wardsgirl
Active member
I have been wanting to do a sled trip all winter and now the last weekend of winter was here! Sunny days and blue skies were forecasted. I was in! Unfortunately, the conditions looked horrible for a sled trip. There’s nothing more unromantic than the clattering sound of a plastic sled on boilerplate echoing off the valley walls. I’d rather save the sled trip for a day when I can pull my pulk silently through at least six inches of new powder. The sled trip would have to wait.
My BF went ahead with his plan B, to do a 3 day Presie traverse with his buddy. After I saw them off, I drove aimlessly north, looking for a hike of my own. On days like this, I am reminded of how happy I am that I finished my winter list many years ago. It is such a joy to head out for a hike with no intended peak to check off. Hopefully, some of the folks that will finish their lists this weekend will get to experience the same joy on their next winter hikes.
Digression: On my way up I-93, I was passed by a red pick-up with a VFTT sticker! Cool!
Hmmm… where to go… how about the Tripyramids? It has been years since I’ve been there. Before I knew it, I pulled into the parking lot at Livermore Road in Waterville Valley. Ugh! The lot was a mess. Frozen mini-mountains of slush in various stages of melting covered every surface. Only two other cars occupied slushy spots. I pulled onto the ice and, before I decided to leave my car there, I made sure I could pull back out again.
The Livermore Trail began on a groomed cross country ski trail. It wasn’t clear whether anyone had hiked that way today. I easily barebooted along, without seeing anyone. Eventually, the ski trail ended and I contended with the hiking trail conditions. It now appeared that someone had hiked up the trail and back, possibly the day before. I switched to crampons in order to manage the slip factor better. As anyone who hiked this weekend probably knows, as soon as my boot made contact with the crust of the snow, it seemed that all was well in the world. However, when I put weight into my step- THUMP, I sank down an inch or two. Fortunately, the sunny sky and chirping birds helped to assuage any annoyance I felt about the snow conditions.
As I enjoyed the peaceful trail paralleling the river, I reminisced about my son’s long dead pet Betta fish, Terry Francona. My 13 year-old is a huge Red Sox fan. He could tell you any player’s statistic or answer any trivia question. He’s been to several games and even went to Spring Training a couple years ago. He has always had a Betta fish and they have always been named something to do with the Red Sox. Terry Francona, the Betta fish, lived for five long years in a spacious tank with all manner of fish amenities. When he passed away in 2002, Ethan wanted to give him a special send off.
Since Ethan was working on his 4000 footers, he decided to incorporate the funeral with a hike. On his Tripyramids hike, he decided he would give Terry Francona a “Viking Funeral.” Ethan spent many hours constructing a popsicle stick barge with a platform for Terry Francona’s remains. The space under the platform held a small container of Coleman fuel. Ethan drilled holes in the four corners of the barge to hold sparklers, you know, like for the Fourth of July. Finally, the day of the hike came and Ethan carried the barge to the shore of the river where the north branch of the Mt. Tripyramid Loop leaves the main trail. After saying a few words, the Coleman fuel was ignited, and the barge was set adrift, complete with flaming sparklers. It was quite a send off for a pet fish. Ethan and I resumed hiking again while my BF collected any remaining popsicle sticks and the metal parts of the sparklers.
Today, I paid my respects to Terry Francona again at the river. Not wanting to tackle the north slide, I hiked up the Scaur Ridge Trail. If you have never been up the Tripyramids this way, I highly recommend it. The trail is in the Sandwich Range Wilderness. The easy grade angles up the valley to the headwaters of the river. The sun was so bright that I had to wear my goggles. Conditions changed yet again when I made it to the head of the river. Now, the ice that had clung to the trees melted in the warm sun. When the sun loosened their grip, the pieces of ice fell to the hard crusty trail like shattered glass and swiftly tinkled down the mountainside out of sight.
At the unsigned intersection with the Pine Bend Brook Trail, I saw the tracks of other hikers who had come up from the Kanc. I stopped here for a late lunch at a spot with a beautiful view of the Presies. I wondered how my BF’s trip was going, and of course, I waved. On my way up N. Tripyramid, I ran into three hikers, the only people I would see all day. By the time I reached M. Tripyramid, it was after 5:00. Not wanting to take the chance of descending the south slide in the dark, I decided to head back the way I came. On my descent, I took some pictures on the summits and walked out to the top of the north slide. As soon as I crossed the head of the river on Scaur Ridge Trail, I switched to snowshoes and flew back down to the Mt. Tripyramid Trail (and Terry Francona’s final resting place) again. I kept my snowshoes on for the rest of the way.
It started getting really dark when I reached the southern end of the Mt. Tripyramid Loop. I was glad that I didn’t tackle the slide with the approaching darkness. I figured I’d be to the car in less than an hour, so I stubbornly didn’t bother to break out my headlamp. Until I realized I had missed a turn and was hopelessly lost on a cross country ski trail, I never even bothered to stop or slow down. I knew something was wrong when the trail started to climb. What a shame it would be to have to bivy on a cross country ski trail within view of grooming machines crawling up and down Mt. Tecumseh. Finally, I figured out where I was, and made it back to the parking lot. My car, illuminated by the weird glow of a light bulb outside the privy, was the only one there.
I put my stuff in the trunk, took off my boots and backed the car out of its space. I put it in drive… and didn’t do anything else but bore a couple holes through the ice in the parking lot with my spinning tires. During the next hour, I tried to free my car by shoveling around the tires, by putting dirt from another spot in the lot under the tires, by wedging my floor mats under the spinning tires. It was no use. I was stuck. Funny, I just had a conversation with Amicus about getting stuck in parking lots last month. Right after our conversation, I received one of those AAA things in the mail. I usually just throw crap like that away, but I was short one Valentine’s Day gift for the BF, so I went ahead and sent my $60 in and had just received my shiny membership card last week. Happy Valentine's Day, dear. Thank goodness I had cellphone reception in the Livermore Road parking lot. Just like a AAA commercial, I called and in just two hours the friendly tow truck driver pushed me out of my icy trap. Now, just like a AAA commercial, I can say that buying the membership has already paid for itself. I arrived home at nearly 2:00 am, took a handful of Advil with a glass of white wine, and called it a day.
If you have made it this far reading my TR, I’m so sorry to have led you on about Terry Francona. The way that these creative VFTT folks have gotten with TRs lately, it’s hard to keep up! There is a bit of a follow up regarding Betta fish and the Red Sox, however. My son got a new Betta shortly after Terry Francona’s death. He named the new fish “Finway.” Unfortunately, Finway died last year at a ripe old age, and Ethan wanted to give him a special funeral, as well. Hmmm… remember how I hiked the AT in New York last year? Let’s just say that Finway’s final resting place has a great view of the new Yankee stadium…
My BF went ahead with his plan B, to do a 3 day Presie traverse with his buddy. After I saw them off, I drove aimlessly north, looking for a hike of my own. On days like this, I am reminded of how happy I am that I finished my winter list many years ago. It is such a joy to head out for a hike with no intended peak to check off. Hopefully, some of the folks that will finish their lists this weekend will get to experience the same joy on their next winter hikes.
Digression: On my way up I-93, I was passed by a red pick-up with a VFTT sticker! Cool!
Hmmm… where to go… how about the Tripyramids? It has been years since I’ve been there. Before I knew it, I pulled into the parking lot at Livermore Road in Waterville Valley. Ugh! The lot was a mess. Frozen mini-mountains of slush in various stages of melting covered every surface. Only two other cars occupied slushy spots. I pulled onto the ice and, before I decided to leave my car there, I made sure I could pull back out again.
The Livermore Trail began on a groomed cross country ski trail. It wasn’t clear whether anyone had hiked that way today. I easily barebooted along, without seeing anyone. Eventually, the ski trail ended and I contended with the hiking trail conditions. It now appeared that someone had hiked up the trail and back, possibly the day before. I switched to crampons in order to manage the slip factor better. As anyone who hiked this weekend probably knows, as soon as my boot made contact with the crust of the snow, it seemed that all was well in the world. However, when I put weight into my step- THUMP, I sank down an inch or two. Fortunately, the sunny sky and chirping birds helped to assuage any annoyance I felt about the snow conditions.
As I enjoyed the peaceful trail paralleling the river, I reminisced about my son’s long dead pet Betta fish, Terry Francona. My 13 year-old is a huge Red Sox fan. He could tell you any player’s statistic or answer any trivia question. He’s been to several games and even went to Spring Training a couple years ago. He has always had a Betta fish and they have always been named something to do with the Red Sox. Terry Francona, the Betta fish, lived for five long years in a spacious tank with all manner of fish amenities. When he passed away in 2002, Ethan wanted to give him a special send off.
Since Ethan was working on his 4000 footers, he decided to incorporate the funeral with a hike. On his Tripyramids hike, he decided he would give Terry Francona a “Viking Funeral.” Ethan spent many hours constructing a popsicle stick barge with a platform for Terry Francona’s remains. The space under the platform held a small container of Coleman fuel. Ethan drilled holes in the four corners of the barge to hold sparklers, you know, like for the Fourth of July. Finally, the day of the hike came and Ethan carried the barge to the shore of the river where the north branch of the Mt. Tripyramid Loop leaves the main trail. After saying a few words, the Coleman fuel was ignited, and the barge was set adrift, complete with flaming sparklers. It was quite a send off for a pet fish. Ethan and I resumed hiking again while my BF collected any remaining popsicle sticks and the metal parts of the sparklers.
Today, I paid my respects to Terry Francona again at the river. Not wanting to tackle the north slide, I hiked up the Scaur Ridge Trail. If you have never been up the Tripyramids this way, I highly recommend it. The trail is in the Sandwich Range Wilderness. The easy grade angles up the valley to the headwaters of the river. The sun was so bright that I had to wear my goggles. Conditions changed yet again when I made it to the head of the river. Now, the ice that had clung to the trees melted in the warm sun. When the sun loosened their grip, the pieces of ice fell to the hard crusty trail like shattered glass and swiftly tinkled down the mountainside out of sight.
At the unsigned intersection with the Pine Bend Brook Trail, I saw the tracks of other hikers who had come up from the Kanc. I stopped here for a late lunch at a spot with a beautiful view of the Presies. I wondered how my BF’s trip was going, and of course, I waved. On my way up N. Tripyramid, I ran into three hikers, the only people I would see all day. By the time I reached M. Tripyramid, it was after 5:00. Not wanting to take the chance of descending the south slide in the dark, I decided to head back the way I came. On my descent, I took some pictures on the summits and walked out to the top of the north slide. As soon as I crossed the head of the river on Scaur Ridge Trail, I switched to snowshoes and flew back down to the Mt. Tripyramid Trail (and Terry Francona’s final resting place) again. I kept my snowshoes on for the rest of the way.
It started getting really dark when I reached the southern end of the Mt. Tripyramid Loop. I was glad that I didn’t tackle the slide with the approaching darkness. I figured I’d be to the car in less than an hour, so I stubbornly didn’t bother to break out my headlamp. Until I realized I had missed a turn and was hopelessly lost on a cross country ski trail, I never even bothered to stop or slow down. I knew something was wrong when the trail started to climb. What a shame it would be to have to bivy on a cross country ski trail within view of grooming machines crawling up and down Mt. Tecumseh. Finally, I figured out where I was, and made it back to the parking lot. My car, illuminated by the weird glow of a light bulb outside the privy, was the only one there.
I put my stuff in the trunk, took off my boots and backed the car out of its space. I put it in drive… and didn’t do anything else but bore a couple holes through the ice in the parking lot with my spinning tires. During the next hour, I tried to free my car by shoveling around the tires, by putting dirt from another spot in the lot under the tires, by wedging my floor mats under the spinning tires. It was no use. I was stuck. Funny, I just had a conversation with Amicus about getting stuck in parking lots last month. Right after our conversation, I received one of those AAA things in the mail. I usually just throw crap like that away, but I was short one Valentine’s Day gift for the BF, so I went ahead and sent my $60 in and had just received my shiny membership card last week. Happy Valentine's Day, dear. Thank goodness I had cellphone reception in the Livermore Road parking lot. Just like a AAA commercial, I called and in just two hours the friendly tow truck driver pushed me out of my icy trap. Now, just like a AAA commercial, I can say that buying the membership has already paid for itself. I arrived home at nearly 2:00 am, took a handful of Advil with a glass of white wine, and called it a day.
If you have made it this far reading my TR, I’m so sorry to have led you on about Terry Francona. The way that these creative VFTT folks have gotten with TRs lately, it’s hard to keep up! There is a bit of a follow up regarding Betta fish and the Red Sox, however. My son got a new Betta shortly after Terry Francona’s death. He named the new fish “Finway.” Unfortunately, Finway died last year at a ripe old age, and Ethan wanted to give him a special funeral, as well. Hmmm… remember how I hiked the AT in New York last year? Let’s just say that Finway’s final resting place has a great view of the new Yankee stadium…
