We all rave over and over about how wonderful winter camping is; however, on her first winter overnight Poison Ivy was cold and uncomfortable. She wanted tips on a more enjoyable experience, and I relished the opportunity for a trip to Carter Notch Hut. This past Saturday, we began our adventure with a pleasantly late start on the Nineteen Mile Brook Trail under clear blue, sunny skies with temperatures in the teens.
It was an incredibly beautiful day to be in the White Mountains. We quickly lost layers; in spite of the cool air temperatures, the bright sun and lack of wind made for a perfect hiking day with spectacular conditions. We took a casual pace, but in spite of feeling slow we made quick time on the trail. I noticed ski tracks crossing the dam and climbing up the hill on the other side and realized there's a trail up there. Is that the old Aqueduct Path? I would have expected the trail of that name to be down low where the pipe is. It is apparently a popular route, though, since on our way out the next day the skier's tracks would be completely obliterated by numerous snowshoes.
We soon arrived at the Carter Dome Trail junction, where we stopped for lunch. The trail remained well-packed and barebootable all the way up to the height-of-land. It was also apparent from the tracks that skiers had been enjoying the fine powder conditions. As we picked up limited views through the trees to Adams and Madison we could not help but remark on what a great day Cantdog had to finish her winter 48, and that anyone out today was truly experiencing the best weather the mountains could offer.
It was around 2:30 in the afternoon when we arrived at the Hut. It felt balmy in the hut; the temperature inside was a cozy 32F. The first thing to do was to put on dry clothing. I showed Ivy how the drying hooks work, then we headed up to claim a bunkhouse. This was where we hit our first setback - the trail was completely drifted over in front of the upper bunkhouse, and it would have been a serious effort to get out on the Rampart, denying us what I knew to be gorgeous open views across the Wild River Valley into Maine.
Instead we went back to the hut, staked out our positions at one of the tables, and began what would be the first of many victorious cribbage games throughout the afternoon and evening while other arrived, most of whom fell into one of two groups, a multi-family excursion and an AMC-led trip. An older gentleman, Ron, and his young, rambunctious dog Teddy stopped in, as he says he does every Saturday. After a few moments of conversation it became clear to me that I knew him. I asked if he had been with Teddy on the Rattle River Trail last September, and if he was a 111'er. In fact, it was him who Ivy and I had met on our backpacking trip's last day, out of Imp Shelter and over Moriah, and we shared a few stories, filling him in on our adventures since then.
There would be an upset stomach, cold feet, and a heartbreakingly bored little girl, but in spite of it all everyone, even eventually her, had a wonderful evening. The hut filled with the smells of warm meals, a crackling fire, chocolate chip cookies, and kahlua. Er, cocoa, I mean.
Unfortunately, a lack of coordination led to running out of hot water on the stove, and when bedtime came we were forced to wait to reach another boil in order to fill our bottles. Once that was all set, however, we headed out to the bunkhouse under the stars and a bright, rising moon. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect night to highlight the majestic cliffs overlooking the Notch. And unlike her last attempt, Ivy was warm and comfortable in her bunk.
Then the wind came. Oh, did it ever. With a vengeance. I've been in the Notch many times and heard the wind roaring high overhead, but this was the first time I'd ever felt it shake the bunkhouse, making the walls shudder while the doors rattled and slammed shut. The night remained picturesque, stars and a bright moon rendering headlamps unnecessary, and yet thrown into the mix was this incredible wind. I would later learn that the morning's low temperature would be 0.2F, the winds gusting to 30mph. I was toasty warm in my sleeping bag, Ivy in hers, but the day was bright. In fact, it was as beautiful as the previous day, except for the wind.
Everyone descended on the hut for breakfast, and I joined the AMC trip leader for a water run. Out on the surface of the upper lake was the single worst place to be in the Notch, as the wind scoured unfettered across the frozen surface. The opening in the ice had been allowed to shrink such that the water jugs could no longer fit inside; water had to be scooped, cup by cup, and poured into the jugs. You can imagine how, in 30mph winds, this was slightly more than difficult. Working together, we managed to fill all four jugs. In all that time, I came so incredibly close to asking him if he'd worked at the huts prior to being a trip leader. If I only had, I would have realized that I knew the person I was freezing with. It was at home when I realized Ivy had asked me what his name was, and I said I didn't know, and she said she'd thought she heard Frank. I flashed back to the sign-in sheet's McCarthy. I believe it was Frankie, who had been a part of the AMC Winter Hiking Skills workshop I'd taken several years before, and who was Caretaker of Lonesome Lake Hut for its first winter. A really great guy.
I digress; after bringing in the water, having breakfast, and reviewing the weather we chose not to attempt Carter Dome or Mt Hight. I knew that the drifts in the col would be incredible and daunting, but it was the forecast 70-100mph winds that really said not to go. In fact, as we made our way out across the lake later, buffeted by 25-30mph winds, we could see the wind whipping snow through the upper elevations of the Dome, affirming our decision.
In fact, once we got down off the height-of-land and out of the majority of the wind, we could see huge snow plumes coming off Adams, Madison and the ridges. It looked at times like the classic photos of Everest with its white tail, and was presumably causing whiteout conditions. The radio would later report a temperature of -8F on the summit of Mt. Washington, with winds of 60mph gusting to 80mph. Staying down low was definitely the right choice.
(and yes, a lot of you were up on the summits on Sunday; I don't know how you did it, because I still stand by my decision that looking up at what I saw, it was foolish to attempt climbing)
The 19-Mile Brook Trail was completely drifted over in spots near the height-of-land, but after descending a few hundred feet it was almost like a snowblower path through the woods, wide and well-packed. We made excellent time. In the 2-1/2 hours it would take us to get back to the car, we encountered a few hikers, one unnervingly (to me) planning to go over the Wildcats (and in fact, he did go up and over to Wildcat D and back), and three tele skiers heading up the Carter Dome Trail. After changing out of our gear at my car, we headed into Gorham to Exchange Street to try out a 3-month-old restaurant called the Moonbeam Cafe.
This establishment is wonderful and we highly recommend it. Their breakfast menu is extensive and delicious. You have your choice of smashies (fried mashed-potato pancakes) or sweet potato home fries, as well as 12 different types of locally fresh-baked bread for grilled toast. All this in early 20th century decor, from the original tin ceiling to the pull-chain toilet with its tank up in the sky. Prices were higher than a dive diner, but the portions were generous and you do get your money's worth; the two of us were stuffed full for $24 including tip. They had scrumptious-sounding dinners listed on the specials board, too. Try them out. Moonbeam Cafe. Oh so very yummy!
And that was it. We drove home. No summits, but a really great weekend. I can't help but to be recharged by a weekend in Carter Notch, and I hope Ivy had a good time, and feels better about winter camping.
Ivy's pictures are here. I was lazy and didn't bring my camera.
It was an incredibly beautiful day to be in the White Mountains. We quickly lost layers; in spite of the cool air temperatures, the bright sun and lack of wind made for a perfect hiking day with spectacular conditions. We took a casual pace, but in spite of feeling slow we made quick time on the trail. I noticed ski tracks crossing the dam and climbing up the hill on the other side and realized there's a trail up there. Is that the old Aqueduct Path? I would have expected the trail of that name to be down low where the pipe is. It is apparently a popular route, though, since on our way out the next day the skier's tracks would be completely obliterated by numerous snowshoes.
We soon arrived at the Carter Dome Trail junction, where we stopped for lunch. The trail remained well-packed and barebootable all the way up to the height-of-land. It was also apparent from the tracks that skiers had been enjoying the fine powder conditions. As we picked up limited views through the trees to Adams and Madison we could not help but remark on what a great day Cantdog had to finish her winter 48, and that anyone out today was truly experiencing the best weather the mountains could offer.
It was around 2:30 in the afternoon when we arrived at the Hut. It felt balmy in the hut; the temperature inside was a cozy 32F. The first thing to do was to put on dry clothing. I showed Ivy how the drying hooks work, then we headed up to claim a bunkhouse. This was where we hit our first setback - the trail was completely drifted over in front of the upper bunkhouse, and it would have been a serious effort to get out on the Rampart, denying us what I knew to be gorgeous open views across the Wild River Valley into Maine.
Instead we went back to the hut, staked out our positions at one of the tables, and began what would be the first of many victorious cribbage games throughout the afternoon and evening while other arrived, most of whom fell into one of two groups, a multi-family excursion and an AMC-led trip. An older gentleman, Ron, and his young, rambunctious dog Teddy stopped in, as he says he does every Saturday. After a few moments of conversation it became clear to me that I knew him. I asked if he had been with Teddy on the Rattle River Trail last September, and if he was a 111'er. In fact, it was him who Ivy and I had met on our backpacking trip's last day, out of Imp Shelter and over Moriah, and we shared a few stories, filling him in on our adventures since then.
There would be an upset stomach, cold feet, and a heartbreakingly bored little girl, but in spite of it all everyone, even eventually her, had a wonderful evening. The hut filled with the smells of warm meals, a crackling fire, chocolate chip cookies, and kahlua. Er, cocoa, I mean.
Unfortunately, a lack of coordination led to running out of hot water on the stove, and when bedtime came we were forced to wait to reach another boil in order to fill our bottles. Once that was all set, however, we headed out to the bunkhouse under the stars and a bright, rising moon. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect night to highlight the majestic cliffs overlooking the Notch. And unlike her last attempt, Ivy was warm and comfortable in her bunk.
Then the wind came. Oh, did it ever. With a vengeance. I've been in the Notch many times and heard the wind roaring high overhead, but this was the first time I'd ever felt it shake the bunkhouse, making the walls shudder while the doors rattled and slammed shut. The night remained picturesque, stars and a bright moon rendering headlamps unnecessary, and yet thrown into the mix was this incredible wind. I would later learn that the morning's low temperature would be 0.2F, the winds gusting to 30mph. I was toasty warm in my sleeping bag, Ivy in hers, but the day was bright. In fact, it was as beautiful as the previous day, except for the wind.
Everyone descended on the hut for breakfast, and I joined the AMC trip leader for a water run. Out on the surface of the upper lake was the single worst place to be in the Notch, as the wind scoured unfettered across the frozen surface. The opening in the ice had been allowed to shrink such that the water jugs could no longer fit inside; water had to be scooped, cup by cup, and poured into the jugs. You can imagine how, in 30mph winds, this was slightly more than difficult. Working together, we managed to fill all four jugs. In all that time, I came so incredibly close to asking him if he'd worked at the huts prior to being a trip leader. If I only had, I would have realized that I knew the person I was freezing with. It was at home when I realized Ivy had asked me what his name was, and I said I didn't know, and she said she'd thought she heard Frank. I flashed back to the sign-in sheet's McCarthy. I believe it was Frankie, who had been a part of the AMC Winter Hiking Skills workshop I'd taken several years before, and who was Caretaker of Lonesome Lake Hut for its first winter. A really great guy.
I digress; after bringing in the water, having breakfast, and reviewing the weather we chose not to attempt Carter Dome or Mt Hight. I knew that the drifts in the col would be incredible and daunting, but it was the forecast 70-100mph winds that really said not to go. In fact, as we made our way out across the lake later, buffeted by 25-30mph winds, we could see the wind whipping snow through the upper elevations of the Dome, affirming our decision.
In fact, once we got down off the height-of-land and out of the majority of the wind, we could see huge snow plumes coming off Adams, Madison and the ridges. It looked at times like the classic photos of Everest with its white tail, and was presumably causing whiteout conditions. The radio would later report a temperature of -8F on the summit of Mt. Washington, with winds of 60mph gusting to 80mph. Staying down low was definitely the right choice.
(and yes, a lot of you were up on the summits on Sunday; I don't know how you did it, because I still stand by my decision that looking up at what I saw, it was foolish to attempt climbing)
The 19-Mile Brook Trail was completely drifted over in spots near the height-of-land, but after descending a few hundred feet it was almost like a snowblower path through the woods, wide and well-packed. We made excellent time. In the 2-1/2 hours it would take us to get back to the car, we encountered a few hikers, one unnervingly (to me) planning to go over the Wildcats (and in fact, he did go up and over to Wildcat D and back), and three tele skiers heading up the Carter Dome Trail. After changing out of our gear at my car, we headed into Gorham to Exchange Street to try out a 3-month-old restaurant called the Moonbeam Cafe.
This establishment is wonderful and we highly recommend it. Their breakfast menu is extensive and delicious. You have your choice of smashies (fried mashed-potato pancakes) or sweet potato home fries, as well as 12 different types of locally fresh-baked bread for grilled toast. All this in early 20th century decor, from the original tin ceiling to the pull-chain toilet with its tank up in the sky. Prices were higher than a dive diner, but the portions were generous and you do get your money's worth; the two of us were stuffed full for $24 including tip. They had scrumptious-sounding dinners listed on the specials board, too. Try them out. Moonbeam Cafe. Oh so very yummy!
And that was it. We drove home. No summits, but a really great weekend. I can't help but to be recharged by a weekend in Carter Notch, and I hope Ivy had a good time, and feels better about winter camping.
Ivy's pictures are here. I was lazy and didn't bring my camera.
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