter winds. But I snuck a quick picture of a bunkroom, complete with stone fireplace, before we beat a retreat back down the Thunderbolt, our hands numbed and our insides chilled.
Climbing up a mountain is hard on the lungs, but climbing down is hard on the legs, especially since they have already worked their way up. Laura is quicker and more surefooted than I am, but by the time we revisited The Bumps, we were both feeling shaky. My feet wanted to skim the ground, and I felt they were flopping themselves down like I was wearing clown shoes.
Conditions, however, were really perfect. Not hot, not terribly cold, dry, no ice, and just enough leaves to cushion the footfall but not enough to hide the contours of the path beneath. All in all, a wonderful outing and a stalwart challenge, and another state in the bag. True, we didn’t complete the ultimate Thunderbolt challenge, the annual winter race. Participants strap on backcountry skis, climb up the trail, then ski back down. Then, they DO IT AGAIN. Why twice? WHY? I’ll never be that fit. But I’m ok with it.
We folded ourselves into the car and drove south on Route 8 through the touristy towns, where we saw buses and could not secure a parking place. Lovely architecture on view in Pittsfield and Stockbridge. By the time we approached Great Barrington, we were savvy enough to stop on the outskirts of town and we had a terrific lunch and some local beer at the Barrington Brewery, the first solar cooled brewery in New England. This is a cozy barn-turned- bar was perfect for two tired hikers seeking comfort food and to raise a glass in honor of a challenge met.
Back on the road, I could feel myself edging onto the rumble strips and my mind slipping to oblivion. I realized I could not drive anymore, and relinquished the wheel to my twenty something. She brought us in safe and sound.
I was very sore for the next few days, carrying the steeps of Mt. Greylock in my quads. But I was able to play my Sunday soccer game, and we won a nail biter, 4-3. Sometimes the only way to ease the pain is to literally work it out of the muscles. I’m looking forward to sharing more trails with friends and family as I traipse my way around the country.
