Day One: I awoke last Saturday morning in Pinkham Notch, in New Hampshire, to a clear view of the summit of Mount Washington less than five miles away. The snow that covered the top of the mountain reflected the brilliant white light of a nearly full moon. I had stayed overnight Friday at the Appalachian Mountain Club’s lodge on Route 16 at the foot of the mountain and at 6 a.m. I was at the door to the dining hall for breakfast.
In only a couple of hours I was to meet the trip leaders, Dave Glidden and Liz Willey, and the rest of the group who had signed up for a Winter EduTrip to the top of the mountain in a snow cat tractor. The EduTrip is an educational trip conducted by the Mount Washington Observatory.
The trip enables members of the organization, for a price of $459, to visit the observatory in winter for an overnight. All meals are included and you eat boarding-house-style with the weather observers. In addition you attend classes inside and out on the summit. Each trip has a different educational component. The one I signed up for was Wind and Climatology in Severe Environments, presented by Dave. Liz would also present our group with a class in Alpine and Arctic plants.
After eating a full breakfast I loaded up my gear from the bunkhouse, jumped in the truck and headed for the meeting place at the entrance to the auto road to the summit. Dave was there waiting, and soon all the others showed up. There were nine of us, by the time we had all arrived, plus Dave and Liz.
Dave delivered a safety briefing in terms that stressed the severity of the conditions we would likely encounter on the mountain and informed us that world-class mountaineers have a deep respect for Mount Washington. He went on to tell us the forecast was for winds to increase during Saturday and approach or exceed 100 miles an hour by Sunday. Temperatures were expected to plummet well below zero with the arrival of an Arctic cold front.
In either event he told us that travel outside on the summit would likely be limited to the observation deck. He reminded us of a rule in the mountains called the 30-30 rule. It means “In a 30-mile-an-hour wind, at 30 below, exposed flesh freezes in 30 seconds,” he said.
Listening to him I had no doubt that I would be safe in the company of such thorough and competent leaders as he and Liz.
Next, we all introduced ourselves around the table in the cat garage. Along on this trip were Mike Garvey, Mike Fresolone, Debi and Dave Holt, and Chris Comora. Rounding out our group were Peter Kelley, Larry Martin, Barry Bosak and me. We all came from different occupations. There was a site contractor, print shop owner, dairy farmer, locksmith, systems engineer, teacher, state worker and a retired business executive. Our ages ranged from 30 to 60. We were from Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Vermont. With the two leaders, we would fit 11 of us and all our gear into the snow cat.
After the intros we met our driver, Gus Vincent. We had all received information packets upon our advance registration that stated we must be dressed to walk should the cat break down. We would need to be dressed appropriately for the worst conditions by wearing our insulating layers, wind shells and mountaineering boots. Everything else we would need (gloves, crampons, ice ax, goggles and small pack) would be in our laps. All that was left was to load overnight gear and get in the cat for the 1½-hour ride to the top. We crammed the gear in one corner and found seats.
The cat ride up was pretty impressive. We soon found ourselves at the 4,000-foot elevation marker on the auto road and stopped to stretch our legs and take in the views. Dave pointed out “flagged” trees which showed the direction of the prevailing winds at that location. The trees were all formed basically the same way with no branches growing on the north side but on the south side, pointing away from the wind.
We piled back in the cat again and after another stop a little higher up, we arrived at the summit at around 10:30. We unloaded the gear, bucket-brigade style into the building and gathered once more to meet our host, Steve Welsh, shift leader for the weather observers. He welcomed us and led us to the lower part of the building to the living quarters.
We dropped our bags in the common living room and Steve then guided us to all the emergency exits. He gave a careful explanation of the procedures for evacuation and where we were allowed to go. That was basically anywhere except the state-owned part of the building.
The building is enormous at about a 100 feet long by 40 feet wide and is owned by the state of New Hampshire. In summer there’s a cafeteria hall and a gift shop. That part closes for the season after Labor Day. The observatory and its tower occupy only one small portion, in one corner of the building.
After settling in, Dave told us we would be meeting outside on the deck, which is actually the roof of the building. Once outside we were immediately met by the wind. At only about 40 miles an hour, walking around the deck wasn’t difficult. The air temperature was about 25 degrees, so it wasn’t too cold. We took photos of the views and milled around under a thickening layer of clouds in advance of the expected cold front. After a while we went back inside, down the tower’s spiral staircase and into the quarters to pick our bunkrooms.
Once we settled our overnight gear in, Dave made the announcement that our first class would meet in the conference room in about 10 minutes. We met our volunteer cooks for our stay, Mike Colclough and Ken Onley, then headed upstairs.
The syllabus for Dave’s course was extensive. He is eminently qualified as a wind scientist. He has spent more than 30 years as a field specialist setting up wind instruments in Denali National Park in Alaska, Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado and on Mount Washington. Over the next day and a half, he presented us with an unmatched learning experience.
We studied data, looked at slides from those high mountain ranges and interpreted graphs. Anything we needed to know about wind and the difficulties in measuring it, we would find it out from Dave.
After the first class wrapped up, we went down to the living area for a lunch of corn chowder. Mike and Ken explained that we needed to mark our mugs with our names on removable tape. They also explained about the restrictions on water use we would comply with, which included no showers.
We had some free time between classes, so some of us went upstairs to see the weather observers in action. We gathered around and met Stacey Kawecki, a meteorologist, and Jordan Scampoli, an intern. Dave showed us the recording instruments and explained how to read them. We all could see the wind speeds climbing to 70 miles an hour.
Dave announced we would be going up to the top of the tower and to get dressed for outside. We climbed to the top and this time the wind was much stronger than before. The top of the tower is higher than the actual summit, so technically anyone who stood on top would be the tallest person east of the Bitterroot Mountains in Montana and north of the Carolinas. I passed, just because it was too windy for me. I got to the foot of the ladder, and that was fine with me.
During the rest of the day we attended another class by Dave, then, Liz Willey made her presentation on her research of Arctic and Apine plants. Liz is an MIT grad and conducted research in Labrador, Newfoundland and Iceland. She is finishing her doctorate in biology, is qualified as an environmental engineer and has worked with Dave in the past. In fact, Dave is a strong advocate for women in the sciences.
After that class and another one presented by Dave, it was time for supper, a turkey dinner with all the fixings, gravy, mashed potatoes, vegetables and stuffing. After watching a comical silent movie about the misfortunes of a mountain climber on Mount Washington, I hit the bunk for the night. According to the readout in the dining area the wind speed outside had climbed to about 80 miles an hour. I couldn’t feel a breeze inside the 3-foot-thick poured cement walls of the building.
What a day.