A bushwhack hike up Kate Mountain, the ‘Queen of Vermontville’
By Tim Rowland
Kate Mountain is the queen of Vermontville, a (nearly) 3,000-foot peak that commands the horizon from the Vermontville town park, and looms alone looking north from the agricultural high ground of Norman Ridge.
Although it’s miles from Debar Mountain, it is part of the Debar Mountain Wild Forest because — why not? The mountain is said to be named for a family named Cate, and despite being in proximity to the well-traveled Route 3 corridor, it’s still solid, Grade A backcountry, whose enduring tales involve the tracking of wildcats and bears.
Kate is trailess, but sharp-eyed hikers have certainly noticed open rock poking out here and there along the mountain’s broad shoulders, and on a resplendent April day I set out to see if I could find a few.
There are many spots from which you can access this southeastern annex to the Debar Wild Forest from the north on Gabriels-Onchiota Road, and from the south along Route 3 and Sink Hole Road. (You have to admire a highway department with the guts to call one of its byways Sink Hole Road. I like the idea of honoring it instead of patching it).
After much study, I chose another route. I turned west off of Route 3 onto Swinyer Road, then made a quick right on Tyler Road, which dead-ends at an ample parking area from which I began my bushwhack. I’m no longer convinced this is the best option, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Heading east and then northeast out of the lot through relatively open spruce, I hopped a creek and headed up a ridge toward a bump that is obvious on the map well south of Kate’s summit. From the town park, I’d noticed, or thought I had, a bit of open rock on the bump, and after climbing for three quarters of a mile I found a cliff band with some obstructed views. Skirting the knob to the south might have revealed more, but by then another crag higher up on Kate caught my eye as it poked out of the evergreens.
The climbing was quite steep here, hands-and-knees stuff in places, and the spruce was thicker than was convenient. Moose scat, a truly impressive amount of it and very fresh, was a common companion, as both the animal and I were seeking the path of least resistance.
More elusive was the open rock. Bushwhackers will tell you that knowing an open rock exists and finding that little patch of stone in the wilderness are two different pancakes. I was getting views here and there, but the windows were small and disappointing.
About a mile and a half up the mountain, awash in spruce and out of ideas, it was time to take matters into my own hands. I cheated. Opening up satellite imagery, it appeared I was a little low still, and a bit too far to the west of the open rock to the southeast of the summit. With these course corrections, bagging the quarry was short work. One open cliff was great, but I could see another maybe 50 feet higher, and it was spectacular.
Whiteface, Moose, McKenzie and Haystack were there, of course, but just barely peeking over the McKenzie ridge were the snow capped mountains of Gothics, Marcy and Algonquin. Further south were the Santanonis, Ampersand, Seymour and the Sewards; to the west was Saint Regis and to the east Union Falls Pond, the Stephenson Range and the Vermont Greens.
Looking east you can also see the continuation of open rock here and there along the gradually descending ridge, and note that if you come up from that direction you will be in an open hardwood forest until you reach the top. All told, the round trip was about 3.5 miles and ascended 1,000 feet.
On the way back down, I descended the way I had meant to come up, before becoming distracted. Between the Kate summit and the aforementioned knob to the south, there is a deep cleft that, while populated with attendant hobblebush, blowdown and beech whips common to such ravines, is still better than spruce.
But nothing in the backcountry is easily won. The challenge on this route is down low, where there are thickets of spruce to dodge on the way to the little stream (there’s a bit of a herd path that doesn’t last) flowing from the ravine, and then some swampy areas to hop through before the topography steepens. The payoff is that this includes a magical beaver wetlands, with beautiful emerald mosses, ferns and crowsfoot.
From these lowlands, the stream jags to the right and is an obvious handrail up to the saddle just north of the bump.
This will deliver you safe passage through the Ridge of Spruce, and from here, angle left up the mountain through hardwoods and some small, easily negotiated rock formations (keep in mind I was coming down when I passed through, so easy is relative) to a drainage of hardwoods leading north to the open rocks. The evergreens are unavoidable at the top, but by now, the quarry will be so close and tantalizing you will scarcely notice.
The summit of Kate is right behind you, maybe another 50 feet up, but in all honesty, the 180-degree panorama from its cliffs was so fetching, I never thought to go up and tag it. So I’ll have to go back — but maybe from a different direction next time.
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