Mount Washington Solo Ascent under the Blood Moon Eclipse

An ambitious plan put into play and sustained by pure excitement.

Thursday March 13 2025

At 2pm on Thursday, I left town and made my first attempt to summit Mount Washington in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. With knowledge of the Blood Moon eclipse happening on Friday morning, I took note of a 'good weather window' in the mountains and decided to make it happen. Forecasts showed -10c and winds between 20 and 30kmph. Nearly tropical conditions compared to even just days before.

It's an 8 hour drive to Pinkham's Notch parking area near Gorham, New Hampshire. With a prior obligation to go see Buena Vista Social Club on Friday night, the goal was drive there, do the hike and then come right back for the show at 7pm that night. An ambitious move to say the least.

Halfway through the drive, I had this nervous feeling starting to fester in the pit of my stomach. Is this my gut instinct trying to get me to turn back? You can't really be sure about those things, can you? I can truthfully say that I don't really experience that sheer nervous feeling too often and it was kind of exciting. So when that big full moon appeared over the horizon around 530pm, it was the best promotion to hit the gas and not the brakes.

The details of the route were pretty simple. I was first headed to Boott Spur Mountain, via the Boott Spur trail. From there I would take Davis Path to the summit of Washington and descend via Lion Head winter route.

At 11pm, I arrived at the trailhead. Because of the eclipse about to happen, I expected to see at least of handful of people moving around the fairly large lot. Lots of cars parked, but no action in the lot. Maybe they were already on the way up, I thought to myself. That turned out not to be true.

Around 11:20pm, it was -2c and I left the car. Into the darkness I went, but the need for a headlamp wasn't necessary. A huge full moon shone down on me like a guard trying to derail my plan to hop the walls of a penitentiary. Shadows waved around on the ground as the moon's rays unapologetically forced themselves to the white forest floors. My snowshoes crunched their way along the snow packed, but post-holed trail and in the silent forests, seemed belligerently loud.

After an 8 hour drive, I couldn't shake the groggy feeling that a long drive can induce. I found myself constantly yawning, honestly considering curling up for a little nap if I came across a cozy spot. In retrospect, I should have had a nap in the car before I started, but as always, I was too jacked to sleep when I pulled in.

Only a few kilometers into the hike, you reach a beautiful plateau with windswept spruce trees, affording the first moon lit view of Mt Washington, the Wildcats and the surrounding peaks and valleys. A reminder why you are out there doing this. A little piece of candy to keep you climbing, to keep you sweating.

Incredible moonlit views of Tuckerman’s Ravine and Mt. Washington as you climb up the Boott Spur Trail.

Once I crested the tree line on the way to Boott Spur, the wind started up and there was no place to get any relief and even though it wasn't blowing hard, it was a constant 2am winter breeze worthy of the addition of a winter shell.

I crawled along on the trail, sweaty, tired and slightly nauseous and I started to second guess the decisions I make sometimes, confirming that I am likely out of my comfort zone. Mission accomplished ?

Right around the summit of Boott Spur the earth started to eclipse the moon creating a partial shadowing on the moon. An eerie thing to witness, for sure. It reminded me of the solar eclipse last April when the sun completely disappeared behind the moon, turning a gorgeous bluebird day into darkness, and back, in two and a half minutes. That must have been such an incredibly frightening experience prior to having the knowledge of the planets that we have now.

By the time I summited Boott Spur I had gained 1050m of elevation over the course of 5km. The next 2 kilometer section is a fairly flat grade and sits at approximately 1675m / 5500' above sea level. It's an incredible walk that gives ample opportunity for 360 views, peering south-west over the mountains of the Presidential Range and giving an absolutely stunning view north to Washington.

The moon then turned a dark amber shade, eliminating the flashlight effect and introducing the need for a headlamp. This area is basically a large open boulder field, with cairns placed to keep you on track and to minimize the disturbance of sensitive plant life that can somehow survive at these elevations. In the darkness of the night, it was near impossible for the light from the headlamp to catch a glimpse of the next cairn, as they are all snow covered and seamlessly blend into the surrounding environment. This meant you basically need to be within 10 or 15 feet to confirm that it was actually an intentional cairn and not just a pile of snow covered rocks, which is exactly what a cairn is.

At this point I find myself alone, in the dark, in -10c weather, fully exposed to the bullying western winds. I put up my hood and put on a balaclava to protect my face from freezing and breaking off during these last few kilometers on route to Washington.

As I wander nearly blind, in a dark ice-laden boulder field, from cairn to cairn, I remember feeling pretty vulnerable to say the least. I was really tipping the comfort zone needle here and even just the addition of a partner could have neutralized that a little bit, even in the same conditions.

Mount Washington is famous for it's wild weather and unforgiving winds, holding the world's record for the highest recorded wind speed outside of a tropical storm at 238 MILES an hour. It's also notorious for it's unpredictable weather swings where the temps can swing over 40c in a 24hr period.

The goal was to hike under the moonlight of an elapsing eclipse and to reach Washington just before sunrise. Just the thought of a solo summit for sunrise gave me the inspiration to keep trucking along - not that I had a choice at this point. A noteworthy fact - over 160 people have died while trying to summit Mt Washington (or died post-summit), mainly because of harsh weather swings that lead to disorientating conditions. These swings can cause rapid whiteout conditions and force hikers to lose their way, making a shit show of trying to follow the trail - or even find it at all. Another major cause of death is heart attacks / exhaustion.

As I crept along the Davis Path over to Washington, I said a little prayer for the winds to calm down a bit because my summit time will be hours before I will feel the warmth of the first rays of sun. If I arrive at the summit too early, I'll have to hang around in the cold darkness waiting for the sun to rise - not 'cool' for for some already chilly feet. I did also promise to be back for 6pm, so Ideally I'd need to be back at the car for 9am. These factors and obligations led to an evaluation that basically ruled out my availability to actually witness the sunrise from the summit. So the new plan was to summit and then catch the sunrise on the way down.

At 4:45am, I finally reached the summit of Mt Washington. The eclipse had come and gone and the flashlight in the sky was back, illuminating all the wind-whipped and rime-coated facilities atop the mountain. I did a couple laps of the summit buildings and finally found a little corner to hide in out of the wind. I dropped my backpack and went to get the official summit sign selfie before I forgot to do so. Upon review of the image, it definitely looks like a 5am selfie in the darkness of night.

All alone at the summit, 4:30 am.

I returned to my backpack and started to get ready to descend when all of a sudden I hear crunchy footsteps in the crispy snow approaching me from behind. I spun around quickly, extremely startled. I see a shadowy figure emerging from the darkness of the night. A big puffy jacket with a hood up and a backpack full of gear appears about 15' from me. It was another lunatic looking to summit for the sunrise.

"You scared me! You're the only person I've seen all night" he said.

I replied with a relieved, "Me, too"

We chatted about our routes up, the eclipse and what way were going to head back. After a few minutes, we split and went our own way. But shit, talk about jumping out of your boots for a second.

As I wandered about trying to find the correct path to descend, there was some confusion as the signage at the summit is often covered in a layer of rime ice - if you can even find it in the dark. I scraped off the sign and could barely read it, so I pulled out my phone to make sure I was on trail before descending too much in an effort to try and eliminate the need to climb back up to the proper junction.

The warm glow of the sunrise was a welcome sight and feeling.

The steep, snow covered block field immediately beneath the summit was a lot more difficult than I had anticipated and after only a few hundred meters my knees were wondering why I would treat them like this. I stopped for a little break to take in the views developing in front of me and looked to the east to see the signaling light of a new day. This brought a wave of relief that I didn't know I needed. It's funny what an incredible sunset, or just the thought of it, can do for your mind.

As the terrain went from jagged snow covered boulders, to just bare jagged boulders with no snow, my snowshoes clicked and clacked in an idiotic fashion.

"I should take these off," I thought, but looking down, I was definitely going to need them up (down) ahead. So I pressed on for another few hundred meters with them strapped on.

Clickity-clack go the snowshoes.

As the light of the sun quickly began to brighten the sky, I realized I was in the perfect spot to witness the sunrise. Out on somewhat of a plateau, with wild views to the south, east and west mountains and with Washington towering behind me. I stopped to take all the pictures and a few videos, but mainly to silence the racket of my snowshoes that were driving me nuts on these bare rocks.

My chosen route of descent made a loop of the hike and my plan was to descend the Lion Head winter route trail, famous for a section called "Wilcox step" or "the crux". This is an approximately 60-80m section that has a wicked vertical drop that twists, turns and disappears down the mountain. This portion of the trail gets pretty tight and is flanked by spruce trees with all these little broken limbs. They were like hooks that would love to snag anyone and anything that loses traction and plummets down this winding trail leading to who knows what around the next corner. I probably spent 30-40 mins trying to climb down this adult sized slip and slide. Definitely challenging, definitely fun and definitely risky. Three things that can quite often dangerously coincide.

This section was by far some of the most technical 'hiking' I have ever done. Even equipped with proper mountaineering crampons (Thanks Mike) an ice axe and a rope. It was nearly ice climbing. In retrospect, I learned a few lessons here. The first being, I should have used the rope to stabilize the descent, just for safety and peace of mind. The second being crampons, I should have just put them on. In my defense, it was my first time through here and I thought it was just going to be a little section. Then, when I was halfway though and realized it kept going, but worse, it wasn't safe to try take my snowshoes off and put them on. In the end, it was a successful attempt using only snowshoes and a single ice axe.

A glance over into Tuckerman’s Ravine with the prominent Boott Spur ridge.

Not long after you reach the bottom of this, at times terrifying section, you get spit back out on a somewhat 'maintained' trail that looks to be used by a large snow machine. A signifier that things are coming to close and there are only a few leisurely kilometers left.

At 8:30am I arrived back at the car, got changed and promptly hit the road. After some heavy eye lids and a couple nods, I pulled over for a 20 min nap on the side of the road. Next thing you know, I'm sliding through the border and made it back just in time to have a shower, and hit the road again. The concert was incredible and I slept well last night.

By the time I left the mountain yesterday, face sunburned, knees screaming, I was definitely glad for it to be over. Today I am well rested and day dreaming of the next trip up to Mount Washington - who safely let me pass through this time, and for that I am grateful.

Sunrise over the Wildcats.