Jun 21 2026
Ascending Mount Abraham
Every once in a while, wandering around in the woods isn’t enough. I need to climb a mountain. I need the huffing and puffing, muscle-aching, goal-oriented pleasure of it all, complete with grand views. So I drove to Lincoln Gap in central Vermont a few days ago and set foot on the trail going up Mount Abraham. It would be a challenge for this recently minted septuagenarian: 1,600-foot climb, 5 miles round trip.
I hiked Mount Abe four years ago. Did okay going up but had a hard time coming down. A half century of trail pounding has worn out my joints. So this time I traded in my trusty wooden walking stick for a pair of solid-shank, aluminum trekking poles. I figured the joints would appreciate it, especially my knees.
After a little up-and down action right away, the trail became a steady climb to Battell Shelter. The surrounding boreal forest turned vibrant green. I was digging it.
That was the easier two-thirds of the hike. The trail was wet, though. A front had passed through the night before, soaking the forest and leaving puddles on the trail. Thanks to my trekking poles, I managed to stay on my feet.
Not too far beyond the shelter, the trail steepened. I took lots of breaks, in no rush to do this. The final ascent was sheer rock cutting through conifers diminishing in size to krummholz.
Then all of a sudden I was on top, just above the treeline. The landscape sprawled before me fifty miles in every direction, beneath a partly cloudy sky. I put a wool shirt and jacket over my sweaty t-shirt and stayed a while despite a chilling wind. I slaked my thirst, munched away and looked around. When I’d had enough, I began the descent.
That’s when the trekking poles came in real handy. I shudder to think what the descent would have been like without them. By the time I reached the shelter, I was mildly surprised by how well my joints were holding up. A mile and a half later, I was in pain –– mostly my right knee. Shortly thereafter, I limped off the trail, letting out a big sigh of relief upon reaching my car. Then I congratulated myself. I did it! But the next time I go for a hike, I think I’ll pick a trail that’s nearly flat.
