The Flume Trail, New Hampshire

Saturday, July 23, 2011

My brother-in-law, buddy, and I traveled north for our annual "Guys Hike". This time it was to be the Flume Trail, which Lou did when he was much younger. We were looking for something a little less strenuous than what we've done in the past.

Funny thing, though. We weren't entirely sure where this trail was. We weren't too concerned, though. Climb up, get to top, climb down, drive back to campsite. As long as we accomplished those goals, the details weren't terribly important.

The trail we were on took us past picnic areas over a paved path. The river was off in the distance.

Soon we were in the forest proper.

After what we presumed to be the Flume Slide (no pictures) we started to reach overlooks.

And, here we are at the top (that's Lou looking like a pirate).

And then back down.

That's the caretaker's shelter. He came out and spoke for a bit. He lives there for the summer and does stuff like remove illegal camp sites and keep an eye on the hikers. He is payed a small amount to live there for the summer and has to weather some real bad conditions occasionally. I kinda envied him.

Despite the smiles on my face, I really didn't enjoy this hike. I was in as good of shape as ever and this climb does not come close to Washington in terms of difficulty, but had some serious moments of doubt. I kept going on for no other reason than to not disappoint my friends. Maybe age is catching up with me.

Mount Washington, New Hampshire

The big one.

Every year I try to do a "big hike". One that requires me to actually train. I'm in fair shape for a 43 year old computer jockey, but the rock pile requires a bit more.

My buddy Lou and I hiked Moosilauke last summer and he wanted to try the hardest trail on the toughest mountain in New England. That would be Huntington Ravine on Mount Washington. I had been up Huntington before so I knew what to expect. Lou hadn't and I did my best to warn him.

A little history: Back in 2003 my brother-in-law Mikey and I hiked Monadnock. It was tough but we wanted to try something bigger. Using the same thought process as Lou, I suppose, we tried Washington via Tuckerman. I wasn't prepared. I wrote about it and maybe I'll post what I wrote for history's sake.

We skipped 2004 then tried Huntington in 2005 with Mikey and another brother-in-law. We learned that he had a crippling fear of heights and we had to come back down. In 2006 Mikey and I did Katahdin. Twelve hours on the trail, 7 am to 7 pm. It was that hike that convinced me to always carry a flashlight. In 2007 Mikey, a co-worker Chuck, and I climbed Washington via Huntington. We took the bus down. 2008 was Franconia Ridge, Little Haystack to Lincoln to Lafayette. Mikey and my oldest son went on that one. That brings us to 2009 and Moosilauke, which you can read about if you are so inclined. The sneakers that nearly cost me my life that day were since trashed and I had considered getting serious hikers for Washington. I didn't end up doing that.

I did some treadmill, but as I've pointed out before, an hour on a treadmill ain't five minutes on the hill. So I also did weights. Squats, specifically. Lots of them. I lost maybe ten pounds, which was less than I wanted to. I was as prepared as I was going to get.

It was just Lou and I this trip. Mikey couldn't get off from work. We camped at Dolly Copp and made the trail around 9:30. Much later than I wanted to. I woke with a charlie horse. I get them maybe twice a year, and today was that day. Another injury also had me concerned. Back in May I was at a child's birthday party at a roller skating place. The last time I put on skates was 25 years earlier, maybe to the day, who knows. I was my post-prom at the very same rink. This day, on my last lap, I fell backwards and sprained my right wrist. At post time it still hurts. How would it react to climbing at the headwall?

Pinkham Notch was busy. Very busy. First of all, it was the high season for through hikers, but added to that was the fact that there were two benefits going on. Alzheimer's and something else, I forgot. A lot of non-hikers were on the trail and I was glad to occasionally chat with them.

As expected, we turned off onto Huntington just below the tree line and the crowds disappeared. I tripped and landed on a moss covered log. Lou didn't think anything of it, and neither would I, normally. But I had put pressure on my wrist, and it hurt. A lot. We saw only a couple people before we reached the treeline. Once the trees were gone people were easier to spot. The climb by the fan was tough and I was looking forward to reaching the headwall. Chatting with others, a woman looked at me surprised and said "this isn't the head wall?" "Um, no" I said.

The headwall is one hell of a sight. Last time it scared the bejesus out of me and was where we had to turn around. I felt good but wondered about my wrist. And my sneakers. Well, at least my charlie horse wasn't bothering me much. The woman I spoke with and her friend were ahead of us. They spent some time looking and feeling and thinking and I was happy for the brief breather. In the end they chose to turn around.

I put my hands on the rock face. I felt strangely confidant. Maybe because I had been there before or maybe because my legs, thanks to the squats, were in much better shape. At any rate, we went up. And it was fun.


Above the headwall is a moonscape. Very little vegetation grows this high. We followed the cairns along a hard to see rock path. Relentless, just as I expected. Lou hadn't anticipated how relentless and grew tired of the monotony. We got close to the auto road and he wanted to follow it. I didn't. I hate road walking and was up for the challenge, but we followed it. He was exhausted and the road allowed us to double our pace. Soon the summit building came into view.

Point to point, it was five and a half hours to the top. We stayed there for an hour and a half resting and gorging ourselves. The food item we both declared the most wonderful, most spectacular to partake in: Coca-Cola. I can't explain it. It was glorious.

I didn't want to bus down again so I let Lou get as much rest as we could afford and we took the easiest path down. Of course there is no easy path down, but we got back to Pinkham Notch well before sunset. Back at camp we built a fire and made food, even though we weren't very hungry. In the morning we stopped at Pinkham Notch and had the coldest showers of our lives.

Lou did great. Much better than I in my first two attempts. It seems my wrist wasn't a problem. I can pull weight with it without problem, I just can't flex it backwards. And I really owe Mike at the YMCA a debt of gratitude for putting me on the leg squats routine. It made all the difference.

I want to go again.

Take a look at this guy's video. We met him on the hill that day.

Mount Moosilauke, White Mountains, New Hampshire

Beaver Brook trail
Saturday, July 25

This will be a long one.

A co-worker, Lou, has a family cabin outside Plymouth, NH and none of his friends are willing to go hiking with him. I stuck a bargain. He supplies the cabin, my bro-in-law Mikey and I will supply the food and beer. Weather reports didn't look very promising, but worst case we spend the weekend in a cabin in the woods with a lot of beer.

At 4802, Mount Moosilauke is a fairly high peak, and the closest 4000 footer to the cabin. We got a late start driving (my fault) and landed in the Whites around midnight. We unpacked some of our stuff, set up sleeping arrangements, and crashed. We woke late.

After a leisurely breakfast, we packed up and went looking for the trail head. I realized my AMC maps were left back in Rhode Island, so we stopped at an information center. A kindly, old, toothless man suggested a trail and gave Lou the directions. After an hour of driving, we found the trail head. $3.00 to park. It was ten past eleven when we hit the trail. The weather was gorgeous.

Beaver Brook trail resembles the Falling Waters trail to Little Haystack. For both that and this hike, nature provided plenty rain to ensure the mountain streams had extra vigor. The photos do not do it justice. The trail was strenuous and we had to take frequent breaks to catch our breaths. Normally I hit the gym treadmill twice a week to prepare for my high peak, but with a shift in my work schedule, I haven’t been able to make it. Lou, younger than I and somewhat fit, was unaccustomed to this level of hike. Mikey, on the other hand, had quit smoking and lost over 25 pounds.

There were 6X6’s cut diagonally, and attached with rebar to the rock to make an effective stairway. There was also rebar hand-holds along this stretch. We walked out onto the rock to marvel at the waterfall. Without warning my feet slipped out from under me and I landed flat on my stomach. I gripped the rock to keep from falling back, but with my feet over open air and the rebar out of reach, I couldn't climb back up.

In a calm voice, I said “Hey guys”. They said “Yea?” without turning around. “Little help?” They turned around, confused why I would choose that moment to lie down. Mikey realized the situation and jumped to my aid. He helped me up and I stepped to a safer location. “Nobody got a picture of that?” I said.

I was wearing my work sneakers. My hikers are old Timberlands that hurt my feet. I thought I could get away with something more comfortable. Maybe, had the treads not been worn out. Almost became an entry in Hiker Hell. I took this picture on the way down.

The roaring river slowly shrank away. Soon we found a side trail for use by AT through hikers. There were a couple tent platforms, a privy, and a hut. That provided a nice place to rest and refuel. The rest of the way up was mostly uneventful. The trees grew shorter, when suddenly we were on a rocky plain. We followed the cairns to the top. The remains of the Tiptop house were visible. A steward from the Dartmouth Outing Club was there providing some education to small children. Apparently they came up an easier path.

Ok, so here is the fancy book-learnin’ about Mount Moosilauke. Moosilauke is a Native American word for Bald Place. Bullwinkle and his kin have nothing to do with the name. Dartmouth College owns the summit and the Dartmouth Outing Club provides education and trail maintenance. The Tip Top House kept being broken into by snowmobilers. One day they took the stove so Dartmouth decided to close it. There is some disagreement to the proper pronunciation. According to Ada, the DOC steward, Dartmouth had a vote many years ago and choose Moose-a-LOCK, while the AMC and Forestry Service chose Moose-a-Lockee.

Ada was very nice. I would have liked to chat with her longer, but I felt I was detracting her from her duties. I wish her luck in medical school. It was 20 past four when we started back down.

We made better time. Five hours up, I was hopping for two hours down. We took a break at the hut. Now two people were sitting in it. I asked if it was ok if we lingered there with them. Lu Lu and Chris were north bound through hikers. They were happy to see that they had only 390 miles left. Our miles were about six for the day and my legs were burning. A south-bounder arrived called Face Plant. They had a lot to talk about, one having just come from where the other will go. I pestered them with questions.

Face Plant admitted she walked the 100 mile wilderness in Crocks because she didn't want to get her new hikers wet. I couldn't imagine it. She pulled her now-wet hikers off and I was struck how white her feet were from moisture. She better take care of those dogs. I gave them the last of my smarties and bid them goodbye. We lingered longer than planned and I didn't want to end the trail in darkness. Two of us were carrying flashlights.

My going was slow. We were all tired, but I wanted to take extra care at the cascades. Lou and Mikey went on ahead. Eventually the trail flattened out and we grouped up again.

We walked off the trail ten past seven. Exactly eight hours from when we started. We could have taken an hour off that at least if we were going for time, but we weren't. Dinner consisted of chicken and vegetables, marinated steak tips and shrimp, Johnsonville Brats, and lots of beer. I slept well. In the morning we breakfasted at Plain Jane’s diner then went to Polar Caves Park.