Why Molehill Is Nation’s Most Challenging Mountain

Dave Walsh gripped his U.S. geological map as he posed for a hero shot atop America’s toughest peak.

“McKinley took some planning, but this took 20 years,” he roared.

A member of the Highpointers Club, a group of climbers who devote weekends to bagging the highest peak in every state, Walsh stood atop the ultimate summit at last.

His achievement is not to be underestimated.

“I bushwhacked in two years ago and barely got back in one piece,” says Chuck Bickes, sighing in relief after a recent safe ascent.

They aren’t talking about Mt. Rainier or Mt. Washington.

They’re talking about Jerimoth Hill in Rhode Island, elevation 812 feet.

It’s an easy stroll along a leafy lane to the summit, a one-foot-high slab of granite even a toddler could scale.

The problem isn’t height.

The problem is Henry.

“Shoot all the damn Highpointers!” bellows Henry Richardson, a 77-year-old retired music teacher, who lives in a large red colonial on Jerimoth Hill and who is as passionate about his privacy as Highpointers are about their peaks. An enormous American flag flutters outside the house, next to signs that say “Private Property” and “Trespassing Is A Violation That We Take Seriously.”

Very seriously.

Over the years Richardson has hurled insults, called the cops, threatened to break cameras, started fistfights.

It’s not like this at the highest point in Iowa, Hawkeye Point, where Highpointers are treated to milk and cookies after muddy ascents up a cattle trough on the Sterler family farm.

Or in Kansas, where the owner erected a giant steel sunflower so Highpointers could spot the summit (Mt. Sunflower) among miles of fields.

Or in Illinois, where lawn chairs are propped up on Charles Mound so weary hikers can rest at the cornfield summit, where they are eyed by cows and greeted by a cat called Friendly.

If Richardson “would just try to be nice,” suggested John Mitchler, a Highpointer from Colorado, “I think he would realize that he would get more enjoyment out of making people happy than feeling put upon.”

“This is private property. Get outta here!” Richardson yelled recently as his dogs, little white yappy creatures called Casper and Chloe, chased visitors from his driveway, which Highpointers must cross to reach the summit.

Stories about the “madman of Jerimoth Hill” are legendary, although his son, Ed Richardson, says they are mostly untrue.

He insists there is no giant “Rin-Tin-Tin” dog, despite Highpointers who swear they’ve had a close encounter. Richardson says there is no gun, just a secret security system that lets the family know when strangers creep onto their land, and a sympathetic neighbor who spies on Highpointers from her house across the street.

For years, Highpointers would sneak to the summit at night, stick a furtive toe on top, and scurry out again. But few enjoy peak-bagging by stealth. The whole point of high-pointing, club members say, is to spend a little time savoring each summit.

Over time (and many testy phone calls) the club worked out a deal allowing members access to Jerimoth Hill four times a year. A club sign next to the “No Trespassing” signs lists the dates.

There’s just one problem. The deal was with Henry’s son, Ed Richardson.

“What agreement? There is no agreement,” yelled Henry Richardson. “This is my property, not Ed’s.”

Richardson doesn’t actually own the summit, just the access lane. The high point itself belongs to Brown University, which has its own reasons for keeping hikers away.

According to David Targan, director of Brown’s observatory, Jerimoth Hill is not only the highest point in the state, it’s also the darkest--a perfect spot for students to study the nighttime sky. Targan would prefer the Highpointers to stay away because he wants to protect the expensive telescopic equipment the university has stashed nearby.

For a time, Brown lawyers thought they had the answer: Close the summit to everyone, on the grounds that the university might be liable if someone fell off.

“I think they were focusing too much on the word ‘summit,’ ” Targan said, chuckling. “They didn’t realize there’s nothing to fall off.”

Nothing at all.

“It’s not exactly what I expected,” said 10-year-old Ian Carlin of Monson, Mass., as he pondered the little granite slab surrounded by wild blueberry bushes. Inspired by a book on Everest, Ian had just taken up climbing. Jerimoth Hill was his first ascent.

Ian tackled it manfully, joining 100 other climbers on May 28, one of the “open access” days Highpointers had worked out with Ed Richardson. Ed watched warily from the house. His father grudgingly stayed out of the way.

Ian didn’t learn much about climbing, but he did pick up peak-bagging tips. For example, while Mt. McKinley is the highest peak in America at 20,320 feet, it’s not the most dangerous.

That honor belongs to Delaware’s 448-foot Ebright Azimuth, located in the middle of a busy intersection. Highpointers risk life and limb as they dodge oncoming traffic to sprint to the summit.

Which raises the question: What’s the point?

“If you have to ask the question, you’ll never understand the answer,” says Jack Longacre, a 62-year-old outdoorsman from Missouri who founded the club in 1986. It now has more than 2,000 members.

Club officials, keen to make the agreement with Ed Richardson work, post “greeters” at the side of Route 101 on access days.

“Be good people, be good Highpointers,” exhorted greeter Pete Anderson, directing hikers toward the summit on May 28. Anderson, a geography professor from Connecticut, has conquered all of America’s highest peaks, earning the coveted “50 staters” plaque. He saved his ascent of Jerimoth Hill until it was “legal,” although he says once, several years ago, he was tempted to sneak in.

“Age, maturity and wisdom won out,” he says.

The access agreement has been in place about a year, but Ed Richardson has little faith it will last. He complains that “rogue Highpointers” continue to tramp in all year around. He tells of the couple from New York who insisted they had a federal right to visit every high point, and the Boy Scout troop that tried to creep through the bushes.

“I told the Scout leader that I’d like to see his head shot off,” Ed Richardson said. “And he tried to sneak in anyway. That’s a fine civics lesson to be teaching those kids.”

Ed Richardson says he’ll give the deal another year. If Highpointers continue high-pointing morning, noon and night, he’ll try another approach.

“We’ll blow that granite rock to pieces,” he said. “End of a high point. There will just be a hole in the ground.”

On the Net:

https://www.highpointers.org

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State Summits

The highest point in each state:

Alabama: Cheaha Mountain, 2,405 feet

Alaska: Mt. McKinley, 20,320 feet

Arizona: Humphreys Peak, 12,633 feet

Arkansas: Magazine Mountain, 2,573 feet

California: Mt. Whitney, 14,494 feet

Colorado: Mt. Elbert, 14,433 feet

Connecticut: Mt. Frissell, 2,380 feet

Delaware: Ebright Azimuth, 448 feet

Florida: Britton Hill, 345 feet

Georgia: Brasstown Bald, 4,784 feet

Hawaii: Mauna Kea, 13,796 feet

Idaho: Borah Peak, 12,662 feet

Illinois: Charles Mound, 1,235 feet

Indiana: Hoosier High Point, 1,257 feet

Iowa: Hawkeye Point, 1,670 feet

Kansas: Mt. Sunflower, 4,039 feet

Kentucky: Black Mountain, 4,139 feet

Louisiana: Driskill Mountain, 535 feet

Maine: Katahdin, 5,267 feet

Maryland: Backbone Mountain, 3,360 feet

Massachusetts: Mt. Greylock, 3,487 feet

Michigan: Mt. Arvon, 1,979 feet

Minnesota: Eagle Mountain, 2,301 feet

Mississippi: Woodall Mountain, 806 feet

Missouri: Taum Sauk Mountain, 1,772 feet

Montana: Granite Peak, 12,799 feet

Nebraska: Panorama Point, 5,424 feet

Nevada: Boundary Peak, 13,140 feet

New Hampshire: Mt. Washington, 6,288 feet

New Jersey: High Point, 1,803 feet

New Mexico: Wheeler Peak, 13,161 feet

New York: Mt. Marcy, 5,344 feet

North Carolina: Mt. Mitchell, 6,684 feet

North Dakota: White Butte, 3,506 feet

Ohio: Campbell Hill, 1,549 feet

Oklahoma: Black Mesa, 4,973 feet

Oregon: Mt. Hood, 11,239 feet

Pennsylvania: Mt. Davis, 3,213 feet

Rhode Island: Jerimoth Hill, 812 feet

South Carolina: Sassafras Mountain, 3,560 feet

South Dakota: Harney Peak, 7,242 feet

Tennessee: Clingmans Dome, 6,643 feet

Texas: Guadalupe Peak, 8,749 feet

Utah: Kings Peak, 13,528 feet

Vermont: Mt. Mansfield, 4,393 feet

Virginia: Mt. Rogers, 5,729 feet

Washington: Mt. Rainier, 14,410 feet

West Virginia: Spruce Knob, 4,861 feet

Wisconsin: Timms Hill, 1,951 feet

Wyoming: Gannett Peak, 13,804 feet

Source: The Highpointers Club / Associated Press