Saltus Grammar School - Yearbook (Hamilton, Bermuda)

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32 A TRIP TO THE MT. WASHINGTON RANGE By Boys of Camp Hawthorne, Panther Lake, Raymond, Me. Before I begin to describe the mountain trip to Mt. Washington I think I ought to say something about Camp Hawthorne. It is a summer camp for boys, situated in the Maine woods on a cape of land of over one hundred acres extending into Panther Lake, (3 miles long and 1 mile broad) twenty-five miles directly inland from Portland Maine, near the village of Raymond. The camp season lasts from July 1st to August 27th, 1932. On August 2nd, 1931, fifteen campers, one junior councillor and two councillors left the camp by bus for Pinkham Notch, which is a hut belong- ing to the Appalachian Mountain Club, and sixty-five miles away at the foot of Mt. Washington. We had sandwiches, milk, and fruit for lunch by the roadside. We arrived at Pinkham Notch in the early part of the afternoon, and after we had picked out our bunks in the cabins, we hiked to Emerald Pool about three miles farther down the road. The pool was anything but emerald, but it was certainly cold. We started back and arrived about an hour before supper. In the meantime we tried to ring horseshoes. Next morning we were up bright and early; most of us took show ers while a few others, more lazily inclined, did not indulge. We had break- fast and started up the mountain trail about 8.15 a.m. At first the climb- ing was most exhausting, which necessitated frequent stops. In the after- noon we had become used to climbing and only stopped at long intervals. On this mountain trip chocolate bars and raisins are taken to refresh the boys between meals. We stopped at the Silver Cascades, a small but beautiful waterfall and again at Hermit Lake Shelter, where we had choco- late bars and raisins. Our next stop was the head wall where we ate our lunch which we had carried from Pinkham Notch. We then moved on to the Lake of the Clouds hut, where we picked our bunks. Nine of us went swimming for a little while only, as the altitude was about six thousand feet and the water was very cold. We then climbed to the peak of Mt. Washington, where we stayed for a couple of -hours. There is a hotel there owned by the Mount Washington Railway. They run a cog-wheel train up to the top of the Mountain for people who are not active enough to climb it. As the transportation of food to the hotel is difficult, it is very expensive. A good example of this is a dough-nut costing ten cents. Wednesday morning we started early and climbed Mts. Clay, Jeffer- son and the two Adams. We then came down to the Madison Spring Huts, where we met Camp Arcadia, a camp for girls. The clouds were very low, hanging around the hut. In a little while the rain was pouring down furi- ously upon the roof. We spent a most enjoyable evening playing cards with the girls of the camp until bed time. After breakfast we started down the mountain trail from Mt. Madison at 8.30 a.m. and arrived at the bottom about noon where we met the camp bus. On our way back

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31 About ten o ' clock the wind became much stronger, and shifted to the south-east, blowing at about sixty miles an hour. We were all called on deck to trim sail, which in such a breeze was no easy work. The mainsail on the foremast was the most difficult to handle, for it was a huge spread of canvas rising to a height of 46 feet above the deck, and 23 feet along the boom. Two of us were ordered to man the halyard, one was at the helm, while the other three lashed in the sail as we let it down. We had worked at this sail for fully an hour, and by this time the wind was blowing a strong south-east gale, sending the seas high over her deck, flooding the cockpit and rushing off into the foaming fury, that boiled around us, every minute threatening our frail craft and crashing pitilessly on her tiny deck. We had scarcely finished lashing the mainsail down, when a huge sea struck the after part of the boat, carrying away with it the sail on the mizzen mast, but fortunately doing no damage to the mast itself. Our next task was to get the jib down and to lash the boom on the mizzen mast in place. Clinging to the mast, I managed with great difficulty to uncleat the jib halyards. Out the jibs flew in the wind, and after another half-hour ' s work, we succeeded in securing them and finishing our long and exhausting task, which we found had taken two and three-quarter hours. As the wind had dropped considerably we were able to leave one man on deck, while the rest of us went below to try to get a little sleep if possible. Whether the rest did or not, I am unable to say, for on throwing myself down on my bunk, I fell into a dreamless sleep of exhaustion. I was awakened some hours later by the first watchman, who told me that it was my turn to go on watch. I went on deck and found that the gale had passed over, and though it was still dark the stars twinkled brightly above me. The wind blew gently from the south again, and the ocean was calm compared with its state a few hours before. I seated myself at the helm and gazed wonderingly at the crowded heaven, for there was nothing else for me to do. Thus I passed an hour in the star-lit darkness until the sky began to lighten in the east. The first sign of the sun ' s rising was a long, low bar of golden light, which brightened gradually until the whole eastern heaven was a blaze of gorgeous beauty. This was worth all my night ' s toil, for never have I seen anything as beautiful as that sunrise. All were on deck by 5.30 a.m., and I retired to finish my night ' s sleep. About five in the morning of the fourth day at sea, we sighted the long gray line of America, dimly visible by the faint light of the rising sun, and by noon the tall sky-scrapers of New York could be seen clearly as we glided up the Hudson River, and into the yacht-yard where we were to prepare for the race back to Bermuda. W. T. Conyers, V-

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33 we stopped at Pinkham Notch and bought souvenirs. We all agreed that the trip was wonderful except for our blistered feet and toes. John Barritt, VI. SHIP-WRECK It was on my first voyage that the most tragic ship-wreck I was ever in occurred. We were many miles at sea. I was a new hand, making my fi rst trip as an apprentice. Our ship was a four-masted schooner, out of Halifax, N.S., bound for Bermuda with a cargo of coal. It was a sweltering hot day, and all the crew that were off duty were lounging in the shade of the mainsail. There was not a bit of breeze, and our sails were hanging in great shapeless masses. The sea was as smooth as glass, and the sky looked like a great inverted blue bowl, with the sun a golden spot in its centre. There was not a sound, except the clattering of a swinging block, the scrape of a loose rope, and the sound of the captain ' s footsteps. He was pacing up and down the deck, his forehead wrinkled in a puzzled frown. Now and then he would gaze out towards the Northern horizon, as if trying to see over the rim. We did not know that the barometer was rapidly falling, and this is what worried the captain. At last, as if satisfied, he ordered all hands on deck, to take in all the sails, to batten down the hatches, and to tie all movable gear to the deck. I thought the captain had taken leave of his senses, but the captain ' s word is law at sea, so I and the rest of the grumbling seamen went aloft to take in sail. At last the sails were neatly furled, with the exception of one. We were going back to the deck, except for those luckless men furling that sail. On the way down, I happened to be facing the north. There, stretching from the East to the West was a purple haze that was bearing down on us with incredible speed. I was aware of a tiny whistling noise that grew, until it seemed to be breaking my ear-drums. All the sailors were running madly for the forecastle, but I ran aft to the captain. Just as I reached him a great gust of wind hit us. It seemed as solid as the face of a board, and had the captain and I not been sheltered by a deck house, we would have been swept overboard, as the man at the wheel had been. Our vessel heeled over until our lee-rail was under water. That sail that the men had been taking in, was blown out of its stays with a crack like a cannon shot. The mast, weakened by the shock went overboard, carrying with it five unfortunate seamen, and then remained by our side, held by numerous ropes, a tangled, splintered mass of wreckage. There was nothing for us to do but run before the wind with bare poles. To attempt to turn our bow into the wind would be impossible. The wreck of our once proud and stately mast, kept pulling us broadside to the waves. This made it necessary for it to be cut loose. The captain ordered me to