On that 95-degree Thursday afternoon in May, we headed north from Kittery, seeking cooler air and adventure. But at 4 p.m., when we pulled into the Franconia Notch parking lot for the Old Bridle Path trailhead, the car thermometer read 93 degrees.
Undaunted, and knowing that we had “only” a 2.9-mile hike to Greenleaf Hut, we hit the trail — a mom, her teenaged son, and his friend, the latter two carrying packs heavy with sleeping bags, extra layers, and clean underwear (maybe). The mom still carried most of the load, including a reward stash of 3 cans: one Baxter Paloma beer, two Brisk Ice-Teas. The teenagers quickly charged ahead, despite the drag of ill-fitting packs.
By mid-May, the lower section of the Old Bridle Path was dry, but I knew that snow probably lingered on the upper slopes of Mount Lafayette and on the upper third of the Falling Waters Trail. I’d been to Greenleaf Hut several times in the spring, drawn by the low self-service fee, and the opportunity to feel like I am traveling in a wilderness. On spring days, at least during the week, these higher elevations in New Hampshire feel wild and remote, barren spaces where you might be the last person on earth.
On gorgeous summer and fall days, hundreds (and sometimes thousands) of people hike to Lafayette, completing a 8.9-mile loop that includes two 4,000-foot summits and almost two miles of walking on the open and exposed Franconia Ridge. Weather can change rapidly on Lafayette and along the ridge, with a bluebird sky transforming into a dense fog cloud. Thus, I knew not to take 93 degree for granted. I had consulted the Higher Summits forecast, and knew what to expect: four seasons, 24 hours.
Hiking steadily up the Old Bridle Path, which climbs 2,450 feet from the trailhead to Greenleaf Hut, a steady stream of sweat dripped into my eyes and down my back. I gulped water, but could barely keep up with the sweat, or the boys. Occasionally they paused to wait for me, and I nagged them to drink their water. About two miles in, we burst out of the woods into the krummholz, the twisted low-growing spruce trees shaped by the wind. Gray clouds were gathering, but the temperature remained warm. I knew thunder might break out at any moment, and encouraged the boys to hustle to the hut without me, while I hustled at my own pace.
Clouds moving in over Franconia Ridge as we break out of the forest.
I made it to the hut by 6:30, about ten minutes behind the teenagers. The beer and the iced teas went down in minutes as we lingered on the back porch of the hut and watched dark thunderclouds roll in. Dinner was simple: grilled ham and cheese, a few carrots, some chocolate chip cookies. We shared the dining room with just two other hikers, who soon headed off to their bunks. But not us, as the show was just beginning.
As darkness fell, lightening crackled across the sky and lit up the mountain. Deep booms of thunder shook the hut. The storm was glorious and magnificent, and we were safe and snug in the hut. Henry Thoreau’s observations, recalling his 1846 hike on the “Burnt Lands” plateau of Mount Katahdin, seemed fitting:
“This was that Earth of which we have heard, made out of Chaos and Old Night…Man was not to be associated with it. It was Matter, vast, terrific…rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! the solid earth! the actual world! the common sense! Contact! Contact!“
When we went to bed around 10, sheets of rain poured from the sky, washing away the snow fields on the mountain’s upper slopes. By morning, the front had ushered in cool air, a fall day that called for sweaters and long pants.
At Greenleaf Hut, elevation 4220 feet, the intrepid hikers, undaunted by the morning chill, were ready for the morning hike to the Lafayette summit. The temperature had dropped about 50 degrees overnight (but some teens will never give up their shorts).
From the hut, we hiked steadily up the 1.1-mile section of the Greenleaf Trail that climbs up Lafayette. This stretch is rocky and steep, but never feels too difficult because the views are unrelenting and magnificent.
Morning view of Greenleaf Hut, with Cannon Mountain behind it.
As we climbed higher, a misty cloud surrounded us, limiting visibility. My son, aka The Seal, finally pulled out his fleece shirt.
Hiking into the clouds towards the 5,261-foot summit of Lafayette.
On top of the mountain, the wind was blowing hard, creating a windchill in the 30-degree range. Not full-on winter with a raging blizzard, but definitely winter, by almost any standards (including New England).
At the summit, the wind was strong enough to lean into. Such conditions — and even stronger winds — are common on Lafayette, and weather on the mountain often changes rapidly.
Playing in the wind on Mount Lafayette
Taking a break from the wind in the foundation of a shelter built on Lafayette around 1860. The structure is long gone, but hikers today still appreciate the protection offered by the old foundation.
The wind abated once we began to descend from the summit onto the Franconia Ridge Trail, a two-mile open ridge walk.
Franconia Ridge, viewed as we descend Lafayette and head towards 5,089-foot Mount Lincoln, with Little Haystack, Mt. Liberty and Mt. Flume following. The temperature remained cold, but the hiking kept us warm.
At Little Haystack, we turned right (west) onto the Falling Waters Trail. Narrow ridges of snow called monorail, formed by the steady tromping of winter hikers all season long, typically linger on the upper stretch of Falling Waters until late May. The monorail is deceptively treacherous, especially if the surface in hard and slippery (in such cases, microspikes advised). The heavy rains made the snow soft, but we picked our way carefully along the monorail to avoid any slips that might twist an ankle or knee.
Thanks to the rain and spring run-off, the Falling Waters Trail was a drama of roaring cascades.
Cloudland Falls, the first of three cascades on the Falling Waters Trail as you hike down from Franconia Ridge. This photo is a pale imitation of the falls we encountered that morning, after the big storm.
At Swiftwater Falls, we crossed the brook, and a short time later came upon Stairs Falls, where a large cliff with a slight overhang rises above the trail. Here, I hurried the boys along to the other side of the brook. I believe this spot is where a five-by-three foot boulder dislodged from the cliff and killed a young woman from China ten years ago around this time of year (I hiked the loop with a friend that spring, about a week after the accident). This kind of freak accident is very rare, but I do not like to linger by Stairs Falls.
Leaving the falls behind, we hiked the last mile to the car. By this time and at this lower elevation, the morning was warming up: spring had arrived. Four seasons/24 hours — what many would say is just another day of hiking to the higher summits in the White Mountains.
Sources and resources
This hike took place on May 18-19, 2017, with record-high temperatures on May 18, as reported in this Washington Post article, “New England has the nation’s hottest weather.”
To read Thoreau’s entire account of his Katahdin hike (in which he did not reach the summit), see the KTAADN chapter in The Maine Woods, published after the author’s death in 1862.
For information on summit hotels and structures, most of them built during the 19th century, see Rick Russack’s article, “White Mountain Hotels and Summit Structures” at WhiteMountainsHistory.org.
To check current trail conditions (especially important in the spring, when ice and snow may linger many weeks after the ground is bare down below), see NewEnglandTrailConditions.com.
This Boston Globe article provides some details about the May 2008 accident that killed 28-year-old Shu Qin, a young woman visiting from China.
For a day hike, the recommended route for the Franconia Loop is counter-clockwise (up Falling Waters to the ridge and down the Old Bridle Path), to avoid hiking down some slippery sections of the Falling Waters trail. From Memorial Day through the mid-October, hikers can take a break at the hut to enjoy hot soup and cookies.
Your writing is as beautiful as ever, Dianne. And I finally learned the word “krummholz”. I remember when you did this hike last year, and your descriptions bring it alive once again. Thank you for always expanding my vocabulary and world view. I would love to do the hike with you sometime, aware of the dangers and changing conditions. The Seal and his friend are lucky to have such an intrepid leader!