In fact, the AMC hut system, America’s very first, was influenced by similar mountain huts in the Alps. Hut-to-hut lodging options are now available near peaks across the globe, from Annapurna and the Andes to the coastline of Canada. While these systems cater to adventure seekers from all over world, each brings local culture, flair, and a unique approach to lodging.   

Feeling inspired? Plan a journey with AMC Adventure Travel, our series of volunteer-run trips around the globe. Or see the world without leaving New England: Join us in the Pinkham Notch Visitor Center for our International Dinner Series, Wednesdays from January through March. 

Here’s what some of our peers around the world are up to: 

A shot of the French Alps from an AMC Adventure Travel trip. Stephen Cohen.

Walker’s Haute Route, France and Switzerland 

The Haute Route, French for “high road,” lives up to its name. Passing through 11 mountain passes and reaching a high point of just shy of 10,000 feet, the path was forged in the 1800s as a summer route from Chamonix, in France, to Zermatt, in Switzerland. Along the way, hikers get up close to some of Europe’s most famous peaks, including Mont Blanc Massif and the Matterhorn, all without requiring specialized mountaineering equipment. Each night, stay in a mountain hut (“refuge” in German, “cabane” in French) with beds and prepared meals – just like the AMC provides! Many huts are situated next to glaciers, alpine lakes, and other incredible views to wake up to. 

Walker’s Haute isn’t the only area in the Alps you can explore without ever pitching a tent. Organizations like the Italian Alpine Club and Swiss Alpine Club maintain hut systems in their respective countries, and there are many privately owned, mostly family-run huts.    

The Annapurna Circuit. Luigi Selmi/ Flickr Commons (l), Jeanne Menjoulet/ Flickr Commons (r).

A tea house on the Annapurna Circuit. Anne and David/ Flickr Commons.

Annapurna Circuit, Nepal 

It’s one of the most famous hikes in the world for a reason. Tens of thousands of visitors a year trek this more than 100-mile loop around the base of Annapurna, a massif that includes the world’s tenth-highest mountain. Along the way, hikers pass through a wide range of terrain, from jungles and rice paddies to high mountain passes, and take in a variety of cultures. Of course, moving through climate zones so quickly means plenty of shifting elevation. Come prepared for a challenge! 

Each night you’ll stay in “tea houses,” small hotels common in popular hiking destinations across the Himalayas. Amenities at each tea house vary. Some, especially at lower elevations, include hot water and showers; others do not. Almost all offer food in a communal dining area. Feast on dal bhat, a classic Nepalese lentil curry, and, of course, plenty of warm tea. Note that as of April 2023, all foreign visitors to the Nepal’s Himalayan Region and National Parks will need to employ the services of a registered trekking agency. 

The Sunshine Coast Trail. Jennifer C./ Flickr Commons.

Sunshine Coast Trail, Canada 

Bright days ahead! The Sunshine Coast is a stretch of southern British Columbia where the waters of the George Strait, separating Vancouver Island from the mainland, meet the fast-rising Coast Mountains. Its namesake trail system includes 14 huts spread out over 112 miles, making it Canada’s longest hut-to-hut hiking trail.  

Highlights of a trek on the Sunshine Coast Trail include miles along the water, most notably Powell Lake, and old growth forests abound. Huts are available on a first-come, first-served basis and are fairly rustic. Most are not enclosed on all sides. Campsites are also available near most huts. 

The “W” Trek. Douglas Scortegagna/ Flickr Commons.

The “towers” of Torres del Paine National Park. Douglas Scortegagna/Flickr Commons.

The “W” Trek, Chile 

You know a picture from Patagonia when you see it. Now experience the real thing. This region of Chile and Argentina contains towering jagged peaks, clear blue lakes, and some of the southernmost hiking trails in the world. Torres del Paine National Park in Chile showcases the best of what this region has to offer, and one of the most breathtaking ways to experience the park on foot is via the “W” Trek. The path passes by the Paine massif, including the three “towers” for which the park gets its name. Along the way are three out-and-back paths, near the beginning, middle, and end of the trek, creating a “W” shape. 

Compared to some of the other adventures on this list, the “W” is an achievable route for developing hikers. Trails have few technical features, and elevation remains low. Hikers can camp or stay in “refugios,” cabins with bunk rooms and communal dining. Sound like another hut system you love? 

The Overland Track. Andreas Eldh/ Flickr Commons.

New Pelion Hut on the Overland Track. Rick McCharles/ Flickr Commons.

Overland Track, Australia 

The (Tasmanian) devil is in the details. If you’re planning a trip Down Under, be sure to check out Overland Track, a 40-mile route through Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park, on the island of Tasmania. The terrain is rugged but worthwhile. Highlights include Mount Ossa, the island’s highest peak, Harnett Falls, and the chance to see wildlife you won’t find anywhere outside Australia. The path offers seven huts, each with a nearby tentsite. 

If you’re looking to eschew the bright lights of Melbourne or Sydney for a world-class hike (err, bushwalk), the Overland Track may be just the spot. 

For more tales of global adventure check out No Limits But the Sky, the best mountaineering stories from Appalachia Journal. Read stories from the summit of Kilimanjaro to the Canadian Rockies. 

The post Hut-to-Hut Mountain Trips Around the World appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

Stephen Kurczy. The author and Manny atop South Kinsman, their 29th mountain, on May 28, 2021, a chilly day when they also tagged North Kinsman and Cannon Mountain.

My son was asleep on my back, head craned sideways as he slouched in a child carrier, oblivious to the marathon journey in front of us. We were hiking up the Garfield Trail in the predawn darkness of August 2021, my headlamp lighting the rocky path, and his heavy breathing exchanging a rhythm with my crunching footsteps.

An imagined news headline flashed across my eyes: “Father deemed grossly negligent for bringing 1-year-old on 24-mile hike across New Hampshire’s White Mountains without cell phone.”

I pushed the thought out of my mind and tried to focus on the trail. My heart raced with excitement and trepidation as my son Mansfield and I plodded toward Mount Garfield, to be followed by Galehead and then Owl’s Head, our 48th and final 4,000-footer together. Today’s 24-mile hike would tick off these last three summits on our list of New Hampshire’s tallest mountains. And Manny, I was told, could very well become one of the youngest people to ever complete all of New Hampshire’s 4,000-footers.

I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was doing something wrong—that each step I took into the Pemigewasset Wilderness was a misstep. My pack weighed about 50 pounds from my son, water, food, diapers, and extra clothing. One thing I didn’t carry, however, was any kind of technology that would enable us to connect with the outside world. No phone. No GPS. No emergency beacon. Off-line and incommunicado, we were on our own. If I sprained an ankle, fell and hurt either of us, or got lost, we would be hours from the nearest trailhead and unable to call for help.

“What was he thinking?!” I imagined critics saying. “What cavalier, reckless, horrible parenting!”

My legs already ached. The previous day, we had hiked 23 miles over the summits of six other Pemigewasset peaks (the Twins, Zealand, and the three Bonds). My wife, Jenna, with our 3-month-old second child in tow, had picked us up at the Lincoln Woods trailhead, and we had all stayed at the Seven Dwarfs Motel in Twin Mountain. If you’ve ever tried to stay in a motel with two kids under 2 years old, you can understand why I’d slept only four hours.

Given that my tank was half-empty, did I have a parental responsibility to at least carry a cell phone now, despite all my qualms with the devilish device? That is, was I acting negligently in not carrying one in the mountains?

Wiring the Wild

For more than a decade, as a matter of principle, pride, and stubbornness, I have refused to own a cell phone. In 2009, years before I was first introduced to the White Mountains, I threw away my first and last phone after a torrid, four-year, love-hate affair with it. I’d slept with the device, heard phantom calls from it, and felt tethered to it as a social lifeline. It was the last thing I looked at before bed and the first thing I reached for in the morning. It was a source of joy when a friend called, misery when a boss checked in, angst when nobody called at all.

I was alarmed by my addiction to such a simple device and disturbed by research showing that the cell phone—and its role as a major conduit for social media—undermines people’s ability to focus, live in the moment, maintain eye contact . . . to be thoughtful humans, in many ways. So I threw it away. Living phoneless seemed like a way of maintaining some quiet in my life, ensuring that I would be off-line for at least part of my days. I’ve come to embrace this lifestyle. I even wrote a book about an area of America known as the National Radio Quiet Zone where cell service is outlawed and smartphones are restricted, which sounded like heaven to me. (The reality was more complicated, like many things.)

In general, I’ve never been a fan of modern means of “connecting” through cell phones or social media. I’ve never been on Facebook or Instagram, much less Snapchat or TikTok, because of a Thoreauvian wariness of these supposed advancements in communication. (“We are in great haste to construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas, but Maine and Texas, it may be, have nothing important to communicate,” Thoreau wrote in Walden, in a line that presaged most of what’s on social media today.) When I bicycled across America in 2004, I opted against carrying a cell phone because I wanted to really be on my own. (Half the trip was solo.) That I wouldn’t always be able to call for help made the adventure epic, memorable, life-changing, and, well, adventurous.

I feel the same way about going into the mountains. A cell phone undermines the adventure and spirit of the backcountry for me. And I’ve found that I’m not alone in this conviction.

“A cell phone in your pocket erases maybe the most glorious part of being out there in the mountains,” Laura Waterman, a prolific hiker and writer who is something of a godmother to the Northeast’s outdoors community, told me. “You’re erasing any trace of self-reliance.”

Whether to bring a phone into the backcountry is a question of ethics, says Waterman. She’d know: She literally wrote the book Backwoods Ethics (Countryman Press) with her late husband, Guy. First published in 1979*, it made an early case for low-impact hiking, climbing, and camping as a way of protecting nature and experiencing a sense of the wild. Cell phones didn’t exist back then. But four decades on, Waterman believes the device has caused the “biggest change” in humans’ relationship with nature, enabling us to “carry our everyday lives with us when we’re out in the wild,” as she wrote in the new introduction to the 2016 edition. The technology prevents us from escaping our everyday world and creates a digital barrier to engaging with the outside.

That said, Waterman does own a cell phone. An old Tracfone is stashed in her car in case of emergency. It never leaves the glovebox, and it certainly never goes on hikes, she said.

Waterman is hardly alone in opposing cell phones in the backcountry. The nonprofit watchdog Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility (PEER) has for years advocated to keep wild places cell-free and opposed the National Park Service’s plans to install cell towers across America’s national parks. “A national park is supposed to facilitate the public’s ability to enjoy the natural world and be able to escape the electronic tendrils of civilization,” PEER’s executive director told Sierra magazine in 2020. “To commune with nature. To unplug. The Park Service is doing the very opposite. It’s wiring the wilderness.”

After I spoke with Waterman, she snail-mailed me an excerpt from a new book, The Appalachian Trail: A Biography (Mariner Books, 2021), by Philip D’Anieri. Its final chapter addresses “the Internet-ization of the AT,” with hikers stopping in towns to recharge battery packs and download shows to be watched in huts and shelters. Smartphones allow hikers to bring the world onto the trail and the trail to the world, with some hikers livestreaming their 2,190-mile journey and turning what was once a personal sufferfest into a public performance.

John Marunowski, a U.S. Forest Service wilderness manager for the Pemigewasset Ranger District since 2004, said he noticed this internetization of the trail about a decade ago. All of a sudden, every thru-hiker seemed to be asking if they’d get cell service atop the next mountain.

“Part of me was disappointed,” Marunowski told me. “Is that what the experience has turned into?”

Stephen Kurczy. Mansfield Cho Kurczy enjoys a hiking break on the pastoral summit of Mount Moosilauke, his 37th 4,000-footer, on July 5, 2021.

I have to wonder why so many people take cell phones onto trails, given the devices are widely reported to cause stress and anxiety. “It’s a matter of safety,” some hikers have told me. But digging into this topic, I’ve found that many search-and-rescue professionals believe that cell phones are unessential in the backcountry. They even say the device can be dangerous.

“A Big Mistake”

Five miles into our trek, Manny and I summited Mount Garfield, scrambling up the old fire tower foundation just after sunrise. The wind chafed our cheeks and made our noses runny, but otherwise the weather was perfect: blue sky, wispy valley fog, and a 360-degree view of peaks and ridges soaring thousands of feet above the forest. I felt no itch to check social media or post a selfie, no desire to call my wife or check if she’d messaged. Nor was there a cell tower in sight to blemish the view.

We hiked three miles across Garfield Ridge to Galehead Hut, where I signed our names in the register. Manny relished the opportunity to walk around and explore, stretching his legs. A hut crew member was surprised to see such a tiny creature in the hut, and she welcomed him to drink all the apple juice he wanted. She added that, earlier that summer, she’d seen a woman carrying her 3-year-old on a one-day circuit of the entire 32-mile Pemi Loop—meaning my endeavor was by no means at the edge of insanity.

From the hut it was a quick jaunt up Galehead Mountain before we descended into the isolated valley around Owl’s Head, where at some spots we would be about twelve miles from the nearest road. Without a cell phone, I was potentially cut off from a primary means of rescue but, at the same time, I had embraced the ethics of self-reliance and enhanced our adventure. Isn’t adventure why we go into the mountains?

In a 1995 essay for Appalachia titled “Let ’em Die” (vol. 50 no. 4, pages 42–55), the Canadian mountaineer Robert Kruszyna argued against the idea of search and rescue because it “robs climbing of its sense of adventure, which is probably the only meaningful justification for an otherwise useless activity.” That extreme position may be unpalatable to many people. But I appreciate the sentiment. Being self-reliant is part and parcel to an adventure. And one way to double-down on self-sufficiency is to ditch the cell phone.

Despite all of these ideals, is Kruszyna’s “sense of adventure” a justifiable trade-off for not carrying a relatively lightweight device that could potentially save lives? Setting aside backcountry ethics, was I failing to take a simple safety precaution by not bringing any emergency communications technology? That is, is the cell phone an essential part of the hiker’s toolkit?

I brought that question to Lieutenant Jim Kneeland of New Hampshire Fish and Game. He heads NHFG’s sixteen-member Advanced Search and Rescue Team, which handles rescues throughout the White Mountains. If anything happened to me, Kneeland would likely have coordinated the response as well as determined whether I would be billed for the rescue. A state law allows NHFG to bill hikers judged to have acted negligently, which can mean they didn’t carry basic items like a map or headlamp.

I asked Kneeland, Would a hiker be deemed negligent for not carrying a cell phone? No, he said. Neither a cell phone nor any kind of electronic communications device is on the hikeSafe list of ten essentials, meaning they are not required or necessarily recommended. “And I don’t think it will ever be there,” Kneeland added.

He said the cell phone is an unreliable tool. “They’re fine to carry with you,” he said, “but to rely on it as one of your essentials is a big mistake.”

For one thing, cell service is patchy in the White Mountains and variable with many factors, including terrain and weather. Kneeland estimated that less than half of the Pemigewasset Wilderness has cell service, which can come as a surprise to many hikers. After all, we’re encouraged to think our devices will always work. “Can you hear me now?” the man asks in the Verizon commercial, and he always gets a response. We’re expected to be always online, and this culture of constant connectivity casts a shadow over the mountains, even if the mountains aren’t always connected.

But where there is cell service, phones have made the backcountry safer, right?

This map of 5G (“fifth generation”) cell service in New Hampshire shows that in most of the White Mountain National Forest, fast service is not available. Hikers are often in dead zones for voice calls, even where 4G service is available.

There’s evidence to the contrary. According to a 2000 report from the USFS, cell phones and other emergency communications devices increase hiker confidence and make them less willing to retreat in the face of danger. Cell phones also lead self-identified risk-takers in the backcountry to put themselves in more precarious situations, according to a 2012 study from researchers at Humboldt State University in California. This has become a well-accepted idea. When Oregon tried to pass a bill that would require climbers to carry an electronic signaling device above 10,000 feet, the initiative failed because search-and-rescue teams feared it would embolden unqualified climbers, according to a 2015 article in Sierra titled “The Danger of a Life-Saving Device.”

SAR officials in New Hampshire have expressed similar reservations about cell phones. “I think there are people who take more of a risk thinking they can always make a call or even use their cell phone as a light in the night,” Joe Roman, the Appalachian Mountain Club’s SAR coordinator, told me. A representative from NHFG echoed that sentiment way back in 1997, telling Sandy Stott in Appalachia: “Hikers who go out with cell phones seem to overextend themselves; they go one or two steps farther than they should because they have a false sense of security” (“The Celling of the Backcountry,” vol. 60 no. 4, pages 48–59).

Roman does believe cell phones “have saved lives” because they enabled hikers to call for help and provided navigational technology, and I was told that all SAR personnel are required to carry cell phones and other emergency locator technology. But it’s unclear if cell phones have reduced overall deaths. Since joining NHFG in 1992, Kneeland has not noticed a decline in hiker deaths per capita, which suggests that cell phones have not made the mountains safer.

To put it another way: Would deaths spike if cell phones disappeared? “I feel people would self-rescue more, find their way out, crawl out,” said Marunowski of the USFS. “I wouldn’t be more worried.”

Kneeland said he’d never criticized a hiker for not carrying a cell phone. In fact, many times he’d wished hikers hadn’t carried cell phones at all. The device has led to a rash of nuisance calls, particularly during the shortening days of autumn when hikers are “trapped by darkness.” Almost every night in fall is a triage for Kneeland, who often finds himself hunched over a computer, toggling between maps, handling call after call from hikers who carried no map or lamp.

“When something starts going wrong, hikers are quick to call 911 and request assistance,” said Kneeland. “I’m not opposed to giving that assistance, but a lot of times they probably could have worked themselves out of their mess by carrying appropriate equipment such as a map or headlamp or something like that.”

Sometimes Kneeland will tell a benighted hiker to wait for another person to come down the trail with a headlamp, or to enjoy a night in the woods and self-rescue when the sun rises. That rarely goes over well. “They’re going to call me every five minutes,” he said. “Quite often they keep you up half the night, so you might as well go get them and be done with it so you can go back to bed.”

Everyone expects Kneeland’s immediate attention, as we’ve all come to expect instant service in all forms: an Amazon delivery, a Google search result, a 911 response. Nobody is willing to wait patiently for the aid of a Good Samaritan or the morning sunlight. Sandy Stott, the Accidents editor of this journal, even heard of a group that called 911 asking for two things: directions out of Tuckerman Ravine and a delivery of pizza.

A Prayer

Under the full force of August’s midday sun, the relentless, mile-long talus field up Owl’s Head felt heart attack–inducing—especially with a whimpering child on my back. Dirt and rocks shifted underfoot as if I was in beach sand. An unofficial trail, the path felt like one of the more precarious in the White Mountains, where a slip could easily turn serious. (Two years earlier, in fact, a man reportedly had suffered a “medical emergency” here and died.)

We finally topped out on the forested summit dome. After another quarter-mile hike through the bush, we stopped at a trail-ending cairn, where I set Manny down. I swallowed some ibuprofen. Manny trotted about and pooped in his diaper. This would be his twentieth and final diaper change above 4,000 feet, as I’d been keeping tally since we started this whole endeavor more than a year earlier.

Coming down Owl’s Head, we crossed paths with a brawny, shirtless man trudging uphill with a four-foot-long log propped over his shoulder. He said the log weighed 25 pounds and that he was training for a strongman competition. We then passed a father and his teenaged son, and the father seemed to eye me judgmentally. I jittered downhill and skirted around him. The ibuprofen had put a pep in my step.

“It’s a good thing you’re not alone,” the father said.

“Right, I’ve got my 1-year-old with me!” I responded.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said with a glare. “I’ll say a prayer for you.”

The man’s over-serious religiosity grated on me, as did the fact that he felt I needed somebody to watch over me. It seemed to underscore something about the desire many people have to remain connected with an all-powerful overseer, be it God overhead or AT&T in our pocket. We’re uncomfortable to the point of being existentially terrified at the idea of being alone. Going into the mountains used to force everybody to get comfortable with that aloneness. It was baked into the adventure. Now it’s an option that more and more people opt out of.

I would later recount my trip to Ty Gagne, another father who has brought his kids into the White Mountains many times. He’s also the author of two of the most well-read books about accidents in the White Mountains, so I wanted his assessment of my decision to do a 24-mile wilderness hike with a 1-year-old and without any communications technology. Gagne’s first book, Where You’ll Find Me, recounted the 2015 death of Kate Matrosova, whose rescue was delayed when her personal locator beacon emitted a series of conflicting coordinates that initially sent rescuers in the wrong direction; technology failed her. His second book, The Last Traverse, told the story of two hikers stranded on Franconia Ridge in February 2008 with no communications device; technology might have saved them.

Neither of those books is a lesson about technology being a menace or messiah, Gagne told me. The lesson from both is how our own behaviors and emotions fuel our decisions. And he found it a reasonable emotion to want to disconnect when in the mountains.

“I miss the simplicity that existed before this kind of distraction tool that’s become an extension of our bodies,” Gagne said. So far as the wisdom of bringing a 1-year-old deep into the woods, Gagne reserved judgment. “I can’t sit here and criticize what you did because people have been hiking in the backcountry without technology longer than they haven’t.”

Phone-Free Zones

As part of my research, I reviewed the past decade of Accidents reports from this journal to see how cell phones have played into rescues. If essential, wouldn’t cell phones be celebrated as lifesaving devices?

I found phones often mentioned in a negative light. A winter hiker took her smartphone up Mount Monroe, then took so many photos that her battery died, and with it her map. There was the teenaged trio who embarked in late afternoon on a nine-mile hike with total equipment of “a half-bottle of vitamin water and three cell phones”; they spent a rainy, hungry night in the woods when they lost cell service, and their way. There were numerous incidents of hikers calling for help when they could have problem-solved their way out. Once, more than 30 rescuers responded to a hiker with an injured ankle who, ultimately, was able to walk down. The device caters to panic. In another incident, a hiker called 911 for another group, which later told the 911 responder that it never wanted help.

“Clearly, there is a lot less ‘muddling one’s way out,’ and a lot more pressing buttons for help,” Stott wrote in one Accidents column. In his 2019 book Critical Hours (University Press of New England), Stott recounted the egregious case of a man who called for help from Mount Adams because he’d injured his leg. A SAR crew carried the man down four miles of steep terrain. At the parking lot, the injured hiker rose from the litter, stood on both feet, and announced he was OK then. In another recent case, a Dartmouth College student got lost within 1.5 miles of Moosilauke Ravine Lodge. He’d been looking at his phone as he hiked; when he looked up, he couldn’t spot the trail. He was found two days later, shoeless and hypothermic.

“Trading the actual world for the screened one invites collision with objects such as trees, stones, or mailboxes,” Stott commented in his Accidents report. “But the loss of awareness of one’s real world is deeper than that. The screen life becomes the familiar one; the real life becomes surpassingly strange.” Stott’s warning resonated for me. Were I to hike with a smartphone, I worry that I’d become overly obsessed with the tiny screen, checking email and whatever else from the trail, endangering myself and Manny because I’d lose focus of my surroundings.

In a phone interview, Stott told me I wasn’t wrong to detect his exasperation with cell phones. “A lot of times, at the first sign of difficulty, people get on their phones in no small measure because that’s the habit that seems to be reinforced and reinforced and reinforced, and so it’s gotten stronger,” he said.

Stott has watched this trend play out over a quarter-century. In that prescient 1997 article “The Celling of the Backcountry,” he described a weekend trek up Mount Jefferson when he found that half of all hikers carried cell phones; one man even claimed to have “done deals from all over these mountains,” meaning business transactions. Cell phones were already ubiquitous—so much so that the USFS was discouraging the use of phones in the woods and campgrounds because they intruded on “the backcountry experience,” there was a “consensus” among SAR officials that “cell phone use in the mountains was ‘getting out of hand’” with nuisance calls, and in 1995 the Randolph Mountain Club had instituted a no-phones rule at its shelters.

RMC still prohibits cell phone use at its four backcountry shelters. Each shelter has a sign that reads, “Cell Phone Free Zone,” which is enforced by the club’s caretakers and field supervisors. The nonprofit’s camps chair, Carl Herz, told me that enforcement is a kind of mental jujitsu or Jedi mind trick—an effort to convince visitors that the rule is in their best interest, and that the sound of the wind is preferable to that of a TikTok video.

“Nobody wants to run into a sheriff,” Herz said. “It’s more about trying to facilitate an environment where they don’t want to look at their phone. You might need to gently remind people about the policy and just say, ‘Hey, we ask that people use those outside. We try to keep it pixel-free indoors. I know you need to let your wife know you’re OK, but step outside and then come back in and eat by the lantern.’”

The Gray Knob caretaker for seven seasons from 2015 to 2018, Herz said he could count on his hands the number of times he had to crack down on phones. But there was one memorable incident. In the fall of 2015, a group of eight hikers arrived around 9 p.m. and began complaining about the spotty cell service. Herz casually mentioned that cell phones weren’t allowed inside but added that Crag Camp, a half-mile away, had excellent reception. Without any prodding, the group packed up and hiked through the dark to Crag, such was their desire to get online.

For Herz, it was a small victory to get phones away from the others at Gray Knob. To me, it sounded like a desecration of the sanctity of Crag Camp, like peeing in the church baptismal when nobody’s looking. But the reality was that it was impossible for Herz to be an all-seeing enforcer at all four of RMC’s shelters, so he had to choose his battles.

In contrast with RMC, the Appalachian Mountain Club has no regulations against phones at its two lodges, eight huts, and numerous backcountry shelters—which see tens of thousands more people every year than RMC’s 1,200 annual overnighters. Although cell service is spotty at Joe Dodge Lodge and the Highland Center, both facilities have strong Wi-Fi. In fact, the last time I stayed at Joe Dodge—the night before Manny and I completed a one-day, 20-mile Moriah-Carter-Wildcat traverse in June 2021—my cousin streamed a National Basketball Association Finals game on his smartphone late into the evening from his nearby bunkbed. (I confess I wanted to be kept updated on the score.)

Half of AMC’s campsites have cell service, according to Joe Roman, who along with being the organization’s SAR coordinator is also its campsite program and conservation manager. Phones usually aren’t an issue, he said. But there are cell phone–related annoyances, such as when AllTrails lists the wrong price for campsites and hikers show up expecting a lower fee—which might be the least of all problems with apps that are notoriously inaccurate and often downplay trails’ difficulty while focusing on their Instagramability.

At AMC’s huts, phone etiquette has improved as texting has become a more common, discreet means of communication, according to Huts Manager Bethany Taylor. She said AMC has even encouraged smartphone use by inviting hikers to participate in long-range phenology studies with such apps as iNaturalist.

“Using that app, folks can take pictures of flora and fauna along the way, which will help them identify the species, and the life stage of the plant, as well as provide the exact location of the plant,” said Taylor. “This is all collected and mapped out as a huge collaborative research project and shows more accurately when and where different species are budding, flowering, and fruiting.” A wealth of crowdsourced data is being collected.

“The trick, I think, that we’re all learning is to utilize smartphones as tools and to know when, where, and how they augment the experience of being in these special places,” Taylor added.

Somewhat ironically, RMC has also found cell phones to be useful. Since 2017, the club has stashed a smartphone at either Gray Knob or Crag Camp as a backup to its emergency radio and pager. The device is also used to process overnight fees—although, per club rules, the transaction occurs outside.

Tech Education

How do we keep cell phones in their appropriate place? One response is a “Katahdinesque” approach, as Stott calls it. Maine forbids the operation of radios, televisions, cassette players, and cell phones in Baxter State Park in an effort to follow former Governor Percival Baxter’s request that the land “forever be kept and remain in the natural wild state.” In the same vein, the park goes light on SAR because it takes away from the spirit of being in a wild place.

But even Baxter State Park is struggling to stay Katahdinesque. A previous park director told Stott that the no-phones policy had to be relaxed to attract young workers who wanted access to their devices. Visitors had also pushed against the regulation. In 2018, a park ranger told me they’d essentially given up on cell phone enforcement. At the summit of Katahdin that year, I found people taking selfies with their iPhones and making calls. A cell tower blinked on the horizon.

The White Mountains—being just a few hours from Boston and Montreal—are all the more accessible to millions of people, allowing the cell phone culture of the frontcountry to more easily pervade that New Hampshire backcountry. In 1997, USFS’s Rebecca Oreskes told Appalachia (“The Celling of the Backcountry,” page 55), it would be impossible to prohibit cell phones in wilderness areas. Herz of RMC also said there was no way to altogether ban phones in a public resource such as the White Mountains—not to mention in a state whose motto is Live Free or Die—so the best option is “education of reasonable use of tech.”

And one of the best education initiatives in the White Mountains, according to Lieutenant Kneeland, is the Trailhead Stewards Program. Started in 2014 by John Marunowski of the USFS, the program has grown—with financial assistance from the Waterman Fund, founded in memory of Guy Waterman—to include 150 volunteers who station from May to October at the five busiest trailheads in the White Mountains (Appalachia, Welch-Dickey, Falling Waters, Bridle Path, and Ammonoosuc Ravine). A single trailhead can see as many as 500 hikers in a morning.

“A lot of the stewards are playing triage,” Marunowski told me. “Somebody walks up to us and they’re about to hit the trail. We engage them and do a quick once-over of what they’re carrying. Are they prepared?”

The answer is often a resounding no, with overreliance on cell phones being a culprit. At Champney Brook trailhead one October weekend, a steward found that one in five hikers carried the recommended paper map; the majority relied on maps on their phones. Another time, the steward discovered hordes of Columbus Day hikers “unaware that they would need water, additional clothing, and that a paper map was preferable to a picture on the cell phone,” according to an Accidents report in this journal. (Compared with those hikers, Manny and I were almost comically overprepared with our paper map, two lights, and 11 pounds [5 liters] of water.)

It’s an uphill battle to influence people. About one in ten hikers will take a steward’s advice, be it to add layers or do a different hike, according to Marunowski. But even that is enough to help prevent incidents, according to Kneeland. His SAR team averages 200 missions a year, plus another 150 cases where the situation can be handled over the phone. The number of phoneonly responses jumped to 186 in 2020 when people flocked to the woods during the pandemic and the Trailhead Stewards Program was suspended.

Stephen Kurczy. Manny with his parents, author Stephen Kurczy and Jenna Cho, atop Mount Jackson, on October 10, 2020.

When encountering unprepared hikers, trail stewards focus on the hike-Safe ten essentials. If hikers say their phones cover those essentials, it might spark a conversation about the superior reliability of a paper map and headlamp to a smartphone that’s hemorrhaging battery power every time you swipe right. If hikers display poor phone etiquette, such as playing music over a Bluetooth speaker connected to their smartphone, the stewards will speak up.

“We’d say, ‘People go into nature because they want to appreciate the sights and sounds of nature, and we would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself,’” Marunowski said.

Serendipity

From Owl’s Head, Manny and I still had nine miles between us and civilization. With the mental burden of 48 peaks behind me, I was soon skipping at a pace of four miles an hour. After a few miles, I veered onto an unmarked path that seemed to point in the general direction of home. I’d heard of an unofficial trail known as the Black Pond Bushwhack that could eliminate several water crossings and a mile or two. For a half hour, I anxiously wondered if I was on the correct bushwhack or a dead-end deer path. There was a sense of excitement and exploration in not being able to check my GPS location.

Soon we popped out at Black Pond, then converged with the Lincoln Woods Trail—we were home free. I looked down the long, tree-lined corridor of what was once a railroad bed and saw a familiar figure approaching. It was Jenna carrying our 3-month-old. (The previous year, Jenna had completed half of all the 4,000-footers with Manny and me, but our second child had sidelined her peakbagging endeavors.) The fact that we were reconnecting without relying on phones made our reunion even more serendipitous.

I’m not trying to argue that extreme hikes with kids are for everyone. But I am using my hike as a way of arguing against cell phones in the wilderness. If Manny and I could safely do such a trek, and without broad condemnation from respected voices in the Northeast’s mountain community, then I believe we all can start ditching our cell phones. It might help defend the spirit of the backcountry.

Because as surely as phones have infiltrated the mountains, won’t more invasive technology? It’s not hard to imagine hikers one day wearing Oculus headsets or another kind of virtual reality augmentation to enhance their experience. Think of the boon to safety. SAR officials could, in emergency situations, don their own VR headsets at home, and the officer could be virtually alongside the hiker, encouraging them down the mountain. “Virtual stewards” could station everywhere. Reality will increasingly blur with irreality, just as it’s happening every day with GPS replacing maps, Zoom replacing offices, social media replacing friendships. . . .

I go into the woods to escape that contrived world of fake plastic trees, which means leaving cell phones behind and embracing the rewards of going off-line.

* Backwoods Ethics was issued again in 1993. In 2016, Countryman Press (now a division of Norton) brought out a new edition called The Green Guide to Low-Impact Hiking and Camping.

If you enjoyed this story, you might consider subscribing to our Appalachia Journal.

The post Do Cell Phones Belong in the Mountains? appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

Youth on a trip organized by an Educators Outdoors-trained leader at the Ecology Village in Floyd Bennet Field, Brooklyn, New York.

On the sixth floor of the Appalachian Mountain Club’s headquarters in Boston is a treasure trove of gear. But it’s not for most AMC members. Nor is it even for AMC staff. It’s for teachers and youth leaders. 

Since 1968 Educators Outdoors (EO) has been the Appalachian Mountain Club’s outdoor education, professional development, and social justice program. What started as a training session for educators in Roxbury, Massachusetts has grown into a support model for over 400 educators per year, engaging thousands of young people with outdoor experiences. The program primarily serves communities of color and lower-income communities around New York City and the greater Boston area, groups that remain underrepresented in outdoor recreation. 

Grandy Organics is proud to partner with AMC to sponsor these incredible outdoor leadership programs for youth. We wholeheartedly believe that everyone should be able to access the outdoors and spend time enjoying what this beautiful planet has to offer. The more people we get outside, the more people appreciate the planet and ultimately work to protect it. We all win. 

A 1975 Outdoor Leadership Training at AMC Cardigan Lodge.

Training the Trainer 

At the heart of Educators Outdoors’s work is a unique “train the trainer” approach. 

AMC believes that youth outdoor experiences are most effective when led by people who know their participants the best: teachers and youth agency staff. AMC gives these youth development professionals the experience and resources they need to confidently lead trips.  

“We’re not going into the community and saying ‘we’re gonna take your kids out.’ Rather, we’re going into the community and looking for folks who are interested in getting [young people closer to nature] with the support of the AMC,” says Sebastien Venuat, Director of Educators Outdoors.  

It all begins with multi-day Outdoor Leadership Trainings, which take place throughout the year. These experiential trainings focus on the essentials: technical skills in camping and hiking, risk management, and outdoor leadership. But they remain loose. Every idea about how to get young people outdoors is on the table. 

“During the workshop, there is a lot of time where we just brainstorm. What will it look like for you and your young people [to get outdoors]? Does it include a hike? Or is it just a walk? Does it include actually setting up a campsite with a tent?” says Venuat.  

An Outdoor Leadership Training at AMC’s Mohican Outdoor Center in Blairstown, New Jersey. Venuat is third from right.

Thinking outside the box about what an outdoor experience can mean is especially important given the limited transportation to “wild” spaces that many leaders and youth face. A June 2023 Camping Outdoor Leadership Training, for example, included multiple participants with backgrounds in gardening and composting. This led to a larger discussion about gardening as a potential outdoor adventure. 

While workshops may change to suit the needs of educators, the goal is always to empower them to lead confidently and help their young people form a deep and lasting relationship with the outdoors.

Trip Support Coordinator Zoe Hecht at AMC’s Boston gear lending library.

Providing for the Community  

AMC’s support for educators doesn’t end with a training. The barriers faced by many youth leaders and their communities go beyond outdoor education and include transportation, time, and expensive gear. To help address these issues, AMC offers a full continuum of services once EO-trained educators are ready to take their kids on trips. This includes:  

• Free use of outdoor equipment and gear from eight AMC gear lending libraries; 
• Advanced skills workshops on topics including canoeing, winter hiking, backpacking, biking, and more; 
• Trip-planning assistance;  
• Mini-grants, training scholarships, and subsidized stays at AMC facilities;  
• Continued access to the EO support network. 

At AMC’s Boston headquarters, AMC Trip Support Coordinator Zoe Hecht sorts through sleeping bags and other camping gear, preparing for a school group. EO-trained educators request the gear they need for a trip two to three weeks in advance. Hecht and other AMC staff members handle logistics from there. 

The gear lending library includes more than just basic camping and backpacking gear. There are warm coats and hiking boots. Snowshoes and cross-country skis. Cookware of all kinds. One corner even boasts a small collection of sleds. This array of gear gives educators options for what kinds of programming they can offer. It’s another example of EO’s trust in its trained educators to know what their young people need.  

“They’re all amazing leaders within their communities. They know their kids, they know their youth development goals,” says Venuat. 

The Appalachian Mountain Club believes the outdoors should be accessible to everyone, regardless of race and income. When young people get the chance to be outdoors, it opens their horizons. Educators Outdoors is a manifestation of this belief. The program not only helps youth have fun outside, it elevates underrepresented voices in the next generation of outdoor recreation. It’s an investment that matters, and we at Grandy are happy to help.

The post The Impact of Educators Outdoors appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

Courtesy of the Mount Washington Observatory Library.

April 11, 1934: It was relatively warm on the summit of Mount Washington. Below freezing, but not by much. But more comfortable temperatures were not a reason for relief for the staff of the Mount Washington Observatory. Two walls of the observatory building were caked in ice nearly a foot deep and the wind was picking up. The observers decided to stay up in shifts that night, taking measurements with a radio to an anemometer (a special device for measuring wind speed) and a stopwatch. 

“There was big weather out there, and the instruments would need tending,” wrote William Lowell Putnam in his history of the Observatory, The Worst Weather on Earth. 

The wind picked up all night. By mid-day on April 12, Observatory staff were recording gusts of more than 200 miles–per hour. Then it happened.  

231 miles–per hour. A world record for the highest wind speed ever recorded to date. Still the highest wind speed ever witnessed in person. 

Capturing the measurement was a major scientific achievement for the fledging Mount Washington Observatory, then just eighteen months old. But it was also a victory for the Appalachian Mountain Club and its Huts Manager, Joe Dodge. Dodge was a life-long advocate for scientific research on New England’s highest peak and a co-founder of the observatory. All the men on the summit that day had been AMC employees at one time. 

Today the Appalachian Mountain Club and the Mount Washington Observatory’s work and missions remain entwined. AMC’s backcountry huts in the White Mountains depend on forecasts from the observatory to prepare staff and guests for the day’s adventures. Scientists from the two organizations frequently collaborate to study the impacts of climate change on our region. 

Courtesy of the Mount Washington Observatory Library.

The Beginnings 

As long as people have been living near Mount Washington, they’ve been in awe of its wild, unpredictable weather.  

The Abenaki name for the mountain is Agiocochook, which can be translated as “Mother Goddess of the Storm.” In the winter of 1870, Dartmouth College professor Charles H. Hitchcock and a small team built a temporary weather station in a railroad building, sharing reports via telegraph. The next year the U.S. Army Signal Service established a full-time weather station on the summit of Mount Washington. But when the government closed the project in 1892, the high peaks of the White Mountains were without consistent meteorological data for almost 40 years. 

Until AMC Huts Manager Joe Dodge came along. 

“Often, folks that have some knowledge of Joe think of him as just a long-time AMC huts manager. But he also had a very strong technical streak and scientific streak,” said Dr. Peter Crane, Mount Washington Observatory Curator. 

Crane’s workplace, the Mount Washington Observatory’s Gladys Brooks Memorial Library in North Conway, New Hampshire, is filled with reminders of Dodge’s legacy: letters from Dodge to friends and donors, made out on both AMC and Observatory letterhead. Studious notes on the newest innovations in radio, a lifelong passion of his that would play a role in his co-founding a weather observatory. 

Dr. Peter Crane in the Mount Washington Observatory Gladys Brooks Memorial Library, North Conway, New Hampshire. Photo by Matt Morris.

Joe Dodge was enamored with radio as a teen, even building his own amateur setup. When the U.S. entered World War I, he dropped out of high school and worked as a radio operator on a naval submarine. A few years after returning home, he moved to New Hampshire’s North Country and found work as the hutmaster at AMC Pinkham Notch Lodge. Today it’s called Joe Dodge Lodge. 

Dodge soon saw the impact of the White Mountains’ volatile weather – and what it could mean to understand and predict it. In 1927, after historic flooding in New England, he worked with a Dartmouth College professor to set up precipitation recording at AMC’s backcountry huts. He then became a U.S. Weather Bureau official observer for the area. 

Dodge made another Dartmouth connection around this time, future Observatory co-founder Bob Monahan. Monahan was just a college sophomore when he organized a Christmas break trip to take weather data on the summit of Mount Washington. He met Dodge passing through Pinkham Notch, and the two bonded over a shared desire to rebuild a year-round weather station on the mountain. 

“[They] decided that that example given by the 19th century weather observers was too good to pass up. They talked about reinstalling or reoccupying Mount Washington,” said Crane. 

Scientific funding during the Great Depression was hard to come by, but the pair found a way. In 1932 Dodge gave a presentation on the potential of an observatory at a meeting of the New Hampshire Academy of Science. His talk impressed Academy President James W. Goldthwait so much that the organization decided to make a major donation. 

“[The Academy of Science] figured out how much they would need for their basic operations for another year. They set that money aside and everything else in the treasury was given to Joe Dodge for starting up the observatory,” said Crane. 

Just like that, the Mount Washington Observatory was on its way to becoming a reality. 

From left: McKenzie, Monahan, Dodge, Pagliuca. Courtesy of the Mount Washington Observatory Library.

The Early Observatory 

With funding secured, Dodge and Monahan set to work turning a seasonal office building on the summit (courtesy of the Mount Washington Summit Road Company) into a modern scientific station that could withstand inhospitable conditions. In written reflection on this time, Observatory mainstay Alex McKenzie remembered days of hard work, surrounded by friends from across the AMC hut system: 

After the storm windows had been placed, the chains over the roof tightened, and all the work of making the place livable had been finished, we were free to start making our Observatory, installing instruments, wiring the house for electricity, building and setting up radio equipment. Joe had enlisted Itchy Mills… Ralph Batchelder, mule skinner and hutmaster par excellence, and Wen Stephenson, prospective hermit of Carter Notch, to help the Observatory crew at the start. 

When construction was completed, a small crew hunkered down for the Mount Washington Observatory’s inaugural winter. Each had previously worked for the Appalachian Mountain Club. Monahan stayed on the summit full-time while Dodge split his duties between the Observatory and Pinkham Notch. Joining them was Galehead Hutmaster Salvatore Pagliuca and backcountry skiing pioneer Albert Fleetford Sise. McKenzie replaced Sise later that year. 

Winter on the mountain was challenging. Trips halfway down the mountain for supplies could involve high winds and limited visibility. Most observatory staff only took five days off a month, and contact with the outside world was limited to the radio and occasional visitors. 

“At the moment our last remaining friend had disappeared into the fog, we became men rather than boys,” recalled McKenzie. 

But there were moments of joy. In Worst Weather on Earth, Putnam recounts a visit from Joe Dodge’s wife, Cherstine, carrying a batch of oatmeal cookies that “disappeared like magic.” The crew were kept company by a “monumentally unhousebroken” dog and a cat. While, supposedly, no one was excited to have the cat there, the tradition of the observatory cat continues to this day. By 1934 eight cats were living on the summit.  

What attracted those early crews to the summit of Mount Washington? Conditions were tough and isolation near constant. Observers served on a volunteer basis, only receiving room and board. While the pay is much improved, the draw of working on New England’s highest peaks, whether as a meteorologist or AMC Hut Croo, remains the same for many: adventure and the comradery that comes with living in an environment unlike any other. 

Courtesy of the Mount Washington Observatory Library.

Keeping the Backcountry Safe 

With the tradition established by its founding staff and worldwide publicity after measuring a world record wind, the Mount Washington Observatory continued to grow. Staff moved from their borrowed office to a new facility and began a partnership with the U.S. Weather Bureau. They also integrated Joe Dodge’s first love, the radio, into their work. The results were pivotal not just for science, but for the outdoor recreation culture Dodge and the AMC were creating in the White Mountains. 

“Reports about ski conditions and the weather forecasts were in part for safety reasons and part to encourage tourism… From a commercial angle for Joe [Dodge], he wanted to have a successful winter. He wanted skiers who came all the way up from Boston,” said Crane. 

From the start Dodge and Alex McKenzie, a skilled radio technician in his own right, intended for the Observatory to share their weather reporting with the world. They began broadcasting their forecasts to the Blue Hill Observatory down in Milton, Massachusetts. From there, reports were shared with the U.S. Weather Bureau’s Boston Office and sent to a broadcast in Washington D.C., according to an article by McKenzie in the Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society. The pair also found an important use for the radio closer to home. 

In 1933 a young hiker named Simon Joseph went missing in cloudy conditions on his way to AMC Lakes of the Clouds Hut. To aid the search, Observatory staff sent the hut’s Croo a newfangled device they’d built over the winter – a twenty-pound portable radio system. While Joseph’s body was unfortunately found too late, the impact of using radio to coordinate a search did not go unnoticed. According to author Nicholas Howe in his book Not Without Peril, the effort had global implications for how rescues are carried out.  

Alex McKenzie works the Observatory radio. Courtesy of the Mount Washington Observatory Library.

“The AMC was so impressed by reports of the Joseph episode that their high-elevation huts – Lakes, Madison, and Greenleaf – were equipped with portable two-way radios… Word spread, and by 1938 the Swiss were equipping their mountain refuges with thirty-pound portables.”

Perhaps more important than the searches the radio system aided are all the missions that never happened because radio communication between huts and the Observatory kept hikers informed about changing weather patterns. 

Aside from improvements, it’s generally the same system both organizations use today. 

Each morning at 7am sharp, hut Croos tune their radios to the Observatory’s daily forecast. Croos share these reports with their guests at breakfast and write them down for passing hikers to see. In a place where phones quickly lose battery and cell service is limited, radio reports give hikers the information they need to make smart decisions. 

Understanding Climate Change 

The Mount Washington Observatory doesn’t just collect its data for the daily weather forecast. Reports are stored for posterity, creating a reliable, consistent scientific record almost a century-long. Data sets like these are rare, especially in the backcountry. Between the Observatory and AMC’s 90 years of weather reporting at nearby Pinkham Notch, the Mount Washington area is fortunate to have two such records. By sharing their resources, scientists from the two organizations have taken advantage of a unique opportunity to understand the fragile environments they steward. 

Observers using a weather balloon in the 1930s. Historic data helps today’s scientists understand climate change in the region. Courtesy of the Mount Washington Observatory Library.

In 2021 AMC Staff Scientist Georgia Murray published a study utilizing Observatory and Pinkham Notch data focused on temperatures and snowfall on Mount Washington from 1917 to the present. Murray found that New England’s highest peak, once relatively insulated from the impacts of climate change, is now warming at a statistically significant rate. Since 1917 the mountain has seen 20 fewer “frost days,” or days where the temperature is below freezing. Snowpack is declining, and the growing season for plants is getting longer. 

Much of that change has been in the last 20 years. 

“Our paper found that for the first time, the summit is tipping to what we call significantly warming,” said Murray, speaking to WMUR. 

The founders of the Mount Washington Observatory may not have had climate change on their minds, but their measurements have proved instrumental to our understanding of its effects in the Northeast.  

“Since 1932, Mount Washington Observatory has built one of only a few high-altitude, long-term records of weather and climate worldwide. This record provides huge benefits to scientific research, including our own climate studies, grant-funded projects, partnerships with universities, and product testing,” says Observatory Executive Director Drew Bush.  

Research like Murray’s informs policymakers and the public about the real, immediate, and close-to-home impact of climate change. Without the longstanding scientific relationship between AMC and the Mount Washington Observatory, a big piece of the report would have been missing. 

“Our missions are different, but the passion is the same… We couldn’t do this climate work without what they’re doing up there,” says Murray. 

The Mount Washington Observatory in the 21st century. Photo by Kristina Folcik, AMC Photo Contest.

Staying in Touch 

From shared staff and research grants to radio calls and rescues, it’s impossible to tell the history of AMC without the Mount Washington Observatory, and vice versa. Peter Crane, the Mount Washington Observatory Curator, doesn’t just record this history. He’s lived it. Before working at the Observatory, he was a ten-year AMC veteran, starting as a caretaker in Carter Notch Hut in 1978. In a 2006 article from the Hut Croo’s alumni association, the OHA, Crane says the skills he learned in his decade with AMC, from understanding the alpine environment to living in isolation, prepared him for his new job on the summit. In many ways, it’s a metaphor for the relationship between the two organizations. 

“The trend is toward working more closely with some of the things that both organizations have been involved in for many, many decades. Hiker safety and hiker awareness. Protection of the environment. Climate awareness… It’s a big mountain, and there’s plenty of room for many organizations that are working for better experiences for the public and for the environment.” 

Nothing is safe from the passage of time, even in the seemingly constant mountains. Observatory staff (and beloved “Obs” cats) come and go. The Pinkham Notch outpost that Joe Dodge helped turn into the center of White Mountain recreation is now named in his memory. Weather patterns shift and temperatures rise. But the partnership between AMC and the Mount Washington Observatory remains strong. 

“It’s great that we’ve stayed in touch for 90 years,” says Crane. 

The post The Shared History of AMC and the Mount Washington Observatory appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

AMC Gorman Chairback Lodge and Cabins, Maine. Photo by Cait Bourgault.

Whether it’s holidays, birthdays, or other special events, gathering and spending time with loved ones is always a joyous occasion. 

But it can often feel like our celebrations lend themselves to waste: disposable plates and cups, wrapping paper used just once before it’s thrown away, so much food that it can’t all be eaten. U.S. households throw away 25% more trash between Thanksgiving and New Year’s than other times of the year: over 1 million extra tons of garbage, mostly packaging. How can we celebrate while lessening our environmental impact?   

Read on to learn AMC’s top tips for honoring the special things in life sustainably.  

Rethink Gifts  

Giving gifts is a way we express our love or pride in someone. But, too often, we throw away items we don’t want or need, contributing to the growing issue of waste on our planet. Instead of giving a new item, consider one of the following:   

• Exchange an experience: Experiences can range from overnight stays at a new place to cooking classes, depending on the person’s interests. Or gift your own time trying something new or doing a favorite activity together. AMC has a range of destinations and guided adventures for you to try! 

• Find secondhand presents: Whether it’s at a thrift shop or online marketplace, look for like-new items that already exist.

• Make a gift: Are you a painter? A knitter? Even if you don’t consider yourself “crafty,” you can still make a collage or photo album or bake something like cookies. Using your skills to create something offers the opportunity for a meaningful, one-of-a-kind present. Bonus points if the craft materials come from a secondhand shop! 

Sustainable gift wrapping paper. Photo by Gabriella Gurney.

Put Away the Packaging

You’re probably used to wrapping your gifts in colorful paper or plastic. It’s a fun tradition, but it can be wasteful. Instead of new wrapping paper, consider: 

• Making your own: Old magazine pages, newspaper, or brown paper can be repurposed into unique gift wraps. Try taping them together to make large sheets and adding stamps or drawings to elevate plain paper.  
• Using part of the gift: wrap items in a colorful dish towel or blanket, making the packaging part of the gift itself.   
• Re-using what you have: Save and reuse bags and boxes instead of buying them. If they’re not ripped, torn, or otherwise marked, they’re as good as new!  

DIY Decorations  

We often buy specific decorations for special occasions, but this can pack a wasteful punch when the event is over. Many decorations are plastic or plastic-based, which has a serious impact. According to the National Resource Defense Council, we produce 300 million tons of plastic each year, and 91% of all plastic is never recycled. 

• Look to the thrifts: Instead of buying new decorations from the store, try finding them secondhand. Thrift stores and online pages often have like-new decorations looking for a new home, available at a lower cost and without the environmental impact of purchasing something new.  
• DIY: If you’re feeling creative, try making your own decorations. There are plenty of crafty DIY options, like a cheery garland made out of dried orange slices or streamers from pieces of cloth. Many DIYs can be made with natural or secondhand materials, reducing their environmental impact. Plus they add a personal touch!  

AMC International Dinner at Joe Dodge Lodge, Pinkham Notch, New Hampshire. Photo by Corey David Photography.

Dinner Decisions 

One of the best parts of any party is the food! Thinking about what we eat and how we eat it helps us celebrate more sustainably.  

• Go plant-based: Try vegetarian or vegan snacks, sides, or even a main dish over a traditional roast or steak. Studies show that eating less meat and dairy significantly lowers our carbon footprint, with vegan diets emitting 75% less greenhouse gases than meat-eaters. Trying new foods can be a fun experience, and plant-based swaps are easier than you realize. Don’t know where to start? Our Real Trail Meals cookbook has plenty of vegetarian and vegan options and ideas. 
• Re-use: Opt for reusable plates, cups, cutlery, and napkins over single-use disposables, which end up in oceans or landfills.  
• Think ahead: A whopping 70 billion pounds of food is sent to the landfill every year, so thinking ahead is imperative to avoid food waste. Try adjusting recipes to limit leftovers and cater to your guest number. You can then freeze extra food or send home leftovers with guests. Planning for extras can help to reduce food waste.  

AMC Harriman Outdoor Center, Harriman State Park, New York. Photo by Dan Klempa.

Dress to Impress 

When we celebrate, we want to do so in style. Too often, we buy clothes for a party or event only to wear them once. There are a few ways to celebrate in sustainable style.   

• Outfit repeat: It’s ok to wear the same thing to more than one event! Using what we already have is always the most sustainable option. You can also try to “upcycle” what you have, which means mending, altering, or adding to your clothes to give them a style facelift.  
• Borrow or swap: If you have a friend or family member who’s the same size as you, look for something appropriate for your event in their closet. Borrow from them, or trade some of your items for it!  
• Rent or thrift: If you don’t have something you need, try a thrift or consignment shop, or look online. Renting is an especially great option for formal wear, which doesn’t get used very often. 
• If you buy, buy with intent: Sometimes we can’t find any secondhand alternatives. If you need to buy clothing for an event, aim for timeless items. Ideally, the garment is something you’ll wear for multiple occasions, in a classic style that will stand the test of time.  

Celebrating special events doesn’t have to mean buying new things or creating excess waste. With just a few extra considerations, all our events can be more environmentally friendly. 

The post AMC’s Guide for Celebrating Sustainably appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

Inspired by our popular fall foliage tracker, we’re providing snow depth reports from AMC locations in Maine and New Hampshire (a snow-liage tracker, if you will).

Check back weekly for the information you need to start planning your next winter adventure. Whether you’re looking for a family getaway or guided exploration of the backcountry, there’s an AMC destination for you.

Last Updated: January 8, 2024

New Hampshire

AMC Highland Center: 7”
Joe Dodge Lodge: 8”
Cardigan Lodge: 12”
Zealand Fall Hut: 7”
Carter Notch Hut: 9”
Lonesome Lake Hut: 12”

Maine

Stay tuned for January 11th, when AMC’s Maine destinations open for the winter.

The post AMC’s Winter Snow Report appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

Each category in the contest speaks to something we love about the outdoors. Land, Waters, and Wildlife for images of the environments we love and strive to protect. Outdoor Adventure for shots of outdoor recreation in action. Outdoors Close to Home for the photos that remind us that it doesn’t take an expensive trip to a remote location to enjoy the natural world. 

Wherever these photographers were, their images brought us along for the ride. From an icy river on a winter’s day to a beach during a hurricane. From New England’s highest peak to a small park outside a city. Each tells a story about a special place, whether animals on the prowl or humans taking solace in nature. 

So come see the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic through a new lens. The AMC Photo Contest 2023 winners have arrived. 

Grand Prize | “December Paddling” by Will Adamczak 

Location: Schroon River, Chester, New York 

Why We Loved It: In a year of incredible submissions, this one stood out. In the photo’s spare composition, we saw a lot: A lone individual taking on the elements, the beauty of ice forming. The contrast of white snow on dark waters, and the contrast of a bright coat with the natural surroundings. Through Adamczak’s lens, a winter paddle on a river in upstate New York becomes an epic adventure. 

Conservation Award | “Second Roach Pond” by Peter Shaw 

Location: Second Roach Pond, Medawisla Lodge and Cabins, Maine Woods, Maine 

Why We Loved It: Seeing a truly dark night sky is as simple as a trip to AMC’s Maine Woods International Dark Sky Park. Capturing it with a camera is a whole lot harder. Photographer Peter Shaw had long been fascinated by night sky photography, taking shots across New England. After a Dark Sky event at AMC Medawisla Lodge and Cabins, Shaw and astronomer John Meader set up their cameras on the banks of Second Roach Pond. The result transports us right to their side.   

Outdoor Adventure 

1st Prize, Outdoor Adventure | “Summit in the Valley” by Mike Censullo 

Location: Franconia Notch, White Mountain National Forest, New Hampshire 

Why We Loved It: This photo is an encapsulation of everything we love about our outdoor community. On a fall hike, Mike Censullo photographed two climbers summiting The Eaglet, along Franconia Ridge in the White Mountains. Censullo was ultimately able to share his work with his subjects, and a new friendship was born. The photo that brought them together is a stunning representation of both the climbers’ feat and their smallness against the backdrop of the mountains. 

2nd Prize, Outdoor Adventure | “The Surfer of Hurricane Lee” by Garrick Hoffman 

Location: Higgins Beach, Scarborough, Maine 

Why We Loved It: It’s no secret we love a good surfing shot. On the morning of Hurricane Lee, photographer Garrick Hoffman hit the beach with some friends to watch the waves. He also saw surfers taking advantage of big winds and rolling waters. The resulting photo shows that interplay between ocean and sky. Don’t try this at home! 

3rd Prize, Outdoor Adventure | “White Out on White Cap” by Eric Ward 

Location: White Cap Mountain, Maine Woods, Maine 

Why We Loved It: At first glance, it’s hard to tell if this photo was taken in black and white or color. What could have been austere instead feels joyful. You can feel the crispness of the cold air, and the excitement that surrounds the best winter outings. 

Lands, Waters, and Wildlife 

1st Prize, Lands, Waters, and Wildlife | “Fireworks under Lakes of the Clouds” by James Carlson 

Location: AMC Lakes of the Clouds Hut, White Mountain National Forest, New Hampshire 

Why We Loved It: Our judges enjoyed the contrast between the serenity of the White Mountains’ highest peak with a raucous Memorial Day celebration down in the valley. We’ve seen many wonderful photographs of AMC’s most popular high mountain hut. None are quite like this. 

2nd Prize, Lands, Waters, and Wildlife | “Egrets Take Off” by Biruk Abate 

Location: Wellfleet Wildlife Sanctuary, Wellfleet, Massachusetts 

Why We Loved It: It may be a still image, but it looks like a timelapse! If Abate had photographed one of these egrets taking off, we would have been impressed. Getting all four in a moment of symmetry with each other is masterful. 

3rd Prize, Lands, Waters, and Wildlife | “Lone Juvenile Barred Owl” Ryan Burg 

Location: Wilson Reservation, Dedham, Massachusetts 

Why We Loved It: You feel that? It’s the big eyes of this owl staring into your soul. Burg’s dusky shot is even more impressive considering the barred owl is generally nocturnal.  

“A short hike in Wilson Reservation led to this special encounter with a juvenile barred owl,” wrote photographer Ryan Burg. 

Outdoors Close to Home 

1st Prize, Lands, Outdoors Close to Home | “The Pounce” by James Doucett 

Location: Parker River National Wildlife Refuge, Newbury, Massachusetts 

Why We Loved It: Coyotes hunt by staying low to the ground, waiting patiently for the right opportunity to catch their prey. James Doucett clearly kept his wits about him to photograph this species in action. It’s a stunning mix of action and intimacy – bringing us up close to the coyote at the moment it makes the leap. We wouldn’t want to be whatever was just outside the frame! 

2nd Prize, Lands, Outdoors Close to Home | “Truro Dunes Hike” by Brett Willey 

Location: Cape Cod National Seashore, Truro, Massachusetts 

Why We Loved It: This composition is all about the little things. The texture of the sand. The way the subject’s blue clothing matches the sky. The complexity of the rolling dunes against a perfectly clear sky. Chef’s kiss. No notes. 

3rd Prize, Lands, Outdoors Close to Home | “Blue Bird of Happiness” by Judy Haran 

Location: North Point State Park, Baltimore County, Maryland 

Why We Loved It: One of our judges pointed out that there were only three colors in this shot. Each complements the other and combines for a photograph that’s fun and bright. The blue bunting. The yellow sunflower that looks like a sun. The green backdrop. Taken in North Point State Park, just outside of Baltimore, it’s also a reminder of the importance of urban and suburban green spaces for our communities and the planet. 

“This field of sunflowers was planted in July 2023 to preserve the surrounding grassy areas, and it attracted some rare indigo blue buntings,” wrote photographer Judy Haran.

People’s Choice

1st Prize, People’s Choice | “Accord and Satisfaction” by Mike Weinhold

Location: Chelmsford, Massachusetts

Why You Loved It: Many of our finalists captured their greatest, most remote adventures. People’s Choice winner Mike Weinhold found natural beauty right in his driveway.

“I was in the process of packing and grabbing something out of my wife’s car when I noticed the ice patterns along the metal surface of her Honda Accord. They were like tiny intricate feathers or a paisley patterned tie. I ran inside, grabbed my camera and macro lens, and dashed out to make photographs for a few minutes before the sun popped out from over our neighbor’s roof and the patterns evaporated,” wrote Weinhold.

People’s Choice Finalists:

“Focused on the Climb” by Alex Bonacio

“Walk in the Fog” by Biruk Abate

“Willow’s Curiosity” by Gabe Detter

“Omni Collisions” by Garrick Hoffman

“Sunset on Plum Island” Jim Thornhill

“Green Heron with Fish” by Kevin Fay

“Beautiful Eagle Pair” by Lisa O’Brien

“My Best Friend Jack” by Sarah Drane

“Breaking Trail on the Way to Mount Tom” by Siddharth Salunkhe

“Adirondack Aurora” by William Adamczak

“Sunflower Rest” by Sarah Kohrs

The post The 2023 AMC Photo Contest Winners Are Here appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

An alewife run. Alewives are another fish species benefiting from AMC’s habitat restoration work in Maine. Photo by John Lichter.

A river streaming with silvery scales. Tens of thousands of determined fish, swimming upstream and leaping over barriers to spawn. Water teeming with life. 

This sight was once common from the Gulf of Maine to some of the most remote streams and ponds in the Appalachian Mountains. In late fall female salmon would burrow into riverbeds and make nests of pebbles to deposit their eggs for the next generation of salmon to hatch and grow in the spring.  

Historic salmon populations in the Penobscot River and its tributaries once reached over 100,000 fish. Now that number is just over 1,000. 

Dams, pollution, and overfishing have caused a decline in Atlantic salmon numbers. However, the “King of Fish” isn’t gone yet — and with the help of AMC, this mighty fish is making a comeback in Maine. 

A juvenile Atlantic salmon, caught and released on the west branch of the Pleasant River.

Oceans and Rivers 

Atlantic salmon, also known as sea-run salmon, are large, predatory fish that thrive in cool, clean waters. They’re anadromous, meaning they live in both fresh and salt water. They live the first part of their lives in freshwater rivers before migrating to saltwater to mature, then returning to rivers to spawn.  

Atlantic salmon are an indicator species for water quality in their ecosystems, including not just rivers, but riverbanks and surrounding forests. A healthy salmon population can indicate clean water and a thriving ecosystem. A suffering population warns of the opposite. 

Roughly 200 years ago, Atlantic salmon populations began to crash. Dam construction and pollution from logging and industrial runoff made it almost impossible for them to return to spawn. At sea, commercial fishing operations decimated their numbers. In efforts to restore Atlantic salmon, commercial fisheries were closed in the U.S. in 1948. Log driving from the timber industry, which involved floating logs down salmon streams, was outlawed in Maine in 1976, briefly improving habitat quality and function. However, this wasn’t enough. In the 1980s and 1990s, recreational and catch-and-release salmon fishing stopped as the population continued to struggle. Atlantic salmon were listed as a federally Endangered Species in 2000. 

Today Maine is the only place in the United States where wild Atlantic salmon can be found. 95% of those salmon returns (when adult fish come back to spawn) occur in the Penobscot River and its tributaries. 

AMC staff and partners replacing a culvert with an ecological bridge, before and after. Photos by Garrett English and AMC staff.

Oh, Dam

Gulf of Maine salmon only have unimpeded access to 8% of their historic river habitat. The biggest obstacle to their population recovery is getting to their spawning grounds. Dams were constructed by paper mills, townships, and hydropower facilities along the Penobscot River starting in the 1830s. 

That’s where AMC and other organizations – a coalition of State, Federal, Tribal, and Non-governmental organizations – come in. Partners like the Penobscot Nation, NOAA, the Nature Conservancy, the Natural Resources Council of Maine, and the Atlantic Salmon Federation formed the Penobscot River Restoration Project, one of the largest watershed restoration projects in the nation. AMC became involved in dam removal and Atlantic salmon recovery in 2012, when we were invited to take part in the project by the Natural Resources Council of Maine. Staff played a small role in work on the main branch of the Penobscot before taking the lead in the headwaters of the West branch of the river. 

Dams and undersized culverts along the Penobscot and its tributaries block salmon from accessing their cold-water spawning grounds, which are essential for laying eggs and growing their populations. When these obstacles are removed, salmon regain access to those areas, and have the opportunity to recover and thrive. 

Plus, there are other fish in the sea — er, river. The Penobscot River is home to 90% of the eastern brook trout habitat in the U.S., another fish species that needs cold, clear waters and is seeing its habitat shrink.  

Barriers hurt more than just fish. Anglers and guides must navigate around them. Stream blockages separate sections of rivers, preventing waterways from naturally balancing their temperatures and neutralizing acidity. Undersized culverts can “blow out” with rain, causing road damage and access issues. Replacing them helps manage high-impact rain events, which are becoming more common due to climate change. This means dam removal and culvert replacement are climate-, people-, and fish-smart. 

“We want to restore total ecosystem functionality in the Maine Woods Initiative areas,” Steve Tatko, AMC’s Vice President of Land, Research, and Trails, explains.  

A fisherman near AMC Gorman Chairback Lodge and Cabins. Stream barriers also impact anglers and guides.

Open Waters 

AMC has been involved in salmon habitat rehabilitation since 2012, working with the Natural Resources Conservation Service. We’ve replaced or removed over 134 culverts, reconnecting over 126 miles of fish stream habitat. Our goal?  

“To ensure there are no barriers to fish passage on AMC land,” says Tatko. 

Fish passage work involves the local community. Our local contractor partners are now nationwide experts in culvert removal and fish-friendly road crossing installations, using their skills in partnership with us to develop new technologies to provide solutions for Atlantic salmon recovery. New bridges are fabricated locally, and community connections deepen as our work continues.  

This work has already led to hopeful results. In 2020 the West Branch of the Pleasant River saw its first return of sea-run fish in 180 years. Numbers were initially low, but are rebounding quickly — in 2021, the Atlantic Salmon Federation reported 561 adults returning to the Penobscot watershed, and by 2022, 1,324 adults.  

Atlantic salmon are still endangered, and their population, though rebounding, hasn’t recovered to its historic numbers yet. Our work continues to support the return of the “King of Fish.” We’re still removing culverts, and the State of Maine is conducting studies to see how water temperature and acidity impact salmon well-being. To date, AMC’s MWI lands are the furthest inland scientists have found Atlantic salmon. This shows that culvert replacement, dam removal, and more attention to salmon habitat are helping their numbers flourish. 

As indicator species, Atlantic salmon have a lot to tell us. Their disappearance warned us of river health and other issues. Their return tells us that now, those tides could be changing.  

The post Wild Atlantic Salmon Recovery in Maine: The “King of Fish” Makes a Comeback  appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

The leaves have officially gone from “falling” to “fallen.” You’re digging through the closet for gloves you haven’t seen in months. Outdoor enthusiasts know this time of the year as shoulder season. For everyone else, it means the holidays are just around the corner. 

With so many people on your list, searching for meaningful gifts for everyone can be exhausting. Luckily, AMC has the perfect present for the outdoors lover in your life. From gear and books that inspire to the trips that take them there, we have you covered. 

Celebrate the 48 

There’s nothing like connecting a gift to an accomplishment or special place. Whether they just completed the New Hampshire 48, or hiked their very first 4,000-foot peak, they’ll feel properly celebrated with original artwork and gear from AMC’s brand new 4,000-footer collection.  

Check out retro tees and hoodies or give them a festival-style poster with one of the greatest lineups of all time: the Mountains of New Hampshire. For those in search of the perfect home décor, there’s also the 3D Wall Map of the 4,000 footers, an AMC best seller. 

Shop the Collection

Get the 3D Wall Map

Book it! 

Winter is a great time to brush up on outdoor skills, learn a new activity, or plan for warmer weather. However they’re approaching the season, there’s an AMC book for it.  

The Essential Guide to Winter Recreation can help them discover new ways to get outside, from snowshoeing to cold-weather camping. Plot new routes with Best Backcountry Skiing in the Northeast, a longtime staple of the serious skier’s bookshelf. And if staying in and prepping for warmer adventures is more their style, check out AMC Mountain Skills Manual. 

Essential Guide to Winter Recreation

AMC Mountain Skills Manual 

Best Backcountry Skiing in the Northeast, 2nd Edition

Do you know someone who loves a great adventure story? Get them a subscription to Appalachia. America’s longest-running journal of mountaineering and conservation features poems, prose, and exciting exploits from around the globe. 

Subscribe to Appalachia 

Shop Local 

Our friends at businesses across the AMC region are making gear that’s as adventure-ready as you are.  

Burgeon Outdoors creates outdoor apparel in their Lincoln, New Hampshire studio. Our favorites include the men’s and women’s Highlander Hoodie, a technical mid-layer that’s as comfortable on the couch as at the campsite. Burgeon is also a trail adopter on the Old Bridle Path, an iconic footpath in the White Mountains that AMC is working to restore. 

Shop Burgeon Outdoors

Check out NEMO, camping equipment extraordinaires and an AMC partner. Their Chipper Reclaimed Closed-Cell Foam Seat is a versatile, foldable seat pad built to cushion the rocks and snow. Even better? It’s sustainably manufactured using leftover foam, for a lower environmental footprint. 

Shop the Chipper

For winter explorers we recommend headware from Skida – a Vermont-based, women-run company. Their Nordic Hats are perfect for getting out on a snowy trail, whether on skis, snowshoes, or foot. There’s a reason we carry their products at many AMC locations, including our Highland Center and Pinkham Notch Visitor Center shops. They’re dependable, winter-ready, and loaded with colorful patterns!  

Shop Nordic Hats

Give An Unforgettable Experience 

They say the best gifts aren’t objects, they’re experiences with the people you care about. And there’s no better way to celebrate being together than in the outdoors. Whether you’re looking for a cozy escape just outside the city, a backcountry adventure, or an off-the-grid getaway, there’s an AMC location ready to explore. 

Help them get outdoors all year long with the gift of an AMC membership. Members get up to 20% off all AMC lodging, gear, and merchandise and access to thousands of outdoor activities with a dedicated community of fellow adventurers. It really is the gift that keeps giving! 

Plan a Getaway 

Give a Membership  

If you want to help them take their outdoor experience to the next level, work with an AMC professional guide. Guides offer a variety of day and overnight trips all year long. 

See Guided Adventures

Still can’t decide? We make it easy with virtual gift cards!

The post AMC’s 2023 Holiday Gift Guide for Outdoors Lovers appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).

Mount Moriah, White Mountain National Forest, New Hampshire.

Deep snows and freezing temperatures are two things that scream “winter” in the Northeast and New England. It’s not unusual to be scraping ice off cars for six months out of the year, and some people keep their snow shovels in the trunk year-round. Snow falls as early as October—and might even come down in April or May. 

At least… it used to. The past few winters have been strange. Snow is still falling, but it starts later in the season, and it doesn’t seem to stick quite as long. It still freezes, but there are also days when it’s unusually warm, and the temperature seems to swing wildly. And were there always this many ice storms?   

What’s going on?   

New England has lost about three weeks of winter since 1917.

Human activities, especially the burning of fossil fuels like coal and oil, are making global temperatures rise. Another way to refer to global warming is climate change, because it’s not just rising temperatures that we’re seeing. We’re also experiencing shifts in weather patterns that cause more rain, floods, droughts, and wildfires. Seasons are shifting, seeming to happen earlier or later than their “usual” times — and winter is no exception.    

While all seasons in New England are experiencing increases in their average temperatures, studies from AMC scientists and partners have found that winter is warming at a faster rate than spring, summer, or fall. In addition, we’re seeing less snow, more ice, and winter weather “whiplash” — a rapid back-and-forth between unseasonable warmth and deep freezes. The combination of thaw-and-freeze weather can damage trees and crops, cause floods and electrical outages, and influence activities from winter skiing to spring maple sugaring. 

AMC scientists and partners use data collected over a long timeframe to look at a suite of changing cold and snow conditions in the Northeast. Since 1917, New England has lost about three weeks of winter. To be more specific, we’re seeing an average of 19 fewer days with snow covering the ground and 20 fewer “frost days” of 32°F or less, which keep the ground cold and maintain snow. Certain states are seeing even more change — Massachusetts has lost an average of 27 days of snow cover, and Rhode Island and Connecticut have lost more than 30.  

You may be thinking, “But it’s still snowing!” And you’d be right. It is still snowing, but due to the warming temperatures and weather whiplash, that snow simply isn’t staying on the ground as long. Inconsistent temperatures from the freeze-and-thaw cycles melt the snow, lessening or completely removing the snowpack. When it’s not cold enough for snow to fall, the moisture in the air falls as rain, which can cause icy conditions if the temperatures finally drop. All of this leads to less snow falling, less snow staying on the ground, and winters ending earlier.  

Find out how you can speak up for the outdoors in the fight against climate change

While the immediate impacts of shorter winters and less snow on the ground have been studied and documented, AMC scientists and partners continue to collect data and monitor our changing winters. Their ability to collect high-quality data over time is possible thanks to state and federal funding and the generous support of AMC members and donors. New on-the-ground equipment for snow monitoring has been set up at AMC’s Carter Notch, Lonesome Lake, and Zealand Falls huts in New Hampshire, helping us to better understand snow distribution, which is more complex in the mountains.   

AMC has also partnered with Community Snow Observations, a community science initiative, to welcome recreationists and backcountry adventurers like you to measure and record snow depth when you’re out in wintry weather. 

How does this high-quality weather data turn into climate solutions? At AMC, our work is backed by science. Our conservation policy team shares the data from our research team with legislators to inform their climate and land conservation policies. Our research team collaborates with other scientists, organizations, and state services to advance our understanding of changing weather patterns. And our lodge managers and hut Croo use our weather data to make informed recommendations to guests about how to enjoy winter, no matter what it feels like these days.  

AMC staff member Mark Cheever demonstrates how to take a snow observation.

Sources

Burkakowski et al. “Future of winter in northeastern North America: Climate indicators portray warming and snow loss that will impact ecosystems and communities.” Northeast Naturalist vol. 28, no. 11, 2022, pp. 180-270.  

Casson et al. “Winter weather whiplash: Impacts of meteorlogical events misaligned with natural and human systems in seasonally snow-covered regions.” Earth’s Future vol. 7, 2019, pp. 1-17. 

Contosta et al. “Defining frigid winter illuminates its loss across seasonally snow-covered areas of eastern North America.” Environmental Research Letters vol. 15, 2020, pp. 1-11. 

Contosta et al. “Northern forest winters have lost cold, snowy conditions that are important for ecosystems and human communities.” Ecological Applications vol. 29, no. 7, 2019, pp. 1-24. 

Murray et al. “Climate trends on the highest peak of the Northeast: Mount Washington, NH.” Northeastern Naturalist vol. 28, no. 11, 2021, pp. 64-82.  

Shankman, S. “’We are seeing winter disappear’: Southern New England has lost nearly a month of annual snow cover, study finds.” Aug. 3, 2023. https://www.bostonglobe.com/2023/08/03/science/climate-change-winter/#:~:text=%27We%20are%20seeing%20winter%20disappear,steepest%20losses%20of%20snow%20days.  

Young, S. “Global and regional snow cover decline: 2000-2022.” Climate vol. 11, 2023, pp. 1-27.  

The post Where’s Winter? A Season of Change in the Northeast appeared first on Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC).