We found a spot to pull off the road to park and headed to the trailhead. Sure enough, these rustic stone steps were the start of the Sterling Pond Trail. The trailhead sign rated the trail as difficult and cautioned that it was steep and slippery. The information I had found described the two-mile round-trip hike as “moderate” and noted just 855 feet elevation gain—no mention of steps.

There were many people on this trail: families, kids, couples, and small groups of all ages. The terrain quickly separated the people, however, as no one hikes at the same pace. Soon, we felt alone on the trail in the quiet woods.

This roots and rock trail snakes up the side of Sterling Mountain, with occasional views of the mountains that line the other side of the notch. Most of the ascent is a persistent, gradual incline through the birch forest. Intermittently, we scrambled over boulders and crossed streams that ran across the trail down the mountain. The trail, after yesterday’s day-long rain, was itself a bit of a waterfall along much of the climb.

As I hiked up through the water and negotiated my way over the rocks and around the tree roots, I kept thinking, “How am I going to make it back down?”  I’ve never been described as “sure-footed.”  It’s easier, mentally, for me to hike up mountains. I’m leaning forward, I feel closer to the ground, and if I slip, it’s not too far to fall – more of a stumble. On the way down, alternatively, I’m placing each step on the wet, downward slope. My momentum could quickly turn a minor slip into a substantial slide and fall. So that’s in the back of my mind as we go up and up.

Occasionally, someone passes us, and occasionally, we overtake someone else. But, for the most part, and despite the crowd at the trailhead, there’s quite a bit of solitude on this trail. At the top of the mountain, we join the Vermont Long Trail, a wide, well-groomed path running along the crest in the trees that takes us around toward Sterling Pond. In a short distance, we descend another rock slide, which is the trail down to the trout pond.

There are people scattered all along the pond edge, poking out at every break in the trees. We found a spot off to the side with some good sitting rocks and lingered a bit. Mountain lakes and ponds are one of my favorite landscapes, and this was no exception. Next to us sat a lone hiker who looked like he was thru-hiking the Long Trail (it runs the length of Vermont, 273 miles). His well-worn backpack was outfitted for camping; he was unshaven, worn, and looked like he’d been on the trail more than a few days. Maybe he was disappointed in all of the people in his wilderness? (I know I prefer my wilderness less populated). Or perhaps he was grateful for the company?

The trail around the pond started with a climb (a deterrent) and would add 1.4 miles to our three-mile hike, so we retraced our steps back up the rocky slope, along the Long Trail, and back down the waterfall steps. The way down was harder on my legs than the way up as I firmly planted one foot and then tensed to stabilize as I reached for somewhat level ground with my other foot. At one point, I stepped aside for a woman with an infant, who couldn’t have been two months old, strapped to her chest, essentially running up the mountain trail. Amazing on so many levels! With my slow and deliberate pace, I made it comfortably back down over the rustic steps and onto the winding road.

It was such a nice hike despite the number of hikers and the stairs. I’m glad I saw the “moderate” trail rating first and not the “difficult” one at the trailhead, and most definitely not the one that rated it “most difficult” (and mentioned the stairs!) that I saw at our next stop. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.

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The post Hiking a Waterfall in Smuggler’s Notch appeared first on Exploring Nature by Sheila Newenham.

We had driven here through northern Vermont’s rolling hills and farmlands on a cool fall morning under blue skies and big, puffy, white clouds. The fall color was just starting its show and was more evident here at the higher elevation. We were lucky to find the tram open early today; it usually doesn’t start until noon on Fridays. Today, laborers on the mountain are working on an off-season construction project at the Sky Haus Deli. Since the tram driver had to take the workers up, he thought he’d open to the public early today. It was a good thing for us because we’d arrived at 10 am. We were the only people there, so our personal tram driver escorted us from 1840 feet at the base into the clouds at 3858 feet.

The cool morning turned downright cold at the windy, sunless peak. I started down the north-side ski trail. Exposed granite, dwarf pines, and lichens dominated the tundra-like landscape.

There were also plentiful mushrooms, another surprising find up here.

I continued down the trail, taking photographs, careful not to step on the soft, dense mats of fragile plants. Mountain low-bush cranberries, red-capped British soldier lichen, reindeer moss, dwarf heaths, and mushrooms all made for beautiful tiny landscapes.

This was a beautiful and unexpected landscape, as true alpine tundra occurs at elevations higher than 4000 feet. It is the steep, windy slope of this rocky face that hosts the cold stone and thin soils that mimic the tundra environment.

As I hiked back up to the peak, I walked along a portion of Vermont’s Long Trail, a 272-mile trail that runs the length of Vermont from north to south. At the peak, wooden steps ascend to a barren, rocky field where an indistinct trail disappears into the Jay Peak fog. The slick, wet rocks were not inviting me up these steps today.

The ski trail continued on a sloping path down the southwest side of the mountain. The trail here was wide and carpeted with grass. Its leeward location protects it from the perpetual cold winds. The ecosystem here differs dramatically from the one I just left 50 yards back. Grass dominates, and stone is rare. Flowers are blooming along the fence line (that serves to keep you on the mountain), and juncos are flitting about the pines, which are a little bit taller. Gone are the beautiful lichens and mushrooms. After walking a while down this trail, I turned to slog back up to the top, where our private tram driver was waiting to escort us back down the mountain, out of the clouds, and back into the colorful fall day.

I was reluctant to go up to the shrouded peak. I thought the benefit was only in the views. On a clear day, you can see Mt. Washington in New Hampshire to the east and Canada five miles to the north. But not today. And I knew it would be cold. But, what the heck, we were here, we might as well go up. (I think the woman at the ticket counter thought we were nuts). I’m so glad we did. You never know what you’ll find.

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The post Unexpected Tundra in Vermont appeared first on Exploring Nature by Sheila Newenham.