It has been a while since I last climbed Pitcher Mountain in Stoddard, so I went over recently to see if anything had changed. This mountain gets its name from the Pitcher family, who settled here in the late 1700s.
Even though Pitcher Mountain is, at 2,152 feet (656 m), the second highest mountain in this area after Mount Monadnock, most of the elevation can be gained by driving, so once you park where the Pitcher family’s farmhouse used to be you only have to hike for about 20 minutes. If the gate that the fire warden passes through was open you could drive within a stone’s throw from the top with a 4 wheel drive vehicle.
Some ferns along the trail were taking on their ghostly fall colors.
The meadow was bathed in wall to wall sunshine as I expected because clouds have been a rare commodity this summer. The distant haze told me that this would probably not be the best day for viewing the surrounding landscapes from the top.
Bristly dewberries (Rubus flagellaris) grow along the path and many ripe berries hadn’t been eaten by wildlife. This plant is closely related to the blackberry but instead of standing up straight the prickly vines trail along the ground. The berries look more like black raspberries than blackberries though. I see the red berried swamp dewberry (Rubus hispidus) far more often than this black version.
It’s no surprise to find these plants grow along the edges of the meadow. Plants with sharp thorns like raspberries and blackberries were often planted with hawthorn trees along boundaries. These thorny, prickly plants can form an impenetrable thicket which nothing much bigger than a rabbit can easily get through. 16th century English poet and farmer Thomas Tusser told how to enclose a field in this poem:
Go plough up, or delve up, advised with skill,
The breadth of a ridge, and in length as ye will,
Then speedily quickset, for a fence ye will draw
To sow in the seed of the bramble and haw.
The trail gets a lot rockier along the meadow and a lot sunnier too. There is something about this photo that really pleases me, but I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of an impressionist’s painting.
A brightly colored leaf caught my eye.
The fire tower comes into view when you least expect it. The 5 acres at the very top of Pitcher Mountain are owned by the New Hampshire Forestry Commission. They first built a wooden fire tower here in 1915 but in April of 1940 the most destructive fire in the region’s history destroyed 27,000 acres of forest, including the fire tower and all of the trees on the summit. The present steel tower is a replacement and, because of the lack of trees, offers a full 360 degree view of the surrounding hills.
The old fire warden’s cabin still stands but doesn’t look like it sees much use even though the tower is staffed from April through October. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it had been taken over by small animals.
The cabin is nestled between the forest on one side and the mountain on the other so it probably doesn’t see much wind, but nothing can protect it from the snow and it sees a lot of it.
The original tower needed wind protection and was chained down to the rock in several places using these stout eye hooks.
The newer tower also has to be anchored against the wind. I’ve seen it blow quite forcefully up here, especially in winter. I wonder how often the tower gets struck by lightning. It bristles with 4 lightning rods, so I’m guessing that it sees plenty.
As I suspected, the views were less than ideal. Mount Monadnock could just be seen through the heavy haze. I’ll remember the summer of 2015 as hazy hot and humid with endless blue, cloudless skies.
No matter which direction you looked the view didn’t improve but it was still nice to be up here catching the breeze on such a hot and humid day.
The view across to the nearest hill wasn’t bad. As you stand on the mountaintop this small hill looks almost near enough to touch, but getting to the top of it from here would probably be quite a hike.
I wonder if 1873 is the date this marker was put here. A 250 dollar fine seems like it would have been an impossible sum to raise in those days.
Every time I come up here I see something I’ve never noticed before and this time it was these deep grooves in the exposed bedrock. Though all of the rock up here is scarred by glacial movement these grooves weren’t made that way. I think they were chiseled into the stone by man, but for what purpose I can’t guess.
Something else I’ve never seen here is a pile of cut brush but of course cutting it must be a constant chore, otherwise trees would quickly obscure the view. I’ve cut a lot of brush in my time and I can imagine what a job it must be to do it here, so I’ll take this opportunity to say thank you to those who work so hard for the rest of us.
In spite of the dry conditions common goldspeck lichens (Candelariella vitelline) were fruiting. This crustose lichen contains a yellow pigment called calysin and was once used in Sweden to dye wool yellow. It must have been difficult scraping it off the rocks that it grew on.
This dime gives an idea of how small the goldspeck lichens in the previous photo really are.
Scattered rock posy lichens (Rhizoplaca subdiscrepans) were also fruiting. Each disc shaped orange fruiting body (apothecia) grows to about .04 inches (1mm) across. They grow in large colonies on the exposed rock up here.
Sometimes when I sit on these mountaintops I think back to the early settlers and how they must have felt looking out over unbroken forest as far as the eye could see. You had a gun, an axe, and yourself to rely on and that was all. As I was wondering if I would have attempted such a risky undertaking a plane flew over and dragged me back into the 21st century.
As it flew over the near hill and off into the haze I started the climb down, which for some reason is always tougher than the climb up.
When was the last time you spent a quiet moment just doing nothing – just sitting and looking at the sea, or watching the wind blowing the tree limbs, or waves rippling on a pond, a flickering candle or children playing in the park? ~Ralph Marston
Thanks for coming by.
I was particularly enchanted by the fern photo and wonder how one obtains permission to use it for a painting – not to paint a look-a-like but as an inspiration incorporating some of the elements…
All you need to do is ask, Allie. Feel free to use the photo and good luck with the painting. Fern shadows are something I’m always pleased to see and I’m sure others must be too.
You make me wish we had mountains here but I know what you mean about climbing down, it shouldn’t be harder but it is. The view of the trail is beautiful and I agree about the impressionist painting.
Thanks! I think it must be in the different ways your leg muscles work that makes coming down so much more difficult. That and age-I used to run down hills.
That leaf is a beautiful harbinger of what is to come! I particularly like the quote you chose for the end.
Thanks Martha. Yes, that leaf is just a teaser!
I’ve never seen a fern take on that white color. Mine will turn more brown and black. Interesting that brambles were used to make hedges. Makes sense, though. As for heading into the wilderness with an ax and rifle – I’ll just wait for the movie to come out, thanks.
These are hay scented ferns (Dennstaedtia punctilobula.) They start turning yellow at about the end of August and then get progressively paler until they’re finally white. I think it’s the only fern that does it.
Yes, brambles would work well for keeping me in or out, especially blackberries.
I don’t know how they ever did what they did with so little. I don’t think I would have made it.
Such a wonderful fall outing…Love the path to the top, glad you chose to hike and not drive, wonderful photos.
Thank very much Charlie. I can’t see myself ever driving to the top of a mountain. I enjoy the hike too much to pass it up.
Wonderful hike. The one picture you like and didn’t quite know why — to me it looks like a combination of spring and early fall.
Maybe that’s why I like it. I could skip winter and do spring again right now!
I think your winters could be a tad trying,
They sure can.
Despite the haze and the lack of clouds, I enjoyed the views from the top!
I would guess that the $250 fine was the penalty for tampering with the survey marker, they took their surveys very seriously back then, as every one’s property lines are based on those markers. If two neighbors had a dispute over property lines, and knew what they were doing, shifting one of the markers could have been a huge advantage to them, hence the very large fine. That was when land was typically sold in larger parcels, and property lines weren’t as established as they are now.
I also loved the rocky road photo, I’d like to walk that road one day.
Thanks Jerry! I wish you could walk that road. I think you’d love it up there.
Yes, I’m sure the fine is for tampering with the marker and you explain the reason for it very well. I’m sure a 250 dollar fine was a good deterrent because it probably would have meant some serious jail time if you couldn’t pay it.
Once again you’ve captured me with your wonderful photos and accompanying dialogue. I could repeat Mike Powell’s comment word for word as to how I felt about your post. Your journey vs destination conversation was great as well. Since I’ve gotten older, I’m a much slower walker. I love to take my time and see all there is around me with both my eyes and my camera. My husband on the other hand, is a destination person. I had a couple of very scary incidents while walking alone in very wilderness areas (the human kind, not animal related). Therefore, I never go without my husband. He is good, though, about staying around once we reach our destination. That gives me the opportunity to look for those things to photograph that I might have otherwise missed. Thank you for taking me along with you on your climb :). I enjoyed every moment!
Thanks very much Ginny, I’m glad you enjoyed the post. I remember one day asking two college age girls I met on a trail if they had seen any wildflowers. Both said no but there were flowers everywhere and I wondered how anyone could have missed them. That’s when I realized there were two kinds of hikers.
I’m sorry that you had some bad experiences out there. I do meet women hiking alone but they often look apprehensive and I wonder if they wouldn’t be better off hiking with a partner, so I’m glad your husband goes along. Maybe after he sees all the great things you find by walking slowly, he’ll slow down a little.
The reason for down being harder than up is old age.
You could be right about that!
I like the impressionist photo too! I am almost jealous of your continuous blue skies as we haven’t had many of those this summer, but I wouldn’t want the humidity and I do like clouds (fortunately)! I am always surprised that you manage to find lichens happily surviving on the top of mountains.
Thank you Clare. I was really surprised by how that photo turned out, and it was the only one like that.
I shouldn’t complain about our cloudless skies but they really do get boring, believe it or not. Clouds add a lot of interest to a photo. And the humidity has been terrible for nearly a month. I can’t remember when it has gone on for so long. Finally as September came it went away.
I can’t think of a place I’ve gone where lichens didn’t grow. I think they are literally everywhere, which is amazing!
I think I would get bored with endless blue skies too.
I’ll probably wish I’d never said that this winter.
There’s a terrible thought! Some of our tabloid newspapers have been announcing that we are in for a terrible winter this year with the first snow in October. I wonder if they are right!
I hope not, for your sake. We’ve had two bad ones in a row so maybe this year will be a little easier.
We’ve had two mild winters in a row so perhaps we are due something a little harsher (oh no!)
Fascinating as always, I loved the picture of the ferns and the splendid poem by Thomas Tusser, most enjoyable.
Thanks very much Susan, I’m glad you liked them!
Could this be the place we saw after visiting the basket factory, before we found mile away restaurant?
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No, I don’t thinks so. The basket factory is in Peterborough and the restaurant is in Milford, so you probably saw Pack Monadnock Mountain, which you can drive to the top of. Pitcher Mountain in Stoddard is a bit of a drive from there-about 25 miles, I’d guess.
The second highest peak in Cheshire County is Osgood Hill in Nelson. Pitcher Mountain is the third highest. This fact was confirmed by my boss here at the Historical Society, Alan Rumrill. No great view from Osgood Hill, because it is tree covered, but it is the second highest peak just the same.
I’ve never heard that Kathy. I thought I read that Pitcher Mountain was second highest in the Stoddard town history but I can’t remember now exactly where I read it. In any event somewhere out there it says that Pitcher Mountain is second highest, and I just happened to find it. Thanks for setting me straight.
Your impressionistic picture of the trail had the same effect on me!
Thanks, I’m glad to hear that I wasn’t imagining it!
I enjoyed accompanying you on the climb, Allen (and I am not even out of breath). Your narration along the way always draws me in with its mix of history, information, and observations. I am always amazed at the details that you manage to see and point out to us that most of us would have missed.
Thanks Mike. I think I was out of breath enough for both of us, even though I climbed slowly. I think climbing and hiking slowly is the secret to seeing things that many people don’t. A lot of people that I meet on these trails seem to focus only on getting to the top of the mountain or the end of the trail, so they miss a lot of all the interesting things that there are to see.
I totally agree. It’s the old “journey” versus “destination” idea. Of course, it can be problematic when a “journey” person travels with a “destination” person. That’s why I most often enjoy taking photos by myself, setting my own pace without hindering anyone else.
Exactly! That’s one reason I go it alone as well.
Are there restrictions for driving up the trail it the gate is open? It must have taken an awful lot of the goldspeck lichen to make dye! The conditions must have to be just right to get a good view without all the haze. Still I enjoyed your images!
Thanks Laura. I’ve only seen the gate open once, and that was when a technician was there working on the equipment in the tower. He locked the gate behind him so I don’t think you’d ever find it open when someone wasn’t there.
Yes, that yellow dye made from goldspeck lichens must have been pretty pricey! It must have taken quite a while to gather enough lichens.
I find hazy skies almost every time I climb. Winter seems to be the best time for the clearest skies but it’s also the hardest time of year to climb.