D.C.'s Puny Peak Enough to Pump Up 'Highpointers'

When it was established in 1861 by Brig. Gen. John G. Barnard, it was the highest spot from which the Union Army, smarting from its defeat at Bull Run, could guard Rockville Pike. Indeed, in 1864, on a July day at noon, a guard at Fort Reno was the first to discern the clouds of dust rising from Confederate wagons headed their way.

"They knew what they were doing," said Ken Faulstich, a member of the Tenleytown Neighbors Association and the Tenleytown Historical Society. "And the reservoir is another indicator. The engineers needed gravity to help the water flow."

A Civil War-era map that Faulstich has shows the outlines of Fort Reno and an early surveyor's estimation that the hill reached 420 feet.

Hyman began researching vintage maps and other data. Always looking for new territory to conquer -- something a bit elusive for contemporary "explorers" -- Hyman quickly realized that a final frontier for his club was, almost literally, right in his own backyard.

"Dedicating a high point. Officially. This was really something new," said the man who has reached 47 high points.

A unique twist in the Highpointing lifestyle lies in the machinations Highpointers must sometimes endure en route. Not always are the most dangerous elements the thin air at 20,000 feet on Mount McKinley or the wild weather patterns at 5,267 feet atop Mount Katahdin in Maine.

For a while, Jerimoth Hill in Rhode Island, at 812 feet, was considered by some to be the most menacing ascent because of a cantankerous property owner who threatened Highpointers treading on his land, they said.

Less acrimonious was the permit process to get to the District's peak, which is owned by the National Park Service. Hyman began the process about five years ago, persuading surveyors from the District of Columbia Association of Land Surveyors to do a pro bono study of the landmark.

Over the years, they spent hours surveying the land and interpreting old maps, with directions such as "19 paces from the silver maple," Hyman said.

It wasn't the spot that looks highest -- the reservoir area -- because that land was artificially built up to house the reservoir, he said. That kicked it out of the running.

To determine natural elevation, surveyors had to look at the age of nearby trees, soil samples and overall topography to ensure that modern man didn't make a mountain out of a molehill.

Once the exact spot was identified, Hyman had to get permission from the National Park Service to install the flat, coaster-sized marker and embed it into the grass with a bit of cement.

The elevation has already made it on the Highpointers Club official guide, which also appears on the back of a card in Hyman's wallet. The biggest question now is a complicated technicality: Should the Highpointers' new goal be 51, rather than 50?

As political overtones and statehood debates threatened to percolate with the advent of that question, Hyman put up his hands in surrender and declared neutrality.

The photographer, mountaineer and explorer at last found a place he didn't want to go.