White Mountain Direttissima

White Mountain Direttissima I first attempted this route in 2016. While doing it in an unsupported style (carrying all my own food & gear), I did invite friends out to join me and also cached battery bricks so that I could document the effort. I finished in just under six days. I knew there was a lot of time for improvement but didn't feel the desire to return until last summer (2024). My 2024 effort would build on everything I had learned and experienced since 2016. I had better endurance, an intimate knowledge of the trails, and gear has come a long way. Unfortunately I DNF'd halfway through due to anterior tibialis tendonitis. This year I made sure to fix my weakness and give the route an honest effort, shooting for five days. Here's how it went. Day 1: Moosilauke to 13 Falls — 41.12 mi, 16:39:12, 17,982 ft ( strava link I woke up before my 3:30 AM alarm and started to gather my gear at home in Jackson, NH. It’s a little over an hour's drive to the Beaver Brook Trailhead, and I wanted to get an early start while still feeling rested. I’ve learned my lesson about squandering valuable daylight, so I woke Hilary up and let her know I was ready to go. We arrived at 4:40 AM, and I was on trail by 4:49 AM. I dropped my pack and headed up the first peak of the day with fresh legs as the sky began to brighten. The climb was uneventful — I startled a white-tailed deer as I moved efficiently. It’s easy to get in your head on a route like this — so much trail ahead, and doubt creeps in. The summit was socked in, a theme for the morning. I touched the sign and turned around. Everything was going smoothly until I slipped on a greasy rock and fell hard on my tailbone. My lower back compressed and lit up my spine. I considered calling Hilary to come back and pick me up, thinking maybe I’d start tomorrow or next week. I took a handful of Advil and decided to press on. My back hurt the rest of the day. I picked up my pack and continued the 7-mile stretch toward the Kinsmans. The trail was dry and I ran out of water before Eliza Brook. My goal was to minimize water carries, but I pushed it too far. It was hot, and I was drenched, even by 8 AM. Climbing South Kinsman, I slipped and bent a pole. That freaked me out — the poles would be critical later in the route when my legs were cooked. I tried to bend it back but decided to just roll with it. Fortunately, it held up for the rest of the trip. I summited the Kinsmans and descended toward Lonesome Lake. I considered taking the Cannonballs to Cannon but opted out — my pack didn’t feel light and I hate that section. As I circled the west side of the lake, I heard two ravens shouting back and forth across the water. I’d never heard that before — it echoed in a way that was both eerie and beautiful. I dropped my pack and headed up Cannon. The trail is technical on the top half and always surprises me with the mix of hikers who find their way to the summit. It was a quick trip to a clouded-in tower — I climbed it anyway. Because it’s there. I was 30 minutes ahead of my projected pace and reached Lafayette Place Campground (Rt. 93) in 9 hours, 15 minutes. I took the underpass and enjoyed the new trail section up to the Falling Waters Junction. This would be the hardest climb of the day, right in the heat. I filled 3L of water at the last stream and continued. Once on the ridge, I dropped my pack and did the out-and-back to Flume. Eight peaks down, 45 minutes ahead of splits. But I cramped during that stretch — red flag. The summit of Lafayette was cloudy. I was dehydrated and worked from the heat. I needed to get over Garfield to re-up on water. That climb was more challenging than it should’ve been. On the summit, a group of girls were hammocking inside the old foundation, cloaked in clouds. I kept moving, refilled water, and got my headlamp out. I arrived at 13 Falls around 9:30 PM. No chance I was heading up Owl’s Head that night — my feet and body were throttled. I was in bed by 10 PM and set the alarm for 3:30 AM, hoping to preserve my legs for the next day. Day 2: Owl’s Head to Tripoli Rd — 44.18 mi, 19:22:55, 14,931 ft ( strava link I awoke unrested, having only slept a few hours. The sounds of the nearby river and being so close to a campground made sleep difficult, especially with a pack full of food beside me. I was out of camp by 3:40. I opted for a different bushwhack up the north side of Owl’s Head. Most of the area is similar—old road grades wind around the peak. You follow one until it disappears, then find another and keep working your way up following the path of least resistance. I had a track on my watch but still got off course and ended up in a dense nest of evergreens that cost me a solid half hour. Frustrating. I looked like I'd been rolling in dirt by the time I returned to camp. I grabbed my pack and got out of there. A massive day lay ahead. On the climb to Galehead, I became very sleepy—a pattern that would repeat each morning. I rolled out my sleep kit for a 20-minute rest, maybe slept 10, and moved on. The nap didn’t refresh me, but I was no longer sleepwalking. Galehead was a quick out-and-back, followed by the punchy climb up South Twin. I’ve done that climb over 20 times, and familiarity helps. I had loaded up with water from Galehead Hut since several out-and-backs awaited, my pack weight was maxed out. Still in the clouds, I summited South Twin and tagged North Twin. I had considered doing this section via the Fire Warden Trail to avoid the extra out-and-back but chose to drop my pack for speed and comfort. Zealand is where my anterior tibialis tendons started to go last summer, so I was hyper-sensitive to any pain or weird sensations. I felt a few phantom sparks of pain but nothing stuck. In the back of my mind, I knew things could unravel quickly. While my training was solid, I hadn't tested myself with a heavy pack over back-to-back days. The Bonds passed quickly. I was feeling good as I reached the East Branch Pemi River at 1:10 PM, well ahead of schedule. I took a dip and felt amazing. The Cedar Brook Trail to the Hancocks is mellow, but the mosquitos were relentless. Bug spray would have been a great addition to my gear list. I was tired upon reaching the Hancocks. I carried minimal supplies and, expecting water further up, was disappointed to find it dry. With half a flask of drink mix left, I faced another hour without fluids. Did I mention it was hot and humid? Rolling out to the Kanc, I aimed to get as much of the Osceola climb done in daylight. I bonked hard here last year. This time, I felt much better—no anterior tib pain, but my feet and knees hurt. I had no chance of getting past Tecumseh and focused on reaching Tripoli Road. The descent off Osceola is among my top five worst trails in the Whites. Being at the end of a brutal day didn’t help. The streams on the descent were dry. I kept moving down Tripoli Road and found a good spot to sleep at 11 PM. What a long day. I promised myself I’d do everything I could to get good sleep—I’d need it. Day 3: Tecumseh to Zealand Notch — 45.16 mi, 16:06:28, 16,388 ft ( strava link I slept better than the first night but still tossed and turned. I was up by 4:30 AM and out of camp by 4:50. Today would be critical — it was the day I bailed last year, and I wanted to make it through cleanly. This would be a big ask. After a short road walk, I started up the Tecumseh Trail — a good warm-up. It was cloudy as daylight broke, and I moved efficiently. I matched my pace from last summer despite the better tendon health, and I was 20 minutes faster than 2016. The descent was easy and major shout out to whoever built the endless stone steps — remarkable work. I dipped in the first stream crossing I found on Tecumseh Brook and continued to Livermore Road. Sleepiness returned, but a swarm of mosquitoes jolted me awake. I ascended North Tripyramid via the slide trail, which was far more technical than expected. Slabby, humid, and slow going. Eventually I topped out and was greeted by a refreshing breeze. The traverse of the Sleeper Trail flew by. The trail was fast and flowy, and a cool, steady rain lifted my spirits. I rode that wave over Whiteface and dropped my pack for Passaconaway. Though the day was tough, I moved better than last summer, and despite feeling thrashed, I had no injuries. Once down at the Kanc, the bugs were back — mosquitoes and deer flies had me running. I dipped in the Swift River, then ran most of the 4.5 miles to Sawyer Pond. From there it was a smooth descent to Sawyer River Road, followed by the logging road shortcut to Signal Ridge. I’d scouted it a month earlier, so I knew exactly what to expect. Carrigain was my final climb of the day. I started at 5 PM and took my time. A wasp stung me through my calf sleeve, but it provided a nice distraction from all the other pain. The climb took 1.5 hours. I regrouped on the summit, cleaned my shoes, ate, and prepared for the Desolation Trail descent. By some miracle, all the blowdowns in this section had been cleared. Stillwater Junction is my favorite below-treeline zone in the Whites — remote, beautiful, and worth a visit. But things quickly deteriorated. The Shoal Pond Trail is wet, slow, and riddled with decaying bog bridges. Trench foot was setting in as the sun went down. I reached the Ethan Pond Trail before full darkness but still had miles to cover. In hindsight, I should’ve camped at the junction. Instead, I pushed to Zealand Notch, which gave me blisters and flared both feet with extensor tendonitis. I curled my toes, trying to relieve the pain and hoped for recovery by morning. Day 4: Hale to Wildcat — 41.83 mi, 17:55:33, 16,988 ft ( strava link I woke with a sore body but was relieved to find my feet were functional. It would be another hot day. A refreshing rain fell as I climbed Hale in the darkness via the muddy, puddle-filled Lend-a-Hand Trail. Hale is unremarkable every sense of the word. I passed Zealand Falls Hut as breakfast was being prepared. Time to focus — next goal: the Willey Range. The A-Z Trail is a favorite of mine for its stunning birch stands. I startled a bull moose, which startled me right back. Sleepiness returned on climb #2. I took a caffeine pill and powered up to the ridge, where I was rewarded with rising sun and clearer skies. Tom, Field, and Willey were uneventful. Dropping my pack at Tom was a huge relief. Birdsong and sunlight broke through the trees. I descended via the Avalon Trail instead of retracing the A-Z, enjoying the steeper, more direct descent. I dipped in the river and reset. At Crawford Notch, it was cloudy. I began the climb up Jackson and found a quiet streamside spot for a dirt nap. I set my watch for 20 minutes, rested briefly, and continued. The trails were busier now — it was Friday with perfect weather. From Jackson's summit, I could see Mount Washington and thought: that’s a lot of climbing. My feet hurt, and I stopped at Mizpah Hut to refill water and dry my feet. I sat in my underwear with the thru-hikers — I was that guy. The southern Presidentials moved quickly. I saw more people, which kept me motivated. Clouds lingered over every peak but the one I was on. I made steady progress and filled a bottle at Lakes of the Clouds. Next stop: Davis Path junction to drop my pack and tag Mount Washington. From the summit, I could see the rest of the route — Wildcats, Carters, northern Presidentials, and the Pliny-Pilot Range far in the distance. Then came the Isolation out-and-back — a brutal drop and climb late in the day. I hit a nerve in my left foot (neuroma flare-up from 2023), but it subsided. I descended Glen Boulder Trail smoothly, knees throbbing. At the bottom, I debated whether I had it in me to climb Wildcat. I opted for the ski trail (Polecat) — longer but less technical. The sunset gave me ample ambient light and a firefly show. I summited at 9:30 PM. No thru-hikers in sight. I set up my sleep kit, cleaned my feet, had a snack, and stared up at the stars. I crossed my fingers for good sleep. Tomorrow was the day. Day 5: Wildcat to Finish — 59.53 mi, 23:41:57, 19,678 ft ( strava link I woke well before my 3:30 AM alarm. Thunder had rumbled in the distance. A cloud settled on the summit, temps dropped, and my mattress deflated. I zipped into my bag and rested until the watch buzzed. Time to move. I ached everywhere. My throat was sore, possibly the early stages of a cold. But there was no time to dwell — it was go time. The pack was lighter, but still heavy. In the dark, I picked up a mantra: "chip chip chip" as I broke the day into sections. Sub-5 days was possible if I just kept chipping away. I compared my pace to 2016: I started at 2:15 AM then and finished at 5:45 AM the next day. With a 3:50 AM start now, I had until 4:50 AM to beat it, no time for extended stops. The climb out of Carter Notch was wet and unforgiving but familiar — I knew every step. The Moriah out-and-back was where I found a second wind in 2016. I felt something similar now, but 48 miles still remained. I descended Stony Brook, hit pavement, and shuffled to Dolly Copp. From there, I took an obscure route to Daniel Webster Scout (DWS) Trail. I slipped climbing out of a creek and slammed my shoulder and toe. Rough start. The DWS climb was slow. I took a 10-minute nap mid-climb, then pushed on. I planned one hour to Adams, one to Jefferson, and one to descend — that would get me to Jefferson Notch Road by 4:30 PM. Madison’s summit was refreshing. Crowds were building. At Madison Springs Hut, the line at the spigot was long, so I went inside. A cold rainstorm hit on the way up Adams, but no wind meant no jacket needed. Heading up Jefferson, the skies cleared. The sunlit west side of the ridge lifted my spirits. I reached the trailhead at 4:30 PM right on schedule. Next: a 2.5-hour shuffle to Starr King Trailhead. Deerflies on Jefferson Notch Road were awful, so I kept moving. A river dip on Valley Road felt heavenly. I climbed the closed Class VI road to Rt. 2, then endured five miles of roadside running. Not as hot as expected. I taped my pinky toes at a church, then kept going. Starr King loomed. I plodded up at 2 mph, my feet screaming. I summited and headed to Waumbek as darkness fell. Food was running low. I took a caffeine gel and pressed on. Then came the worst section: prehistoric trail, ferns hiding rocks, blowdowns, and endless frustration. I was overwhelmed. On Mount Weeks, I tried to nap but couldn’t. I just had to keep moving. I hit York Pond Trail Junction after 6.2 miles in 3 hours. Only the Terrace Range and Cabot remained. In 2016, Bill Tidd met me here. This time I was alone and mentally foggy. I mistakenly kept my pack on too long and dropped it late for the Cabot out-and-back. Halfway up, I realized I forgot my backup headlamp. My primary would die soon. Phone, tracker, and watch batteries were all low. I pushed the climb hard. I reached the summit sign, confirmed it with my watch, and turned around. Blistered soggy feet made the descent miserable. I filled up on water and drank my final calories — coffee protein powder. I found my pack and misread a trail sign, nearly getting disoriented. Finally, I got on Bunnell Notch Trail. It was worse than I remembered: mud, sidehill, and stream. Every slip was agony. Eventually, the trail smoothed out. I picked up my pace. Then I saw lights. Car lights. I didn’t think I was that close. The gate was open — no 1.5 mi "bonus walk" required. I heard cheers. I was there. 3:31 AM. Done. Hilary and Spencer got me into the truck. No major celebration — just relief. I laid down in the backseat for the drive home. Some Very Tired Feet. General Thoughts It took eight years to forget how hard this route truly is. It’s the ultimate puzzle — a test of endurance, logistics, gear, and grit. A niche, fringe project, but one that resonated deeply with me because these are my mountains. This is my backyard. The 48 are a lifelong pursuit for many, and doing them in under five days, self-powered and unsupported, is wild to comprehend. What I Learned Training I targeted my weaknesses from last summer (specific training). I transitioned from ski season (late April) with a six-week run block (there was plenty of hiking in there with a 40# weighted vest). After June 8th, I transitioned to a vert-heavy block and targeted trail recon which all paid off. My longest run was 46 miles and I had a couple 30k vert weeks in there. In hind-sight, I'd do a two-day simulation with an overnight to prep the body and gear. Experience Trail knowledge isn’t everything, but it helps — a lot. Understanding terrain difficulty, water sources, and trail junctions made a huge difference. Gear (see full pack list here) Cutting base weight was critical. I dropped a significant amount of weight from my 2016 effort. A few standout items this time: Inflatable sleeping pad: slightly heavier but much more comfortable and compact inside my pack. Naked band: made pack transitions faster. Garmin inReach Messenger: battery lasted all five days. I could send photos and voice messages without taking my phone out of airplane mode. AirPods: lasted almost the entire time on a single charge. Glued-in insoles: helped prevent insole slippage. Food My nutrition was dictated by weather and terrain. I relied on a mix of drinkable calories and solid food. Protein drinks worked great for breakfast and before bed. I could’ve eaten more, but I had enough body fat to burn. I lost around 8 pounds over five days and finished with 208g of extra food and 250g of trash. Weather Nearly ideal: minimal rain, cool nights, and low humidity. While it was hot at times, the weather window was moderate with no extreme heat / cold / wind. It didn't rain during my sleep blocks which was critical. Efficiency Minimizing stoppage time was huge. Every shoe cleanout, water refill, camp setup, and snack break adds up. I didn’t filter water and never carried more than needed. That saved time and energy. Zyn Nicotine might be a better performance enhancer than caffeine. Dirt Naps Ten-minute naps worked wonders. Even if I didn’t fully sleep, they let my brain shut off and gave me a reset. River Dips Cold water soaks — 10 to 30 seconds — refreshed me just like naps did. Running A 12-minute mile shuffle with a pack became my comfortable cruise pace. Pacing & Mindset Treat the route like a stage race. End each day with purpose — if there's daylight, keep pushing. Don’t waste sleep hours before sunset. Route Choice Dropping the pack for out-and-backs was the right move. It may mean more miles, but avoiding extra climbs with weight preserved my legs and mind. Polecat was the smartest way up Wildcat at the end of Day 4, I'm happy I made that push. Final Thoughts Trail knowledge isn’t everything, but it’s incredibly valuable. If you’re considering this route, seek guidance. Read Bill Tidd’s Velocissima. Do your recon. Make peace with the suffering. And remember — it's hard no matter how fast you complete it. This project reminded me why I love these mountains. It brought out my best, exposed my worst, and asked for everything I had.