Mount Moosilauke, New Hampshire — October 9, 2026
By Talal Khan
Some trips are remembered for the views. This one will be remembered for the company, the laughter, and a summit that made breathing an unexpectedly ambitious activity.
Our Outdoor Group headed to New Hampshire for a Friday hike on Mount Moosilauke. As always, the adventure began well before anyone set foot on a trail.
First, the cast.
Dr. Zubair Kareem is a neurologist and the owner of what might be the best house for admiring the Mount Tom range. When your home already has a mountain view like that, leaving it to climb another mountain requires commitment.
Atique is a self-made entrepreneur with a big, badass truck and an even bigger sense of loyalty. He has moved from Chicopee to Worcester, but somehow that has not relieved him of the responsibility of driving us to our adventures and bringing us home. We are very comfortable with this arrangement.
Then there are the Habib brothers, Shahid and Hamid: serial entrepreneurs, always ready for something, and recently back from a fishing trip to Canada with enough fish stories to keep a truck entertained. Hamid was joining us after a long absence, determined to finish the hike. In keeping with his usual preparation strategy, he had not trained for it. Apparently, determination was going to do the heavy lifting.
Our newest addition was Ken, an Amherst resident originally from the Midwest, with Dutch ancestry, an enormous frame, and a heart of gold. At roughly six-foot-four, he brought a new logistical challenge to the group: finding a bed long enough.
And then there was me, looking forward to the hike and apparently underestimating what the summit had planned.
Northbound
We met Thursday at 2 p.m. at the Kareems’ home, left our vehicles there, and set off in two trucks. This time we were heading toward Lincoln, New Hampshire.
The drive through Massachusetts and into New Hampshire was full of conversation, jokes, and the kind of entertainment that never requires a screen. We barely stopped until we were close to our destination.
We stayed at the Woodstock Inn & Brewery. The dinner reservation situation soon made sense: Woodstock is a small town, and a group of hungry men cannot simply assume that a table will materialize.
Zubair Bhai did some quick research and found a restaurant within walking distance. Naturally, we drove there.
The wait was 45 minutes to an hour, so we used the time to walk around town and talk. Eventually, we were seated and rewarded with a pleasant meal, a lovely waitress, and appetizers that included chicken lollipops.
Ken took the plunge and ordered a beer after I assured him that his Pakistani hiking companions would survive the theological shock. He enjoyed his brew while the rest of us enjoyed our Diet Cokes. International relations remained stable.
Back at the inn, we settled into our rooms. Atique and I shared a room with bunk beds, while Ken somehow managed to fit himself into the available sleeping arrangements. The rooms were comfortable, and we had a good night’s sleep.
Coffee, Sandwiches, and Fall Colors
We woke early and had coffee. “Coffee” may be a generous description, especially for the members of our group living north of Springfield, in places like South Hadley and Amherst, where people have opinions about these things.
They understand that good coffee should offer more than evidence that hot water has passed near a bean.
We then headed to Moose on the Run for breakfast, picked up sandwiches, and took hot chocolate for the hike. That last decision would turn out to be one of our finest.
The drive to the trailhead was beautiful. The trees were changing color, and the road gave us the autumn scenery we had come hoping to see. We parked along the roadside, gathered our gear, and started up.
Our plan was to climb the Gorge Brook Trail and return by way of the Carriage Road and Snapper Trail, making a loop.
Up Through the Trees
The climb began quickly. At times, it felt like walking up a long staircase, except the stairs were rocks and roots and nobody had thought to install a handrail.
Still, compared with some of our usual hikes, this one felt more manageable. Much of the ascent stayed below the tree line, the weather was pleasant, and we found a steady rhythm.
Other hikers occasionally passed us as we worked our way upward, stopping here and there to catch our breath and regroup. Hamid kept moving, proving once again that enthusiasm can get you surprisingly far—although I suspect his legs might have had a different opinion afterward.
There were fewer open views than we had hoped for. The forest kept much of the scenery hidden, and the clouds gathering near the summit did little to improve our prospects.
But a hike with this group is never dependent on scenery alone. There is always someone to talk to, someone to tease, and someone whose confidence exceeds his preparation.
The Summit Had Other Ideas
As we reached the summit, freezing rain began.
This was apparently just what Ken had ordered. With his Midwestern background, he had been looking forward to some proper cold. The mountain delivered.
For me, the summit took my breath away quite literally.
The wind was powerful enough to make standing still a challenge. My eyes watered, my hands froze, and breathing into the gusts became difficult. One glove had come off, and getting it back on suddenly required a level of finger coordination I no longer possessed.
There was no leisurely summit celebration. No lingering over a panoramic view. Mostly, there was the urgent question of where to get out of the wind.
We hunkered down behind a rock and brought out the hot chocolate we had carried up.
I cannot imagine it tasting better anywhere else.
It warmed our hands, warmed us from the inside, and, for a few minutes, warmed our souls. Six friends sheltering behind a rock, sharing something hot while the mountain carried on around us: that became the summit memory.
Then we moved quickly down toward shelter, descending along our loop and eventually making our way back to the trailhead.
The mountain had made its point. We were happy to concede it.
The Ride Home
Once everyone was back, we headed south.
As usual, the conversation turned to politics, which meant the ride was unlikely to suffer from excessive quiet. Opinions were exchanged with the confidence of men who had just climbed a mountain and were therefore fully qualified to resolve the world’s remaining problems.
We stopped for snacks, coffee, and, of course, Vermont maple syrup purchased at a New Hampshire gas station. A perfectly reasonable ending to a New England adventure.
Back at the Kareems’ house, we said our goodbyes quickly. Ken had to get to his son’s field hockey game, moving directly from mountain duty to dad duty.
We were tired, grateful, and already talking about doing it again.
What We Brought Back
The views had been limited. The summit had been uncomfortable. The coffee had been subject to peer review.
And yet it had been a great trip.
Atique had once again driven us there and brought us home. Zubair had helped get us organized and fed. Shahid and Hamid had brought their usual willingness to join the adventure. Ken had fitted right in, even if fitting into a bed had been more complicated.
For a couple of days, we had stepped away from work, businesses, schedules, and the ordinary demands of life. We had time to walk, talk, laugh, and look out for one another.
That is what I brought home from Moosilauke.
Our next adventure may be a true winter hike on Mount Monadnock. Ken should be delighted. Hamid will hopefully consider training. And I will be keeping both gloves firmly attached
