9.28.29, 2013 —
Franconia Ridge camp trip
I have done hundreds of hikes in New Hampshire’s White
Mountains. I’ve summited Mount Washington seven times, and I’ve made multiple
trips up other high peaks in the region. Despite my vast hiking experience, I
had never done two things:
·
Hike in New Hampshire during the fall
·
Camp in the White Mountains’ wilderness
That changed in late September when I was joined by my
cousin Caitlin, her three friends from St. Lawrence University, and a pair of
their friends from New York for a camping adventure in the Whites.
Amazingly, the trip exceeded my sky-high expectations.
Day 1 — The ridge,
the Europeans, the dogs and SUNSET (11.9 miles hiked)
I awoke to my alarm at 5:30am, and it took me a few seconds
to orient myself. I was on a couch in the basement of Sue’s house. Sue is
Caitlin’s Godmother — and a good friend of all the relatives who frequent our
“Red House” every summer in New Hampshire. Sue and her husband Woody had
generously offered up their house as a basecamp for seven hikers.
As I sat up, so did a man just a few feet in front of me. He
introduced himself as Tashi. He and his friend Kyle had arrived late the night
before, after I had passed out, exhausted, on the couch. After everyone scarfed
down a quick breakfast, we walked outside into the chilly morning air.
We needed to get to the trailhead early so we could make the
campsite and secure spots for the night.
After I misdirected us twice, we arrived at the Liberty
Spring trailhead a tad after 7am. The sky was clear and the weather quickly
warming. As had been forecasted all week, a perfect, clear day seemed to be in
the making. That’s not something to take for granted in the Whites.
The 3.4-mile hike up the Liberty Spring trail to the
campsite isn’t easy, but it’s not overly strenuous either. We all shed layers
within the first mile and then sweated our way up the final, steep mile. A little after 9am, I came upon the first
tent platform where a woman, the caretaker, sat in the sun.
She informed me that there were plenty of platforms
available, which was music to my ears. All week I had worried about the
possibility of not getting a spot at this coveted campsite just 0.3 miles below
Franconia Ridge. After all, with an impeccable forecast, the arrival of fall
colors, and it being a Saturday, who wouldn’t want to spend the night here?
We easily beat the crowds.
We chose a pair of adjacent tent platforms and began setting
up. The girls (Caitlin, Tori, Taylor and Hannah) had one tent; Kyle and Tashi
had a two-person; and I had a single. I shared a spacious wooden platform with
the fellas that had plenty of room to lounge on even with both our tents. This
was a pretty cool spot.
Upon setting everything up, dropping our food in the
campsite’s secure bear boxes, and filtering water at the spring, we headed up
the 0.3 miles to Franconia Ridge for the first of three times. Those 0.3 miles,
as we would find out, were very legitimate. Caitlin couldn’t believe it was the
same distance as a little more than one time around a track. I couldn’t
disagree.
From the ridge, it was a fairly easy 1.7 miles through fir
trees to Little Haystack and the beginning of arguably the White Mountains’
coolest 1.8 miles of hiking (the Presidentials would have something to say
about that). As we climbed up rocks to the summit of the unofficial
4,000-footer, the trees fell off and the views opened up.
We emerged, and
the sights were glorious.
In front of us lay the spine that led up Mt. Lincoln (5,080
feet) and then, out of view, Mt. Lafayette (5,260). To the east, the view
extended all the way to Mt. Washington (6,288 feet). Across Franconia Notch to
the west, we had an up-close perspective of Mt. Cannon, the Kinsmans, and,
farther south, massive Moosilauke. You could clearly see Lonesome Lake and the
AMC hut tucked into the breast of the Kinsmans. When I turned around, I admired
the pointy, razor-sharp peaks of Liberty and Flume on the ridge. Well beyond
them stood Carrigain, the Hancocks, the Osceolas, the Tripyramids, and, well,
dozens of small peaks.
For the next five hours, I would look up from the trail
every few steps to breath it all in. Views like these were not to be taken for
granted.
We weren’t the only people who had seen the forecast. As we
walked around the rocky ridge, we passed hundreds of hikers. Maybe a thousand.
Looking ahead, it was hard to find a spot along the trail not covered by a
human or a dog. This was the only negative about the trip — we were far from
alone.
I would joke later that half of Europe had made the trip to
New Hampshire, considering that every other person we greeted had an accent. On
separate occasions, I spotted groups of Europeans sitting on rocks sipping wine
from plastic glasses to go with their cheese and bread.
Talk about living luxuriously on a mountain.
Before summiting Lincoln, we stopped at the “Brad Spot,” so
aptly named because in 2007 cousin Kristen’s husband jumped onto a skinny rock
spire that drops off a good 15 feet on all sides. We couldn’t just pass it.
Caitlin, Tori and Kyle took turns stretching to climb the structure. It was
fun, and a tad nerve-racking, to watch them.
Then it was on to the summits. Lincoln. Then Lafayette, our
turnaround point.
Lafayette was a zoo. Upon following the blazes to the top,
dodging people and dogs left and right, I looked around and just shook my head
in amazement. There were over 100 people, maybe more, on the rocky summit. I’ve
never seen a real summit (meaning one you actually have to hike all the way up
to; Mt. Washington is an example of a fake summit because people drive up it…)
so crowded.
The congestion detracted a little bit from enjoying the
360-degree views, but not a lot. We found a cool rock facing east, took in the
fall colors of the trees in the valley below, and were entertained by a pair of
dogs including my favorite kind, a Golden Retriever, just to our left.
(Note: Not only did we see hundreds of people on the trail.
We also passed by dozens of dogs of all kinds. Small. Big. Furry. Recent
haircut. They all made the hike up to the ridge, which is impressive for a dog.
Whichever way you go, you have to climb close to 3,000 feet and over steep rocky
sections to reach it.)
Finally, around 2:30pm, we sighed and turned around. The way
back was even more beautiful than the way there because of the late-afternoon
shadows created by the sun and the puffy, picturesque clouds. I quickly fell
behind the rest of the group, stopping frequently to snap photos. Funny enough,
this kept me close to a couple and their two dogs, one named Jake.
“Jake, come!” they kept yelling.
I had to remind myself not to turn around and do as told.
We returned to the campsite, visited the secure bear box to
replenish our supplies, and then headed back up the 0.3-mile ascent we were
becoming very familiar with. Upon reaching the ridge, we turned right (south)
and completed a much easier 0.3 up Liberty.
When we first emerged onto open, flat rock, there was no
reason to continue to the summit. We were standing on a perfect spot to A) Cook
dinner; and B) Watch the sun’s evening rays decorate the sky all kinds of
colors.
It’s hard to describe how beautiful and inspiring the next
hour was. I’ll try. The Kinsmans-Moosilauke range across the notch was sprayed
by the sun. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the colors became a bright,
burnt orange. Just as cool, when I turned 180 degrees, the firs on the east
side of Liberty’s summit were doused in sunlight with myriad 4,000-foot peaks
in the distance.
It didn’t matter which direction you turned your gaze. The
sky was aglow. I tried to limit the number of photos I took and give myself
time to boil water for my Himalayan rice dehydrated meal, but it was difficult.
We stayed on the summit laughing, taking photos, eating, and
doing a lot of smiling until the sky was almost completely dark. Finally, we
snapped on our headlamps and headed down. It quickly became clear to me that my
lamp batteries were poor, because the beam was extremely weak. So my descent
wasn’t the most graceful. But I made it back to camp.
Between littered trees, we could gaze up at a sky dominated
by bright stars. It was so warm, we lay on the tent platform looking up at the
universe and taking it all in. Eventually, my 15th yawn within an hour told me
it was time to retire to the tent. It was 9pm.
NOTE: In between our hikes during the day, we chatted with
the caretaker Kate. It was her last full day at the site. She said that after
Saturday, Liberty Spring would only be cared for on weekends. The campsite is
open year-round, she said, and some people choose to visit it in the winter
snow and search for the buried platforms. She said that during the summer,
caretakers stay at the site for 11 to 12 days at a time. That’s an impressive
chunk of alone time! She also mentioned that recently the site had dealt with
bear trouble. As if we needed a reminder, we all made sure to use the bear box.
I love black bears, but I’m not keen on seeing one at my tent door in the
middle of the night (like happened to Kate when camping at the Guyot site
awhile back).
Day 2 — Sunrise, the
Flume, and the finish (7 miles hiked)
For the second consecutive morning, the wakeup call was at
5:30am. This one was more exciting, though. We were getting up at this
ridiculous hour to experience sunrise from the top of a mountain.
Headlamp on, I stumbled to the bear box to collect breakfast
supplies. I then stumbled to the spring to treat drinking water. With light
beginning to creep through the trees, I followed Kyle up the 0.3-mile trail
(again). We were getting used to this routine.
About 20 minutes later, we joined the girls back at our spot
near Liberty’s summit. As we boiled water for breakfast, we watched as the sky
lit up. We were hoping the sun would rise right over Mt. Washington’s peak, but
it was a little south of there. Not that it wasn’t still spectacular.
In looking at sheets of fog down in the valleys, I felt
lucky to be above it all, to have a bird’s eye view in all directions. I looked
to the north at Cannon’s iconic rock face. For the 16th time, my eyes scoured
the landscape to the south, identifying the 4,000-footers spread out over
dozens of miles.
My spinach and cheese dehydrated omelet was a
disappointment, but it couldn’t ruin the splendor.
Our appetites satiated, we continued about 100 feet to the
top of Liberty and then headed down into the woods for the 1.2-mile romp to
Flume. The hike was entirely wooded and had a lot more down than up, meaning,
of course, that we’d have quite the ascent coming back. But as we emerged on
Flume’s craggy, spikey-rock summit, we weren’t thinking about that.
Rather, it was time to enjoy our final (new) summit of the
trip. As I looked down Flume’s ridiculously steep western side dominated by a
rock slide, I thought back to 2008 when cousin J-bo, Brad and I were motivated
to descend the Flume Slide Trail after reading about its dangers. That was an
adventurous, butt-sliding trip.
We wouldn’t be doing such a thing this time around, which
was perfectly fine.
After about half an hour, we took a last look and turned
around, headed back into the woods. We sweated our way up Mt. Liberty and then
chose flat rocks to lie on and almost nap in the still, warm morning air.
Sunday was going to be just as beautiful, just as perfect of a day as Saturday.
I wondered how many people would be on the ridge’s most popular section again.
I wouldn’t find out, because it was all downhill from there
for us. Back to the campsite, where we packed up our things. And then down the
Liberty Spring trail to the parking lot. The descent seemed quick (a rare thing
on these trips), even if my backpack didn’t feel any lighter. As we got lower,
I noticed more and more leaves of all colors on the ground. What the lower
elevations couldn’t offer, they made up for with fall colors.
I didn’t want to leave the woods. I didn’t want the weekend
to end. But it had to.
At least we finished in style, with high fives and then a
hand bridge created by Kyle and Taylor for Tashi to duck through.
In thinking back on this trip, I’ll shake my head in wonder
at how perfectly the weather set up. I’ll smile at the companionship on the
trail and off. And I’ll enjoy the hundreds of pictures that document as well as
they can an absolutely beautiful fall weekend in New Hampshire.
Here’s to many more!
Peace and love,
Jake
PS — Full photo album here.
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