The White Mountains
Tuesday, May 16th, 2006As I write this, we are in Acadia National Park on the coast of Maine. After two nearly rain-free days (YEA!!), we have rain again this morning. But, I’m dry, sitting at the picnic table under the “kitchen” fly we put up right after setting up the tent when we set up camp here two days ago. Dan is still sleeping, so I’ll see if I can do a little catch-up and get something written for the blog.
The rain seems to make the all the colors I see so vivid. There’s the light yellow tent, the red truck, and the green tarp. But, mostly, I see the reddish-brown trunks and the dark green needles of the spruce, fir and pine trees that dominate the campground area. Dan and I have talked about all the similarities of the areas of Maine that we have traveled in to northeastern Minnesota. It almost feels like we’re “home” again after camping in the “big woods” of Indiana, along estuaries in North Carolina, in the sandy soils of the outer banks, in the leafing-out hardwoods of Connecticut and in the dunes of Cape Cod in Massachusetts. The landscape of Maine is one that is very familiar to us: the abundant evergreens; the birch and aspen; the tell-tale, rocky landscape that is evidence of a glacier-scoured region; and a “lakes” region in western Maine where we heard loons “singing” as we went to sleep a couple nights ago. Even the manner of speaking – while not the same – is more similar to Minnesotan than any of the other areas we’ve visited – the southern, New Jersey, New York, Boston and New England accents/dialects. We stopped at a roadside restaurant after our two-night backpacking trip in the White Mountains, and our server didn’t assume – from our accent – that we weren’t from the area. And, the gift shops even remind us of Minnesota, with the “up-north” décor, including loons, moose and evergreen trees. Now, as we approached the coast, another element, which is very NOT Minnesotan, is added to the mix: the whole culture of the sea, including seashells, sea gulls, fishers’ nets, lobster baskets and buoys? (We’re not sure if these have a technical name, but – to us – they look like big bobbers.), and large boats (sail and motorized).
OK, a quick catch-up, in case Dan gets up soon or my laptop battery starts running low…
Last Thursday, we did continue on the White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire. It was late afternoon when we got to the visitor center and talked to a ranger about backpacking in the mountains. He gave us some ideas for a short backpacking trip, and we bought a detailed trail map. Initially, we were planning on camping a night at a Forest Service campground and, then, leaving the next morning for a two-night backpacking trip. Discovering that the “cheap” campground hadn’t opened for the season, yet, and that the other nearby campground was $20, even for just a site with no water or electric, we decided to hike the approximate three miles into the first backcountry campsite and stay there for free. (We just had to pay $3 for each of the two nights we would park the truck at the trailhead.)
So, we pulled out our backpacks, culled the backpacking gear we would need from our “car” camping gear, threw together a food pack for two nights and headed down the trail. The hike in was fairly straightforward, following a Forest Service road with a gentle, upward slope and running mostly parallel to the Pemigewasset River. We got to the campsite (The “campsite” actually consisted of about 20 sub-sites – tent pad and fire grate – at the Franconia Brook East Campsite.) just as the sun was setting, picked a site, set up the tent, filtered some water from the nearby river and had a rice dish for supper. There was a light mist in the air, but not a soaking rain.
When we woke up the next morning (Friday), the rain had stopped sometime during the night and the tent’s rain fly was nearly dry; this would not last. We had English muffins with honey for breakfast, filtered water for the day’s hike, broke camp and took off up the trail. Just beyond the campsite we stayed at, we entered the Pemigewasset Wilderness and the trail narrowed to a single tread way, continuing the gentle, upward slope alongside the river.
As we reached about 2100 feet (about 4 ½ miles into the hike), it began raining – a mist at first and, then, more steadily. The hiking got more difficult, as well, with most of the “tread way” consisting of a series of watermelon-sized rocks that had to be carefully navigated — either stepped over or on – to proceed. Complicating matters, we didn’t know exactly how far we were going that day. The ranger we talked to at the visitor center told us we could pretty much camp anywhere, as long as we were at least 200 feet from the trail and river. But, once we went past about 1800 feet in altitude, there were no suitable spots for a campsite; the incline was too great and/or the forest was too dense.
We continued up the Bondcliff Trail, which led to – what else – Mount Bondcliff, at 4265 feet, and the rain also continued. We met a couple coming down the trail, who asked us how far it was to Wilderness Trail, where we had come from about a mile or so back. This was just as the misty rain was starting, and we were thinking about covering our packs and putting on our rain gear. (You get hot and sweaty quickly hiking up the inclines, and you hope that you won’t need to add the rain gear quite, yet.) The couple was fully equipped for rain and looked really wet; it was time for the rain gear.
Then, we met a group of four young men, who were also soaked and asked us if we had heard the weather for tomorrow (Saturday). We had heard “more rain.” They looked disheartened, so I assumed that they were on a longer trip through the mountains. They had come from Guyot Campsite, the first designated campsite we would be encountering if we continued – about three miles up the trail, but also with at least 1000 meters in altitude.
We were both getting tired and sore (actually, ALL of us – each time we stopped to rest or have a snack, Jake would look back down the trail, as if to say, “This way, right? Back down is this way.” The trees were getting shorter and more windblown, and we were encountering snow/ice on the trail in some spots. We were almost at Treeline, but with the heavy fog, we couldn’t see what almost certainly would have been expansive views. We were at about 3600 feet, and Dan said he would give it another city block. (We had already talked about going back down.) We went about 50 feet, turned a corner and were facing a steep tunnel of trees and rocks, with the rain continuing and the wind picking up in force. Dan changed his mind; he was ready to turn around. So was I.
So was Jake. We turned around, and Jake yanked us down the mountain. We took turns with Jake, but unhooked him from his leash for the stream crossings; he did better on his own.
When we got down to the start of Bondcliff Trail, we went the other way (west) on Wilderness Trail a short distance before I spotted a small, level area (it looked like a very old road or railroad bed) with a fire ring that had been used before for a campsite. We – and our sore muscles – were very, very relieved to find the site. I figured, later, that we hiked about 12 ½ miles today – much of it over some steep, rugged terrain. We set up camp, filtered water and had a potato dish for supper.
The next morning, we had English muffins for breakfast again, set down camp and hiked the four or so miles along the river back to the truck. Most of the trail followed an old railroad bed, so was very level; we needed that after yesterday. It was also raining steadily today, so we were happy to get back to the truck. We drove east through the White Mountains and caught glimpses of what are probably magnificent views, had it not been so foggy.
We are on the road now and ran across a private Wi-Fi hotspot, so I thought I’d post what I have so far. But, I don’t want to abuse it, so I’ll post again when we get to a public connection.
Tim
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