Mount Frissel (south slope), near Salisbury, Connecticut The plane actually arrived 40 minutes early, but that got eaten up waiting for another plane to leave the gate. Since the gate delay happened a little on the return trip too, I'll hazard a guess that America West's scheduling problems are related to trying to get too many planes into too few gates. I had been hoping to get to Salisbury in the far northwest corner of the state shortly after 9am. But, a lot of things went wrong. It took a while to get the rental car from Alamo, I couldn't find the 44 West exit from 91 and ended up having to ask directions in a south Berkeley type area in Hartford, it took a while to change clothes and apply the Off! to ward off ticks and West Nile mosquitoes, I was a little groggy after the sleepless flight, and I just generally dawdled. Between that, and stopping at a McDonalds and at the Stop & Shop Supermarket market and at a RiteAid at the Ledgbrook mall in Winsted, I didn't get to the northwest corner til around 10:45am. Then, I took the wrong road trying to get to Salisbury. Hey, there was a sign with Salisbury and an arrow on it, so I took it. A few miles up the road, a friendly jogging family corrected my mistake. I was soon back on 44 and a mile later I was in the town of Salisbury. I followed these excellent directions to the trail head. Mt. Washington Road is very rough and rocky with some deep potholes, but it doesn't require a high-clearance vehicle, just slow and careful driving. There was an "AMC" sign at the parking lot, but I don't know if that's a permanent feature. I finally started hiking at the trailhead around 11:30am. Since I saw no other cars on the road, I was hoping it wouldn't be crowded at all, but I was wrong. I saw several people on the trail, including three groups of scouts. If, like me, your hiking resume's highpoint is the daunting dirt trail climb from the Griffith Park Ranger Station up to Mt. Hollywood, the trail to Frissel will come as a bit of a shock. While most of the trail is either muddy or small-rock-strewn single track, several sections of it include large rocks which must be scrambled up. That doesn't mean rock climbing however. It's more like climbing irregularly shaped stairs with high risers and very narrow steps. In some cases it involves holding onto other rocks or trees for balance or to help pull yourself up. But, it's not that difficult after you get used to it. If you slip, the fall wouldn't be that great, but, on the other hand, you'd probably fall onto solid rock. Coming down can be done while standing if you're very nimble and have good balance, but the easier and quicker way is to do a reverse-crawl with your back facing the rock and with your arms and legs behind you on the rock, sliding down on your tuchis as necessary. After I got used to it, I found this rock scrambling thing a lot of fun. It's not anywhere as difficult as this looks. Others have recommended the topo maps from the NY/NJ Trails Conference entitled "South Taconic Trail". I haven't seen it, so can't comment. I made it to the highpoint in a little under an hour, and took a few photos. I hadn't seen the log book when I came up, but I eventually found it on my return. It's on the right side of the trail as you're leaving. I wasted several minutes continuing on from the location with the log book looking for the red blazed trail, going down and then back up false trails. I had a vision of stumbling upon an enraged Martha Stewart, and being chased off her property by her pet pheasants. I finally remembered that the log book was off the trail to begin with. Blame it on jet lag. Once I got back on the trail, it didn't take that long to get back to the trailhead. On the way down, I met two ladies, one of whom was exuding a distinctly Sierra Clubbish aura. Resting her hiking poles for a moment, she immediately guessed that I was one of those highpointer types. With a note of disapproval, she asked me if I considered a summit reached if I drive up to it. I told her I never claimed to be a friggin' Sir Edmund Hillary. OK, so I didn't say the friggin' part out loud. Oh, by the way, if you're out there your friend winked at me. Please send me her number. In total, the trip up and down the trail to the Connecticut highpoint took a little over two hours. Then, after the long drive back down Mt. Washington Road, I got on the 7 North.

Jerimoth Hill, near North Foster, Rhode Island I realized I didn't have the time to get to Mass, so I decided to do that the next day, and take the Mass Pike across to Rhode Island. I had wanted to see the demonstration, but I didn't have the time. Taking 7 was a big time suck. I had been warned about slow drivers on these two lane roads, and I ran into one here. Plus, there was a lot of traffic for the harvest festivals in a couple of the towns on the way. To make matters worse, I overshot the Mass Pike onramp by about five miles, and I had to double back. I eventually got on the Mass Pike, which is a good, fast four lane divided highway. The Mass Pike, 89 in New Hampshire/Vermont, and 91 in Vermont/Mass/Connecticut are all fast, well-maintained four or six lane divided interstate highways, and most of the drivers were very good at staying in the correct lane. If not for the large numbers of smokeys, it might have been possible to make up a lot of time, especially on the Mass Pike and especially if I could have found a bandit. However, it generally went like this: another driver would come up behind me, I'd pull over to the right, and then they'd immediately pull in behind me. Despite a lot of trying, I was unable to find a sacrificial lamb to go out in front. It didn't take that long to get across Mass, but my next mistake was in attempting to take a shortcut, 131 from Sturbridge/Southbridge to the 395 just north of Putnam. First, I missed the onramp south of the Mass Pike. Then, I got stuck behind a pokey driver for several miles. Even worse, there were six cars bunched up between me and the pokey one, and none of them were trying to pass him. There wasn't enough space to pass them one by one, and I couldn't pass seven cars at one time, so I had no choice but to just enjoy the slow-speed view of the thickly settled area. I eventually got on the 395, and then turned east onto the 101. Luckily, I made it to the Rhode Island highpoint around 4:58pm, just before everyone else left. Chuck Bicks escorted me back to the rock cairn, and took my photo. I have the honor of being the last person (besides the property owners) to legally stand on the actual Rhode Island highpoint in 2000. That's gotta be worth something. I spoke to the younger Richardson for a second, but unfortunately I didn't get a chance to thank him. He seemed gruff but reasonable. I was considering trying to do Mass, but I really didn't feel like making the zig-zag back across the Pike again. So, the day's work done, I headed up to Concord New Hampshire via 395->290->495->3. Other than a McMuffin and some snacks and donuts, my only meal between the outbound flight from Las Vegas and getting back to LAX was at the Boston Market in Nashua, New Hampshire. I'm in New England, I'll stop at the Boston Market, right? The only other Boston Market I've been to is the one in Santa Clara. Both seem to have a problem keeping the hot side hot, and both have smaller portions than one would expect for the price. The Nashua's manager's bad attitude was slightly offset by the fact that, unlike Santa Clara, they at least knew to serve the cornbread warm. In Concord, I stayed at the Brick Tower Motor Inn for $55, which I guess was a good price for a room during foliage season. Look at it this way: for about $5 more than I'd pay for a closet at, say, the Hayward Motel 6, I got a clean room large enough for both a bed and a couch. Plus, when it's 26F in the morning, that's not good car-sleeping weather. I had listened to the Mets game coming in, and I was able to watch the Yankees game on TV. It was so disconcerting watching a day game at night I kept thinking this was some kind of NBC Olympics-style tape-delayed game. After about 32 sleepless hours, I eventually passed out around the fifth inning. Unfortunately, the morning desk clerk refused to tell me the room where this happened, only telling me that it hadn't been my room.

Mount Mansfield, near Stowe, Vermont In the morning, I decided to skip New Hampshire and concentrate on Vermont and Mass. The toll road to Mount Washington had been closed due to snow on Sunday, so I didn't even bother trying it. Instead, I got on the 89 North to Stowe. It took less than 2 hours to get to Montpelier, which looks like a nice but chilly city with a fair supply of hot ice babes. From Montpelier, it took a while to get to Stowe, some of it due to more pokey drivers. On the surface, Stowe appears (no doubt like most other ski areas in the U.S.) to be a magnet for scheming local yokels, failed Eurotrash, wannabe theme-cantina entrepreneurs, and fringe healing arts practitioners. Boring through the surface scum to the compacted scum beneath is left as an exercise to the gentle reader. Anyway, route 108 was closed just after the entrance to the gondola, so I parked just outside it and chatted with a local cop. He told me that the toll road was closed and not expected to reopen that day, and also about a couple of French-Canadian hikers who had gone missing the day before. They'd left at 4pm wearing blue jeans. Ouch. Just to see what the trails up the mountain were like, I walked past the road closure, and then turned onto the Long Trail, which leads to the summit. I chatted a bit with a friendly and knowledgeable local and with some French-Canadian hikers. The hikers didn't have any idea what trail they were on. I didn't either, but at least I was trying to find out. I went up the trail a few hundred yards. At the beginning, the Long Trail is steep and mostly dirt/mud with flat boulders and tree roots as steps, but apparently it becomes a rock scramble after a couple of miles. The part I went up wasn't that difficult, just a little steep and slippery. I could have gone up to the top, but: a) I didn't really have the proper clothing and equipment for the cold, wet weather, b) snow was predicted for the afternoon and I didn't want to chance getting in a blizzard, and c) I didn't have the time. As I was coming back down the Long Trail, I said "how ya doin'" to a pair of hikers. Blank stare. "What's their friggin' problem" I wondered. In a flash, a lumiere went on in my tete! Soudainement, je m'est fait realise: le bois, il est plein de francophones! Apres cette moment-la, j'ai dit "bon jour" a tous! Ah, quel jouyeusment, de voir les charmantes sourires de mes nouveaux amis francophones! Yep, I shure fooled them good. After the Long Trail I decided to see if I could get to the summit via the gondola, which costs $11 round-trip. The gondola ride was good fun, but it would have been more fun if the drop had been more precipitous than about 30 feet. Somewhat unexpectedly, at the gondola station my little-used (not even in Las Vegas) carney alarm suddenly went off. In this little drama, I was cast in the role of the rube, the townie, the mark. While they're quite willing and eager to accept the marks' money, many of the locals seem to bear a deep resentment against the heathen flatlander interlopers who come to climb their mountain. They also seem to have a bit of a superiority/inferiority complex: "This isn't Mt. Washington, but it's still a real mountain." People with this attitude shouldn't be asked for nor be in a position to give hiking advice. Granted, many of those hikers are unprepared and not willing to accept advice. On the other hand, one of the guys at the upper station was OK, and told me that he'd done the Ridge Trail to the summit, but that he wouldn't try it today. I went up the Ridge Trail from the upper gondola station a few hundred feet just to see what it was like, but, since it started to snow heavily, and since Target doesn't sell ice axes and I therefore didn't have one, I decided to turn back. Defeated at least for now, I took the trip back down the gondola, and left Stowe. On the way out, in the next town down 108 (Waterbury), I stopped at the Green Mountain Club and bought a T-Shirt and a topo map in preparation for my MacArthurian return. Now, it was long drive back down 89 to the 91 to Greenfield Mass., whence a hopefully short trip to Mt. Greylock. On the way back, despite being pressed for time, I got off the 89 at Sharon, and drove six miles to the memorial marking the birthplace of Joseph Smith. Why? you ask. Simply so I can provide a link to Lone Wacko Adventure #1.

Mount Greylock, near North Adams, Massachusetts In Greenfield, Mass. I turned onto 2 West. Despite being thickly settled with chintzy native American "trading posts", both northwest Mass. and Highway 2 through it are quite attractive areas, probably the most attractive areas of the whole trip. Some sections of 2 have a 25MPH speed limit, while the road appears like it could be rated for 45 with ease. Hmm... I made it to North Adams, and the lady at the gas station (which I've forgotton the name of) a few miles before the Mt. Greylock turnoff was helpful, letting me know not only the name of the road (Notch Road) but what was on the sign leading to it (Mt. Greylock Reservation.) The eight mile road up to Greylock is completely paved, even if it's a little rough in spots. This appears like it could be easily done at night with enough care. If it's foggy out, you'd need to be very careful to stay on the road, but more importantly to watch out for other drivers. There's a gate across the road at the bottom, but I don't know when or under what conditions they close it. I made it up to the top, and climbed the War Memorial tower, which has good views of the surrounding area. I left Bascom Lodge around 6:30pm, bought some gas, and headed south on 7 to the Mass Pike, then down 91 to BDL. This section of 7 is fairly fast, despite having about a dozen stop lights and going through Pittsfield. I was quite thankful I made good time, because after returning the car to Alamo I didn't get to the airport until 9pm. The flight left 25 minutes later, and I got back to L.A. at around 2:15am PST.

Game Summary All other things being equal, the only thing that stood in my way of getting all five summits was the snow. All the other delays could have been dealt with if I had planned and executed better. I could have saved at least 2 hours in Connecticut if: I had taken 20->202 from BDL to 44 West instead of trying the 91 route... I had brought all supplies (water, food, Off!, etc.) with me on the flight, got some sleep on the plane, changed on the plane, and then just driven non-stop to Salisbury. I had run up and down the mountain as fast as possible, and not taken so much time on the summit. Would that have been enough time to do Mass after Connecticut? I think so. But, if I didn't have to get to Rhode Island by 5pm, it would have been very easy to do all three the first day. The next day, without the pressure to get Mass on the trip back to BDL, I could have done both Mt. Washington and Mansfield easily, assuming once again that there had been no snow or other closures. While I'm a little disappointed I didn't get the five summits I wanted, I'm also thankful for the three I got.

Preparation Notes I spent a lot of time researching roads and previous trip reports, most of which I found at the Highpointers site. But, the most time I spent was in trying to find some clothes that: fit my 58-pounds-less-than-Mo-Vaughn-but-still-husky frame, didn't have any cotton, and didn't cost a lot of money. I went to an Army-Navy store in Hollywood, another Army-Navy store in East L. A., and I spent a lot of time at the Glendale Galleria, at the Media Center Mall in Burbank, and at several stores in the Valley, venturing as far as the Mervyn's in Sun Valley. I went to the North Hollywood Target three days in a row. I ended up spending about $100 on several items of new and used clothing, which is a lot better than spending several hundred at Sport Chalet. The best item appears to be a pair of two-ply nylon/polyester B.U.M. Equipment cargo pants, which I bought on sale for $11 at Target. They make a whooshing sound when I move, and they're a little baggy, but they're also very warm and they didn't get in my way. (They aren't recommended for long hikes in warm weather, however.) I spent $20 on a KMart daypack, and $5 on a Michelin New England road map from Geographia in Burbank. As far as the airfare is concerned, I almost spent $500 on an open-jaw LAX->EWR, BOS->LAX ticket. However, I was very happy to find an AmericaWest Web special LAX to BDL for $217 total round-trip.

Extra Special Bonus Tip Now, here's how to do all five in 24 hours: Move to New England Bide your time waiting for the best weather Take the van up to Mt. Washington, and leave there at 12noon Take the toll road at Mt. Mansfield before it closes Drive from Stowe all the way to Rhode Island, getting there around midnight Drive over to Connecticut, and sleep at the trailhead At dawn, start Connecticut, getting down around 9am Get up to Mt. Greylock at noon, or before.

Acknowledgements and Disclaimer Nothing on this page should be considered travel, exercise, driving, shopping, or lifestyle advice. If you attempt any of the activities outlined above, you are solely responsible for the consequences. The background is from here. The road signs (except for the mountain and quebec signs, which I made all by myself) are from here.