Peak Experiences: Danger, Death, and Daring in the Mountains of the Northeast

On the Horns of a Dilemma

John Hartford On the Horns of a Dilemma Marcia and I had been planning to climb the Bonds, but the forecast for the higher summits predicted an approaching warm front, with winds increasing to the 75–90 mph range. Since the Bonds have substantial exposure above tree line, we decided on 4,260-foot Zealand Mountain, which is mostly beneath tree line. This hike is one of the most grueling of the fortyeight White Mountain 4,000-footers, as the easy road access of summer is replaced by a 19-mile marathon in winter. When we reached the trailhead at 6:30 a.m., the temperature was –8 degrees Fahrenheit. By the end of our hike, the temperature would be 41 degrees, the greatest temperature swing that I’ve experienced in a single day.18 We were soon moving quickly on the Zealand trail, feeling good. We started seeing moose tracks, not an uncommon sight, and soon came across some moose scat. Marcia was leading and we were both keeping an eye to the woods, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the great creature. We had both seen one in the distance, on a hike of Mount Carrigain two years before, but that was our only previous sighting. Then, as Marcia turned a corner, we came face to face with a big bull moose. He was standing right on the trail. We stood dead still, then quietly dug out our cameras for a once-in-a-lifetime shot. After taking several pictures, we were ready to move on. I told Marcia to go ahead and shoo the beast away. But he didn’t shoo. What do you do when your path is blocked by a 1,200-pound moose? I must admit that I didn’t know. We tried yelling, “Shoo, moose!” We waved our poles and generally acted like primates. No effect at all. This standoff lasted about 20 minutes. The trail was packed down and very easy to walk on; the moose had no intention of leaving it. We thought of bushwhacking our way around the moose but this was a tricky option. Stepping into the deep snow, just off the trail, meant we would sink down 3 or 4 feet, even in our snowshoes. If the moose came at us in that deep snow, we’d be in trouble. We discussed climbing the trees just off the trail, should we need to. As the moose was not giving ground, we could see few options. 188 pe a k e x pe r i e n ces “Let’s put on our snowshoes,” I said. The packed trail was about 2 feet wide, and we had to crouch down to put on our shoes. As my back was to the moose, I asked Marcia to keep an eye on him. “I’d turn around if I were you,” she said. I had one snowshoe on when the moose suddenly charged. “Climb the tree!” I shouted. Before I knew what was what, I was halfway up a pine tree, with one snowshoe dangling, while Marcia was up another. The moose stopped a few yards from us, which gave me time to climb a bit higher and disentangle my snowshoe. There we were: treed. We looked at each other and broke into laughter at the absurdity of our predicament. But the moose was not going anywhere. We had both left our packs on the trail and Marcia had no gloves on, as she had taken them off to attach her snowshoes. The temperature was still about zero and we had been lightly dressed for hiking, which generates warmth. Unable to move in our pine trees, we were getting cold. After about 10 minutes, I slowly descended the tree and crept toward my pack, ready to race back up the tree if the moose made any movement. I got some extra gloves out and handed them to Marcia, then returned to my perch. After being treed for about 45 minutes we heard voices coming up the trail. “Hey guys,” we yelled, “watch out! There’s an angry moose on the Cliff Note My husband David and I have encountered moose on the trails several times. Our presence doesn’t usually alarm them, unlike most other denizens of the forest who move away when approached. Moose look at us, aware of our human presence, but unafraid. In September, on Maine’s North Brother Mountain, we saw a moose ahead of us...