64 AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER. 
All but one of the well-marked paths up 
Chocorua spend too much time in the ravines 
and woods. It is discouraging to toil mile 
after mile through uninteresting small growth, 
without a breath of cool air or a glimpse of dis¬ 
tance. The Hammond path cancels nearly half 
the height of the mountain in the first mile of 
woodland, and then rewards the climber by suc¬ 
cessive views which grow more charming as 
ledge after ledge is passed. While following 
the top of the slowly rising and scantily wooded 
ridge, the peak is seen coming nearer and nearer, 
and growing more and more impressive. Kange 
after range of northern mountains rise above 
the foreground, and the far horizon widens 
slowly. When the foot of the peak is finally 
reached, shutting out for a time all that is 
grandest in the view, the climber feels that he 
must scale those forbidding cliffs, whatever be¬ 
comes of him when the final struggle is over. 
So I felt as, at about half past six, I gained the 
top of the mountain’s shoulder and looked up at 
the huge rock which forms its awful head. The 
eastern side of the peak is so precipitous that 
few have the temerity even to try to scale it. 
The southern side is broken into smaller cliffs, 
between which tufts of spruces grow. In winter 
this face is quite readily climbed upon the packed 
snow, but in summer wide sloping ledges polished 
