Highpointers
Climbing to the Top of 50 States
By Gary Fallesen
Not far from where Bonnie and Clyde were killed in 1934, the McBride family stopped for gas. This is Nowheresville, La., and the NEW YORK license plates stood out like a deli-style cheesecake.
Dan McBride asked for directions to the state’s highpoint — Driskill Mountain (elevation 535 feet).
‘‘Y’all’s ears gonna pop when you go up that high,’’ the gas station’s attendant said, poking fun — we think — at the family of five from Rochester.
No doubt he’d been asked about Driskill before. It’s out of the way and anyone looking for it is probably a member of the Highpointers Club.
Highpointers travel throughout the country, looking for the high ground in each state, and along the way meeting all types of people.
Like the man in Rhode Island who chased Dan McBride’s son, Ian, with a table leg and followed another couple’s car through three states.
‘‘My son likes to say, of all the high elevations and snowfields he’s been on, the most dangerous mountain is in Rhode Island,’’ McBride says.
Jerimoth Hill in Rhode Island stands 812 feet. But, despite the danger of the man who lives next door, Highpointers come. It’s on the checklist. Right there with Alaska’s Denali (20,320 feet), California’s Whitney (14,494), Colorado’s Elbert (14,433), Washington’s Rainier (14,410), New York’s Marcy (5,344) and Florida’s Britton Hill (the shortest high point at 345 feet).
The Highpointers Club began in 1987 with 30 members. It started as an invitation in Outside magazine from Jack Longacre of Arcadia, Mo., asking those who had visited state high points to write him.
‘‘If it was just the high point, it wouldn’t be worth it,’’ says McBride, who along with Ian and daughter Molly have covered 45 of the 50 states, while his youngest daughter Erin has 43 and his wife Kate 42. ‘‘But it takes you to remote areas way off the tourist track.’’
The McBrides have been on vacations that have taken them to the dizzying heights of Louisiana, Delaware (448-foot Ebright Azimuth), Mississippi (806-foot Woodall Mountain), New Jersey (1,803-foot High Point), Alabama (2,405-foot Cheaha Mountain) and Arkansas (2,753-foot Magazine Mountain). They covered 4,300 miles on that trip.
It is estimated that a minimum of 15,000 miles of travel are required to reach the Lower 48’s high points. A Highpointer is told to expect to use 6-to-10 years of vacation time.
One man, who was closing in on the 50th state after eight years, said pursuing Highpoints gave him more places to go on vacation.
After all, how many people can brag about visiting Weskan, Kansas or Lynch, Ky. or Sibley, Iowa? But if you want to stand on Mount Sunflower (4,039 feet) or Black Mountain (4,139 feet) or Hawkeye Point (1,670 feet) you must go to those outposts.
Alaska is the crux for many Highpointers. It is real mountaineering; something most of the other climbs are not. Most of highpointing is dayhiking. For some, finding the Highpoint in the middle of nowhere can be the biggest challenge.
‘‘Some of these are the real comical ones,’’ says McBride, who works for the Rochester (N.Y.) Fire Department. ‘‘Delaware is right in front of someone’s house. We knock on the door and someone comes out and takes our picture.’’
Most Highpointers stumbled on to the club.
The McBrides were pursuing the 46 High Peaks of New York's Adirondack mountains when they climbed Katahdin.
‘‘We got excited about that,’’ McBride recalls. ‘‘We said, ‘Why don’t we stop (in New Hampshire) and do Mount Washington on the way back?’ Then we decided, ‘Let’s not do the high points in the state, but in other states.’ ’’
The next thing they knew they were standing in a buffalo pasture known as Panorama Point (5,424 feet) in Nebraska.
‘‘We wanted to get a picture of all five of us, which is hard to do sometimes,’’ McBride says. ‘‘All of a sudden there’s a car coming down this dirt road. We’re like, ‘What the heck?’ ’’
Highpointers from New Mexico pulled in, took the family’s picture, told them about the club, and headed off to the next state.
Since then, the McBrides have seen the lawn chairs put on Illinois’ high point (1,235-foot Charles Mound) by that property’s owner. They have also viewed the 220-foot monument on New Jersey’s High Point.
They have been to Mississippi and Kentucky, which are among the high points that don’t have much to offer. They are ‘‘places where the kids go up to and drink beers and throw the bottles,’’ McBride says. ‘‘Maybe there’s a satellite tower there. It’s not much to celebrate. And this after driving 500 or 600 miles.’’
Then there are places like Hawkeye Point in Iowa, which is located next to a water trough in a cattle feedlot. Donna Sterler, who lives there with husband Merrill, gives Highpointers an Iowa keychain when they come. Ian McBride carries the one he got.
It’s like one Highpointer says: On every state visit he had some experience he’ll always treasure.
When the McBride family pulled into Mount Sunflower in Kansas they were met by a man on his bike. ‘‘He was delighted we were there,’’ McBride says of the property owner.
After visiting, the family drove 30 miles down the road to a diner. When they went in to eat, the waitress greeted them. ‘‘You must be the folks from New York,’’ she said. ‘‘I just heard about you on the radio.’’
It turned out the property owner on the bike had a morning radio show. He told all his listeners about the latest Highpointers to make the hike.
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