Mt. Willard

Even though Fall colors won’t be at their peak for another 3 weeks, we decided to hike to the top of Mt. Willard, which has a panoramic view of Crawford Notch on the New Hampshire side of the White Mountains.

 

 

The climb is labeled “moderate.”  At 1.6 miles each way, it only take a little more than an hour to reach the top if you are in average condition, and is certainly suitable for families with small children.  The hike can really be divided into thirds:  the first third the grade is moderately steep; the second third the grade is gentle, with lots of rocks; and the third and final stage (just when the kids will start complaining) suddenly becomes nearly level and very easy.  The granite viewing ledge is expansive, as is the magnificent view.  You can see the train tracks reaching far into Crawford Notch that are serviced by the Conway Scenic Railroad, and perhaps the Willey House far into the distance if the day is really clear. The Willeys were a homesteading family that met a tragic end in 1826.  You can read about it here

 

 

After the hike, our pup Truman was quite tired out.  He fell asleep on the way home while sticking his head out of our car’s window, his ears blowing wildly in the breeze.

 

A Haven of Mentschlichkeit*

Yesterday I had an experience that perfectly sums up why I love living in the White Mountains, and it has nothing to do with hiking, camping, or kayaking.

I traveled the 45 minutes to my “local” supermarket for my weekly shopping trip.  As I stood in line, there were four people ahead of me.  The first, an elderly person, had just received her receipt, which came with a separate tape that printed out a coupon: “Spend $75 on your order and get $5 off.”

The lady turned to the person next to her in line.  “Oh, why don’t you take this coupon and use it on your order?  I’m just a single person living alone, and there is no way I can spend $75 on my shopping.”

The man was delighted.  “Thanks!” he said.  But when the cashier totaled his order, he was many dollars short of the $75 to benefit from the coupon.  He certainly could have pocketed the coupon for use the following week.  But instead, he turned to the person next to him, and said, “Here, maybe you can use this coupon.”

The scene repeated itself.  The woman in line was delighted, but equally dismayed when her order also did not total $75 (I guess New Englanders are frugal food shoppers!).  That’s when she left the coupon for me.

Amazingly, and what was probably the first time in my life in the history of my shopping at any supermarket, my total was much less than the required $75 purchase.

I wish I could say I am a saint . . .  but frankly, under normal conditions, passing on the $5 coupon to someone else, especially a stranger, would simply not have crossed my mind.  Normally I would have stowed it in my wallet for future use.  But seeing this remarkable generosity and how good it made everyone feel about others and themselves was contagious.  One good deed truly does lead to another, or as we say in Jewish thought, “mitzvah goreret mitzvah.” That’s worth more than $5.

I passed it on.

*Mentschlichkeit: a good, honorable and noble person who exudes integrity, decency and kindness

 

 

 

Evans Notch – Spring 2016

Two weeks ago Truman and I climbed Little Deer Hill and Big Deer Hill, a total of 4 miles round trip.  Short, but sweet, there are some steep parts but it’s not a killer hike.  It had really warmed up — 64 degrees with brilliant sunshine – but the key here is that it was nice and breezy, which means NO BUGS when hiking! Hooray!

When I pulled into the trailhead parking lot, there was only one other car. Up we went to Little Deer Hill. We passed the NH-ME border marker.

 

 

During the entire climb up that mountain, we caught the wind coming off of Evans Notch.  The summit views of Mt. Meader, and No. and So. Baldface Mountains were clear and lovely.

 

After admiring the view from the top (where Truman sat like he was King of the Mountain; he owned it), we went down the other side of that mountain, and then up to Big Deer Hill. The view from the top of Big Deer Hill looks down upon Deer Hill Bog, which is only 3 miles from my house.  Unfortunately on this side of the mountain, there was no breeze, so the blackflies were swarming and I didn’t stay more than a minute.

We were the only ones on the entire mountain; the only noise was of the breeze and various songbirds.  We got to the dam on the bottom of Little Deer Hill, explored the shoreline, and headed back to the car.  There must have been 20 cars in the parking lot trailhead upon our return!  Now you know where people from Maine and New Hampshire go when they call in sick on a Tuesday morning!  Nature lovers find a beautiful day hard to pass up.

I really didn’t want the day to end, so I drove to the Basin for some pictures. The wind was gusting and actually blew my scarf right off my head.  It was a gorgeous day and I was back home in time for lunch.

 

Happy Sunday

This past Sunday was one of those days when everything went right.  Now that we’re in the midst of blackfly and tick season, hiking gets pretty uncomfortable when the weather is sunny and calm.  Saturday it was a sunny, gorgeous 80 degrees, so I made sure to wear a bug net whenever I took the dog for a walk.  Unless it’s really breezy, the blackflies love to swarm all over you.  For the past two weeks, I’ve been pulling off a minimum of 10 ticks a day from my dog, and 5 ticks from myself, despite the use of repellents.

So I was not disappointed to wake up to a blustery, cloudy Sunday in the 40s.  Although rain threatened, at least it meant that we could go walking unmolested by bugs.

But first, we needed to dump our trash and recyclables at the transfer station.  I was delighted to find several great books at the freecycle station.  When I finish the books I will return them to the freecycle area so someone else can enjoy them.  I also contributed several old garden pots that I had no plans to plant to the giveaway pile.

From the transfer station we continued a few miles up the road to visit our friend Paul’s building site (I guess you could call it tresspassing since he wasn’t there).  Paul is building a new, off-grid home there and is doing everything singlehandedly.  For the past several months he’s been busy grading the area, and raising the site with packed dirt since the house will sit along the river and he has to worry about a flood line.  We were really impressed with the attractive retaining wall he set.  The house will overlook the river, where I’m anxious (with Paul’s permission) to bring my kayak and try a little trout fishing.

By now the skies were looking a bit mean so we thought we’d forget a hike and just take a scenic drive.  We went up the Crooked River Causeway and then drove west on Route 2, taking in the grandeur of the northern White Mountain Peaks.  We turned into a parking area at Rattle River trailhead, which is part of the Appalachian Trail, and decided to walk the gentle 1.8 miles to the shelter erected for the benefit of thru-hikers.  (A thru-hiker is someone who hikes the entire length of the Appalachian Trail, which stretches from Georgia to Maine.) We figured a little rain wouldn’t hurt us.

 

Fortunately, the weather held, and there were no bugs! The many small flumes and cascades along the Rattle River were incredibly soothing and beautiful.  Although we’ve taken this walk several times before, it never gets old.  The last time I was there I was with our dog Spencer, who died this past September.  Now we were accompanied by Truman, our 7 month-old Standard Poodle puppy, and it was fun to experience the walk through his doggie eyes and nose, as he exuberantly discovered the joys of the Rattle River trail for the first time.  It made the old new again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was also lovely to see trillium, a type of wildflower in purple or white, in bloom.

 

 

From the Rattle River we headed over to Gorham NH to do my week’s worth of food shopping at the Super WalMart (the only major food shopping in that area; it saved me a trip into town later in the week).  I know a lot of people who hate WalMart and won’t shop there out of principle, but ask anyone living in a rural area and they will tell you that WalMart is a blessing.  The one-stop shopping saves rural folks from traveling 100 miles into the closest city to supply their needs, and at reasonable prices.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that there was a large selection of organic produce at this WalMart!

From Gorham we traveled back on Rte 2, but instead of returning the way we had come, we went down the 113, which is Evans Notch; it’s one of my favorite drives in the area.  The views are magnificent, the Notch is filled with dozens of challenging hiking trails, and there is always a chance of seeing a moose.  We didn’t see a moose, but we did see very fresh, recent beaver activity along a river.  The beavers appeared to be decimating the entire shoreline, working on felling several large trees simultaneously along the riverbank.

 

 

 

Thanks to the longer days, when we got home there was still time to sow some beet seeds in the raised-bed garden.  I’ve also planted garlic, kale, and some winter squash, and last year’s strawberry plants are doing nicely.  My only garden disaster (so far) is the complete failure of my apple orchard.  Although I attended a university extension course on apple growing, fed them, talked to them (and God),  pruned them, and generally babied my apple trees for the past 5 years,  I had yet to see  even a single apple blossom and no apples, despite a proliferation of leaves!  Even putting a beehive next to the trees didn’t help them pollinate. Finally, finally – – four apple blossoms!

Will they make it?  Who knows.  I’ve been vigilant about removing insect nests that hatch worms and devour young apple leaves on an almost daily basis.  I’m trying to keep the orchard organic, so pesticide is a no-no.   Meanwhile I have 8 organic apple trees that mock me daily, a life lesson and humbling reminder of the fact that despite my best efforts, I am not always the one in control.

 

Overdue Books

Although my little Maine hamlet (population 234 on a good day) is too small to support its own library, we do have an arrangement (and are taxed accordingly as part of our property taxes) with the town of Lovell to utilize their libraries.  They have two:  one at the north end, which was formerly a one-room schoolhouse (I wrote about it in my blog post entitled “How Rural is My Maine Town?“), and the other, a renovated beauty that, with its limited selection of inventory, serves as a true community and cultural center with a variety of activities.  There is a book club, kids’ arts and crafts and storytelling, a gardening club, yoga, nature lectures, weekly cribbage games, monthly lectures on organic farming, and occasional lectures by the Maine Humanities Council on everything from history, foreign policy, to current events.  If you want a specific book, chances are you won’t find it on the library’s shelves, but the librarians are happy to order it for you as an inter-library loan from other larger libraries in Maine.

Because the collection is so limited, I make an effort to return books I’ve read within a day or two of finishing them to ensure their active circulation amongst residents desperate for a good read.  Once, I forgot to return a book and received a friendly reminder by email.  When I returned the book, I asked how much I owed in late fines.

“Oh, we don’t charge; we go by the honesty policy,” the librarian told me.  While there were a few books that were forever lost this way, most people were good about returning borrowed books on time, she said.  Wow, I thought, that would never be the case in my home town.

But then I read today’s Conway Daily Sun, a small paper published just over the Maine-New Hampshire border.  It turns out that most towns around here don’t charge library patrons late fees:  instead, they call the police!

In an article reported by Damon Steer, he writes:

Astute readers of the Conway police logs — which are published on Conwaypd.com — may have noticed the May 16 entry saying that officer Richard Gaudreau was investigating overdue library books.

When patrons don’t bring back their books, magazines, CDs and DVDs on time, the library sends them notices, followed by telephone calls.

After that, tardy patrons are referred to the police.

. . . “We investigate them as theft,” said Lt. Chris Mattei,  “. . . It doesn’t usually end up in prosecution. but sometimes it does.”

According to one librarian, police are “very helpful” and tend to get “different results” than the library’s notice.

At one rural New Hampshire library, there is a “Guilt Alleviation Box” near the front desk,”People do occasionally drop donations into it.”  added that getting money that way “has a nicer feel” than assessing a fine.

Imagine having a police record that says “overdue library materials!”  That’s enough to put the fear of G-d into any bookworm.

Click here for the link to the original Conway Daily Sun article.

GLLT

Just down the road from me is the Greater Lovell Land Trust (GLLT), a non-profit conservation organization.  Their aim is to buy large parcels of the raw land in the area from private owners to prevent further development; to conserve essential resources; protect plants, wildlife, and watershed; to open these areas of conservation for public enjoyment via hiking trails, guided or not; and to provide education in the form of lectures on a variety of topics including history of the area, geology and geography, and nature.  Much of the work is done by volunteers, who do everything from trail building to acting as naturalist docents and guides.

I came across an article written by one such docent in an older newsletter published by the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardener’s Association which I think you might enjoy.  I have taken advantage of many of the GLLT’s programs which run throughout the year, most recently a presentation about Barred Owls.  It’s fun to be able to identify what you are seeing and hearing in the woods whether it’s the call of the owls, or knowing just how fresh that bear scat is on the trail!  When I convey the many factoids I’ve learned over the years to my grandchildren when they visit, they are fascinated, and as a result, they too have become lovers of nature to varying degrees, whether hiking or camping or kayaking or quietly observing wildlife.  There is an abundance of free educational opportunities provided by local non-profit wilderness organizations, as well as the Forest Service.  Ultimately, it transforms us from vicarious admirers of nature to stewards of the land.

 

Organizations that offer natural wilderness education, hikes, etc. in the White Mountains of Maine and New Hampshire:

• Greater Lovell Land Trust (GLLT), Lovell Maine:  http://www.gllt.org/
• Tin Mountain Conservation Center (based in the White Mountains, New Hampshire):  http://www.tinmountain.org/
• The Appalachian Mountain Club:  http://www.outdoors.org/
• White Mountain National Forest Service:  http://www.fs.usda.gov/whitemountain

 

 

Emerald Pool . . . and Rosh HaShana

The brook near Emerald Pool

I spent much of Friday packing up the house and getting ready for the long drive to our hometown, where for the next month we’ll be spending time with family and friends while celebrating the upcoming Jewish holidays.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful that this year’s timing of the Jewish calendar meant that I would miss the peak of leaf-peeping season, not to mention the greatest time of year to go hiking.

I decided right then and there that I would make the most of the short time remaining to me and drove to Evans Notch with my dog riding shotgun.

I passed these two huge barns on a country road in Chatham NH, being powered by an immense solar electric system that stretches across both roofs. The barns were empty. I am so curious to know what they are powering!

There wasn’t time for a serious hike but that would not stop me from going for a beautiful walk through the woods on the beginning of Baldface Circle Trail to Emerald Pool.  It is immediately apparent how Emerald Pool got its well-deserved name.

 

Emerald Pool lives up to its name. It is a popular swimming hole for locals in summer, and the upper rock is used as a diving board.

We didn’t have time to go further on the trail, where it continues to Chandler Gorge.   It’s incredible to think that much of this walk is on private property from which its generous owners permit public access, providing hikers don’t wander carelessly off the trail.  Think about it:  the more precious the object, the more likely we are to guard it and keep it for ourselves.  That’s just human nature.  It takes a special spirit, and someone who understands the true meaning of love (love = giving), to know that it’s even more special to share than to hoard; to be selfless rather than selfish.

Hiking in the White Mountains is very much a part of my spiritual preparation to greet the Jewish New Year.  Some random thoughts from atop a mountain:

• Most of the time reward comes with effort… and rarely without it.
• With every disappointment and when there is no reward, it’s not the end of the world.
• HaShem (G-d) has made a truly gorgeous, wondrous world
• I am super blessed and grateful to be in and part of this world
• I am both blessed and grateful for good health
• Even when I am alone, HaShem is there
• Even when I’m alone, I’m not lonely
• Even when I’m poised on top of the mountain, I’m at the edge – –  and must tread thoughtfully and purposefully
• Even when I think I’ve made it to the top, there will always be more summits to reach – – and not all are attainable
• Life is short yet time is relative.  It marches slowly when the kids are small and moves too fast when you are old.
• Silence can be both loud and quiet.  Both types teach us to really listen, if we are willing to hear.
• Looking out and down from the mountaintop, how truly humbling it is to see that I am but a dot or blip in the vast landscape
• No matter how external events wreak havoc, and have the power to poison and destroy, evil is not permanent and HaShem is eternal.

Happy New Year!   Wishing my friends, family, and readers a year of multiple blessings, good health, and peace.

 

Camp Savta 2014: Days 5 – 7: Hiking Black Cap Mountain

The 4 year old had no trouble reaching the top of Black Cap.

Although we had taken several long walks, my 12-year-old grandson suggested that we take a “real” hike, saying, “how can we say we’ve been to Maine and that we didn’t go on a hike?”  He remembered last year’s hike to Black Cap Mountain and wanted to repeat it.  It was easy to see why.  Black Cap Mountain is a great introduction to hiking for children.  It’s not long – only 1.3 miles each way – and the ascent is steadily upward enough to make kids put forth a bit of effort, but not so steep that it’s a killer.  Really, a two-year-old can do this hike (but be prepared to carry your kid part of the way if they tire easily).  It’s also suitable for older people – – I was privileged one day to witness a 94-year-old woman make the ascent.

They all made it to the top!

 

Besides the beautiful view, you are looking at a very special 8 year old. She experienced some serious orthopedic problems in her legs, which resulted in her legs being casted for several months, as well as physical therapy 3x a week. She had only gotten these casts off a couple of weeks before the trip to Maine, and the fact that she made it to the top of the mountain when her legs were weaker than normal only shows the incredible determination and strength of character of this kid! She never complained throughout her ordeal, either.  Thank G-d she is fine now and back to normal.

It’s always more fun to go down the trail than up!  The little kid in the center is only 2.

To get to Black Cap Mountain, one goes through the town of North Conway in New Hampshire, then heads over to Kearsage Rd to Hurricane Mountain Road.  Hurricane Mountain Road is what they call a “seasonal” road, meaning it is not maintained (plowed) in winter and as such it is gated closed after the summer season.  It’s extremely steep but the paved asphalt road is very well maintained for the heavy tourist traffic it receives in the summertime.  Don’t even think of trying the road if you have a monster RV, but cars and motorcycles aren’t a problem.

The dirt parking lot for Black Cap Mountain is at the highest point on Hurricane Mountain Road.  (You can continue further on Hurricane Mountain Road all the way to the bottom on the other side, if you want to do a pretty country drive).  The ascent is steep in places but gradual.  Once you get to the top, the views are stupendous of the White Mountains, plus the town of North Conway in New Hampshire.  You can also see Maine and the many lakes of the Western District to the east and south.  It’s also a great place to visit during leaf-peeping season.

After we finished the hike, we made our way to Lovell Library where the kids checked out plenty of books to keep them busy over Shabbat.  We also managed to have another kayaking expedition and swim in Kewaydin Lake.  This would be our last day of activities in Maine, since Shabbat was coming and on Saturday night after havdala (the short prayer ceremony that bodes farewell to the Sabbath and ushers in the new week), everyone would be packing up and my daughter would make the long drive back to Baltimore.  My husband and I spent Saturday taking a long walk of 2 miles with the kids (now that they were seasoned hikers) near our house so our daughter could have an hours-long uninterrupted nap, in preparation for the coming drive.  She would be the sole driver with 9 kids in the car (seven of hers plus 2 nieces).  The plan was to leave by 9:30 p.m. and arrive at her home early the next morning (it’s a 10.5 hour drive on average, but that’s without kids).   A babysitter had already been arranged in her hometown so that my daughter could sleep and recover from the journey upon her arrival.  The hope was that the kids would sleep through the night in the car, and fortunately, they did.  Fewer bathroom stops meant much better time – – she was able to complete the trip in only 9 hours and 45 minutes, which is practically a record.

Havdala ceremony says goodbye to the Sabbath and ushers in a new week.

9:30 pm and the 12-passenger van is packed to the hilt as we say our goodbyes.

Oh – remember that rash that my daughter had (see previous posts)?  Well, it continued to get worse, but our days were so ridiculously busy that by nightfall, when the walk-in clinic was open, my daughter was too tired to go.   By Saturday night it was huge (12.5″ x 5.5″), hot to the touch, and she was feeling achy and popping Motrin like candy.  So instead of the much-desired nap upon her arrival once back at her home, she took advantage of having a babysitter to go to the Emergency Room, where she was diagnosed with Lyme disease!  No, she was not aware of being bitten by a tick nor did she ever see one.  There is a good chance that she was bitten by a tick in her home state, shortly before she came to Maine, since the rash began only on Day 3.  The other amazing thing is that the rash appeared on her upper abdomen, an area that is covered by clothing, and she had not been in tall grass.  The moral of the story:  you can never be too careful when it comes to Lyme disease prevention.  If you have been outdoors in areas where ticks are known to be prevalent, then do a very careful body check before you go to bed each night, and don’t assume that long sleeves, pants, socks, shoes, and repellent are enough to prevent a tick bite!  And don’t be stupid like we were – – at the first sign of trouble, get to a doctor for diagnosis so you can start treatment sooner than later, before real damage is done.

Lonesome Lake

Lonesome Lake

On Sunday August 10 my husband and I did a nostalgic loop hike to Lonesome Lake in Franconia Notch, New Hampshire.  I say “nostalgic” because we have done this hike many times, but the last time was probably at least ten years ago.  When our children were young we made many camping trips to the White Mountains, and almost always we stayed in the Lafayette Campground in Franconia Notch.  It’s a fabulous location because it’s so close to so many amazing hikes in the White Mountains.  The campground, which is run by the Forest Service, is clean and modern, with a bath house with flush toilets and coin-operated hot showers.  There is a ranger information center which offers nature talks and walks and various activities that are kid- and family-centered.  The biggest downside is it’s popularity.  In high season in the summertime, the campground fills up very quickly and by the afternoon there are usually no sites available.    This is not a place for a quiet get-away, but kids  appreciate the many sights and sounds. and occasional commotion.

Our favorite site was always #67.  It abuts the Pemigawasset River (which is more like a stream) and is very large and level.  It was perfect for our pop-up camper, yet there was still plenty of room for a campfire, hanging wet towels on a hastily strung laundry line between the trees, and a picnic table and screen room (against the bugs).  It’s near a water tap for refilling canteens and washing dishes, not too far from the bathrooms (but not so close that you hear the door swinging shut in the middle of the night), and right next to the Pemigewasset Trail.  Because we’d always leave our home town on a Saturday night, we’d get to New Hampshire around 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning, and just our luck, that seemed to be when people would pull out of the campground and vacate their campsites.  It seemed that site #67 was just meant to be; despite the high demand we were able to claim it year after year.

During our stay there, we would always try different hikes, but the trek to Lonesome Lake was always on our annual bucket list.  It’s a short, steep hike – – by the time the kids complained that they couldn’t walk another step, they were there and soon forgot any expended efforts – and the beautiful, cold lake with stunning mountain views was an instant reward.

 

 

 

 

In most of the boggy places, boards were placed over the trail so getting muddy was kept to a minimum.

 

 

 

Plus, the AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club) maintains a “hut” there, for hikers who wish to stay there overnight.

Besides a night’s sleep on a rather basic bunk in dormitory-style bunkhouses, the “croo” (crew), made up of college students having a summer adventure working for the AMC, cooks hearty breakfast and dinner for the overnight guests (not kosher, obviously).

A partial view of Lonesome Lake Hut, which overlooks Lonesome Lake and has beautiful views of the lake and surrounding mountains.  This picture is of some of the dorm-like accommodations.

 

From the inside of the dining hall, views overlook the lake

Communal dining tables have beautiful views

A good overview of the main part of the hut, which shows the open kitchen and part of the dining hall.
The “croo” does all the cooking and organizing and ordering of supplies.

 

The way food and other supplies get to the “hut” is a story in itself, since it’s on top of a mountain with no road access.  The “croo” members literally pack everything up the mountain – – huge crates weighing 40 – 80 lbs go on their backs in specially built packboards that turn these young people into human beasts of burden.  They deliver these supplies on a daily basis.

This is the specially-designed packboard for carrying heavy crates of supplies by “croo” members to the hut.

As I said, the hike up to Lonesome Lake is steep but short – – but there are other “huts” throughout the White Mountains in New Hampshire where the hikes can be 5 – 8 miles of pure ascent – – imagine carrying up to 80 lbs of supplies every single day, no matter what the weather!  Needless to say, the “croo” are in amazing physical shape by the end of summer when hut season ends.  The croo’s duties extend beyond deliveries – – they must cook, clean, and maintain the huts throughout the summer; they must be goodwill ambassadors for the Appalachian Mountain Club, welcoming to paying guests, and founts of information about hiking trails, wildlife, and any other questions visitors might have.  The pay is negligible (under $8/hr).  Yet the competition to be a “croo” member is stiff:  for every 6 – 16 yearly openings there are 150 – 200 applications!  Most “croo” members return to work the huts year after year during their college years, in the summer months.

The bugs were finally gone (hooray!) and the weather was gorgeous with a predicted high of 82.  We got to Lafayette Campground around 9 a.m. and set out for Lonesome Lake.  Although we did a great deal of huffing and puffing, we reached the lake and hut in good spirits.  Our dog was happy to cool off and take a nice, long drink in the clear water (but all water in the White Mountains, no matter how clean or pure it looks, should be filtered for human consumption due to the threat of the giardia parasite).

We sat on the porch of the hut for a lunch of cheese and crackers, fruit and nuts.

My spouse and our dog take a lunch break.

 

Before we continued onwards I decided to make use of the bathroom.

The bathroom at Lonesome Lake

 

 

Now ordinarily I would not regale you with bathroom stories, but this one is worth talking about.  The Lonesome Lake bathroom is a large structure that houses both a women’s and men’s bathroom (toilets and sinks – – no showers) but what makes it unusual is that it’s a composting toilet system.  For the uninitiated, what that means is that it doesn’t use water and there is no flushing involved.  Yes, you are eliminating into a hole in the ground, which sounds gross, but unlike the typical outhouse, with composting toilets, there is NO bad smell, and the toilets themselves look like  everyday toilets similar to what you’d find in your own bathroom at home.  It’s especially amazing that it’s odorless, considering that on a peak weekend, the toilets could be used by 200 people per day!

 

As a person who is extremely fastidious about washing my hands after I use the bathroom (and completely grossed out by the thought of so many people who don’t wash their hands!), I got a good chuckle from the specialized ‘no-touch” door handle installed on the exit doors.  Such a simple idea for a public restroom – – whoever thought of it is surely going to get rich!

A simple yet genius idea, but the fact that something like this is even necessary because some people don’t wash their hands after using the bathroom, is more than I want to think about!

Another cool thing about the Lonesome Lake Hut’s bathroom was the fascinating story that was pasted to the side of the stall.  It tells the tale of mountain woman Emily Klug.  In the 1930s she traveled and hiked solo throughout the White Mountains.  Besides a small rucksack, she would carry several weeks  of supplies and everything she needed by rolling her skirt up around her middle and placing her possessions inside.

Now that we were rested from our climb, we decided that rather than going back down the mountain the same way we’d come up, we’d take the Basin Cascades Trail down to the Basin, and from there go back to the campground via the Pemigewasset Trail, for a total loop hike of 6.5 miles.

More than 15 years ago, my husband, my older daughter, then a teenager, and I had hiked from Lonesome Lake to Cannon Mountain.  This is an extremely challenging hike due to a ridiculously steep climb.  At one point, the only way up is a metal rung ladder that one must climb up a steep rock ledge.    When we finally got to the summit of Cannon Mountain, we were situated right next to a disembarking ski gondola.  A tourist who had ridden the gondola up Cannon Mountain looked me up and down very carefully.

“Lady,” he said in a thick New York accent, “Did you just climb this mountain?”

“Yes!” I said, still feeling proud and excited by my accomplishment.

“Lady,” he said, “You need a psychiatrist!”

To which I answered, “This is what keeps me from needing a psychiatrist!”

Alas, we decided not to do the Cannon Mountain hike this time around:  we were feeling old and tired and not in good enough shape, plus we had our dog with us and couldn’t envision carrying him up the ladder to the top of the ledge.

Instead we started making our way down the Basin Cascades trail.  This is not a difficult trail, and in our case, it was all downhill; but for 75% of the time, one must navigate over boulders that become extremely tiresome for old knees and weak ankles.  I was really glad I had my hiking poles as well as hiking boots that gave me lots of balanace and support.

The bouder-strewn trail on the Basin-Cascades trail wasn’t difficult, but it was tiresome stepping up and down over the rocks.

The trail has beautiful cascades and waterfalls at every turn.

 

 

Kinsman Falls, along the Basin-Cascades Trail

 

The Cascades, along the Basin-Cascades Trail in Franconia Notch

 

 

The Basin is a series of pools and flumes carved out of the giant boulders by crystal-clear water. It is easily accessible by car with a minimal amount of walking, and is a very popular tourist spot in the summer.

Unfortunately, due to a heavy storm in 2013, the bridge was out at one juncture and hadn’t yet been replaced (there were signs warning of this at the beginning of the hike).  Since it hadn’t rained in a few days, I wasn’t overly worried about a high water crossing and indeed, with our Goretex-lined (waterproof) hiking boots, the ankle-high water was not a problem with some careful rock-hopping (again the poles helped us with balance).

Shortly after we crossed and stopped for a drink of water, a 50-ish woman hiking alone came to the crossing but was not so lucky.  She took a small spill but the only injury she suffered was to her pride.

“I can’t believe I always fall when there are other people around.  It’s so embarrassing!” she said.

We assured her that the only important thing was that she wasn’t hurt.  We got to talking, and she had a most amazing story to tell.  Linda, or “Heartwood” as was her  “trail name,” was a thru-hiker. For the uninitiated, this is someone who chooses to hike the entire length of the Appalachian Trail, from Georgia to Maine, without stopping.  “Heartwood” had been hiking since March, when she started in Georgia, and had walked 1,812 miles so far!  She had lost 40 lbs in the process and gone through 4 pairs of hiking boots.  She hoped to reach the end of the Appalachian Trail in Maine in 6 weeks’ time, for a total of 2, 168 miles hiked!

I asked her what she had done to train for this momentous hike.

“Nothing,” she claimed, “I just got up off the couch and decided to go!”  She told us it had been a life-transforming journey in so many ways.  Because she had been so out of shape, the beginning was “a killer.  I would get chest pains and think I was having a heart attack,” she said.  “But I never rushed it.  I see some younger guys on the trail and they do 25 – 35 miles a day.  I am taking it nice and slow, about 10 – 15 miles a day,” she said.   “And one of the things I’ve liked best is that I’ve met the most incredibly kind and generous people all along the way,” she added.  What an inspiring person!

We hoped we would see her again to find out more about her journey, so we offered to pick her up later in the week when she reached the Maine-NH border and the last point on the NH part of the trail.  We told her she could look forward to a hearty meal and hot shower before we’d drive her back to the trail head, so she took our information and said she would try to be in touch.  We said our goodbyes as she followed the white blaze (the Appalachian trail marker) and we followed the blue blaze in a different direction, down to the Basin.

We returned to Lafayette Campground via the gentle Pemigewasset Trail, where the composted pine needles made a nice cushion for my now-tired feet.

How fitting that the end of the trail took us directly past campsite #67, our old stomping grounds!  I took a picture so I could send it to our kids (who probably don’t have as fond childhood memories of camping as we do, since as adults their idea of “camping” is a 3 star hotel).

Our favorite campsite #67 at Lafayette Campground in Franconia Notch State Park.

 

When we got home, we broke out the beer – – and the epsom salt.  There is nothing like a nice, hot,  long soak in the tub after a full day of hiking – – 6.5 miles total.  Woohoo!

P.S.  Sadly, late one night later in the week, we got the terrible news that our son’s father-in-law passed away in Detroit.  We left the very next day from Maine to drive to our hometown, so we could take care of our granddaughters while my son and daughter-in-law spent the week in Detroit  for the funeral and the initial period of mourning.  As we drove to our home town, we got a chipper call from Linda/”Heartwood,” the Appalachian Trail thru-hiker,  saying she would like to take us up on our offer to meet with her at the trailhead.  Unfortunately, due to the tragic circumstances, we explained apologetically that we were on our way out of Maine and would not be able to make good on our promise of a meal and hot shower and some companionship.  She was most gracious and understanding.

Middle and North Sugarloaf

This picture is the result of a happy accident. It was so bright and sunny at the top of Middle Sugarloaf, that I couldn’t see the screen on my cellphone camera. I must have clicked “black and white” by mistake when I took this shot, and this was the happy result. Downloading the photos may take a bit of time, but imho I think it’s worth it! (click to enlarge)

Our friend Peter, who is an avid hiker, insisted that the bugs weren’t bad when he went hiking in the White Mountains on the New Hampshire side.  Since deerflies and midges have been relentless here on the Maine side of the White Mountains, we were admittedly dubious.  But our lazy inactivity is killing us, so we decided to go for it anyhow.  We’re so horribly out of shape – – this would be our first hike of the summer, and it’s already the end of July! – – that we opted for an easier hike, Middle and North Sugarloaf off of  Zealand Road in Twin Mountain, New Hampshire.

We had done this hike a couple of times 10 or 15 years ago, and it was a favorite, so I don’t quite know why it’s taken us so long to do it again.  It’s about 90 minutes from our home, but now that the summer days are so long, even starting out late is not a problem.  There are two US Forest Service campgrounds nearby, and there are several other hiking trails and things to see in the vicinity, so camping out is not a bad idea for those who don’t live locally (there are also plenty of motels in Twin Mountain for those who don’t like camping).

The morning weather was not promising.  There was a steady drizzle and the skies looked ominous.  But we decided hiking in the rain was still preferable to sitting around on a Sunday getting fat and being lazy.  Fortunately by the time we arrived at our destination, the skies had cleared.

The beginning of the hike takes you across a bridge and alongside Zealand River.  Almost immediately the grade begins gently as one climbs upward through a hemlock forest that has some pretty impressive giant granite boulders scattered about.  Since the weather was now hot and humid, and there was no breeze in the woods under the thick canopy of trees, I was relieved that the hike was so easy.  Alas, my memory of doing the hike so many years ago was short, and my overconfidence that the hike was a piece of cake was premature.

I’m sure glad we weren’t around when this boulder came tumbling down!  The force split it in two.

Shortly after the giant boulders, the climb got steeper.  And steeper.  We were huffing and puffing and cursing ourselves that we had let ourselves get so out of shape.  We stopped several times to rest and drink water, since by now we were dripping with perspiration.  Just as the terrain leveled off slightly, we saw a sign pointing in opposite directions:  Middle Sugarloaf to the left, and North Sugarloaf to the right.  In the past we had climbed only Middle Sugarloaf, since that is the mountaintop with the prettiest and most open views.  Once again, we opted for Middle Sugarloaf, and once again, we found ourselves huffing and puffing the final half a mile.  At one point there was a solid granite wall with no way up except a steep stair ladder.  My dog was flustered and refused to make the climb.  Instead, he found a place about 20′ away from the ladder where he was able to scoot uphill.  He looked very relieved!

On the way up, I was second guessing myself.  Would the view be as wonderful as I remembered to make this grand effort worthwhile?

It was!

When I am in the midst of nature, I am continually in awe of the magnificence of G-d’s world, and this time was no different.  There was a stiff breeze which cooled our overheated selves down immediately.  The views were vast of the Presidential Range , and the top of Mt. Washington was clear and gorgeous.

one of the views from Middle Sugarloaf (click to enlarge)

 

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Even though we were still in recovery mode from the climb, we decided that this time we were not going to miss North Sugarloaf!  So we began our descent of Middle Sugarloaf.  We came to the stair ladder and once again our dog was stymied.  He didn’t want to descend on the ladder, but he couldn’t find the alternate route he had taken on the way up.  As we began carefully making our way down the stair ladder, he looked pitiful, seemingly stuck.  “You mean you aren’t carrying me down?”  his eyes pleaded from the top.  When I saw he wasn’t going to budge, I climbed back up the ladder, and fastened his leash to his collar.  This time he had no choice but to follow me and make his way down the stair ladder’s 20 +/- steps.  Once he saw he could do it, his confidence was restored and he continued on his merry way.

Once again we reached the divide, where the sign pointed in opposite directions to the two mountains.  As we began our ascent of North Sugarloaf, we were still a bit out of breath and stopped for water, but the climb was not as steep as Middle Sugarloaf and we were both glad we had made the extra effort to hike to the summits of both Sugarloaves.  And our friend was correct:  there were no bothersome bugs.

Spencer did very well considering he’s 11 (that’s 77 in dog years!). Here he surveys the view from the top of North Sugarloaf.

My husband, a ham radio operator, always enjoys making contact with other “hams” whenever we reach a summit.