Tag Archives: New Hampshire hiking

24 hours/four seasons: a spring hike on New Hampshire’s Mount Lafayette

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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.

 

Mount Roberts: The rich legacy of a bankrupt millionaire

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Mount Roberts is located at the Castle in the Clouds Conservation Area, once the mountain estate of benevolent capitalist Thomas G. Plant.

Mount Roberts, located in Moultonborough, New Hampshire at the 5,300-acre Castle in the Clouds Conservation Area, was once the country estate of benevolent capitalist Thomas G. Plant.

Mount Roberts, a small peak with big views, is “such stuff as dreams are made on”:  one man’s dream, for building castles in the air.

Although he can’t claim credit for creating  the mountain itself, shoe magnate Thomas Gustave Plant paved the way for conservation of this land in the early 1900s when he began buying up old farms and lots in New Hampshire’s Ossipee Range for his Lucknow Estate, where he built his Arts & Crafts-style Castle in the Clouds in 1913-14.

But by the time Plant died at age 82 in 1941, he was bankrupt and broke, thanks to bad investments in Russian bonds and Cuban sugar, followed by the 1929 stock market crash. During the Depression, he tried to sell his mountain estate but found no one willing to buy the estate as one parcel. Plant lived with his wife Olive at the Castle until he died, just before creditors  auctioned off everything he owned.

After Plant’s death, the property passed through the hands of several stewards, until its 2002 purchase by the Lakes Region Conservation Trust.

Thomas G. Plant

Born in Bath, Maine, to a working-class family of French Canadian immigrants, Plant played baseball, cut ice, and worked in a shoe factory before starting his own shoe company, reportedly with money garnished in a baseball wager.  An “enlightened capitalist,” Plant sought both to make money and to enrich the lives of his workers. He claimed his Thomas G. Plant Shoe Factory in Roxbury, Massachusetts as the largest in the world. There, workers enjoyed a park and other amenities.  In 1917, he built The Plant Home, an assisted living home still operating today in Bath.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, as we began our hike to Mount Roberts, we passed the old stables, which continue to house horses and carriages today (available for riding in season).  Plant probably rode in his carriage on the old road that winds up the side of the mountain.

Our first views of Winnepesaukee, with more to come.

Our first views of Winnipesaukee, with more to come.

The 2.5 mile trail to the Mount Roberts summit soon reaches ledges with great views of Lake Winnipesaukee. The terrain looks rough for carriage rides, but then again, bumpy rides on carriage paths once were common in these parts.

On my visit to Castle in the Clouds Conservation Area, the small parking lot was full, and families with young children were cavorting in the meadow around the small pond.

But as we hiked to Mount Roberts, we mostly had the trail to ourselves.  At the summit, with its view of Mount Washington, we were the only hikers present.

On the summit of Mt. Roberts, we had great of Mt. Washington with its snow-covered summit.

At the Mt. Roberts summit, we had great views of Mt. Washington with its snow-covered summit.

I’m sure that from July through Columbus Day, Castle in the Clouds is a bustling place on weekends, filling up with weddings, bus tours, and people out enjoying the day. But 5,300+ acres offers lots of room to roam. My guess is that most visitors stick pretty close to the Castle.

Thomas G. Plant died broke and bankrupt, but he left a rich legacy, (albeit indirectly): an outdoor inheritance will never be exhausted, thanks to the stewardship of the Lakes Region Conservation Trust.

Sources and resources

Find more information about Thomas Gustave Plant at a family genealogical page.

The Jamaica Plan Historical Society offers more information about the Thomas G. Plante Shoe Factory fire, Boston, Massachusetts 1976.

Find links to a trail map and additional information at Lakes Region Conservation Trust Castle in the Clouds Conservation Area (but please support LRCT by buying one or better yet, join the trust).  The Conservation Area includes several great hikes; I look forward to a return visit to hike Mount Shaw. Parking available at trailheads on Route 171 and at the end of Ossipee Park Road in Moultonborough, New Hampshire.

Castle in the Clouds, along with the on-site restaurant, is open for touring from mid-May (usually for Mother’s Day) through mid-October.

Wandering in the wilderness of Mount Paugus

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In New Hampshire’s heavily visited White Mountains, solitude often seems like a lost dream on beautiful autumn weekends, when throngs of people climb popular peaks. But not far from the beaten path, in the Sandwich Range Wilderness, intriguing Mount Paugus awaits exploration far from the madding crowd.

A year ago, the ledges of 3198-foot Mount Paugus had beckoned to me from a rest stop on the west side of nearby Mount Chocorua. Now, I set off with two friends on the Cabin Trail to complete an 8-mile loop that would take us over the ledges of Mount Paugus, down to Whitin Brook and the Big Rock Cave, and then over Mount Mexico.

The mist lent an air of mystery to the hemlock forest on the Cabin Trail.

The mist lent an air of mystery to the hemlock forest on the Cabin Trail.

At the trailhead, on Route 113A in Wonalancet, our vehicle sat alone. Although the day had dawned wet, the forecast called for clearing—a good day that would draw swarms to the mountains. But on our hike to Mount Paugus, we met only one other party, two slightly lost hikers and their dog.

Mount Paugus is part of the Sandwich Range Wilderness, designated as such by the government in 1984. This “wilderness” has a long history of human use, for logging and for recreation. But on this walk, I definitely felt like I was wandering in wilderness, one replete with mysterious forests, vast cliffs and ledges, and dramatic glacial erratics.

As the last remnants of rain dripped off the beech trees, the Cabin Trail climbed upward on an old logging road. At one point the forest abruptly shifted from beech to hemlock, almost as if someone had planted a dividing line between the deciduous and the evergreen. About two miles in, the trail climbs alongside a rough sidehill with a steep forested slope.  After this patch, (and 2.7 miles in) the trail descends a bit to reach the junction of the Lawrence Trail, which climbs upward and then crosses over the ledges of Mount Paugus.

The summit of Mount Paugus is buried in trees and we didn’t attempt a bushwhack. Instead, we hiked on the Lawrence Trail until it crosses an open but tree-shrouded patch of ledge. There, with a small detour, we found west-facing views.

When we reached the flat ledges near the summit of Mount Paugus, we scrabbled a bit off to the southwest to eat a windy lunch on this dramatic west-facing ledge.

When we reached the flat ledges near the summit of Mount Paugus, we scrabbled a bit off to the southwest to eat a windy lunch on this dramatic west-facing ledge with cloudy views of Mount Tripyramid.

Although the other hikers we’d encountered had trouble navigating the network of trails around Mount Paugus, we had a map and it wasn’t hard to follow the Lawrence Trail as it descended past the Beeline Trail (which take hikers over to Mount Chocorua) to the Old Paugus Trail.  The descent is rough in spots and the wet rocks added more  challenge, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with a combination of careful steps and butt shimmies.  The Old Paugus Trail offers views of Mount Chocorua through the trees (see photo above the headline).

Deep in this wilderness, with its many turns and unsigned junctions, we frequently consulted the map. People tend to forget that maps are useful not only for showing the trail, but for identifying features in the land that help orient the user, like brooks, or the topo lines that announced the approach of steep ledges on the Old Paugus Trail. I’ve yet to become a confident compass user, but have found that carefully studying a map is almost as good.

An amazing ledge on the Old Paugus Trail -- and quite obvious on the map, from the contour lines.

An immense ledge on the Old Paugus Trail. The topo lines of the map really don’t do it justice.

We dipped low to Whitin Brook, an inviting swimming hole in August, and then picked up the Big Rock Cave trail towards 2020-foot Mount Mexico.  After six or miles of meandering, I groaned a little at the thought of climbing another mountain, but the dramatic glacial erratics at Big Rock Cave soon provided a spirit-boosting reward.

This set of huge glacial erratics, including a pair that creates roomy cave, and several other intriguing nooks, crannies and crevices. I'm not sure I'd want to sleep there, given that bears probably live in this wild area, but it looks like people use it for campouts on a fairly regular basis.

This set of huge glacial erratics  creates a roomy cave, and several other intriguing nooks, crannies and crevices. I’m not sure I’d want to sleep here, given that bears must prowl in this wild area, but it looks like people use the cave for campouts on a regular basis. A hike into the cave, on the Big Rock Cave Trail, would be an exciting day’s work for the youngest hikers.

Just below Mount Mexico, the forest grows on top of a glacial erratic pushed here by the ice 11,000 years ago.

Just below Mount Mexico, the forest grows on top of a glacial erratic pushed here by the ice 11,000 years ago.

After the caves, we ascended to the flat top of Mount Mexico, home to a beautiful open hemlock forest. Then we were on the home stretch, about two miles downhill to the trailhead.

The hike took more time than we had planned, but we enjoyed the meandering, the conversation, and the solitude. If wilderness is a place in which we can lose ourselves in wonder, then the Sandwich Range qualifies, even given its extensive and sometimes destructive human history. Lucky us!

Sources and resources

To recap, our loop hike to Mount Paugus consisted of the Cabin Trail to the Lawrence Trail to the Old Paugus Trail to the Big Rock Cave Trail.  The Sandwich Range Wilderness and adjacent public and private lands feature a network of interconnecting trails with endless opportunities for exploration, including 4,019-foot Mount Whiteface (the latter well-travelled by 4,000-foot peak baggers). A bonus: this southern range of the White Mountains is only an hour and 20 minutes from the Seacoast region of New Hampshire and Maine.

To read more about hiking on nearby Mount Chocorua, see my post, Intersecting Slopes on Mount Chocorua.

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

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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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three blogs for hitting the trails

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The Arctic Vortex last week offered a good opportunity to hunker down and work on one of my New Year’s projects, which is to improve this blog. To that end, I am participating in the Word Press “Zero to Hero” challenge of daily “here’s how to enhance your blog” lessons. Today’s lesson included commenting on three blogs (done) and then taking the exercise a step further by writing about three blogs. Hence, I present a trio of hiking blogs: Girls on the Way, 1 Happy Hiker, and Live Free and Hike: A NH Day Hiker’s Blog.  All three include links to other good hiking blogs, but I always tell my students that three examples are enough for illustrating a point or idea, and I’ll stick with that advice here.

Girls on the Way is the blog of Patricia Ellis Herr and her two daughters, Alex and Sage.  Trish Ellis Herr first started writing the blog when Alex was five, and Alex decided that she UP A Mother and Daughter's Peakbagging Adventurewanted to hike all of New Hampshire’s 48 four-thousand footers.   These efforts eventually became a neat little book titled Up: A Mother and Daughter’s Peak-Bagging Adventures. I loved the book, both for the descriptions of approximately 15 hikes and for the way the author took each chapter and turned it into a lesson, e.g. “Some Things Will Always Be Beyond Your Control”.

I don’t want to give away too much, but I will say that while reading the book, the chapter titled “Mistakes Can Have Serious Consequences” took me back to 1982 when, as a college sophomore, I followed the news about two teenagers who had lost their way while doing a winter climb of Mount Washington.  They encountered whiteout conditions on the way down and lost their way. Both survived, but one boy lost both of his legs. Another young man on the Search and Rescue team was killed in an avalanche during the search. Today that teenager who survived a terrible ordeal is Trish’s husband and a world-renowned scientist.  It was eerie to read about him telling his story to daughter  as a cautionary tale–and to recollect my vague memories of the event, and of fellow students who had undertaken similar adventures but had better luck.

Some readers may wonder if Ellis-Herr pushes her daughter to do these hikes, a point she addresses in the book.  As she observes, a parent can’t force a kid who doesn’t want to hike do the arduous hikes that Alex undertakes; doing so is just about impossible (unless you are willing to carry said child up the mountain).  Children have boundless energy and the question of physical stamina isn’t a problem for most; instead, kids often lack the mental stamina needed for lengthy hikes. Alex definitely had (and has) that mental stamina, and her sister Sage follows in her footsteps.  (For the record, even though my son is a good hiker, I would never attempt to conquer the 48 4,000 footers with him unless a helicopter or water slide was involved).  Maybe someday my son will surprise me and announce that he wants to conquer the 48 summits, but until then, I will hike most 4,000 footers on my own.

Since the publication of Up, Trish and her daughters have had many other adventures, including several months in Spain hiking  the 500-mile El Camino de Santiago long-distance pilgrimage.  This summer, they hope to hike the John Muir Trail, and I hope they get to go, because hiking the JMT is also on my hiking bucket list.

Another hiking blog I like is 1 HappyHiker.  The Happy Hiker’s blog is very simple in appearance and he doesn’t share much information about himself, but he is a good writer and has archived many posts about adventures in New England and beyond (not to mention that his blog has a great title, a little corny, but who isn’t  happy when standing on a mountaintop?).  Lots of solid well-researched information and ideas for hikes in the region.    This blog often comes up on Google searches related to hiking in New Hampshire.

Finally, I’ll give a short shout-out to Live Free and Hike: A NH Day Hiker’s Blog  by Seacoast resident Karl Searle, who writes about hiking and outdoor adventures, including many that are family-oriented.   The blog has a great title and good content about adventures within striking distance of the Seacoast region.

Readers, if you have any ideas for a revised blog title, please send them my way!  “Random History and Offbeat Trivia” is okay, and reflects the fact that sometimes you just need to put the fingers on the keyboard and start typing. But I am trying to devise a title that more effectively captures the essence of this multi-faceted blog: hiking, adventures, travel, history.