Hiking Osceola Trail from Tripoli Road: Trip Report

Adventure Travel, New Hampshire, Trekking & Hiking, United States

One particularly sunny and beautiful mid-July weekend, Erich and I decided to take a hike. Erich is quite new to hiking, having never really done a full day, oh-my-god-my-knees-hurt hike before we met. In an effort to get him to see the joys of hiking, not just the pains, I sought out a moderate level hike with stunning views. The choice was obvious: the Mt. Osceola trail from Tripoli Road.

This hike hit all the major points: Mount Osceola is one of the 4000 footers of New Hampshire’s White Mountains; we could easily bag a second 4k-er, East Osceola, without adding too many miles to our day; it was a fairly moderate hike, only 3.5 miles from Tripoli Road to the summit; and the denizens of the New Hampshire Hiking Facebook group I joined said that it had some of the best views in the Whites.

Decision made. We were hiking Osceola and East Osceola.

Everything You Need to Know about Mount Osceola

Mount Osceola is a peak in the southern White Mountains. Along with its sister peak, East Osceola, they make up two of New Hampshire’s 48 4000 footers in. Osceola sits at a height of 4,315ft (1,315m) and nearby East Osceola reaches a stately 4,156ft (1,266m).

So they aren’t the tallest mountains ever.

But don’t let that fool you. As anyone who has ever hiked in New Hampshire can tell you, the modest height of these mountains hides some surprisingly tough terrain. The trail from Tripoli Road to Osceola is fairly easy, with only a few rough granite patches, but the trail along the ridge from Osceola to East Osceola features some steep granite stairs and a spicy little section known as “The Chimney”.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The mountains are named after the famous Native American warrior, Osceola, born a member of the Creek tribe, he and his mother became refugees and they ultimately were taken in and became members of the Seminole Tribe. Osceola grew to become a fierce warrior and powerful leader, taking on the American Army when no one else would. He was captured in a deception that is, to this day, one of the great shame of the U.S. Military history, and many monuments around the nation are named in his honor, including these two peaks in New Hampshire.

Hiking Mount Osceola Trail from Tripoli Road

The trail from Tripoli Road is unexpectedly smooth and gentle. Trails like this are something of a rarity in New England, where most of the paths were cut by anxious old Yankees who seemed more interested in punishing their knees than having a nice day walking in the woods.

At any rate, the trail is pretty easy. It starts out gentle and stays pretty gentle all the way to the top. There are some really nice spots along the way where the trail levels off completely and you meander through piney forests and weave in and out of hardwoods.

As you near the top, the trail steepens a little and there is a slight scramble, not even a scramble really, just a small climb up a wide flat granite section. It is closely lined by trees, so the smooth rock, though slippery when wet and probably a disaster in the winter, is nothing to be afraid of.

Erich and I reached the top before we’d even started to feel the hike in our legs.

Summit Views

The best part of hiking Osceola is the reveal. The entire ascent is forged through a tunnel of trees, not a view to be found. As you near the summit the trail levels off and, on most days, you hear the sounds of people chatting and hanging out. Pass through the last barrier of pine trees and you emerge onto the flat granite summit of Osceola.

The world opens up before you. Pine clad mountains stretch for miles, Tripyramid stands tall and proud across the Waterville Valley. To the north, the Pemigewasset beckons with it’s multitude of rocky peaks and dense, eternal forests. It really is one of the more remarkable views in the White Mountains.

The Trail to East Osceola and the famous Chimney Cliff

From the summit of Osceola, East Osceola is a short and steep ridgeline traverse away. Easily visible from your perch on the wide granite peak, bagging them both on the same hike is an opportunity too tempting to pass up.

Leaving Osceola, the trail descends immediately down a long granite staircase, following the bumps and curves of the ridgeline. The trail alternates between steep downhill and short, level sections wherein you truly feel you’re walking the ridge above two sheer mountain walls.

Then you reach most thrilling part of the traverse: the Chimney. This famous cliff begs for you to slip and fall, if not to your death then at least to a broken wrist or two. I exaggerate. In the summertime, it’s a fairly easy, if a bit steep, section of scrambling. There is a slightly easier alternate route off to the left for those who are averse to climbing straight down.

In the winter, this should probably only be attempted with the proper gear and knowledge.

And also I saw some people in their 60s or 70s climb down it. And a dog. And some kids. So, like, chill.

After you descend the Chimney, you quickly reach the saddle and head back up. There’s a nice viewpoint overlooking the Pemigewasset just below the summit, then a little further up another granite staircase and you find yourself at the riveting, jaw-droppingly stunning summit of East Osceola.

Just kidding, it’s tree’d in.

Apparently there are more viewpoints past the summit on the way to Greeley Pond, but they are several hundred feet down a steep trail so, dealers choice. We did not include that in our day hike.

My First Osceola, But Not My Last

I adored this hike up to Osceola. The views from the top of this mountain were classic White Mountains at their finest. In Erich’s words when we got there.

“Oh yeah, I could get into this.”

I’ve heard good things about the approach to the Osceola’s from the Kancamagus. It’s steeper and more grueling but apparently has some stunning viewpoints. A definite must on my list of hikes.

How to Get to Osceola Trail on Tripoli Road

From Interstate 93 take exit 31 for Tripoli Road and take a right. Follow Tripoli Road for 6.5 miles. You’ll pass through a gate and continue past two other trailheads before you get to the Osceola Trailhead. It will be on your left. Unless you get there early, prepare to park on the side of the road. Parking is only allowed on the right side.

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Trip Report: 3 Day Presidential Traverse

Adventure Travel, New Hampshire, Uncategorized

This is a trip report on my absolutely incredible first 3-Day Presidential Traverse. To get details about my plan and learn more about what the Presidential Traverse actually is, check out my 3-Day Presi Traverse Plan.

I spent most of the summer training for my first Presidential Traverse. To say I was feeling a bit hyper about it would be an understatement. I did several overnight hikes in the Whites and plenty of day hikes. I strength trained and cross-trained and did everything right. But in mid-July, I had to accept I had developed an overuse injury. My knees were a mess. After summiting Mount Washington during the Seek the Peak, I was forced by my body to take a month off.

Then in August, I started looking for a fair weather weekend. But I was hit by rainy weekend after rainy weekend. I started to despair. I didn’t want to push it out until the fall. I had hoped to complete the hike in the summer when the sun still stayed up past 7 p.m. Then finally, one weekend in late August, the Washington Observatory weather report spoke of clear skies all day on Saturday. That was all I needed. It was time for my first Presidential Traverse.

Day 1: Appalachia Trailhead to Valley Way Tentsite | 3.1 Miles

Friday was hectic. This late into the summer the sunset was at 7:30 p.m. and book time from the Appalachia trailhead to the Valley Way Tentsite was 3 hours. By my calculation, that meant I ought to start hiking by 4 p.m. in order to set up camp before dark. Cooking in the dark I could handle, but choosing a campsite and setting up a tent in the dark is not one of my favorite pastimes.

I left my office north of Boston at 1 p.m. on Friday. Normally, some of my more relaxed summer hiking excursions, I take the time to stop at Chipotle and get a burrito to carry up for dinner on the first night. Not this time. I was anxious about reaching the trailhead by 4, nervous that the persistent summer traffic would slow me down and I’d be limited to a two-day Presi traverse.

The trip went quickly however and I pulled into the Appalachia trailhead at 4:02 p.m. I was on the trail by 4:15 p.m. at the latest, my heart and mind racing at the thought that I wouldn’t make it to Valley Way before dark.

My feet hit the trail and I rushed through the woods. Though I tried to appreciate the experience of being in the forest; the wandering route the path took on its way up the side of Mount Adams; the way it wove prettily around rocks and streams; in truth, I climbed up that hill like the Devil himself was on my heels. Breathing hard and sweating, I arrived at the Valley Way Tentsite at 6 p.m.

Valley Way is a fairly large, unhosted tent site just below the Madison Springs Hut. There are only two platforms but many additional clearings spread out into the woods, probably unsanctioned but filled with hikers nonetheless. By the time I arrived, early in the evening on a Friday, the place was nearly full. After walking around a bit, I asked a couple setting up a bivy if I could share their clearing.

With my tent pitched sideways up the slope, I spent the night curled up in a ball leaning into the hill. Sleep took its time to find me that night, in part because I was hyped up for the next day, but mostly because I was actively trying not to roll back down the hill.

Day 2: Appalachia Way Tentsite to Nauman Tentsite | 15.5 Miles

Filled with an eager anticipation for the day of hiking ahead of me and uncertain about my inability to finish, Friday evening I had set a 4:30 a.m. alarm for Saturday morning. Of course, when that alarm actually went off in the pre-dawn dark, my half-asleep brain was fairly certain I could still finish before sunset if I slept in for another half an hour. I rolled over.

At 5 a.m., the sky still mostly dark, just the faintest tinge of dawn turning the sky a rich deep blue, I changed into my dirty clothes, munched on a dry, cold pop tart, and was on the trail by 5:30.

Almost immediately, trail runners starting to pass me, jogging up the mountainside with their simple packs and minimal water supply. With my 20 pound pack on my back fully loaded with two liters of water, I was more than a little jealous. They were the hare, I told myself, but I was the tortoise. I think I can, I think I can.

Mount Madison

Coming over the rise and around some rocks, I arrived at the Madison Springs Hut, pink in the fresh dawn light. Tucking my pack into a nook near the base of the hut, I grabbed my poles and took off towards the summit of Madison, less than a half a mile from the hut and my first peak of the day, reaching it by 7 a.m.

Up here, in the cool morning air, I peered through the haze towards Mt. Washington. The day was clear, but smoke from the wildfires on the west coast had blown across the continent on a jet stream, coloring everything a burnt orange. The people around me were mostly other Presi Traverse hikers, congratulating each other on making it to the first peak by 7 a.m. For the first time, I had the comforting realization that I may be doing this on my own, but I wasn’t alone. There were so many other hikers up here to do the traverse with me. We were all sharing the sense of eager anticipation. Could we finish? The excitement was palpable.

Back down to the Madison Springs hut, a quick stop for some hot coffee, and I headed on up the trail, still nervous about my ability to finish before sundown.

Mount Adams and Jefferson

Without looking at my map, I walked out of Madison Hut and followed the signs that pointed the way towards Mt. Adams, following the Star Trail. You may think, outdoor enthusiast that I am, that I would’ve at least looked at the trail map and assessed the topo before heading off in the direction of my dreams. But of course, I did not.

The Star Trail, for the uninitiated, is by far the most challenging and rewarding way to reach the summit of Mt. Adams. Starting from the Madison Springs Hut, it curls around the base of the peak, teeters on the edge of the Great Gulf, and then lurches straight up the side of the mountain towards the summit.

The trail is pure, unadulterated New England scramble. A giant field of boulders leading inexorably uphill. It was awesome. I forgot all about my heavy pack as I picked my way up the side of the boulder field, constantly on the lookout for the little blue blaze and the short cairns that proved my only guide. This is less of a trail and more a test of your internal compass and agility. The final scrambled to the summit passes through a narrow chasm before emerging, victorious, at the peak. From here, Madison seemed like a distant dream, far off and long forgotten. Mount Washington appeared no closer, but Jefferson, previously invisible, sat just beyond my reach.

A day hiking couple came up just after I reached the summit, we were alone at the top of the mountain and I learned they were also doing a Presi Traverse but in a single day. We were mutually impressed, I with their single day bid, they with my ability to do a hike like this with my heavy pack. They pressed on and I said goodbye, assuming I wouldn’t catch up with them again.

I set off, slowly picking my way down the rocky boulder-strewn landscape towards Thunderstorm Junction and Mount Jefferson.

In the weeks and months that led up to my Presidential Traverse, I’d heard many people say how easy it is to get lost up there. How could that be possible, I thought, trails are so well marked in the Whites.

Please trust me when I say, as a fellow skeptic, that it is incredibly easy to get lost and turned around on the Presidential Traverse, especially in low visibility or cloudy weather. Luckily for me, it was clear as a diamond for my traverse, but even then, Thunderstorm Junction is a confusing place. It took me several tries to figure out how to get back onto the Appalachian Trail, the cairns are not obvious and the signs point in confusing directions.

The way to Jefferson was my initiation into one of the realities of a Presidential Traverse, the illusion of proximity. The first two peaks of the day, Madison and Adams, are really quite close together, so although my route to the top of Adams was challenging, the distance between the two peaks was overall quite short.

From Adams, Jefferson had also looked fairly nearby. But that was an illusion. The trail to get there was rough and winding, going up and down and around several humps before making the lurching ascent to the top. A trail runner came up beside me as we pushed up the final ascent and introduced herself with a “God, I hope this is really the summit.”

It was. I stopped to take a break and have a quick snack. Happy to have made it to my third summit, eager for more. Mount Washington was finally starting to appear within reach. As I stood up and shouldered my pack I heard a surprised, “oh look who it is!” The couple from Mount Adams was sitting just in front of me, snacking away and taking in the view. We were pleasantly shocked to see each other, though they had been strangers on Mount Adams, now they were my hiking partners. We were in this together, and as I set off, we promised to see each other again for pizza on top of Mount. Washington.

The only thing that stood between me and Mount Washington was the small shoulder of Mount Clay. Technically not on the list of New Hampshire’s 48 4000 footers, and not technically part of the official Presi Traverse, I still wanted to include it in my hike. I stepped off and headed down the tricky granite boulder field towards Clay.

Mount Clay And the Big Push to Washington

As I slowly picked my way down Jefferson, tentatively navigating the massive granite boulders, the pain and strain of this harsh landscape started to make itself known. My knees and feet started to ache with each step. My pack dragged on my back, straining the muscles along my spine.

To make matters worse, that tricky little thing we call perception started playing its game again. From the top of Mt. Jefferson, Clay had looked like an insignificant hump between me and Mount Washington. But by the time I made it down to the shoulder in between the two peaks, Clay was looming ominously above me.

For the first time that day, I had the thought “I’m not sure I can do this.”

Morale was at its lowest point. I pulled on the straw from my water bladder and took a big gulp, I swallowed once, twice, and then I felt and heard that terrible sound, the rasping drumroll that a bladder makes when it hits empty.

I had run out of water.

I stood at the bottom of the trail to Mount Clay and looked up. I wanted to reach that summit, but realistically, with no water left, the responsible choice was to take the path of least resistance. It was going to be a long, dry, thirsty walk as it was, I’d only make it worse by adding the several hundred feet of elevation change.

Reluctantly, I bypassed Mt. Clay and took the Gulfside Trail around its hump, heading up towards Mount Washington.

With single-minded purpose I strode along the rocks, resolutely ignoring my thirst and ignoring the various signs pointing the way to the Jewell trail and other options. I had but one goal: make it to the summit of Washington and refill my water.

Once I made it around the side of Clay, the air filled with the noises of Mount Washington. The roar of car motors and the chugging of the cog railway burst through my solitude, urging me ever onwards. As I ascended the final mile to the summit of Mount Washington, the sound rose to a cacophony.

During that final stretch of trail to Mount Washington’s summit, the trail runs parallel to the cog railway. Train after train rolled by, tourists peering out the windows at me as I struggled up the hill, tired and dehydrated.

This was simultaneously the most hectic and one of the most beautiful parts of the trail. The trail grazes the very edge of the Great Gulf, at one point so close to the edge of a cliff that a simple misstep could send you tumbling down hundreds of feet. The Gulf opened up beneath me and I could see all the way back down the ridge to Madison. Each peak loomed tall and crashed suddenly down into the Gulf, where the slope evened out into a pine covered valley. It called out to me, begging to be explored. But for now I was on a different journey, and turned my face upwards, towards the summit of the Northeast’s tallest peak: Mount Washington.

The final push to the summit went by in a flash. It was more of the same granite boulder jungle gym but somehow the rocks felt flatter and more forgiving up here. Perhaps to accommodate the hundreds of thousands of tourists that ascend to the top of this famous mountain each year.

I arrived gratefully at the peak of the mountain. Without even pausing to take in the view, I pushed through the throngs of tourists and made my way towards the water fountain. Taking several deep pulls of the ice cold water I finally relaxed. Time for pizza.

Perhaps it’s time for a note about the summit of Mount Washington.

The Summit of Mount Washington

If you’re picturing the summit of Mount Washington, the tallest peak in the Northeast, as a place of solitude and tranquility, where weary hikers sit on rocks and soak in the glow of their achievement, staring out at the vast landscape and marveling at the glory of nature, you’d be wrong.

Mount Washington is a wildly overdeveloped summit, home to a cafe, gift shop, log cabin, and viewing deck, as well as a scientific observatory and weather research center. If it sounds overwhelming, it is, but it is part of a long tradition in New England of development on mountain summits.

The oldest structure on the summit of Mount Washington is the Tip-Top house, a former hostel built in 1853. The New Englanders of old just loved building on top of mountains. There was once a luxury hotel on top of Mount Moosilauke. Most of these hotels ended up blowing away or burning down, but the Tip Top house remains, and tourists can pop inside to get a sense of historic New England.

Those who would prefer not to have to hike to the summit of Mount Washington have options as well, the historic Cog Railway, building in 1863 but now a for-profit business, chugs up and down the mountain at regular intervals. The Mount Washington Auto Road gives ambitious road trippers the opportunity to drive to the top of the highest peak, an activity especially popular with motorcyclists.

All this means that when I reached the summit of Mount Washington, I was not alone. Smelly and covered in a day’s worth of dirt, I stood in line with clean smelling tourists fresh from their drive to the top to get my slice of pizza and a cookie. Hiking to a gift shop is one of the weirder experiences I’ve ever had in my years of adventure travel. The first time I summited Washington I thought it was pretty amusing. This time, I was just ready to get out of there.

The Southern Peaks

From the summit of Washington down to the Lake of the Clouds hut just a few miles away, the trail was packed. I mean, slammed with people. It was early afternoon on a bright Saturday afternoon at the end of the summer on one of the most popular trails in the northeast. Of course it was packed, but still, I missed the solitude of the morning trails. I dreamed hopefully of a few miles down the trail when the crowds would disperse and I could walk along in silence, passing only other Presi Traverse hikers or the odd smelly AT thru-hiker heading up to Maine.

At the Lake of the Clouds hut, I stopped again to top off my water, aware that this was my last reliable water source before my final destination for the day at the Nauman Tentsite.

At the back of my mind was a low hum of panic. Convinced I had fallen behind schedule, I pulled out my phone and turned it on. 2 p.m. Then I turned to my map, convinced I still had 7 miles to go. That may seem insignificant, but up in the Whites, a pace of 1 mile per hour is not unusual.

Looking at my map, relief flooded my system. I only had 5 miles left. I was practically done! Even if I did hike at one mile per hour, I’d still make it to the campsite by nightfall. Hope and optimism surged through me. The despondent exhaustion I had felt a few hours ago on the top of Jefferson was long gone. Munching on a gooey brownie cooked by the genius crew of Lake of the Clouds hut, I shouldered my pack and set off towards the summit of Monroe.

The distance from Lake of the Clouds to Monroe is kind of laughable. It is a short and steep 300 feet of elevation gain, hardly enough to be called a separate mountain peak but then again, still quite a challenging scramble with a 20-pound pack on. From there, the rest of my hike rolled away into the distant haze. I was standing on the highest point, and although I knew it wasn’t all downhill, that I still had two more official peaks and one more unofficial, I felt like I had already finished the hike.

The rest of that afternoon was pure, glorious, unadulterated magic. The footing became smooth and sandy as the path wove its way along the top of the ridge, slowly ascending and descending the smaller humps of the Southern Presidentials. I crested the top of Eisenhower riding a high of adrenaline. This was the kind of hiking I always dreamed of. This was who I was meant to be. I was floating along, dreaming of a life where all I ever had to do was walk along mountain ridges just like this, experiencing and discovering new lands and never before seen views.

“Hello again!”

There they were. My friends from Adams and Jefferson, sitting on the ground at the broad sloping peak of Eisenhower, looking exhausted.

We took pictures and said goodbye, they were moving faster than I was and going further, I wouldn’t see them again.

My lighthearted journey continued to my final peak of the day, and last official peak of a short Presidential Traverse, Pierce. The trail dipped down below tree line for the first time since 6 a.m. that morning. The pines enveloped me, embracing me and welcoming me back into their arms. The expansive views of the White Mountains vanished and I entered their beating heart, the land of pines and moss and silence.

The summit of Pierce is unremarkable, shrouded in trees without a real view. But as I came over the final rise to the summit I heard the crack of a beer can and saw two people sitting down on nearby rocks.

“This is our 48th” They smiled clearly excited. They were finishing all 48 of New Hampshire’s 4000 footers. My heart swelled. I’d never actually been present to see anyone finish their 48. It felt like a fitting end to my day.

“Congratulations!” I raised my poles in their direction and continued on. The only thing between me and my dinner was a short descent to Mizpah Springs Hut and the nearby Nauman tent site.

Or so I thought.

The final descent was steep, a dramatic granite staircase tangled with tree roots and slippery with water. Each step sent pain ripping up into my knees and hips as the toll the day had taken on my body finally showed itself. Even more painful, the sound of people laughing and relaxing outside of the Mizpah hut drifting up through the trees for the final half mile of the trail, taunting me with thoughts of hot mac n cheese and sleep.

But nothing lasts forever, not even unforgiving downhills, and at long last, I popped out of the trail in front of the Mizpah Hut. The Nauman Tent site is literally right next to the hut, I’m pretty sure its the only place in the White Mountains where an AMC Hut has a tent site so nearby. It’s really super convenient.

By 5 p.m. I was pitching my tent on one of the platforms and getting to know my neighbors, a boy scout dad out for a solo hike and a group of three Appalachian Trail hikers who’d met on their second day and hiked together all the way from Georgia.

It was a pretty great night in the woods.

Day 3: From Nauman on Home

I woke up a little after dawn the next morning and rolled over in my sleeping bag, safe in the knowledge that I only had to hike about 5 miles that day. Drifting in and out of sleep, I laid on my inflatable mat and basked in the feeling of having nothing in particular to do.

I heard the soft sounds of my Appalachian trail campsite comrades packing up their things. The slither of a tent collapsing, the click of tent poles, the hushed sounds of the first hikers setting out for the day. I decided to see how the outside world looked this morning.

Sticking my legs out of the tent, I crammed my feet into my hiking boots and stood up. Immediately my legs screamed out, shredding my peaceful state of mind. Overnight my muscles had transformed from human flesh into ice cold stone. Every movement hurt. I stepped tenderly across the campsite, carrying my water bladder down to the stream to refill. I had to take the stairs one at a time, gripping nearby trees as my calves screamed in protest. It took another hour of hobbling around for my legs to fully wake up and the pain to recede.

Sitting on my bear vault, I cooked up a pot of oatmeal. Normally on backpacking trips, I scarf down a cold pop tart and head out of the campsite as the sun rises, usually one of the first on the trail. But I had hiked almost the entire Presidential ridge yesterday and I was going to have a long, relaxing morning in the woods. I had earned it.

I munched on my cinnamon oatmeal while the Appalachian trail hikers packed up their things and ate their cold ramen noodle breakfasts. My other tent site partner, the boy scout father out for a solo hike, was approaching this morning with the same attitude as I was. We sat next to each other and watched as everyone around us packed up and headed out. We were in no rush.

“I’ve decided I’m going to skip Jackson.” He confided in me. “My legs aren’t feeling it at all.”

From the Nauman tent site, Presi-Traverse hikers have two options, you can take the Mizpah Cut Off directly down to the Crawford Depot, a two-mile hike, or head up to the peak of Mt. Jackson, not an official peak on the Presi traverse but still hit by many, and from there, either follow the Appalachian Trail over Webster and down to Route 302, or take the Mt. Jackson trail down to Crawford Depot.

Even as I packed up my supplies that morning, I wasn’t sure which route I was going to do. I headed on the trail up to Jackson, waiting for my body to tell me whether or not Webster and Webster Cliff were in the cards for me.

Nauman Tentsite to Mount Jackson

The trail up to Jackson was quite beautiful. It wanders through a dense pine forest, sometimes quickly ascending before descending again, twisting through moss covered boulders with sunlight dancing through the trees.

The final pitch to the top of Jackson is sudden and steep, a classic New England scramble that requires full use of all four limbs and your problem-solving capabilities. I was winded and euphoric by the time I reached the summit.

From the peak, you have a stunning view of the entire ridge, all the way back up to Mount Washington far in the distance. Mount Tom, Field, and Willey are across Crawford Notch. On this morning the views were splendid and pine-covered mountains stretched in every direction.

Now it was decision time. Was I going to continue on the Appalachian trail to the lower Mount Webster, along the cliff, and down to Route 302, or head straight down from here to Crawford Notch. My legs had shown up for the climb to Jackson, but my knees were worn out from the day before, and I knew from the topographical map that the descent from Webster Cliff would be steep. I decided to take the shorter, gentler route directly down to Crawford Depot, saving Webster Cliff for another day.

Mount Jackson to Crawford Deport

Getting off of the summit of Mount Jackson is much the same as getting up to it, a sharp, steep scramble down exposed granite. But it ends soon enough and the trail is your typical New England descent, massive granite stairs just a little too big to be comfortable on the knees, descending through gorgeous pine forests and passing by streams and rivers.

Close to the top, a fellow backpacker flew past me with a quick and cheerful, “hello!” as he passed. I remember thinking, the only people who hike that fast are Appalachian Trail hikers… but this isn’t the Appalachian Trail. I considered yelling out to him but I didn’t want to be a mansplainer. He surely knew where he was going, he was walking with such confidence. And by the time I finished this internal debate, he was already long gone.

I continued my slow descent.

The descent felt long. My legs were undeniably tired from the day before and I was ready to sit down and eat a big meal, maybe even have a tasty IPA. But the trail just kept going, sometimes crossing along the side of the mountain, rolling up and down.

After another hour or so, I saw a familiar face heading back up the mountain. It was the backpacker. My surprise must have shown in my face because he greeted me with a sheepish “hello again.”

“Are you an AT hiker?” I ask. He nodded.

“Oh no!” My dismay was hard to conceal. “I thought so when you passed me earlier and I was going to shout out to you, but I didn’t because I’m too shy! Ugh, I’m so sorry!”

He was surprisingly positive about it. “It’s ok! I’m still hiking. Where was the turn-off?”

“At the summit.”

“Oh, that far? Yikes.”

He pushed on back uphill, his spirits still high. I continued down, trying not to feel responsible for the extra miles and several hundred feet of elevation gain that my timidity had added to his day.

The descent took most of the morning, but I popped out onto the road around noon. The trailhead ends up at the far end of the lake, with a tiny road walk to get to the Crawford Depot itself. At the depot, I plopped my bag down on one of the picnic tables and sat down, staring around, basking in wave after wave of satisfaction. A quiet euphoria humming in my mind, tingling in my toes and fingertips, fluttering in my heart.

I had just finished my first Presidential Traverse. Next time, I’m going to try for a single day.

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Planning My 3 Day Presidential Traverse

Adventure Travel, New Hampshire

Sometime at the very beginning of the summer, I had a crazy thought. I’m going to do my first Presidential Traverse this year. I briefly considered attempting a one day traverse, but the idea intimidated me. I doubted my own fitness level, and I was nursing and recovering from an overuse injury after years of abusing my body through various forms of exercise.

If it wasn’t going to be a single day trek, then, I ought to try to span it across a weekend. This summer, I decided, I would complete my first 3-day Presidential Traverse. Now, I just had to plan for it.

What Is The Presidential Traverse

The Presidential Traverse is a 22 to 28-mile hike, depending on the route taken, that covers the full length of the Presidential Ridge in the White Mountain National Forest of New Hampshire, so named because the eight peaks of the traverse are named after United States Presidents.

This hike is known to be one of the most challenging and often dangerous hikes in the Northeast, and arguably, in the country. Though the tallest peak, Mount Washington, is only just above six thousand feet, the weather is so changeable and the terrain so challenging that mountaineers will use this mountain to train for conditions on Mount Everest.

Yeah, it’s serious stuff.

The Presidential Traverse traditionally begins at the Appalachia Trailhead near Gorham, New Hampshire, traverses at least the 8 Presidential Peaks, and ends at the Crawford Depot. Many hikers add-on Mount Clay, Mount Jackson, and even the smaller Mount Webster.

These peaks are not part of the official route for various reasons, some aren’t tall enough, Mount Jackson is actually not named after President Andrew Jackson but a different local politician and Mount Clay isn’t distinct enough from Mount Washington to count as an individual peak.

At any rate, it’s a long route, can be dangerous in bad weather, and is extremely challenging even on a sunny day. Many people do it in a single day, beginning their hike before dawn and finishing after sunset, even during the longest days of the year.

But hiking it in 2 or 3 days presents a different challenge. Backcountry camping in the White Mountains is only allowed below the treeline and 200 feet away from the trail. Above treeline, camping is only allowed in winter, on top of 6 feet of snowpack. But, the bulk of the Presidential traverse, the entire 15 ridge walk, is above the treeline, with no backcountry camping options. Campers can choose to stay at the very expensive ($120 a night with reservations) AMC huts or use the AMC or RMC tent sites, which are only located at the extremes of the hike, none in the middle.

The end result, you’re going to hike a long day, no matter what you choose.

My 3-Day Presidential Traverse Route

Day 1: Appalachia Trailhead to Valley Way Tentsite 3.1 miles
Day 2: Valley Way Tentsite to Nauman Tentsite 15.5 miles
Day 3: Nauman Tentsite to Crawford Depot via Mt. Jackson 4 miles

For my plan, I was going to start hiking late on a Friday afternoon in August, hiking the three miles up to the Valley Way Tentsite, a small forest service campsite located just below the Madison Springs Hut. I’d then hike the entire ridgeline on day 2, camping at the Nauman Tentsite at the other end, before hiking down to Crawford Depot.

Now, all that was left for me to do was wait for a good weather weekend, throw my things in my car, and take off.

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Hiking Camels Hump Via Monroe & Long Trail

Adventure Travel, United States, Vermont

The wind ripped through the trees and we stared up at the jagged peak just visible through the pines. I wasn’t aware that any mountain in New England could look that ominous. Maybe, I thought to myself, this wasn’t such a great idea for our first hike together.

My boyfriend Erich and I were climbing Camel’s Hump, a jagged and beautiful peak in Vermont’s Green Mountains. But what started as a simple day hike was turning into something far more strenuous.

What Is Camel’s Hump Mountain?

Camel’s Hump is the third highest mountain in Vermont, standing at 4,083 ft. Though it sits lower than nearby Mt. Mansfield or Killington, Camel’s Hump is by far the most recognizable peak in the Green Mountains due to it’s intriguingly shaped peak. The mountain’s unique shape was carved by glaciers many, many years ago.

The first people to name the mountain were the indigenous tribe known as the Abnaki who lived in the Green Mountains. They called it “Ta Wal Be Dee Esso Wadso” which has been translated a number of ways but my favorite is “Prudently, we make a campfire in a circle near water (and rest) at this mountain.” But probably the more reasonable translation is “resting place”.

Then the French showed up in the colonial period and besides ruining everything with diseases and capitalism, they called the mountain “Le Lion Couchant” or the resting lion. And although we all should have quit while we were ahead, the English apparently didn’t feel the mountain was quite as majestic as a lion so they renamed it Camel’s Rump and finally, Camel’s Hump.

I personally am of the opinion that we ought to go back to “Prudently, we make a campfire in a circle near water at this mountain” because that’s what we all really want to do there, anyway.

Our Adventurous Hike up Camel’s Hump

The morning of the hike to Camel’s Hump dawned clear and cool. It was Memorial Day Weekend and this would be my first time hiking with my boyfriend Erich, and his first New England 4k footer. I knew the hike would be 7 miles long over some rugged terrain and I wanted to get going early. I had fraught memories of the slightly stressful Franconia Notch hike with my mother last fall.

So, much to Erich’s chagrin, I was out of bed at 6:30, making coffee and preparing our lunch. Yet despite my best intentions, things never move as quickly as you think they should in the morning. We didn’t hit the road until 8:30.

We headed for the Monroe Trailhead, a great access point if you’re interested in a mix of moderate to challenging New England hiking. Arriving at 9:30, we parked in the overflow lot. I was a bit worried we’d end up behind the crowds but we found the main lot nearly empty. Clearly, the sense of urgency I felt in Franconia Notch was not to be found on the laid back slopes of Vermont’s Green Mountains.

Erich and I headed into the woods.

The Monroe to Dean Trail

Stepping onto the trail, the deciduous forest enveloped us and the world of cars, cities, smog, and corporate greed dropped away. My vision was imbued with the vibrant green of sunlight filtered through early spring leaves. Beech trees and oak rustled in the wind. Saplings reached up towards the sun.

The trail began to work its way up the mountainside gradually. There are a few steep spots at the beginning but nothing to fret about. The first mile passed by quickly and we found ourselves at a fork with the Dean Trail splitting off to the left, and the Monroe Trail continuing on ahead.

Taking a seat on a rock to break into our first snacks, Erich asked me, “So, how close are we to the top?”

It was my first hint of that perhaps I hadn’t chosen the most sensible hike for his first. Perhaps someone with greater empathy would have chosen a lower peak, a less exposed mountain, a less challenging hike.

“We aren’t close yet at all.”

Hey. At least I’m not a liar.

Hiking Camel’s Hump via the Long Trail as an introduction to New England hiking was the rough equivalent of watching a child flounder in the deep end of the swimming pool.

From the fork, we headed for the far less trafficked Dean Trail, which continued the previous trend of gently heading up the mountain. The trail was narrow and overgrown. Easy to follow but clearly not much used. It wound through wetlands and reached up into the liminal area between deciduous and pine forests where both types of tree vie for the attention of the sun above. A few more gentle inclines, and we had entered the spruce forest: one of the most delicious environments in New England. The air smells like Christmas. The ground is soft and springy beneath your feet and the entire forest feels like it is holding its breath.

Coming around one curve we found a smaller offshoot peeling off to the right and into a small clearing. Directly across the field, we could see the peak of Camel’s Hump rising above the treeline. A bank of clouds rolled across the summit on the wind, obscuring the rocks from view.

I consoled myself that we still had at least another hour of hiking to go before we reached the summit. Hopefully, the cool air and fog would clear before then. I didn’t relish the idea of Erich’s first summit lacking the views.

Back to the Dean Trail and it wasn’t too much further before we hit the intersection with the Long Trail.

Taking the Long Trail to Camel’s Hump

For the uninitiated, the Long Trail is America’s oldest thru-hike. A 270-mile relentless trek through the Green Mountains of Vermont. It famously lacks switchbacks and mercy. Still, somehow, I thought it would be a great introduction to hiking in New England.

This hike would be my first time setting foot on the Long Trail. I’d heard stories of this trail from my dad; how challenging it could be, how beautiful, how the old Yankees had cut the trail straight up the side of a rugged mountain without regard for future hikers knees.

Excitement bubbled up within me. I was finally here! Walking on the Long Trail.

The intensity picked up immediately. Where the Dean Trail had crossed a saddle on the side of the mountain, the Long Trail headed north, straight up the spine and onto the first ridge. Before long, we were scrambling up granite boulders taller than our heads.

Coming up over the first scramble, I found myself on an exposed outlook, a ragged shelf of granite jutting out between the pine trees. The wind blew fast and hard into my face as I stared out over the Appalachian landscape. We were facing east, towards the parallel ridge of the Green Mountains and in the distance, New Hampshire.

I turned around to celebrate this first viewpoint with Erich only to find him sitting by the edge of the trail several feet away from the edge, looking shaken. I had forgotten he had a fear of heights and didn’t love the wind.

“I’m fine,” he asserted, “I’m just going to stay over here.”

We continued. The trail remained rugged, cutting straight up the side of the mountain through jagged granite boulders. The footing and scrambling required no small amount of creativity. The trail ran mostly through the trees, sheltered from the wind, but at times the trail was wide open; granting stunning views of the surrounding mountains but exposing us to the increasingly high winds.

The Long Trail’s approach to the summit of Camel’s Hump accentuates a peculiar feature of the mountain’s geography: the trail ascends to a false summit before dipping down towards a saddle then ascending once more in a final, steep lurch to the top.

Just before that dip in the saddle, a clearing opened in the pines above us. We were granted a glimpse of the summit. It felt present. Imposing. It commanded respect and no small amount of fear. The wind howled around us. The jagged, sharp, dark grey granite rocks stood out ominously from the swirling gray sky. From this angle, it appeared we would need to scramble straight up the side of the cliff to reach the summit.

Quite an introductory hike you choose, Megan.

We wound through the pines as the wind raged around us and we steeled ourselves for the final ascent. It would be exposed, windy, a little dangerous, and would involve plenty of scrambling. I had known when I planned the trip that this trail would be challenging but I’d had no concept of just how intense this final stretch would be.

We headed into the pines, climbing a giant’s staircase made of granite through the trees, sometimes reaching up to hold onto roots and trunks as we hauled ourselves up the steep trail.

With the summit in sight, the trees disappeared and we faced the final challenge: an exposed, wind-whipped scramble along sheer granite rocks, the white blaze of the long trail painted just often enough for us not to get lost. We clung to the boulders as we navigated sideways and upwards towards the summit.

Coming over the top of the final rise, we found a group of hikers cowering against the wind, tucked into crevasses and any sheltered place atop the windy, exposed summit. As we pulled on our jackets I looked over at Erich. I must admit I was moderately afraid I’d find him in shambles, cowed by the height and the wind. Had I permanently traumatized him?

He already had his phone out to take pictures of the view.

The fog we’d seen from the valley below had vanished on the wind. The summit offered a spectacular view of the surrounding landscape. Lake Champlain stretched to the west, with the distant Adirondacks a blue ridge beyond. To the east, the low lying Green Mountains sat closest while the White Mountains rose above them in the far distance. North, Mount Mansfield, Vermont’s tallest peak, stood proud but shadowy, it’s summit wrapped in fog.

We sat for a few minutes, swapping encouragement and jokes with the few other hikers present, enjoying that strange camaraderie that comes from reaching the summit of a mountain at the same time.
Something about the mountain transforms you from strangers to companions, sharing an appreciation of the surrounding splendor and the struggle you went through simply to be there.

At last, buffeted about by the wind and more than a little worried that our accessories or even entire backpacks might be blown off the mountain, we raised ourselves into low crouches and headed down the rocky summit and back to the relative safety of the pine-covered trail.

Descending via the Monroe Trail

Since I have a strange aversion to out and back hiking, we descended via the Monroe Trail. This was starkly different from our Long Trail ascent.

On the way up we had been alone, the sole hikers on the trail. This descent was more like walking down a hill in a city park. The trail was crowded with rambunctious groups of college kids, young adults, avid hikers, and families bounding up the mountain.

The solitude gone, we walked down the trail with everyone else, pausing now and again to let the faster hikers pass us. As with most hikes, the descent always feels just a bit longer than the ascent. Legs are tired now, knees are starting to ache, feet to sting, and what should feel like the easiest part of the hike begins to present its own unique challenges as the pain of the day makes itself known.

Still, the trail was comfortable and not overly steep. We descended swiftly and were back at the car by 2pm.

All that was left for the day was to find a good spot for some post-hike pizza and craft beer.

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Hiking the Langdon Trail to Mt. Resolution

Adventure Travel, New Hampshire, Trekking & Hiking, United States

One summer weekend, I set out on a backpacking trip to Mount Isolation; the highest point on the Montalban ridge of New Hampshire’s White Mountains. But the trip was not to be. Through a series of unexpected events, I ended up hiking the Langdon Trail to Mt. Resolution instead.

Change of Plans: Finding a Trailhead in Bartlett, NH

With the weather finally warming up after a prolonged, cold spring, I planned a 3-day, 2-night hike up and over Mt. Isolation. The trails would not be too strenuous, but the 4000 footer in the middle would make the trip seem just a little bit grand. I was pumped.

Yet from the very start, the world conspired against me.

First, traffic. Of course, traffic. I sat in traffic for nearly 5 hours as I slowly inched my way north through the Boston metro area towards New Hampshire. It wasn’t until 6:30p.m. that I reached the small town of Bartlett. I had only planned to hike two miles to the nearest shelter anyway, so although I was a bit flummoxed, I knew I was still safe.

As I drove up the hill towards the trailhead, anticipation built in my belly. This would be my first backpacking trip since I moved back to America last September. Soon I would be alone in the forest, surrounded by the rich smells and sounds of the wilderness.

And then.

I drove around a bend in the road and came face to face with a locked gate. No parking lot or trail marker to be found. On the gate was a small posted sign: caution, trails in the Dry River Wilderness were severely damaged in late season storms. Expert only. Hike at your peril. Be prepared to die.

Prideful and committed to my plan, I toyed with the idea of hiking up the trail anyway. I believed in my ability to make it through the wilderness. And it could add another level of adventure to an otherwise fairly routine hiking trip.

And yet, I finally came to my senses and aborted my plan to hike Mt. Isolation.

Instead, I scrambled to find a different trailhead. Even if my plans only reduced to a 1 night, 2-day hiking trip.

I settled on the nearby Parker Trailhead in Bartlett. From the trailhead it was only 3 miles to the Langdon Shelter. It wasn’t what I had planned, but it was a night or two in the backcountry. I hopped back in my car and drove the few miles over to the trailhead.

The Parker Trailhead

Parking at the Parker Trailhead was fairly limited, with space for just a few cars in a small clearing in the woods. There were two other cars already parked, locked and empty when I arrived.

By the time I began my hike it was 6:45 p.m. The rich, gold sunlight of an early summer evening filtered sideways through the leaves.

Not having backpacked in almost two years, I had no idea what my pace would be or how much ground I’d be able to cover before I ran out of light. I figured I had about an hour before I needed to find a site. It was 3 miles from the trailhead to the shelter, but I trusted myself to set up a leave-no-trace backcountry stealth campsite if I couldn’t make it that far.

Hiking the Langdon Trail to Langdon Shelter

The first mile or so of the Langdon Trail ascends at a gentle grade. The forest on either side has been cut away for some reason. Perhaps for power lines or some other kind of ugly human development. The lack of vegetation brings an unpleasant and exposed feeling to the trail.

After about a mile, the trail enters the Dry River Wilderness and the change is immediate. The scarred forest gives way to pristine wilderness. A small creek curves between two hills and rolls off into the distance. Pine needles carpet the ground and the occasional birch reaches up towards the sky. The trail begins to ascend more sharply as it finds its way up the mountain.

The water available from the trail vanished as I ascended to higher elevations. The setting sun poured through the leaves around me. Depending on the terrain, the trail alternated between a wash of golden light, and a dim, dusky gloom.

When the sun moved behind a hill and the forest filled with shadows I would feel a sense of urgency, a dread that urged me to stop and set up camp. Then I would reach the next rise, the sunlight would return and I would think to myself, “no, a little further now. You have time.”

And then, at last, I reached a sign informing me that the Langdon shelter was just half a mile away. No sense looking for stealth camping at this point. In the dying light of the day, I hoofed it the final half mile down the path until I saw the shelter crouched amongst the trees.

A Night at the Langdon Shelter

As I emerged from the trees, I saw a woman standing in a clearing, snapping together tent poles. Turning towards me, she asked if I was with a group.

No, I answered. I’m by myself.

Oh! Her voice warmed. I’m Laura, and that’s my husband Brent, putting up our bear throw.

Laura and Brent had already hiked all of the 4000ft peaks in New Hampshire and were in the final stretch of “red-lining,” the challenge of hiking every mile of AMC managed trail in New Hampshire. That’s over a thousand miles.

They had only something over a hundred left to go.

I set up my tent in a small flat clearing close to the shelter and returned with my bear vault to sit with Laura. She began building a small fire. I pulled out my map. What would be possible over the course of the weekend?

I calculated the distance between myself and Mt Isolation. 16 miles. One way. There were no official tent sites between here and there but Laura and Brent clued me into a few spots where one could set up a tent and take in a nice view, if one were so inclined. Stealth sites, if you will.

And yet, that would mean a long hike on Saturday and a long hike out on Sunday. Sunday was Father’s Day and I had a date in Massachusetts with my Dad. If I hiked all the way to Isolation, I wouldn’t be out of the mountains till late afternoon on Sunday.

But my heart had been set on spending two nights in the backcountry. It was a painful expectation to let go of.

After chewing it over and changing my mind at least seven times, I settled on my choice. Tomorrow I would hike to Mount Resolution then turn around and head back out to my car. It wouldn’t be my three day journey, but it would be a 12-mile hike in the White Mountains.

I spent the rest of the night swapping stories with Laura and Brent over the fire. I told them about that time I bought a donkey in Peru, and what it feels like to trek across the Himalayas in Nepal. They spoke about a trip along the John Muir Trail and their favorite hiking spots in New England.

The next morning, I tortured myself with thoughts of bagging Mt Isolation. I knew the right thing to do was to limit myself to Mt Resolution and make it home in time for fathers day. But I wanted to do the longer hike. I wanted a second night in the woods.

Disappointment crept into my mind like a fog. As I packed up my tent, munched on my breakfast of cold pop tarts and headed out up the trail, it weighed me down, making me question my integrity as a hiker. Why even bother if I was only spending one night in the woods?

But despite the disappointment and my flair for the dramatic, the solitude of the woods embraced me, picked me up, and did its very best to remind me why I came into the mountains.

My mind settled into the introspective state that I only find when I’m pushing myself physically. My thoughts roamed, jumping from tree to tree alongside the chipmunks I startled from the underbrush.

Perhaps, I thought to myself, this sense of disappointment comes less from the hike and more from my expectations. I was hiking in New Hampshire, one of my favorite places. I was surrounded by the smell of pine, the soft feeling of my feet against the trail. Why would I possibly feel anything other than contentment?

Perhaps that import I placed on other people’s imagined expectations was what I most needed to let go of.

These thoughts filled my mind all the way up to the summit of my first peak of the day, Mt. Parker.

Mt. Parker Summit Views

Mt. Parker to Mt. Resolution

Mt Parker stands just above 3,000ft. It is pointed, bald, and commands a beautiful view of the surrounding Presidential range.

I set down my pack and stood still. The peaks and valleys of the Whites rolled away from me into eternity, looking like sleeping elephants. Massive beasts about to rise up out of the earth at the slightest provocation. Washington loomed in the distance, still wearing patches of snow in mid-June.

After a moment, I pushed on further down the trail. In the near distance, I could see a flat-topped mountain rising up between me and Mount Washington. That, I believed, was Mt. Resolution, and the extent of my hike for that day.

The trail from Mount Parker to Mt. Resolution was delightful. From the summit of Parker, the trail is a narrow strip of dirt between granite boulders and alpine brush, winding down into the spruce trees. In amongst the pines, the meandering trail bops back and forth along the ridgeline.

The undulating movement continued until I reached the base of Resolution. The pitch shifted skyward and I climbed up the final ascent to the large flat granite surface: the summit of Resolution.

Setting down my pack, I wandered across the mountaintop. It is less of a summit and more of a plateau. I’m not certain I ever found the highest point. But the views of Mt. Washington were superb, and I enjoyed a moment basking in the mountain’s nearness, dreaming of the Presi traverse I hoped to complete later in the season.

As I stared up the Montalban ridgeline, contemplating a trek from here up to the summit of Mount Washington, the uncertainty returned.

What if I did keep walking? Am I being a quitter because I’m only hiking to Resolution and going back to my car? I had intended to spend two nights in the backcountry on this trip. Did spending only one night make me a failure?

I paced back and forth on the mountaintop as I debated my answer. I could see Stair Mountain further down the ridge. What if I simply hiked to there, found a nearby campsite, and walked back in the morning? I could still make it for dinner on Father’s Day.

But no, I’d be exhausted on Monday. And besides, I’d like to spend the whole day with my family. If I camp tonight, I wont be able to do that. There are plenty more weekends in the summer. I’ll have many more opportunities to spend two nights in the wilderness, but fathers day only comes once a year.

Turning back was the right choice. It was what I wanted. So why was it so hard to do?

Mt. Resolution Summit

Reluctantly, I picked up my pack and headed back the way I had come.

But indecision had not yet released it’s grip on my mind. The fact that I had told my boyfriend I’d be in the woods for two nights, told the couple I met last night, told a few friends… I felt that I would be letting them down if I hiked out of the woods today.

My indecision was so intense I hiked about a tenth of a mile back towards my car, stopped, turned around, hiked back up the hill, stopped, turned back and forth a few times, then set off resolutely in the direction of my car.

The indecision and self-flagellation hung about me like a dull mist for the next mile or so, almost all the way back to Mt. Parker. I had to work to shake the feeling that I was letting other people down. It took far too long for me to fall back into that beautiful meditative state.

After the summit of Mt. Parker my mind began to relax and I was able to relish the hike back out of the woods. Though I expected the trail to be tired, old, and boring the second time around, it was anything but. Coming at it from this new direction it was like a fresh trail populated with old friends. Here was the rock I had to scramble over on the way up, and here is the felled tree that forces me down into a crawl. The spruce and deciduous forests felt warm and inviting. Last year’s leaves crunched underneath my feet.

For 6 miles I walked along in bliss. Pain was growing in my knees and my legs heavier and heavier, yet I was finally soaked in that woodland euphoria. At the edge of the wilderness area, by the sign I had enjoyed so much the night before, I stopped briefly to refill my water and dunk my head into the stream.

Even if I could only make it out for one night, I still got to spend a night in the woods.

By the time I made it back to my car I was tired, sore, and rejuvenated. Popped into Moat Brewing for a well earned IPA and a sub-par sandwich and was on the road back to Boston, ready to plan my next hiking adventure.

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How to Train for Your First Bike Tour

Adventure Travel, Bike Touring, Travel

Bike touring is one of the most rewarding ways to travel. Yet it can be daunting for first time riders.

But it doesn’t have to be.

With the right training plan, you can be strong and confident on the first day of your bike tour.

Or you could be like me on the first day of my ride around Cambodia, collapsing from exhaustion after only 50 miles. Your choice, but I recommend training.

Your Super Simple Bike Tour Training Plan

1. Start with short, easy rides

4-6 months before your tour, start regularly riding your bike. Begin with an easy length, maybe only 5 or 10 miles, and build from there. Try to ride 3 to 5 times per week.

This may seem obvious, but the most important thing you can do to prepare for a bike tour is to start riding your bike. Try to keep your RMPs (that’s revolutions per minute, also known as your cadence) above 90. Your legs should be moving quickly but comfortably.

Remember to be nice to your body. You’re preparing for a big adventure. Start small but dream big. Don’t injure yourself now and mess up your future plans.

Most importantly: be patient.

2. Start Cross Training with Weights

After a few weeks of easy riding, head to the gym to start lifting weights twice per week. This is an often overlooked step, but cross training is just as important as riding your bike.

Lifting weights will help you build strength for the long bike tour. It will also rev up your progress. Lifting weights only twice a week will make that 30 mile ride feel just a little bit easier.

Never lifted weights before? Find an intro to weight lifting class at a local gym. Learn proper weight lifting form to avoid injuries and muscle imbalances. Once you know what you’re doing, you can get creative with your weight lifting routine.

Need inspiration? Check out these exercises from REI.

3. Embace Adventure on Longer Rides

2-3 months before the trip, start going on long bike rides.

Aim to take two 40+ mile rides each week. If this isn’t possible, at least one 50+ mile ride on the weekend should be enough.

Don’t be afraid of the long ride. This is a chance to have an adventure. Try out roads you’ve never ridden down before. Ride your bike to a nearby town or state park.

Pretty soon, you’ll be craving the peace of mind that comes from spending two or three hours alone on your bike.

4. Add Weight To Your Bike

2-3 weeks before your trip, start adding weight to your bike when you ride. Riding a fully loaded bike is challenging. You don’t want to shock your body on day 1 of the tour.

Begin with 15 to 20 pounds on a medium length ride and build from there. Ideally, you’ll want to do one or two long rides with a fully packed bike in the week leading up to your trip.

Additional Tips

On top of your training plan, here are a few more things to keep in mind as you get fit and ready for your first bike trip:

Monitor your progress. Download an app like Strava or MapMyRide, or just go the oldschool route of pen and paper. Whatever you choose, keep a record of your progress. This will help keep you honest and will motivate you when you see how much you improve in only a few months.
Stretch! I can’t emphasize this enough. Start stretching from day one. Just five minutes of stretching after a ride can help prevent injuries and promote recovery. Not sure where to start? Try these simple stretches from Bicycling Magazine.

Training for Adventure

Training for a bike tour should be fun. You’ll be spending time outside, getting fit, riding your bike. What more could you want?

If you can’t fit in all the training, don’t worry. I did my first bike tour without any training at all (honestly, I hadn’t ridden a bike in over a year) and I survived. You will too.

If you follow this plan, you’ll be well prepared to get the most out of your first bike tour.

Happy trails!

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Hike from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu: The Adventure of a Lifetime

Adventure Travel, Peru, Travel, Trekking & Hiking

You’ve got two weeks in Peru. You want to visit Machu Picchu and see the most famous place in South America, but you also want to have a wild, life altering adventure deep in the Andes. It may not sound possible, but you can have all this while staying under budget on your two week trip. How?

By hiking from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu without a guide.

Choquequirao is a stunning ancient Incan temple built about 100 years after Machu Picchu. Much like it’s more famous cousin, Choque sits on top of an Andean Ridge, overlooking a river thousands of feet below. But unlike Machu Picchu, Choque has hardly any tourists. Fewer than 20 people visit each day.

Photo by Macie J

To put that in perspective for you, Machu Picchu gets 5,000 visitors a day. One more time for the people in the back: Machu Picchu gets 5,000 people per day. Choquequirao? 20.

Why the difference? Because the only way to reach Choquequirao is via a grueling two-day hike.

As if that wasn’t adventurous enough, for those in the know, those passionate, outdoor-loving, backpacking maniacs who want to immerse themselves in the Andean wilderness, an even greater adventure awaits you beyond the gates of Choquequirao: the 9-day trek from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu.

It’s an epic journey that follows an Incan trail over two high Andean passes, through verdant valleys, and up to a deserted mountaintop ruin overlooking Machu Picchu.

Imagining, beginning your week at one of the most remote religious sanctuaries in the world, traversing Andean mountains on the same pathway the ancients walked and ending your journey at the fabled Machu Picchu.

This is all possible. Hiking from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu without a guide is challenging, it is stunning, and it is totally doable in less than two weeks.

Photos by Macie J

Hike from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu: The Itinerary

Day 1: Cachora to Chiquisca
Day 2: Chiquisca to Choquequirao
Day 3: Choquequirao to Pichauhuyoc Ruins
Day 4: Pichauhuyoc to Pajonal
Day 5: Pajonal to Yanama
Day 6: Yanama to Colcabamba
Day 7: Colcabamba to La Playa
Day 8: La Playa to Aguas Calientes
Day 9: Machu Picchu

This is a long and extremely challenging journey. Before you go, make sure you are prepared for this trip both mentally and physically. Only take on this journey without a guide if you are an experienced trekker and confident navigating backcountry terrain. Though the path is clear throughout, there are still plenty of opportunities to get lost in the Andean highlands.

As with any hike in Peru, the most important consideration of all is altitude. Give yourself at least one day to acclimate in Cusco before beginning the trek. The path from Choque to Machu Picchu crosses extremely high elevations, the highest point at Yanama Pass (4500m/15,000ft). The air up there is thin and no matter how fit and knowledgeable you are, you will struggle. Acclimate!

This trek is no joke. But for those who are fit, smart, and capable, hiking from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu offers a chance to see a part of Peru most people have never even heard of.

Photo by Mark Rowland

Trekking from Choquequirao to Machu Picchu: What to Expect

I’ve covered what to expect from days one and two when you hike to Choquequirao, so let’s continue to day three, and the morning of your Choque explorations.

After you’ve finished reveling in the tranquility of this ancient temple, head towards the highest part of the temple and off into the jungle. From Choquequirao, the trail winds up the side of the mountain, weaving through dense shadowy forests before descending sharply towards a river valley.

Photo by Macie J

A little more than halfway down to the river valley floor, you’ll come to a set of ancient Incan terraces carved into the wide open mountainside. This is Pichuhuyoc. These terraces and the small temple in the center are the location of one of the last still-functioning Incan water systems in Peru. It also makes a great place to camp for the night.

Come the morning of day four, follow the trail all the way down to the river below. There was no bridge in June 2014, but the crossing was easy nonetheless. From there, the trail is slightly off to your left. Ahead of you is a long and steep climb up to the village of Maizal. Village is perhaps a generous term, it is a collection of four or five houses perched on a mountainside. Not a human soul to be seen when I visited, but I did have a great conversation with a cow standing next to the only source of water.

From Maizal, the trail continues up more gradually, working its way towards the Victoria Pass. Through the lush jungle, the trail clings to the steep mountainside. A glance over the edge of the trail will send your heart thumping up into your throat. When I hiked this in 2014, the path was very wet and treacherous. Quiet narrow, especially when I had to share it with donkeys coming the other way.

Along the way, you’ll pass abandoned Victoria Mines, a narrow chasm cut deep into the mountain. Shortly after the mines, the trail cuts sharply up the mountain in a series of stairs and switchbacks. Once you climb into the sparse, high Andean environment, it should be nearing the end of the day. Though there is no official campsite up here, camp on whatever wide, flat, empty space you can find.

Photo by Macie J

Here is your reminder to practice leave no trace! High elevation environments are extremely sensitive, do your best not to crush plants and other life underneath your camping equipment.

Come dawn of day five, continue up towards Victoria Pass. I cannot encourage you enough to get there as soon after sunrise as you can. Further, into the day, the clouds will gather and obstruct the views. But if you arrive early enough, you’ll be greeted with panoramic views of the surrounding glaciers and sharp Andean peaks.

From the pass, it’s a long but fairly gentle descent down to Yanama Village, where you can camp for the night.

Waking up in Yanama will be a bizarre contrast of modern and ancient. This small village is home to a road. In fact, it is home to the only road that accesses this remote corner of the Andes. You may hear trucks and cars heading in and out of town, a grating contrast to the serenity of your days on the trail.

Photos by Macie J

No need to share the road, however, the Incan Trail you’ve been following for days continues its meandering path up the center of the valley. It’s difficult to get lost at this point as there is only one way to go from here.

Up and up the valley floor you go, gaining altitude and increasing in grade as the day continues. The final push to Yanama Pass is a steep and relentless wall of scree. But make it to the top of the pass and you’ll find views of a glacier so close you could reach out and touch it.

But don’t. Glaciers are very dangerous.

After Yanama Pass, you have a long yet gentle walk all the way down to Colcabamba. Savor the silence because in Colcabamba you’ll meet up with the Salkantay trail and all dirt, grime, people, and noise that come with a heavily touristed trail. But on the plus side, you can talk to another human!

Photo by Macie J

Once in Colcabamba, you can say goodbye to free campsites. Camping here is limited to a few houses and licensed spots, and they will expect you to pay. The good news is you can get a home cooked meal for the first time in almost a week.

On day six, follow the Salkantay hikers and their guides as the trail winds its way down to La Playa, a small village perched next to a river. At this point, you’ve returned to relatively low altitudes and the heat will be intense. Best to drink lots of water and try to stay in the shade.

On the final day of the trek, you have the (boring) option to follow most of the Salkantay Trekkers down to Santa Teresa and from there hike along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes. Or, if you have the strength and want to see Machu Picchu in a way most tourists never will take a lesser known track up to Llactapata.

Llactapata is a forgotten and unimpressive ruin that sits on a ridge overlooking Machu Picchu. Its true beauty is the unparalleled opportunity it offers to look down on Machu Picchu from afar, just as the Inca once would have.

From La Playa, cross the river and continue to hike along the road. Be on the lookout for signs pointing towards an Incan Trail to Llactapata. They are hard to find but you will see it eventually. As of 2014, it was a faded red sign.

After this, the Incan Trail winds up the side of the mountain, not too steep but after a week of Andean hiking pretty much every incline feels steep. Your effort will be rewarded when you stumble out of the jungle onto a small clearing with the still standing walls of a modest temple structure.

Walk to the edge of the plaza and look out across the landscape. On the distant ridge, you’ll see a place where the jungle has been wiped away. Stones cling to the bare mountainside. This is Machu Picchu, and you are standing by yourself in the Andean Jungle looking out over it just as the Inca did long ago.

overlooking machu picchu from llactapata

Photo by Macie J

From Llactapata, the trail down to the valley floor is easy enough and then its just a slog along the train tracks until you reach Aguas Calientes, the town below Machu Picchu.

For accommodations in Aguas, your options are paid camping or budget hospedajes. Take your time and find the right option for you. The cheapest hospedajes are going to be up the hill and far from the main plaza. If you’re not too picky, camping is probably the way to go. Before you go to sleep for the night, make sure to buy your entrance pass to Machu Picchu for tomorrow! Do not wait until the next morning. Apparently now they assign times of day for your visit, so check your ticket to see when you’re allowed to enter the temple.

Photos by Macie J

The next day, wake up early to make the walk up to Machu Picchu! Because you didn’t walk all this way just to take the bus, did you?

If you did, best to get in line for the bus at like 4am I hear. It’s pretty hard to catch a bus. The stairway up to Machu Picchu is tough but not impossible. I say hike it.

All that’s left is your exploration of Machu Picchu. Take all the time you need. This place is worth it.

After your temple visit, I recommend catching the train back to Cusco. It is by far the easiest way to travel back to civilization. If the train is outside your budget, you can follow the train tracks back towards Santa Teresa and from there catch a taxi or collectivo out to Santa Maria, and from there a bus to Cusco.

If you’re really hardcore, you can walk all the way back to the Sacred Valley by following the train tracks in the other direction. This is a 28km walk and takes the full day. Get started early. When you get to KM 82, you’ll find yourself in a small village and from there you can easily get a collectivo back to Ollantaytambo.

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All photos on this post from Macie J.

Visit Choquequirao Without A Guide

Adventure Travel, Peru, Travel, Trekking & Hiking

What would it be like to visit Machu Picchu without the crowds? How incredible would it be to wander around the temple at your own pace, soaking in the silence and leaving no stone uninvestigated? While you’ll probably never get a private visit to that storied temple, there is another temple in Peru, similar is size and design, yet visited by less than 20 people a day. What is this elusive mystery? The secretive and secluded Choquequirao Temple.

For those intrepid travelers with a taste for adventure, Choquequirao offers a rare opportunity to take in Incan architecture and splendor without the crowds. A guided tour can cost hundreds of dollars, but if you are willing to take the plunge, hiking to Choquequirao without a guide can cost less than $200 and offer up the adventure of a lifetime.

Photo by Danielle Pereira

All About Choquequirao

Pronounced “CHOCK-ey-keer-ow” this little known Incan temple is similar in style and structure to Machu Picchu. It was constructed in the 15th or 16th century, making it slightly younger than Machu Picchu. Choquequirao was also one of the last strongholds of the Incan warrior Manco Inca Yupanqui during his final resistance against the Spanish.

The site has been “rediscovered” multiple times throughout the centuries, most notably by Hiram Bingham in 1909. Excavations on Choquequirao only began in 1970 and are still ongoing today.

The temple sits at 3000m (9,800ft) above the Apurimac River, on the very top of a mountain ridge. The only way to get to Choquequirao is by trekking for four days across hot, dry, and steep terrain.

There is also an extension of this trek which can take you all the way to Machu Picchu, through some of Peru’s most legendary scenery, over the course of 9 days, which I will cover in an upcoming post.

A note on when to hike to Choquequirao: the dry season will make for the best conditions, between March and October. However, should you attempt it in the wet season, know that it is possible but the trail may become slippery and dangerous, and your views will probably be obscured by cloud.

Photo by Mark Rowland

How to Hike to Choquequirao Without A Guide

Day 1: Cachora – Chiquisca
Day 2: Chiquisca – Marampata/Choquequirao
Day 3: Choquequirao – Chiquisca
Day 4: Chiquisca – Cachora

Photo by Mark Rowland

How to Get to Cachora

If you’re going to hike to Choquequirao, first you’ve got to get to the starting point: Cachora. From Cusco, get any bus headed to Abancay, the earlier the better if you plan to start hiking on the same day. When I made the trip in June 2014, we were able to get a 5am bus, which got us to Cachora before lunch.

Ask the bus driver to stop at the Ramal de Cachora. At the Ramal, there will be several taxis waiting to drive you the 13km to Cachora. Should cost about 5 soles to share the taxi.

If you need to pick up last minute supplies like snacks or an extra packet of ramen noodles, Cachora is the place to do it. You can also allegedly hire a muleteer or even a guide, but I am not qualified to give you advice on that. You wanted to do this hike solo, right?

A note on timing: if you get an early bus from Cusco, you should be able to start hiking before or around noon. This gives you enough time to get to Chiquisca before dark. However, if you get a later bus and arrive at Cachora in the afternoon, you should probably wait a day before you start trekking. As I recall, there are a few affordable hospedajes in Cachora along with some upscale options.

Now let’s get to the good stuff: hiking to Choquequirao.

Photo by Danielle Pereira

Day 1: Cachora to Chiquisca

The views on this hike begin immediately, as Cachora sits on the edge of a steep canyon, commanding panoramic views of the snowcapped peaks across the divide.

From Cachora, head downhill on the main road through town until you hit the farmlands. You should find a sign indicating the trail to Choquequirao. Take a left, cross a small stream, then take the path up to the road. Walk along the road until you come to the Mirador, an outcropping of land jutting into the canyon.

From the Mirador, it’s a long, steep set of switchbacks all the way down to Chiquisca at km19. If you got a late start, this is a good spot to camp. However, if you make it to Chiquisca early in the day, I recommend pushing on all the way to the river or even to Santa Rosa Baja.

Pro Tip: Day 2 is the most intensely grueling day of the entire trek, so the more ground you can cover on day 1, the easier day 2 will be.

Let’s assume, for the purposes of this itinerary, that you only make it to Chiquisca on Day 1. This campsite has streams for water, small shelters for cooking, and plenty of space to pitch a tent. Get a good night’s sleep because Day 2 is not a joke.

Photo by Mark Rowland

Day 2: Chiquisca to Marampata/Choquequirao

The earlier you can start day 2, the better. The trail is a long, steep, and without shelter from the blazing sun. If you can get at least halfway up the mountain before the sun rises to its apex, you’ll be thankful.

From Chiquisca, the trail continues down the mountain to the river below. At the river, you’ll find a campsite and a suspension bridge. Take a moment of silence in honor of your strength, endurance, and capacity, because they are all about to be pushed to their limits.

From the canyon floor, the trail heads up steeply, in a series of switchbacks that go on forever. I made the mistake of thinking that I must have almost reached the top. Don’t worry. You haven’t. You’re in for a big climb and your legs are going to feel it.

You’ll pass Santa Rose Baja, and a few minutes beyond that, Santa Rosa Alta. There are stores here and a nice flat, grassy area. It’s a good spot to stop and enjoy a snack. Then, continue following the merciless trail as it leads you relentlessly upwards.

At long last and well beyond your breaking point, you’ll come to the top of a switchback and find the trail leveled out. A bench awaits you, granting a respite from standing and a view out over the canyon wall you descended the day before.

From there, it is only a short walk to the village of Marampata, where you can find shops selling snacks, beers, and even a campsite. However, if you have the energy, I recommend continuing onwards and camping at the site below Choquequirao. It’s quite a bit further, probably another hour of hiking, but well worth it to camp so close to the ruins.

On the walk to the campsite, you’ll get your first view of Choquequirao perched precariously on the edge of the mountain ridge.

Photo by Mark Rowland

Day 3: Choquequirao to Chiquisca

Today is the day! After the labors on the mountainside on day 2, you’ve more than earned the right to visit this secretive world wonder. Whether you’re camped at Choquequirao or Marampata, I recommend getting an early start to experience the majesty of this temple in the early morning light.

The trail cuts through thick jungle and muddy mountainside on its way to the sanctuary. A few steps out of the jungle and suddenly you find yourself on the main plaza, in the center of a temple equal in size and splendor to Machu Picchu.

Photo by Danielle Pereira

The true joy of a visit to Choquequirao comes not from the structures themselves but from the serenity of the space. Take a seat beneath the single tree in the main plaza and appreciate the silence and the grandeur of this Incan Temple.

When you’ve basked long enough, stroll slowly through the structures, make your way down to the terraces, or climb up to the main temple plaza. From the top, you can look down and see all of Choquequirao spread out before you. Your mind will struggle to comprehend the idea of people constructing this massive complex nearly 600 years ago.

And yet, here it stands.

Allow a full morning for exploration and enjoyment of this wondrous landmark. Eventually, however, all good things must come to an end. If you’re taking on the massive nine-day hike to Machu Picchu, head uphill through the temple to find your Incan Trail.

For those who are only taking on the four-day trek, it’s time to tackle the long downhill and small uphill back to Chiquisca on the far side of the canyon.

Photo by Mark Rowland

Day 4: Chiquisca to Cachora

The climb from Chiquisca up to the Mirador, so easy when it was a downhill, becomes somewhat more grueling on the way back up. Once you gain the Mirador, a well-earned beer awaits you at the small shop there.

Once revived by your adult beverage, only a short walk stands between you and Cachora, where you can easily find a room for the night or a taxi to drive you back up to the main road. In order to hitch a ride back to Cusco, you’ll have to do it the Peruvian way, when you see a car, van, or bus, hold out your hand flat and wave it up and down. Eventually, someone will stop and offer you a ride. If you’re nervous about it, negotiate a price up front.

Once back in Cusco, you are faced with a choice: do you tell other travelers about the majesty of Choquequirao, or keep the secret of this remarkable place close to your heart?

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4 Hidden Cambodia Tourist Spots Near Angkor Wat

Adventure Travel, Cambodia, Travel

You’re planning a trip to Cambodia and you’re hoping to find some other spots. You want to escape the tourists yet stay close to Angkor Wat. With this list of four of my favorite spots near Siem Reap, I hope you can visit these hidden sites tucked away from the main tourist trail.

Each of these tourist spots is within a one or two day trip from Angkor Wat and could easily be added on to a traditional Cambodia itinerary.

Satellite Temple in the Jungles of Banteay Chhmar

Banteay Chhmar

Imagine visiting Angkor Wat without the tourists. Picture a temple half reclaimed by the jungle, with massive trees growing out of the faces and towers. Sounds pretty magical, right? That’s what you’ll find when you visit the temple complex at Banteay Chhmar.

Located a full days journey from Siem Reap, Banteay Chhmar features a massive central temple with the enigmatic carved face towers similar to those found at Angkor. There are four smaller satellite temples surrounding the main temple as well.

Though Banteay Chhmar lacks the preservation of Angkor Wat, there is a certain charm to its tumbling walls and neglected towers. Without the crowds, you can take your time and appreciate the remarkable beauty of this ancient Khmer temple. Stroll around the grounds, scan the bas-relief murals, and gaze up at the faces of long-dead kings as they stare out at a now-vanished empire.

Face Towers of Banteay Chhmar

How to Get to Banteay Chhmar

From Siem Reap, take a bus or taxi to Serey Sophorn/Banteay Meanchey. All buses that go to Battambang will pass through this town. From there, you need to get a taxi to Banteay Chhmar. The community-based tourism cooperative located in Banteay Chhmar has one taxi that they run, otherwise, you can easily find a car waiting near the bus depot that will take you to the temple for a small fee.

Strangler Figs Growing in Banteay Chhmar

Accommodation in Banteay Chhmar

Banteay Chhmar doesn’t have any traditional guesthouses or hotels, so if you’re looking for those, you’ll want to get a room in Serey Sophorn and take a taxi up to Banteay Chhmar. It is very doable as a day trip.

If you want to sleep in Banteay Chhmar, the people who live in the village around the temple run a Community Based Tourism project (CBT) that runs homestays in the village. Get in touch with them ahead of time to let them know you’re coming. They have an office in town, but when I visited in June 2017, it was unmanned.

Koh Ker Temple

Koh Ker

Another impressive remnant of the Khmer Empire, this ancient temple complex sits only 75 miles (120km) from Siem Reap, making it an easy day trip. This tourist spot has the added benefit of being less well known and thus lacking the crowds associated with Angkor.

Though there are over 180 temples and sanctuaries in the Koh Ker region, the main attraction is Koh Ker temple, a square stepped pyramid rising dramatically out of the surrounding Cambodian landscape. Also worth a visit are the beautifully carved red temple Prasat Prahom, and the fantastical Prasat Pram overgrown by strangler figs.

How to Get to Koh Ker

The easiest way to get to Koh Ker is by hiring a private taxi for the day. A taxi to and from Koh Ker stopping at several temples along the way should set you back about $70.

Preah Vihear Ruins

Preah Vihear Temple

Arguably the most impressive temple in Cambodia, this little-known tourist spot sits atop a mountain on the border of Thailand and Cambodia. Older than Angkor Wat, it is built in a similar style and can be reached in a two or three day trip from Siem Reap.

Preach Vihear Temple is dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva and stretches 2,600ft (800m) on a north-south axis at the top of a mountain in the Dangrek Mountain range. The sight of a thousand-year-old temple standing on the edge of a 1,600ft (500m) cliff looking out across the Cambodian floodplain is not something you will soon forget.

Main Entrance to Preah Vihear

This tourist spot also has an intriguing modern history. Because of its location on the border between Thailand and Cambodia, the two countries have had several conflicts over ownership of the temple.

In June of 1962, the Hague ruled that Preah Vihear Temple belonged to Cambodia. And yet, the two countries continue to dispute ownership. If you visit today, you will still see Thai soldiers positioned across the border, a few fortifications, and maybe a Khmer soldier sitting idly waiting for something to happen. The area has been conflict-free since 2013, but it may still make sense to check with your embassy before visiting.

Temple at Preah Vihear

How to Get to Preah Vihear

This may be confusing so read closely. There are two places in Cambodia called Preah Vihear: the first is the temple, the second is a city of the same name. You do not want to go to the city. The nearest town to Preah Vihear temple is the village of Sra’aem.

There are minibuses that run from Siem Reap to Sra’aem, passing through Anlong Veng. Tickets should be $10-15.

From Sra’em, it’s 18 miles to the temple. You can hire taxis or a moto in town or your hotel may be able to help you find a ride. Expect to pay $15 round trip.

Entrance to the temple is $10 and you need to show your passport to buy a ticket. Getting a ride to the top of the mountain is a further charge, you can pay a motodop ($5) or take a truck ($25). It’s also possible to hike to the top using the ancient staircase. I highly recommend taking this track if you’re relatively fit an adapted to the heat in Cambodia. Bring snacks though, there is no food at the top.

Where to Stay

There are several guesthouses in Sra’aem that line the main road through town. Rooms in any of them should be between $8 – $15, depending on the time of year and your negotiation skills. When I visited in June 2017, I stayed at the Soksan 66 Guesthouse and I thought it was perfectly comfortable.

Ta Mok’s Mountain House

Anlong Veng

This town, situated 83 miles (135km) north of Siem Reap, is home to some stark reminders of Cambodia’s Khmer Rouge Genocide. In the 1990s and early 2000s, Anlong Veng was one of the most remote towns in Northwestern Cambodia, inaccessible by road. This inaccessibility made Along Veng the perfect stronghold for the Khmer Rouge leaders in the dying days of their power.

A quick history lesson for you: from 1975 to 1979, Cambodia was ruled by the communist Khmer Rouge who orchestrated a massive genocide, killing over a quarter of the Cambodian people. The Khmer Rouge was controlled by Brother Number 1, Pol Pot, and a group of his cadres, including Ta Mok (Brother Number 4), Son Sen, and Khiev Samphan.

When the Vietnamese invaded in 1979 and pushed the Khmer Rouge out of their capital, Phnom Penh, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge retained control of the fringes of the country, continuing to fight a guerrilla war for decades. Pol Pot, Ta Mok, and many others made their home and center of control in the remote town of Anlong Veng

Today, physical signs of this complicated history remain in Anlong Veng. The five most notable dark tourist spots in Along Veng are Ta Mok’s house and lake, Son Sen’s grave, Pol Pot’s Grave, Ta Mok’s Mountain House, and Pol Pot’s House.

In town, tourists can visit Ta Mok’s house and see the artificial lake he constructed in the 1990s. This is easily reachable by foot, just head north towards the mountains from the roundabout in town and the driveway will be on your right.

For all the other sites, you will need to have your own transportation or hire a motodop driver in town for the day. I highly suggest hiring a driver, because many of these tourist spots are incredibly hard to find, and some are not signposted at all. A motodop for the day should cost between $10-$20 depending on your negotiating skills.

To reach the remote sites, follow the road north towards Choam and the Thai Border. The home and grave of Son Sen sit off the road to the right, shortly before you reach the mountains. Son Sen was once a leader of the Khmer Rouge, but his death was ordered by an increasingly paranoid Pol Pot in the late 90s.

Up in the Dangrek Mountains, just on the border with Thailand and directly across the street from a gaudy casino building, Pol Pot’s tomb sits quietly unadorned on a small side street. It is something of a travesty to think that a man who ordered the death of a quarter of his countrymen should be buried in such a beautiful place.

Just before the border crossing, take a right onto an unassuming dirt road and you’ll soon come to Ta Mok’s mountaintop vacation home, now the location of a Peace Museum and Khmer style resort with small pavilions and hammocks perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the floodplain below. This is a good spot to enjoy a picnic lunch, as bizarre as that sounds.

The last spot of the day, if you have the energy and fortitude to reach it, is the most gruesomely interesting. Deep in the jungles of the Dangrek Mountains sits the remains of the house of Pol Pot.

Road to Pol Pot’s House

Following the road that passes Ta Mok’s mountain home, continue east, climbing up and down mountain slopes, through small villages, across wide open farmland, and through several military encampments. The border between Cambodia and Thailand is a bit porous up here and there is a chance the road passes in and out of both countries.

After many kilometers, a few forks, and lots of confusion, the road shrinks down to a muddy single track through the jungle, culminating in the graffitied shell of structure: the home of once all-powerful Brother Number One.

Once you soak up all the eeriness you can handle, head back down to Anlong Veng to recoup from your day of dark tourism.

How to Get to Anlong Veng

There are mini buses that run from Siem Reap to Along Veng every day, several times a day. Tickets should be $8-10.

Accommodation in Anlong Veng

There are several guesthouses on the main road in Along Veng, some nicer than others. I stayed in a perfectly comfortable family guesthouse in a room for $5, though I negotiated somewhat aggressively for that price. Expect to pay $7 to $15 for a room with a fan or A/C respectively.

Tourist Spots Off The Tourist Trail

Each of these tourist spots is located with a day or two of Siem Reap and the temples of Angkor Wat. If you only have a short amount of time in Cambodia and you want to understand this country’s history on a deeper level, I hope you’ll consider exploring one or more of these gorgeous and important tourist sites.

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How to Ride from Battambang to Koh Kong through the Cardamom Mountains

Adventure Travel, Cambodia, Travel

This post is for the people who seek the thrill and danger of backcountry adventure. Those whose greatest desire while traveling is to get off of the well-trodden path and discover roads that most people never stumble upon.

If you’re looking for an adventure through the wilds of Cambodia, it’s time you read a bit more about the little known Cardamom Mountains.

A quick word of caution, this is not a journey for the faint of heart. You will struggle, and you will probably be in pain. You will ride through mud up to your knees and you will possibly get lost. Yet when you make it out the other side and see the waters of the Bay of Thailand shining far below, the only thing you’ll remember is the outstanding beauty and overwhelming sense of awe.

Road through the Jungle

This rugged journey takes you from the city of Battambang, in Northeast Cambodia, through rural farmland, ascends into jungle-clad mountains, follows roads that haven’t been repaired since the day they were built, and spits you out, three days (or more) later in Koh Kong, Cambodia’s forgotten outlaw city on the Bay of Thailand.

Am I overselling this? Not at all. I’ve riding a mountain bike through these roads several times and I always come away feeling overjoyed that my life lets me experience something as great as this ride from Battambang to Koh Kong through the Cardamoms.

Ready to tackle the adventure? Let’s get into the finer points of how to get from Battambang to Koh Kong through the Cardamom Mountains.

At the end of this post, I’ve included links to simple google maps instructions to illustrate the route that I describe.

Riding Through the Cardamoms: The Itinerary

Day 1: Battambang to Pramaoy
Day 2: Pramaoy to O Soam
Day 3: O Soam to Koh Kong

O Soam Village with Phnom Samkos in the distance

Tips for Riding from Battambang to Koh Kong

Choose Your Mode of Transport

This ride can be done on a mountain bike, motorcycle, or dirtbike. As far as I know, you cannot hire a car to drive you along this exact route.

I’ve completed a version of this ride twice, and both times on a mountain bike. It is easily one of the most challenging bike tours I’ve ever done. The roads are often in terrible condition and through remote areas with no villages, shops, or places to purchase supplies.

Pay Attention to the Weather

This trip should really only be attempted from November to June. Once the rains start, the road up to O Soam becomes completely impassable. Cycling it would be beyond dangerous. Same goes for a moped. Dirtbikes might still be able to make it but it is still dangerous.

Basically, don’t do this trip in the rainy season.

Why Battambang and Not Pursat?

You can easily find many blog posts that describe the ride from Pursat to Koh Kong as a great adventure. In fact, the first time I did the ride I started in Pursat. My advice now? Don’t do it. The road from Pursat is wide, paved, and boring. If you’re in it for the adventure, start from Battambang and take the mountain roads to Pramaoy.

Accommodation Along the Way

Hotels and Guesthouses are available in Battambang, Pramaoy, O Soam, and Koh Kong. You can make this journey on a bicycle without camping gear as long as you are very fit, accustomed to the Cambodian climate, and know what you are doing.

If you are an inexperienced cyclist and don’t know any basic bike maintenance, do not attempt this ride solo! This ride passes through remote areas without villages or support. If something happens to you, it could be hours before someone passes.

Make it a 5-Day Journey

Though I will outline this trip as a three-day itinerary, I can’t encourage you enough to spend several days in O Soam. A man named Mr. Lim runs a homestay there with his family and it is the best-kept secret in Cambodia. Just go, and spend two or three days hanging out with Lim, visiting waterfalls, mountain biking in the jungle, and generally having a great time.

If you’re on a mountain bike, there are some sweet trails winding back through the jungle you could easily spend a week exploring.

Be Prepared!

This is an extremely remote and rugged ride. Whether you’re on a dirt bike, moto, or a mountain bike, bring the tools you need to make basic repairs along the way. Make sure you carry enough food and water to get you through each day. Especially on the road from O Soam to Koh Kong, do not expect to stop and buy supplies on the road as there are no villages! More than any other stretch of road in Cambodia, it is important to be prepared for anything in the Cardamoms.

Day 1: Biking Battambang to Pramaoy – 73 miles (118km)

Okay, first things first, Pramaoy is pronounced Pram-Ow-Ee, like pram as in the UK English name for a baby stroller, ow, as in ow my toe, and E as in the letter E. Pram-ow-ee. You’re welcome. Now you can at least ask for directions when you get lost.

Leaving Battambang, you want to head south out of town following the river towards Banan Temple. Follow the paved road as it winds through fragrant farmland with fruit stands dotting the side of the road. A canopy of trees offers much-needed shade from the rising sun.

After you pass Banan Temple on your right, the land opens up and you will start to see some hills rising around you. Finally, come to a roundabout with a statue the woman carrying a pot on her head. By this point, you’ve ridden 21.5 miles (34.6km).

This intersection is a good place to stop and have a coconut or buy some snacks. You won’t pass another shop for at least an hour, you’re probably hungry, and the sun will be beating you into the earth with its wild tropical heat.

From the rotary, continue straight for another 1.5 miles (2.3km), then take a left onto the dirt road. This road should, in a short while, cross a river.
Cross the river and continue straight for another 15 miles (24km) through the wide open farmland. You’ll begin to see the first ridge of the Cardamom mountains rising in the distance.

cardamom mountains battambang to koh kong

Nearing the Cardamoms

Follow the road in a more or less straight line until you come to a kind of T junction. Here you’ll find a small market and collection of buildings. If you’re lucky, someone will be serving lunch. Keep in mind that Cambodian markets generally stop serving lunch by 11am, 11:30 if you’re lucky.

From this T-junction, take a right and follow the road for 6.5 miles (10.5km) until you come to yet another T-junction.

This is a road in Cambodia

By now, the mountains will feel formidable, the weight of their presence pushing down on you, impressing the magnitude of the trials you are about to face on their steep slopes. At the final fork, you take a right and head on up into the mountains and your first massive climb of the journey.

If you’re one of the adventurous souls on a mountain bike, get ready for some serious climbing. Whoever built this road clearly skipped the day in urban planning class where they discussed switchbacks because this road is steep. Impractically steep. Relentlessly steep. As the road plies a straight line directly up the mountain all hope leaves your soul, your strength deserts you. Your lungs, heart, and legs beg for relief.

But you push on. You gain the first rise, then the second. You finally reach the crest of the hill.

From that point, you are blessed with the most perfect downhill of all time. It is gradual, flowing, and nearly neverending. You fly down a wide open valley between two steep mountain ridges. Cambodian villages cling to both sides of the road. The locals call out and cheer as you ride by but you’re too absorbed in the thrill of the downhill to stop and make small talk. The pain in your legs is replaced by euphoria as you fly ever downwards through the stunning Cambodian mountain scenery.

At the top of the downhill

You didn’t realize Southeast Asia could be this beautiful.

Eventually, the road heads uphill again, passing through jungle and farmland before dumping you out on the main road from Pursat to Pramaoy. It’s just 7 more kilometers (5 miles) along this road, then you reach your goal for the evening, the wacky and whimsical village of Pramaoy.

There are several guesthouses in Pramaoy. I like to use the one right off of the rotary in the middle of town. Rooms are $5 a night for a single bed and a private bathroom. There is a shop just next door on the corner that sells fried noodles and fried rice at dinner for $2 a plate.

What more could you need? Get to sleep early because you’ve got quite a day ahead of you tomorrow.

Road to O Soam

Cycling Battambang to Koh Kong Day 2: Pramaoy to O Soam – 18 miles (30km)

Though each leg of this journey has its own beautiful moments, this leg, the second day up to O Soam, holds a special place in my heart. It’s the shortest day in terms of mileage, but possibly the most revelatory and wonderful in terms of adventure.

Waking up in Pramaoy is a real treat in and of itself. The town is bisected by a wide red dirt road that churns up dust in the dry season, giving the entire town a lost-in-time feel. It’s classic old school Cambodia. The houses and shops line either side of the road but are separated from it by a ditch, so everyone throws down a couple planks to act as bridges to their shops. Stand still for a moment and you’ll soon see Cambodians driving their motos across these makeshift plank walkways. It’s great. I love Pramaoy.

Once you’ve had your traditional Cambodian breakfast of Bai Sak Chru (rice and pork) or Bor Bor (rice porridge), it’s time to hit the road for the magical mystery tour that is the road to O Soam.

From Pramaoy, head south out of town from the rotary up towards the mountains in the distance. If you’re facing the main section of town, this is the left-hand road. The road will take you down a short hill and across a bridge. If you don’t cross a bridge almost immediately, you’ve taken the wrong turn.

Looking Backwards on the way up to O Soam

From here, the conditions deteriorate rapidly, especially in the rainy season. The road will be swamped with mud and half of the adventure is riding through puddles without knowing exactly how deep they are going to be. Expect wet knees.

For the first 5 miles of the day, the road winds uphill through farmland, then through some rolling hills and small villages. Occasionally the jungle opens up onto farmland, offering stunning views back along the valley towards Pramaoy with rock-faced mountains rising beyond.

Up and Up and Up

After the final rolling hill, you’ll come to a small climb and then a sudden drop-off. Across the valley from you, a wall of jungle-clad mountain rises up, blocking out the sky. Please note the thin red line peeking out from beneath the foliage. That is your path. You have reached the climb.

Not as steep as the previous day by any means, this climb is no less strenuous and daunting. The road is generally in terrible condition. Even just a small amount of rain will turn the dirt into a thick and sticky clay that latches onto your tires and covers everything in a thick layer of muck. This mud is incredibly slippery so if you do run out of momentum, expect to slip and slide down into the dirt.

Compound these muddy conditions with sweltering heat and the savage glare of the Cambodian sun and you’ve got yourself an adventure. But don’t worry too much, as long as you head into it knowing it’s going to be tough, you’ll have a great time. This is easily one of my favorite single days of cycling. Something about the noises of the jungle, the challenge of the road, the beauty of looking around and seeing only jungle clad ridges rolling off into the distance makes this day unforgettable.

As you ascend, the road crosses several ridges before reaching the end of the final climb. On the way up, you will pass no shops and no homes. Bring enough water and snacks. There is a small hut a little over halfway up where you might run into some Khmer military types hanging out. They might give you water, or they might just give you funny looks.

You’ll know you’ve made it to the top when you see a wide valley open up below you. Far in the distance, a small village sits on a lake. That is O Soam and your goal for this day.

After soaking up the view, it’s time for the downhill. The road heads downward at a steep grade, finishing in a ramshackle village perched on the edge of the lake.

From there, the road carries on and winds around the lake for a further 20km but it is not necessary to take the road. From the ramshackle village, it is possible to take a series of two ferries across the lake almost all the way to O Soam. The total cost for the ferries is, I believe, $2.50.

When you disembark from the final ferry, you have just a few miles left to go.

The road winds through the rich jungle and you’ll begin to see some signs telling you that the “O Soam Homestay” is only a few kms away. This is where you want to stay. There is no better accommodation in O Soam, or possibly even in Cambodia.

o soam community homestay cardamom mountains cambodia

O Soam Homestay

The O Soam Homestay is a slice of heaven in the middle of thick, mountainous jungle. Perched on the edge of the lake, a man named Mr. Lim brought his family up here to open a homestay and educate the local population on the importance of stopping deforestation and poaching. He is truly a wonderful human being and a delight to stay with.

If you have time, I can’t encourage you enough to spend a day or two relaxing in a hammock, eating family style meals with the Lims, swimming in their lake, or heading out on an adventure or two with Lim and his local guides.

You won’t find another place like this anywhere else in Cambodia.

Cycling Battambang to Koh Kong: Day 3: The Final Marathon – 67 miles (108km)

The final day of the ride has the greatest change in elevation and is the most unforgiving and tiring. If you’re on a mountain bike, this day will challenge you physically, mentally, and spiritually. It will break you down into bits and build you back up into a better, if slightly traumatized, human.

If you’re on a motorcycle or moped, just be ready for a really long day with no shops and nowhere to buy food. I don’t know if it will break you as a person and motorcyclist, but it will be stunning, I can promise you that.

No matter what mode of transport you’re on, carry enough water with you! I had 4 liters with me and I barely made it.

This is a long day through mountains. Do not expect to finish in a few hours. An early start is key to success; it gets hot in them hills in the middle of the day.

From Lim’s place, cross the river and head into O Soam village. At the fork, take the right-hand road across the river and then out across the farmlands. The road here is in terrible condition but things improve quickly once you get onto the main road to Koh Kong.

After 6 miles (10km), you’ll come to a junction with some restaurants and shops, and a big sign pointing the way to Koh Kong. It’s a right-hand turn and very important not to miss this.

If you’re using google maps, it will tell you to go straight. Very important advice about riding in Cambodia: do not trust Google! They have no idea what is going on. That road doesn’t exist. You need to take the right-hand turn as signposted. The locals will make sure you don’t miss this. If you try to ride straight through, several people will shout at you.

From this turn, it’s basically a straight shot until you hit the paved road about 31 miles (50km) further down. But don’t let that relatively short distance deceive you. Those are a long and adventurous 31km. I won’t ruin too much of the surprise but expect several long climbs, many dramatic downhills, and a few truly horrendous Chinese-built dams. Yay globalization!

On a personal note, the first time I attempted this ride in November of 2016, I got a flat tire after only 40km and had to be driven out by some friendly Khmer people. As I stood on the side of the road hoping that anybody would drive by and save my dumbass (I was riding without any extra inner tubes or tools), I heard a whooping call echoing through the jungle. It sounded quite nearby. I gazed up into the trees, not sure what to look for, and I heard it again, a whoop whoop whoop sound. Then I saw it, a gibbon was hanging from the top branches of a tree just above me on the side of the road. Our eyes met, the gibbon paused, whooped at me one last time, then turned and swung off into the jungle. If I hadn’t had a flat tire, I never would have seen such a beautiful creature.

The Road to Koh Kong

Back to the directions.

After many an epic downhill and some truly breathtaking views, you’ll come out onto a paved road. Turn right. Not too much further, you come to another split, and the signs here are misleading. The paved road heads to the left, while a dirt road heads right. The signs will tell you to take the dirt road, and you can. But you can also stay on the paved road to the left. This will take you down to a Chinese dam, through a workers camp, and then will meet up with the dirt road further on down the line.

Everyone I speak to who has taken the dirt road says it’s horrible. Take the paved road.

Not much else to it really. From there you just follow the road down to Koh Kong. If you’re cycling, there will come a beautiful moment where you break out of the jungle and see the ocean and river fanned out below you. Your legs will rejoice, thinking the end is nigh.

The end is not nigh. The end is still very far away. Keep your chin up and keep pedaling. You’ll get there.

Koh Kong Harbor

I could barely walk by the time I rolled into Koh Kong at the end of the day, but it was so worth it. And now, sitting here at my kitchen counter writing this post 6 months later, I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

If you love bike touring, are going to Cambodia, and want to have a life-changing and stunning adventure in one of the last remaining mountainous wildernesses in Southeast Asia, I can’t encourage you enough to ride from Battambang to Koh Koh through the Cardamom Mountains.

As promised, here are the google map directions for each leg of the journey. I’m not overly tech savvy so I just broke it up into chunks wherever google maps didn’t want to let me plot the route as is. Sorry that it isn’t a KML or GPX file.

Day 1, First Part: https://goo.gl/maps/GfUBk1wr2F62
Day 1, Second Part: https://goo.gl/maps/MavkLdeEn8E2
Day 2, First Part (to the ferry): https://goo.gl/maps/YwtNsPfTfy92
Day 3: https://goo.gl/maps/Uhq4GPgB84q

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Day 1: Biking Battambang to Pramaoy – 73 miles (118km)

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