[Josh Ryan (top), Michelle Cournoyer and Eyrich Stauffer, lookin’ fresh on the Monroe Skyline Trail. Photo by Stauffer.]
Last winter, two of my more adventurous
friends, Josh Ryan and Eyrich Stauffer,
approached me with the crazy idea of climbing Vermont’s five highest peaks in one day: Mt. Abe (4006’), Camel’s Hump (4083’), Mt. Ellen (4135’), Killington (4241’), and Mt. Mansfield (4393’). Eyrich had heard that this feat had been accomplished in the summer. Why not winter?
The following week found the three of us at a local coffee shop, with maps and the Long Trail Guide Book, scheming logistics of the master plan. The primary ingredients were two men, one woman, two vehicles, three pairs telemark skis and climbing skins, three pairs telemark boots, three pairs snowshoes, three backpacks, lots of layers, lots of food, and three very motivated spirits.
In a nutshell, from Waitsfield, we would drive south, summit Killington, drive back north to Mt. Ellen (a.k.a. Sugarbush North), traverse south on the Monroe Skyline Trail to Mt. Abe, ski down Sugarbush South, drive north to summit Mansfield, ski down, and then drive to Huntington to climb Camel’s Hump. We set the date for Saturday, January 7th, 2001.
On the 6th, we met in Waitsfield at a friend’s condo, our designated “basecamp,” for dinner and preparations. We loaded my car with dry layers and food and dropped it off at the base of Lincoln Peak, at the Sugarbush South ski area parking lot. After a carbo-loading dinner and a wink of sleep, we were suited up and out the door at 2 a.m., January 7th.
With headlamps lighting our way, we started our ascent at 4 a.m., up a Killington ski trail, exploding with snow guns. Josh and I found the slope to be too steep for skins, so we strapped our skis to our backpacks, and hiked up. Eyrich persisted and managed to switchback up with his skins. By 5:20, we were standing in silence on the summit under the black sky and sparkling stars. The ski down was euphoric—wind whistling through snowy trees, snaking headlamps, ski edges scraping the snow.
At the bottom, we loaded up the car and drove north, pulling into the Sugarbush North ski area parking lot at 8 a.m. In the bright morning light and hustle-bustle of the opening ski day, we continued on our mission. With skis strapped to our backs, we dodged down-coming skiers in the hike up a ski trail. Our spirits were high and we were full of energy, singing and goofing around the whole way up. At 10:00 we reached the summit and geared up for a change of pace—the backcountry trek south along the Monroe Skyline Trail to Mt. Abe. We could finally use our skins.
I had never been surrounded by so much snow in my life. All we could see was each other, snow, the blue sky, and a few branches barely visible through the snow-covered trees. We followed the space between the trees, which occasionally was completely covered by other hovering trees, with the weight of the snow. A hard tap with a pole would unveil the trail as the trees, weight lifted, opened back toward the sky. After two-and-a-half hours of trekking 3.7 miles in two feet of powder, we summited Mt. Abe at 1:30 p.m. in sopping wet clothing. Three down, two to go!
We backtracked 0.8 miles north to Lincoln Peak (Sugarbush South) and relished yet another downhill ski to my car that waited with dry clothing and lots of food.
At 5:00 p.m., with skis on our backpacks, we started our ascent of Mansfield. It was a slow, steady, meditative, mantra-hike up a firmly packed ski trail, partially lit by the night lights under the buzzing Gondola. As night fell, so did the temperature, but after hoofing it up for two hours, we were comfortable in a single layer, even in the final windy stretch to the Cliff House lodge. We got word from the ski patrol that the Cliff Trail to the Chin, the highest point of Mansfield, had a good boot-packed trail up, but to beware that summit conditions were low visibility.
We stashed our skis and hiked up, looking back every few steps to memorize landmarks for our descent back to the Cliff House. After 50 minutes we found ourselves at a cairn, unsure of the summit’s location. It was a windy white-out and footprints fanned out in various directions, leading us astray. After the longest 10 minutes of my life, we were resituated back at the cairn. It was a scary, reality-checking moment.
It was too foggy to recognize any landmarks, let alone determine the summit’s location. The weather was getting worse and we were cooling down. With a layer of ice on our shells and frosted hair and eyelashes, we reluctantly, yet wisely, abandoned our search for the summit, thus preventing a search for us.
Our hike down was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Back at the Cliff House, Eyrich inquired about the summit’s whereabouts and landmarks and we were totally flabbergasted when the lift operator responded, “That’s the Chin. You were there!”
As much as I didn’t want to be obsessed with reaching the summit, I have to admit this was the best thing to hear. We got a second confirmation from ski patrol that we had, indeed, reached the summit. Wise and safe decision-making at critical moments proved to pay off. We did it. We got Mansfield. The ski down was glorious. Four down, one to go!
We arrived at the Burrows Trail parking lot of Camel’s Hump at 11:00 p.m. for the final attempt. Without skis or snowshoes, it was a relaxing hike up, yet quite fatiguing. After 20 waking hours and four summits, it was a meditative experience, with occasional conversation. After two hours, we approached the rocky summit and I stepped on to the highest point with Josh and Eyrich. The moment was surreal. It was pitch black and the wind was howling. There we were. We did it! At 1:00 a.m. on January 8th, we reached our fifth summit, Camel’s Hump. We hugged in silence. Were we dreaming? On our hike down, we were like three elated drunkards, staggering on jello legs with just occasional words all the way down. At the moment of completion, we had no words to say. All I could do was laugh. At 2:00 a.m., we completed what we think was the first and only winter attempt of Vermont’s highest peaks. 22 Hours, 5 summits.
Editor’s note: We suspect Eyrich heard about the five-summit summer expedition from an article by Mary Lou Recor that appeared in the August, 1999 VST.
