A cautionary trail

A little pain and more pleasure accompany backcountry skiers down Wildcat

January 27, 2008|Kari J. Bodnarchuk, Globe Correspondent

PINKHAM NOTCH - We launched ourselves off the backside of Wildcat Mountain and descended into the wilderness, leaving the chatter of skiers and the whir of the high-speed chairlift behind. We soon entered a world of pure backcountry bliss, where falling snow drifted through the trees, adorning the pine branches around us and adding more cushion to the six inches of powder that had fallen overnight.

Several hundred feet and a couple of hairpin turns later, I lay on my belly, skis twisted beneath me, arms sunk into the snow past my elbows, snow powdering my face and dripping from my earlobes.

"I'm OK," I called up to my husband, Howard.

No answer.

I looked back up the trail in time to see him careen around a sharp turn, lose his balance, and skid across the fresh powder like a baseball player sliding into home. As I wiped snow out of my ears and regained my vertical composure, it occurred to me that perhaps we had made a mistake in tackling the Wildcat Valley Trail.

This steep and twisting and ungroomed trail leads cross-country and telemark skiers from the summit of Wildcat Mountain to Jackson Village. It drops 3,245 feet in about 11 miles, as it passes through dense pine forest and stands of birch, crosses hidden brooks, and offers peekaboo views of the White Mountains in this swath of the national forest.

"It should be considered as serious as hiking up Mount Washington," Thomas Prindle, a manager at Wildcat Ski Area, said of the route. "You have to make sure that you know what you're doing and that you're prepared."

I had always wanted to do this trip, and thanks to an early snowfall this year, we had a chance to ski the trail over our holiday vacation. After four days of power-eating with family, we welcomed the idea of burning excess calories on this challenging, backcountry route.

The trail begins near the summit of Wildcat, at a spot bisected by the Appalachian Trail. To get there, we bought one-way lift tickets at Wildcat Ski Area in Pinkham Notch and took the chairlift to the top. A sign next to the ticket window didn't go without notice: "There are no services upon leaving the summit. The trail is not swept by ski patrol." In fact, once we left the ski area, we didn't see another person all day.

It was 11 a.m. by the time we descended into the forest, and our main concern was outrunning a snowstorm that was due to hit mid-afternoon. To the east, the blackened sky made it look like midnight on the horizon.

We followed the trail as it wound around tight bends, dipped into little gullies, and switchbacked down the mountain. Blue blazes - blue triangular markers on the trees - guided our way, although it felt impossible to get lost with the trees flanking the trail.