This mountain is special in that it is one of only 57 peaks that have a prominence of greater than 5000 feet in the United States. Again, a word of caution, if thunderstorms are present it is advisable not to climb to the barren summit.

- Tim Youngbluth’s PNT Trail Guide, on Abercrombie Mountain


I think I ate pancakes at the diner again for my second morning in town. I remember kind of lolligagging around town, and I kept telling Bugs and Moose I was about to leave, but then I just kind of hung out and talked and read in the park for a while. I finally left after lunchtime – I was planning to sleep on top of Abercrombie Mountain, which would be a 15.5 mile hike and (more importantly) a 5000-foot climb.

The PNT guide mentioned a potential shortcut directly west of 0347P: A hunting trail that cuts directly up the slope, saving about 2 miles of road-walking. I was obviously enticed, so I tried to take it. Unfortunately, this was more like a bushwhack. It probably took me about half an hour in total to make it up through the thick brambles to the other side, which is about as long as it would have taken to just do the roadwalk.

The climb up to Abercrombie Mountain would mostly be on gently-graded forest roads, but I had about 5 miles of exposed asphalt roadwalking to do first. Leaving in the middle of the day was a bad idea. Sunblock was running into my eyes and I was struggling to stay hydrated. It was such a relief to finally turn off onto the quiet, shady forest road.

This was just about the easiest 4500-foot climb imaginable. The road gained less than 500 feet of elevation per mile (astute readers will know that this is equal to 1/2 Steep, or 500 kilosteep).

Boletus edulis, the "King bolete". Unfortunately infested with fly larvae.

I was totally zoned-out, hiking as fast as I reasonably could. Around the bend of one switchback, I saw a huge, dark shape ahead of me. It took me a second – at first I thought it was a horse, but then I saw the antlers.

I kept my distance, but we stared at each other for a long while. I just wanted to get around him, but the forest was so thick that I had no hope of cutting through. So I backed off around the switchback and out of sight, singing loudly to myself. When I peeked around the corner, he was much closer and drinking out of one of the pools of water on the road. I backed off a second time and continued singing loudly. I heard the sound of cracking branches, and when I came around the bend again, he was gone. I was in totally awe, but also a little nervous. I made my way up the road to the Flume Creek trailhead as quickly as I could.

The rest of the climb was pretty uneventful. I filled up to four full liters of water at a small spring (east of 0363P) and lugged it up the last 1000 feet of the climb.

It was windy and a bit chilly at the exposed top of the mountain – The hot roadwalk I had been on just a few hours previously felt like a distant memory. I set up my tent in an established spot protected by some scraggly trees, and found a lookout to admire while I cooked dinner.

The lookout brought bad news, though: There were huge storm clouds on the horizon, and I could hear distant rumbles. I got there just as the clouds overtook the sun. I suddenly became hyper-aware that I was on top of the highest point in the surrounding area.

Bambi and Brick showed up just about 20 minutes later, and set up their tent near mine. We got in our tents just before the rain hit. And it hit hard – I remember that it was raining so hard that little specks of mud splashed up under my tent vestibule and into the tent mesh. I hunkered down and just hoped it would end, but it only got worse. Lightning started striking all around, and at some point I was no longer able to count full seconds between lightning and thunder. The storm was pretty active, and it was striking close with deafening bangs. I heard commotion in the direction of Bambi and Brick’s tent, and saw the light of their headlamps on my tent walls. (I learned later that they decided to get out and run back down the mountain a bit. I feel incredibly stupid for this, but that idea never occurred to me, so I just stayed put.)

I’m not sure how long I laid there, huddled up in my quilt and praying I wouldn’t get struck. After a long while, the storm quieted down, and I drifted gratefully off to sleep.