be as advertised. Despite this and the gallows humor heard in the registration line, I was ea- ger to start the race. We crossed the highway in front of the Visitors Center and lined up on an old woods road that was parallel to the highway and at a right angle to the trail that went straight up the mountain. I positioned myself in the last quarter of the pack and heard numerous con- versations about how people had performed in the past winter’s snow shoe races. Once the race started and we turned the corner and started up the trail, I realized that the race di- rector was correct. Most of us would elect to walk up this steep hill. As we proceeded upward, I could no longer hear the other runners talking. Their conversations were drowned out by another sound that I could not initially identify. Then I remembered my father, who had grown up on a similar mountain across the Connecti- cut River from where this range ends, talking about the jingle stones. What I was hearing was the sound of the many feet ahead franti- cally trying to maintain traction on layers of these small flat stones. The group’s upward ascent, which was also impeded by the usual roots and embedded rocks, came to an abrupt halt shortly before the top. As I wondered why, I looked up and then remembered. One of the fun things about going on picnics on Mt Holyoke as a child was climbing up the cliffs and ledges adjacent to the picnic area. This trail on Bare Mountain took us to one of several little cliffs that we would have to scale because there was no real short way around them. So, it was foot-to-hand climbing while thinking about how I was going to get down this slope on the way back. There was very little flat ground on the top of Bare Mountain. You soon went down and then up Mt. Hitchcock. This was a pat- tern that would be repeated throughout the course, hence the roller coaster analogy that was used in the advertisement. As I peered down the steep slope of Mt. Hitchcock, I prayed for switchbacks, but there were none. The group slowed down again as it negotiated its way down a cliff. It was then downhill at a fast clip on a relatively clear path to what is called the Low Point. Here the trail was almost flat, sandy, and appeared to be obsta- cle- free except for whatever the leaves were covering. The Low Point was the first of two unstaffed water stations where you could fill up your water bottle on the way out and on the way back.
We soon jumped back on the roller coast- er and continued to go up and down the unnamed peaks on our way to the Summit House. At that point it was a guessing game. When would I hit the traffic heading home? Prior to getting to the only paved road that you cross, I met up with the first fleet feet that were heading back. And yes, if you are wondering, the course is mainly single track. When the gazelles are galloping downhill to- wards you, you just step aside.
Which ages ago Formed this rare East-West range Visitors now roam. Signatures of some Displayed in the guest book Have never left me. Could it really be That the Abraham Lincoln Stood atop this dome? Viewing the valleys Stretching to the North and South That would be our home. Sharing the beauty The goodness of creation Amidst divisions.
As you leave the porch, you travel East along the ridge which is bare rock for quite a while and slopes downhill towards the river. At the turn-around point, which was in the backyard of a local running legend, there was a well-stocked aid station. The trip back went smoother than I thought it would with one ex- ception. As I got to the area where the jingle stones were, I found myself surfing on a sea of shale speeding down the hillside. I was so glad when my feet finally slid off the jingle rocks and embedded themselves in the dirt. I finished with a gun time of 4:03:41 which was a little better than my simple math equation had predicted. At the post-race breakfast in the Notch Visitors Center, I learned that Paul Lowe won again and that Nikki Campbell held the new course record for women. Af- ter that, I put a few coins in the pay phone in front of the center to call one of my brothers for a ride back to my father’s house. Epilogue — Since this race report is 21 years overdue, I’ll supply some updates. I don’t think that the pay phone is still in front of the Visitors Center so you might need to bring a cell phone. Parking and race head- quarters are now in the Bunker Lot off of Military Road. (Yes, there is a former Strate- gic Air Command bunker on the side of the mountain which is now used by Amherst College as a library storage facility.) The year that I ran in the race there were 214 finishers. The race, which now calls itself the toughest trail race in the Northeast, is now capped at 500 entrants, sells out, uses chips with wave starts, and claims 3500 feet of ascent. Course records: Paul Low 1:42:06 in 2006 and Nikki Campbell 2:00:08 in 2003.
When I finally saw the paved road, it brought back a lot of memories as I had climbed to the summit along it many times. I knew the way to the top from there but, of course, we had to continue along the trail which eventually brought us out to an open area dotted with picnic tables. The last time we had eaten there was 18 years prior, so we staged a photo of me showing our youngest son* how to climb up the cliffs. *Not sure it is related to this early expo- sure to rocks, but he has finished JFK. Next to appear on the course is the Sum- mit House. You go up some stairs and travel along the porch which winds around the building and then exit by some stairs on the other side to get back on the trail. I did not pause on the porch to look at the scenery in the valley below but I have on all of my pre- vious trips to the top of Mt. Holyoke. At one time you could go inside the building and look at the guest book. One signature that I saw as a boy has never left me and helped to inspire the following: It was always there Daily on the mountain top
Looking down on us. A little white house Atop our Mount Holyoke Beaconing us home. Or calling us there To picnic with family On the basalt rock.
THE STREAK I SUMMER 2025
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