134 



THB OOLOQIST 



mountain, following the course of a 

 noisy but at this season, somewhat di- 

 minished brook, past two small farms 

 with their cluster of outbuildings and 

 into the timber that everywhere 

 clothes the mountain till within a 

 short distance of the summit. At 

 every branching of the paths are lo- 

 cated guide boards to direct the 

 climber, and in many places where 

 false paths open out of the main trail, 

 wires have been stretched across 

 these openings that the climber may 

 not become confused and mistake the 

 road. 



After a climb of a little more than 

 two miles, I came to a small open 

 place on the side of the mountain, 

 and it was there that I got the first 

 view of the valley below me. Here 

 one can look up and down the valley 

 for many miles, and the view is cer- 

 tainly well worth the climb if one 

 went no farther. Cheshire, Adams, 

 Renfrew, Zylonite and I think part of 

 North Adams may well be seen from 

 this point. After leaving this view 

 behind, the path became steeper and 

 at one or two places was crossed by 

 a small brook, probably leading from 

 some spring higher up the mountain 

 side. I halted and drank from each 

 of these in turn and never was drink 

 more refreshing than this, coming 

 straight from the heart of the moun- 

 tain. A mile or so farther on the 

 last and largest of these brooks comes 

 leaping and foaming down the moun- 

 tainside and passes under a rude 

 bridge of logs. A sign on a nearby 

 tree informed me that this was 

 Peck's Brook," and it is here that I 

 have always found birds most abun- 

 dant. A little above this the trail 

 comes out into the carriage road. 



This is in fine condition and makes 

 the ascent very gradually encircling 

 the mountain in the form of a spiral. 

 We now get a very satisfactory view 



to the South and East. Almost at 

 your feet lie Adams and Cheshire 

 with Pittsfield with its two lakes, 

 Onota and Pontoosuc just beyond, 

 while in the background are the main 

 ranges of the Berkshires, finally be- 

 coming obscured by the bluish haze 

 on the far horizon. 



I strolled along leisurely, stopping 

 every few feet to admire some new 

 feature of the scene before me. Reach- 

 ing the top and ascending the tower 

 I had a more far-reaching view than 

 I had yet obtained. Northward, 

 could be seen the Green Mountains 

 and Adirondacks, the town of Ben- 

 nington with its monument beside vil- 

 lages and solitary farm houses far 

 over the Vermont border. To the 

 East and Northeast, Monadnock, Hay- 

 stack, Mt. Tom, and Wachusett were 

 visible, and to the West, the Cats- 

 kills with the Hudson River winding 

 like a narrow ribbon fifty miles away. 

 Southward rose row after row of un- 

 named hills as far as the eye could 

 reach. Directly below me to the 

 Southeast was the trail by which I 

 had come up, and as I traced my 

 course, it was hard to realize it was 

 five miles, so deceptive is distance at 

 this height. 



The descent was accomplished with- 

 out incident, and after a short wait, 

 a whistle announced the approach of 

 the home bound car. As I boarded it, 

 I took a last look at the mountain I 

 had just left. The sun was sinking 

 and the Western side was flooded 

 with light while the Bast shoulder 

 stood out bold and impressive in the 

 shadow of early evening, which was 

 already settling upon it. 



Before I left this region late in No- 

 vember, I made two or three other 

 trips to the summit, but on none of 

 these occasions were the atmospheric 

 conditions as favorable as on this 



