Travels on the White Rose Road to Orris Falls

When writer Sarah Orne Jewett stopped by the Littlefield farmhouse in June, 1889, she found Daniel Littlefield, then 68, sitting in his deceased wife’s rocking chair, looking out the window at the same lane on which we walked on a recent Sunday in April.

Although the hike to Orris Falls is a short mile from the trailhead, walkers can get in a good four to five mile hike within the Orris Falls Conservation Area

Although the hike to Orris Falls is a short mile from the trailhead, walkers can get in a good four to five mile hike within the Orris Falls Conservation Area

Littlefield, Jewett observed, had a “large frame…built for hard work, for lifting great weights and pushing his plough through new-cleared land.”

But now, this Civil War veteran, crippled by war wounds, aging, and a lifetime of “undiverted toil,” could no longer do the heavy lifting of farming. Like many in 19th century South Berwick, Daniel and his wife Mercy had lived a hard-scrabble life on their hilly and rock-filled land. They had endured the deaths of infant Izaro, three-year old Eunice, and 22-year-old Henrietta.  Although son Orris stayed on, and daughter Phebe married locally, Daniel and Mercy witnessed the departure of many young people who abandoned family farms and left Maine for better prospects after the Civil War.

But despite the hard living, every farmhouse on what Jewett called the “White Rose Road”  had a white rose bush planted near the door, including that of Littlefields — a small burst of daily joy from June through fall.

Daniel built his farmhouse around 1860 on the foundation of a home built in the 1800s.  In 1889 — and probably long before that — few people passed by the lonely farmhouse, located just over a half-mile off Thurrell Road (Jewett’s “White Rose Road”).

Although we found no sign of the white rose bush, we felt a similar sense of isolation when we explored the Orris Falls Conservation Area.  We saw other walkers, but not many, considering that this April afternoon offered ideal circumstances for exploring these trails, with all the sights and contours of the land fully revealed.

On the old woods road towards Orris Falls.

On the old woods road towards Orris Falls.

When I set out for this hike, I didn’t know about Sarah Orne Jewett’s sketch, “The White Rose Road,” which recounts an afternoon ride through this neighborhood.  After reading it, I was struck by how Jewett’s sketch of an agrarian neighborhood in decline captured the sense I felt of traveling in a lost New England as we wandered through the forest now grown up from the old farm fields.

We began at the Thurrell Road trailhead on the same woods road that Daniel Littlefield and his family rode or walked en route to town, school, or to the closest neighboring house.   About  a half-mile in, we stopped at the Littlefield family cemetery, where Daniel and Mercy are buried along with at least two of their children.

This map from the 1872 Atlas of York County, highlights the isolation of the Littlefield house from its neighbors in South Berwick. Today, visitors may feel an echo of the Littlefields' isolation when they walk to Orris Falls.

This map from the 1872 Atlas of York County  highlights the isolation of the Littlefield house from its neighbors in South Berwick.  Note many of the “old” names still common in southern Maine today. Until World War II, the majority of southern Maine residents consisted of old families descended from colonial era pioneers (Image from trailside kiosk via the Old Berwick Historical Society).

The Littlefield house, now a cellar hole, is just past the cemetery. Daniel and Mercy probably sometimes went for days without speaking to a neighbor, especially during stormy days or intense cold.

A cavity in the foundation of the Littlefield house. I've seen these cavities in other cellar holes in York County and wonder if they were used as a root cellar or for some other purpose.

A cavity in the Littlefield house cellar hole. I’ve seen these cavities in other foundations in York County and wonder if they were used as root cellars or for some other purpose. Daniel Littlefield purchased this land (a 78-acre parcel) for $850 in 1843 and built his home around 1860.  Behind the house are the foundation walls of a large barn. Another large wall is built into the side of the slope that looks out at the beaver pond — almost as if Daniel was intent on building a viewing platform/patio.  But the wall must have served a practical purpose — perhaps flood control. Please leave comments if you have more information.

Continuing on, the trail crosses a wooden footbridge before turning right to Orris Falls, where water was tumbling in a small fall that probably froths large after a heavy rain.   Here, the trail loops back towards Thurrell Road; hikers who wish to continue on to Balancing Rock should backtrack towards the main woods road.

Orris Falls tumbling in April. The Falls are named for Daniel's son Orris, who owned the farm by 1891, when Daniel died. The falls spring from a small gorge and hikers with small children need to watch carefully.

Orris Falls tumbling in April. The Falls are named for Daniel’s son Orris, who owned the farm by 1891, when Daniel died. The falls tumble through a gorge with banks that rise  t0 90 feet, so hikers with small children need to watch carefully.

Continuing on the main trail, we ascended Spring Hill and discovered the Tatnic Ledges, with a pre-foliage view of Mount Agamenticus.  We were beginning to wonder if we had missed the turn-off to Balancing Rock when we came upon a small sign pointing the way.

Balancing Rock, a glacial erratic left by the melting and receding glacier. The Rock is on a short side trail just beyond the legde views of Spring Cliffs.

Balancing Rock, a glacial erratic left by the receding glacier; the Rock in located in a little hollow off the main trail.

After our visit to Balancing Rock, we backtracked to the junction at the Littlefield cellar hole and hiked over to the Big Bump.  Somehow we missed LaChance Point, so that viewpoint will have to wait for next time.

Fifteen years ago (circa 2000), this property was not accessible to the public and was ripe for development. Thanks to the work of many at the Great Works Regional Trust, Orris Falls Conservation Area was preserved through land purchases and conservation easements over private lands  —  an effort that involved years of negotiations regarding multiple parcels of land and various financing arrangements .

It’s hard to imagine that this patch of forest might have become another southern Maine subdivision. I know that people need places to live, but I’m glad that Great Works managed to save this special place so that we can wander here today.

Beyond the LIttlefield homestead, beavers have created a large pond with several dams and beaver houses readily visible.

Beyond the LIttlefield homestead, beavers have created a very large pond with several dams and beaver houses readily visible.

Sources and Resources

For a video visit, see the NHPTV Windows to the Wild episode inspired by this blog post, titled “The Maniacal Traveler“.

Here, the map for the Orris Falls Conservation Area, which is part of the Great Works Regional Land Trust (see the website for a mobile version of the map).

The full text of Sarah Orne Jewett’s sketch, “The White Rose Road,” first published in The Atlantic Monthly, September, 1889, and again in her book, Strangers and Wayfarers (1890).

Scholar Nancy Meyer Wetzel links Jewett’s sketch to the historical people and events in her 2003 article, “The White Rose Road: Sarah Orne Jewett’s Journey to Orris Falls.

Find-a-Grave has photos and more details about the Littlefield Family cemetery.

Presidential aspirations: You can’t always get what you want

I have long held Presidential aspirations — that is, to complete the Presidential traverse hike across the highest peaks of New England including Mount Washington, Jefferson,  Adams, and Madison.

Moon over Mount Adams, with Madison Hut in the foreground.

Moon over Mount Adams, with Madison Spring Hut in the foreground.

I love the high open alpine terrain of these summits, and the sense of being on top of the world.

But the weather is predictably unpredictable in the mountains, especially on 6,288-foot Mount Washington, which is known for creating its own weather. In any given June, only 10 days of the month are sunny or partly sunny.

But even a hike through the clouds would be awesome. Stretching my Presidential hike over three days, with two nights in alpine huts operated by the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) increased the odds of hiking at least one day under sunny clear skies.

My son, aka the Seal, was up for the challenge — his first big overnight hike – even if he didn’t know exactly what he was getting into. His friend, wearing thin sneakers and carrying an oversized school backpack, was also game.

Spoiler: we didn’t get to complete our Presidential hike. But our three days in the mountains reminded me of these truths about hiking.

Your kids will eventually hike faster than you can, but only if you don’t torture them when they are young.

Summer 2015 005

Tama Fall, on the Fallsway parallel to the lower part of the Valley Way trail, was running full thanks to recent rainfall.

We began our hike under partly cloudy skies, with rain in the forecast, so I decided to start out on the Valley Way trail, the most protected route to Madison Spring Hut. The boys quickly raced ahead on the trail, waiting for me to catch up at each junction.

If the weather held off, I planned to cross over, via the Scar Trail, to the Air Line Trail so we could take in the drama of King Ravine.  My pack felt heavier than a couple of weeks earlier, when I had carried a full load into the Desolation Wilderness. The terrain was steeper, but I think I mostly felt slow, creaky, and weighted down in contrast to the 14-year-olds.

My son is definitely not a hard-core outdoorsy kid, but I have spent years choosing shorter easier hikes with interesting features to make hiking palatable and (hopefully) interesting and fun. Now comes the payoff for not torturing him when he was young:  torture for me!

It had rained hard enough for us to put on our rain gear, but the rain let up by the time we got to the sign. People die in these mountains every year, including a woman hiker who perished not far from Madison Hut during the past winter while trying to climb Mount Adams.

It had rained hard enough for us to put on our rain gear, but the rain let up by the time we got to the sign. People die in these mountains every year, including a young woman who perished this past February not far from Madison Hut.

When it rains, you get wet.

Having good rain gear and stay-dry clothing helps in weathering the storm, but the rain eventually leaks into the jacket, the boots get waterlogged from sloshing through too many puddles, and invariably some item gets waterlogged because you forgot to wrap it in plastic.

At first, clouds filled the depths of King Ravine.

Then the clouds lifted, revealing the depths of the Ravine.

A warm and dry bunk in an alpine hut is better than a suite at a luxury hotel, especially when said bunk (multiplied by three or four people) costs as much or more.

Ah, Madison Spring Hut! This historic hut, on the site of mountain hospitality since 1889, was rebuilt in 2011.  I love the new layout and little luxuries: a dining room that doesn’t feel as crowded, individual bunk lights that energy-efficient lights, and best of all, the third-level bunk private-ish suites. The boys quickly climbed up the ladder to these bunks, designed to be impossible to fall from, with a wall on one side of each bunk, and a heavy wooden platform screen connecting two bunks (with four bunks total stretching across the rafters).  They promptly took possession of their suite, laid themselves out to dry, and passed out like two-year-olds taking a long-delayed afternoon nap.

Being on a mountain at sunset is awesome.

One of the greatest benefits of staying in an alpine huts experiencing the last rays of the day from a mountain top. The 5,367-foot summit of Mount Madison rises a half-mile above the hut, making for an easy (albeit strenuous) climb.

 

Reaching the summit of Mount Madison after dinner, with plenty of time to get back to the hut before dark.

Hanging out on  the summit of Mount Madison after dinner, with plenty of time, in June,  to get back to the hut before dark.

The sky glowed above Mount Washington as we climbed back down to the hut.

At twilight, the clouds cleared and the sky glowed above Mount Washington.

New England weather is fickle, especially in the mountains.

Yes, yes, everyone knows this, but why does this truism always have to be true?? For days, I had been checking the long-range forecast, thinking that I might reorganize the trip by a day if the weather looked bad. (Although not well publicized, AMC, known for their ironclad no-refund policies, will let you make a one-time switch to your itinerary on a space-available basis). On Saturday, the weather looked great! But by the time we hit the trail, the forecast had evolved from great to gray to grim: high winds, severe thunderstorms, heavy rain, and flash floods.

I held out hope that the weather front might pass through early, or hold off until later, but on Tuesday morning, after providing the weather forecast, the hut “croo” at Madison strongly discouraged anyone from walking across the six-mile exposed Gulfside Trail towards Mount Washington and the hut at Lake of the Clouds, our destination for Tuesday night.

More than 140 people have died in these mountains over the past 150 or so years, in all four seasons. I knew that we had to abandon our plans. I switched our reservation to Highland Center down in Crawford Notch and debated options for the next day, when the weather would clear.

The thought of putting on wet socks and then lacing on waterlogged boots is worse than the reality of doing so.

We hiked out the Valley Way trail in the pouring rain. My pricey Marmot jacket quickly became a wet skin. At one point, I had to take off my glasses so that I could sort of see the trail. The rain eventually let up, and we reached the Appalachia parking lot, where a kiosk provided shelter from the rain when it started up again. I was so grateful when The AMC shuttle arrived ahead of schedule.

After a hard hike, the cheapest glass of wine tastes great.

Mondavi Chardonnay, with dinner at the Highland Center, preceded by afternoon coffee at The Met in North Conway while the boys filled up on “penny” candy at Zeb’s General Store.  We even managed a visit to White Birch Books.

The view of Crawford Notch from the Highland Center patio. Down in the Notch, the rain had stopped, but I knew that it could be storming wildly up on the higher summits.

The view of Crawford Notch from the Highland Center. Down in the Notch, the rain had stopped, but I knew that it could be storming wildly up on the higher summits.

Sometimes driving a car up a mountain is better than walking.

I briefly contemplated a day hike up Mount Washington for our third day. Strong winds were slamming the summit, but hikers coming up the southeastern side of the mountain wouldn’t feel the full force of the northwest winds until reaching the summit cone. But then I looked at my wet boots, and remembered my rule about not torturing children.

It’s not much fun to hike for any length of time when the wind is blowing hard.  But strong winds make a great day for driving the Mount Washington Auto Road.

The wind was blowing hard and steady, and we leaned into it.

The wind was blowing hard and steady. We leaned into it, and loved it.

When we arrived at the summit, the wind was blowing a steady 40-45 mph, with gusts in the 60 mph range. That doesn’t sound so bad – and it isn’t, if you aren’t try to move forward on your feet. In fact, it’s great fun to lean in to the wind, and then let it chase you around.

Inside the State Park building, we milled around with senior citizens and tourists who had come up on the Cog Railway and visited the new “Extreme Mount Washington” exhibit that features a compelling account of the April 1934 record-setting wind, when observers clocked the wind speed at 231 mph.

But we couldn’t experience Mount Washington without a hike, so after lunch,  we began the steep descent towards Tuckerman’s Ravine to do a two-mile loop hike down to and through the Alpine Garden trail, an alpine plateau that blooms with rare wildflowers in June.

View of Tuckerman's Ravine as we turned onto the Lion's Head Trail and then onto the Alpine Garden trail.

View of Tuckerman’s Ravine as we turned on to the Lion’s Head Trail and then the Alpine Garden trail, which cuts across a plateau towards Huntington Ravine.

Heading downhill, we soon left the wind behind as we encountered a steady stream of hikers on their final leg up the mountain. The walk down was slow going for me, but the boys continued their mountain goat act. The trail through the Gardens was easy and open, although I expected to see more flowers for this time of year. Either I just missed them, or they hadn’t yet come out in full bloom, or “garden” is a relative term in Mount Washington’s harsh environment.

As we climbed uphill again, towards Ball Crag and the summit, we again felt the wind’s full force. By the time we reached the car, I was feeling pretty beat up, but strong enough to move the car in the empty parking lot to take advantage of perfect westerly views towards Franconia Ridge.

An imperfect trip to the mountains is always better always better than going to the office (or doing housework, running errands, going to doctor appointments).

I had hoped to climb Mount Jefferson on this trip, and touch upon Mount Monroe, two 5,000 footers on my to-climb list. But as a glass half-full type, I see this year’s loss as next year’s opportunity.  I’ll be back—along with at least one other hiker who already is strategizing on how to get some additional teenagers on the trail.

We'll try again next year -- or maybe in the fall.

We’ll try again next year — or maybe in the fall.

Sources and resources

For information on hut stays, visit the Appalachian Mountain Club website.  The AMC also offers a shuttle service at key trailheads and lodges so that hikers can do point-to-point hikes across the mountains.  Hikers can also use a shuttle service to or from Mount Washington — see the Auto Road website for details.

The Mount Washington Weather Observatory Higher Summits forecast provides detailed information on weather for both the region and the higher summits in the Presidential Range.

For more reading about Mount Washington, see some of my posts from my week-long stay on the summit in January, 2014:

The world’s worst weather: Bring it on!

Cat vs camel: An epic battle on Mount Washington provides an opportunity to write about Marty

Crisis on Mount Washington: The empty sugar barrel

The wind howls and we stir the pot