I’ve been scared of the dark for as long as I can remember. I know it sounds silly, but being alone outside after dark freaks me out a little bit. Mt. Carrigain is known for its awesome views, so I really wanted to do it at sunrise to take it all in. This meant hiking up to the summit in the dark by myself facing one of my biggest fears in the process.

This morning I woke up at 1:45 after just a few hours of sleep and immediately checked the cloud cover. The radar showed some clouds over Carrigain, but it looked like it was moving quickly to the northeast. I was hoping that it would be clear by dawn so I rolled out of bed and groggily headed out for the newly repaired Sawyer River Road.

After a long, dark drive through both Franconia and Crawford Notch, I got to the Signal Ridge trailhead just after 3:00. I sat in my car for a few minutes mentally preparing myself for the hike and building up the courage to get on the trail. Seeing a pack of coyotes just a mile away from the trailhead wasn’t giving me the boost of confidence I desperately needed. I finally got out of the car and hit the trail at 3:15 after lots of deep breaths and words of self preservation.

Signal Ridge Trail started out pretty flat and straightforward for the first mile but started to gain elevation slowly after that. I was terrified of wildlife encounters, so I was playing my country playlist to take my mind off of the scary noises in the trees. I kept my eyes glued to the trail the whole time hoping not to see any animals in the woods. Luckily the trail followed a stream which drowned out any suspicious noises.

At two miles in, I came to the junction of the Carrigain Notch Tr. I had my Gaia GPS on which was telling me to go left to continue on Signal Ridge instead of bearing right for the Carrigain Notch Tr. This correlated with what I had read in my AMC White Mountain Guidebook so I went with it. The beginning of the trail looked rugged to say the least. There were large downed trees right at the beginning and the path was hard to make out. The picture below shows the two trail options. In the dark I couldn’t see how bad the one on the left was.

Boy was that a mistake. The only way to describe this stretch of trail (or what was left of it) is as an atrocious mess. Just 100 yards from the start of the split in the trail there was a river crossing with no good way to get across. I rock hopped over a few stones and luckily didn’t get wet, but it could have been bad. I kept on following the trail, checking my phone every 100 yards to make sure I was still going the right direction. There were massive blowdowns and large roots that seemed to reach up threatening to trip me. I came to a second river crossing even worse than the first. There were two big trees going across it, but they were rotted out almost to the middle so I was worried they wouldn’t hold my weight over the rushing water. At one point I had to duck under and step over the logs simultaneously on a slippery rock, almost dumping me into the water. I knew at this point that this trail must either be abandoned or the worst maintained trail in the Whites.

Right after the second crossing I lost the trail completely. After backtracking a bit I found it, but the overrun path was hard to distinguish in the dark. At this point it was too late to turn back because there was no way in hell I was going over those crossings again. I stumbled upon another small crossing with big patches of sand separating the brook into two small streams. The problem here was that the bed was so wide I couldn’t find where the trail picked up on the other side. I was getting pretty frustrated at this point but was hopeful I would reach the official trail soon.

I swept the far bank of the stream looking for anything that resembled a trail and finally found what looked like a herd path. About 100 yards later it joined with the main trail and I let out a sigh of relief.

With that experience behind me I continued on towards the summit. At this point you would think that I would be more comfortable in the dark. Unfortunately, I was still pretty nervous, jumping at every little movement or sound. Solo hiking is usually one of my favorite things to do because it’s so serene. Not for me in the dark though! When I’m with other people I’ve been fine, it’s just the thought of being miles from the nearest road with nobody around and a high likelihood of getting lost freaks me out. Did I mention that I have terrible directional instincts?

When I made it to Signal Ridge at 5:25 it was still dark, but I could see that the summit of Carrigain was completely socked in. I made the decision to stay on the ridge to watch the sunrise because at this rate I definitely wouldn’t be able to sit there. At this point I planted myself between two rocks to help shelter me from the wind and waited.

Unfortunately, the weather was not in my favor this morning. Sunrise was supposedly at 6:08, but you could have fooled me because I couldn’t see anything through the thick layer of clouds. On a clear day, you can see 43 of the 48 4,000 footers from the summit of Carrigain. This morning you could barely see your hand in front of your face. I ended up getting some decent views from Signal Ridge, but I was pretty disappointed. I was also freezing in my Patagonia midlayer and shell in the 45 degree weather. I waited around for an hour hoping the clouds would lift to unveil the amazing view that I knew was behind the fog. I caught a few lucky glimpses but otherwise it was underwhelming

At 6:30 I decided to go tag the summit of Carrigain and move on. I know it’s a shame just run up and grab an awesome peak, but I was cold and my dog was waiting at home. I summited and climbed to the top of the tower just to see if maybe by some miracle I could see something. Nope! I quickly made my way back to where I had left my pack and started my descent.

The descent was much more pleasant during the daytime. I could now see where I was going which was interesting because there was so much that I had missed in the dark! I recalled some sections but most of it felt completely new to me.

I started seeing other ascending hikers stopped to talk to a few of them. I hadn’t had any human contact since the through hikers on the Kinsmans yesterday, but they weren’t eager to talk like these people were. There was one woman who was working on the grid, which I admired immensely. The grid is when you hike all 48 4,000 footers in every month of the year. It takes most people many years to finish and it’s pretty rare to find someone who’s done it. I told her that this was #34 for me and I had started in June, and she replied that I would have no trouble finishing the grid in the coming years. Not sure if that’s a goal for me but I’m always open to new challenges!

I told an ascending hiker about my struggle with that one particular section of trail and she informed me that it had been rerouted and abandoned about four years ago. My copy of the AMC Guidebook that told me to go that way was published in 2003 and with that I had found the biggest contributing factor of my mistake! I think it may be time to buy an updated version. The picture below is where I came out of the woods from the abandoned trail.

The rest of the hike was pretty flat and straightforward. Like Lincoln Woods only not as long! The brook running next to the trail was absolutely gorgeous with awesome looking swimming holes all over the place! I can’t wait to come back on a hot, clear day and finish my hike with a swim. When I got back to the parking lot I was exhausted, realizing what a toll waking up before 2:00 had taken on me.

Overall this was a pretty nice hike despite so many factors working against me. I faced my fear of hiking by myself in the dark, and even though in some spots I wasn’t nervous it was still fun! I’m a little disappointed that the views weren’t great, but that just gives me a reason to come back on a clear day to see what I was missing! I was originally saving Mt. Carrigain for my finish of the 48, but I’m honestly glad I didn’t. I’m sure it’s really beautiful, but finishing on top of a platform as opposed to on top of a mountain seems a little anti-climactic.

I think this hike also gave me a lot of confidence in my abilities as a hiker. Even though this is #34 for me, I only started my journey for the 48 in June so I still feel like a rookie. This hike made me feel more like a real hiker. I got lost which was only partially my own fault, but more importantly I found my way, kept going, and figured it out all on my own. I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty independent person, but this trip really increased my confidence as an independent hiker. And just in time for my first solo backpacking trip this weekend! Even though things didn’t go as planned, like I’ve said before my love of hiking grows with every trip, this one included.

Mt. Carrigain (4,700 ft) via Signal Ridge Tr.