November 24, 2024.
8.6 mi. | 2230′ ele. gain | 4:30 hr. | Bellows Pipe Trail and AT
Despite growing up in New England, I’d never hiked to the summit of Mt. Greylock. You’re born with a warped sense of distance when Rhode Island is your home. A 45-minute drive was like an all-day adventure where we needed to pack a cooler, activities and emergency supplies. So the idea of driving to the far southeastern corner of Massachusetts for a trip was unheard of.
On this many thousands of miles-long road trip, however, we had nothing but time. I wanted to stand on top of Massachusetts.
There are many ways to get to the top of Mt. Greylock. As the state highpoint, it sees a lot of visitors. There’s a road you can drive to the top for most of the year. But a snowstorm blew in recently and the road was closed for the season. I chose the Bellows Pipe Trail from Notch Road because it’s a lesser known and slightly longer route than the other options. “Bellows pipe” sounded cool, too. Like maybe we’d get to see some unique feature along the way.
We arrived early and grabbed the first parking spot in the small lot. We packed our layers and microspikes, not sure exactly what we’d encounter that day. In the beginning, we walked through a stark deciduous forest that looked like an army of sticks. The ground was covered with brown, crunchy leaves. The trail was well-graded; it felt like perhaps an old road. I paused to examine the only bits of green along the trail, ferns, as well as a few interesting fungi.
We marched ahead at a steady pace until at last, the trail rose up and out of the drainage. This brought us to a rough, 3-sided shelter on the Appalachian Trail. Just ahead, snow dusted the trail. Soon, we found ourselves in a winter wonderland. Snow coated the tree limbs and piled up on the trail. We were both glad we’d packed our gaiters for this hike! It had been a while since we’d hiked in snow, so it was nice to put our gear to use.
As our route converged with the more popular trail to the east, we began to encounter people. Everyone seemed to be in a rush, but we moved slowly to enjoy this pristine wintry delight. It was as if we were standing inside a settled snow globe.
Near the top, I could hear the wind through the trees. I knew what that meant, since I’d just experienced crushing wind on Camel’s Hump the other day. We paused to put on our layers and cinch everything down tight. It was already cold; the wind chill would only make things worse.
Soon we emerged on the large, flat top that had been made into a gigantic war memorial. The monument at the summit, covered in rime ice, looked like a huge chess piece. We took in the scenery, gazing down at the dark greens in the valley below. A fellow hiker took a summit picture for us, one of the rare opportunities we get a photo together on a hike.
We quickly retreated to stand outside the upper shelter to get a break from the wind and to dip into our snack supply. I was really glad I’d packed a thermos full of hot cider to warm us up before the descent. We paired that with bread and cheese, plus a brownie we picked up at a holiday bazaar the day before. A meal fit for a king.
The walk down felt longer than I’d remembered. We retreated back into solitude for much of the way, only encountering a few dog walkers and casual hikers close to the trailhead. Back at the van, we changed into comfy clothes and looked at the time: we still had plenty of daylight left!
Out of 50 state highpoints, this one is number 11. I know I won’t finish the list but I bet I’ll get at least half of them in my lifetime. With all the mountains I’ve climbed, it’s kind of shocking how few of the states I’ve completed. But, I’ve learned to prioritize joy over lists, so I’ll get to them when I get to them!