Shira promised me that for my Birthday we'd be hiking in the
mountains. Not only that, but the hike would be of such epic
proportions that she wanted me to bring some serious gear along,
including a sleeping bag and stove in case we needed to spend the
night in frigid conditions. This all sounded delightful to me, but I
couldn't imagine where she was going to find snow capped mountains
near Northern Virginia this time of the year.
Part of the mystery was solved last Thursday night when she informed
that we weren't hiking on Friday as planned, instead we were flying
somewhere Friday and hiking on Saturday. That made a winter hike
seem a lot more plausible.
The first leg of our trip took us to Boston, which provided us with
a delightful stop to visit my nieces and nephew. But looking around,
I didn't see any mountains surrounding Boston. So I was still
clueless as to what Shira had planned.
We got in the car and drove for about 3 hours. Eventually we
crossed the border from Massachusetts to New Hampshire. I racked my
brain, yet I couldn't for the life of me figure out what epic hike
was in New Hampshire. Finally we pulled into a cute little hotel in
Lincoln, New Hampshire. We did a little unpacking and then walked
down the road to a pizza place where I was eagerly awaiting Shira's
explanation of how she picked this place for our hike.
Once seated, and with a pizza on the way, she refused to answer my
question. Instead, she handed me a trail overview for Franconia
Notch State Park and told me to read it. When I finally did, the
trip became absolutely clear. To understand the relevance of the
trip, you have to appreciate that one of the items on my Bucket List
is to hike a section of the Appalachian Trail in every state that it
runs through. So far I've checked off Virginia, West Virginia,
Maryland and Pennsylvania. With this trip, I'd be getting to check
off New Hampshire from my list. What a wonderful gift for my 37th
birthday!
Shira pulled out a map of the area and we started planning the
details of the next day's hike. The map represented only 6 x 8
miles, yet the trail descriptions made each trail sound more
daunting than the next. Shira had also checked ahead of time, and
the park said that some of the trails were probably covered with
snow and mud. In a rare moment of sanity, I suggested we do a
relatively short hike first, and then if we had time, we'd add on to
it.
We planned to do the following: Start in Lafayette Campground, hike
Lonesome Lake Trail to Cascade Brook Trail, then finish up the
circuit with the Pemi Trail. On the map this trip looks to take up
about 6-7 miles. A piece of cake.
We started our hike at Lafayette Campground and I made sure to snap
a photo of a small patch of snow still on the ground. How cute, I
thought, that there was still some snow around. The trail started
climbing pretty quickly, but we were eager and fresh, so this hardly
bothered us.
After a bit of hiking we found ourselves dodging patches of snow and
ice. Then a bit further up, we found that we had run out of dirt to
walk on, and were exclusively climbing up snow, ice and the
occasional rock. Shira found herself heavily relying on her hiking
poles, and I found myself grabbing on to roots and trees; anything
to steady myself.
The snow had officially turned from a novelty into an icy hazard.
After about a 1000ft climb in elevation we found ourselves on
flatter trail. The ice had been replaced with packed snow and the
going was easier. It was then that we met a hearty New Hampshire
Hiker, trudging through the snow in shorts and a t-shirt. We said
our hellos and he looked at our feet. Yeah, he explained, without
snow shoes, the trail up ahead may be impassible. He was
also wearing a pair of trail crampons (spikes attached to his
boots). I suddenly felt completely unprepared. We pushed on.
As we walked along the packed snow I wondered how many inches deep
it was. And then I took a step and sunk 2 feet into the snow. Oh,
that's how deep it was. Holy crap. We made our way down the Cascade
Brook trail, and thankfully the trail was a relatively gentle
grade. And other than the occasional misstep into knee high snow, it
was actually outstanding hiking.
As we descended into lower elevations the snow thinned out, and my
fears of needing crampons and an ice ax to get off this mountain
passed. Well, I figured, we were through the tricky part of the hike
and it would be easy going from here. Yeah, not quite.
All along the trail we'd seen signs mentioning that the Cascade Bridge was
out and that crossing the brook may not be possible. We finally
arrived at the brook, which looked a whole lot more like a raging
river than a brook, and started figuring out how we were going to
get to the other side. There were quite a number of boulders to hop
on, but none of them seemed to be a straight line to the other
side. Finally, after 20 minutes of planning we figured out a
route. And sure enough, a few hops later, we were on the other
side.
Whew. We had survived the ice which required crampons, the snow
which called for snowshoes and crossed a raging river with the
bridge out. I was feeling pretty good. It was time to just relax and
enjoy this leisurely hike.
With about .2 miles to go to the Pemi Trail turn off we encountered
Whitehouse Brook. Again, think fast moving river, not gentle brook.
Surely we weren't expected to cross this sucker, were we? Then
Shira spotted a tree in the middle of the brook with white water
flowing around it that had a white AT trail blaze. We were going
across. From a distance, crossing these brooks looks fairly easy.
But as you approach the perfect place to cross you realize that the
rocks are just a little too far apart, or perhaps they're wet and
slippery. Finding the right path across is like chasing down mirage
after mirage. And when you do decide on a place to cross the secret
is to do so with absolute confidence. If you pause or over think the
crossing process, you're just asking to lose your balance and take a
swim.
In the end we crossed the Whitehouse Brook with relative ease. We
were just a fraction of a mile from the Pemi trail, which promised a
nice flat 2 mile walk back to our car. Easy, right?
And the Pemi trail did start off easy enough. It hugged the river,
which made for some terrific views. The trail was muddy thanks to
all the snow run off, but in the scheme of things, mud was the least
of our concerns. And then we lost site of the trail. Where did it
go?
As I scouted around I realized that the next blue blaze was on the
opposite side of Whitehouse Brook, yes the very same brook we had
just crossed. The water looked to be about 5 feet deep at the
point at which the trail met the brook. That wasn't a trail
crossing, that was a swimming hole. So we started our long trek up
the bank of the river looking for a place where we could cross. We
found various possibilities, but none of them looked like they were
going to be remotely safe. Finally we found a spot where the water
was relatively shallow, about 3-4 inches deep. Shira and I linked
arms and stepped into the fast moving water. As we expected, the
current was using all its effort to get us down stream, but we
managed to make it across. Our feet soaked were with 33 degree
water, but we were safely on the other side.
We continued on our way.
For the rest of the hike, the Pemi trail behaved itself. It was
relatively flat, and to our shock, provided a few small bridges to
traverse some tiny little streams. Someone had their priorities a
little out of whack.
Further up the Pemi Trail we found "The Basin" where we stood in the
same spot Henry David Thoreau had. I wonder if his boots were soaked
from a stream crossing, too?
After about 10 hours of hiking, we finally made it back to our
car. What an absolutely thrilling hike. I felt that I could
confidently check off "New Hampshire" from my AT checklist. And
Shira earned a Wife-Of-The-Year Award for enduring this trip with
such skill and confidence, complaining not a single time.