The Unstrung Harp
Active member
Full report with pics is at Trek For Peace .
Thanks again to all of you who chimed in with advice before the hike. Your expertise is a wonderful resource.
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Franconia Ridge - Mt Lafayette (5249'), Lincoln (5089'), and Little Haystack (4800')
Distance: ~8.9 miles
Pace: Comparatively brisk. Romano says it'll take 8 hours and he's usually right on, for me. We did it in 6.5 hours.
Trailhead: Lafayette Place, north of Lincoln, NH.
At 3:40am on Tuesday morning, suddenly all of the reasons and excuses were gone, and everything was ready. I was ready. I ran down my packing list one more time, grabbed a fistful of spinach, and headed for Franconia Ridge.
I had managed to cajole another enthusiastic human to brave the sunrise and come along, so after a brief detour to find him around 5:15am, we sailed westward. I believe most of our conversation involved discussion of whether to hike the upcoming loop clockwise or counterclockwise.
My extensive research on the matter concluded that one had to do it both ways, and also from the north via Skookumchuk, and also at night, and worth a visit for sure in the winter, and autumn; I have made note of all these recommendations and intend to try them in years to come. (And thanks to the VFTT crew for all the insight! You are hardcore.)
Today, however, after my trusty companion and I both had pored over the AMC book and the well-broken-in Jeff Romano book, the decision was eventually (at nearly the last moment) made to travel clockwise. We would begin on Old Bridle Path. Note: Jeff says to go counterclockwise! This is one of my first blatant Jeff defiances!
We reached the inside of a cloud containing Lafayette Place a little after 7:30am, and after shuffling about with packs and footgear (trail runners instead of boots this time; the future is upon us!?!), were en route by 7:44am. The clouds were in motion and we caught frequent glimpses of surrounding peaks as we arrived, and once on the trail it was somewhat bright and a bit chilly - ideal climbing weather.
Old Bridle Path begins honestly enough, clearly heavily used but decently maintained. The footing was relatively flat-ish for the first mile or so, even runnable if one wasn't carrying a pack. Before too long, the steady ascent steepens and gives way to the wild jumbled rockiness of our glacial past.
Roughly halfway to the AMC Greenleaf Hut, we emerged up onto some magnificent, open granite ledges, fringed with patches of mountain(bog?) laurel, with views to the west of Walker Ravine, and also ahead to a partial profile of Franconia Ridge. Clouds tumbled about the scenery, interspersed with brightness, and the temperature remained cool and impeccably perfect.
Our first landmark, pre-hut, would be The Agonies, no doubt a term of endearment given by hut croo for an especially steep and especially rocky area in an area already pretty rocky and steep. There is no upper limit to what the croo will shuttle up and down; their loads could spook a yak. I think they must all keep the ibuprofen companies on speed dial.
Apparently named because horses used to ferry tourists to the Lafayette summit, Old Bridle Path looked anything but passable by horse, especially several miles in, where nonstop rocky areas require some careful navigation. My own horse is a rugged little Lippitt Morgan, a breed that originated in Vermont and is known for sure-footedness. I'm pretty sure there is no way he wouldn't fall on his schnoz on this sort of terrain, no doubt launching his passenger into orbit. I wonder if the trail used to be graded to some extent, or perhaps its current condition is the result of erosion and over-use. Or if horses back then had diamond encrusted hooves.
Slightly mystified, we continued moderately along The Agonies, stopping here and there to try to get a decent photo of the fabulous terrain.
We quickly reached Greenleaf Hut (~4200') and paused briefly to check it out (it's pretty sweet!) It's the third highest in elevation of the AMC huts, with only Madison Spring and Lakes of The Clouds higher. We'd traveled ~2.9 miles at this point.
We continued on the somewhat-less-steep Greenleaf Trail for ~ 1.1 mile, passing by Eagle Lake on the way. Soon, the trees went from scrubby to gone. Mist with snaps of wind presented a dramatic atmosphere as we scampered (him) and ambled (me) up through the alpine zone toward Lafayette's summit.
There is something akin to a silence within the sound of wind, in between and/or through it somehow, that I find positively irresistible. I also appreciate the feeling of total isolation when fog is all there is, omnipresent, visible yet blocking visibility, a hitchhiker picked up by every passing inhalation.
Rocky paths wove upward linking hive-like cairns together like knotted string. Tiny pale wildflower clusters with miniature, dense, green foliage huddled low and brightly.
Mist wrapped around everything. Green and gold grasses seemed too tough to react to the wind; they hunkered as you would, too, if you live up here.
Lafayette's summit (5249') was just past a flock of stray boulders, and it was all gray and whiteness.
Mere hints of surrounding peaks showed through, but it was apparent that the the sun was hard at work.
A granite enclosure of sorts remains from years past. I admire infinitely whoever built that thing. Foundation? Paddock? Fabulous, regardless.
One banana later, our sojourn adjourned toward Mount Lincoln via the Franconia Ridge Trail which is blazed white, for it is also the Appalachian Trail.
The thru-hikers were as always easy to pick out - huge packs, minimal clothes, rather unforgettable odors (weed, hikerfunk, etc the most common).
Anyone know when this slide happened? Nothing seemed to be growing on it; does this mean it was quite recent? Are there any other ways to tell?
The only thing better than walking on an amazing ridge above treeline is to do it when the clouds are flying about, and the only thing better than that, is to have all of the above plus an encounter with surprise wild ginormous rocky formations.
They don't show much on the map, and photos don't do them justice. You simply have to go there and experience them yourself, or if you can't, at least enjoy it vicariously through my twitterpated ramblings.
Flume and Liberty (remember them?) remained visible to the south.
The geographically spastic area between the much hailed summits was like no other, and in a hike of consistent badassery, it was downright extraordinary.
And thus it was christened: The Sag. Move over peakbaggers, the sagbaggers
have arrived. I believe my co-conspirator coined the term; look for it in the next issue of HIKING ILLUSTRATED. Photo credit goes to the fleet and nimble Colin.
Sadly, it doesn't show well in my photos, but the much of the lichen up here was a most vivid neon green.
Franconia's reputation for hosting hoards of tourists was realized as the morning rose toward noon. A mere tourist-gaggle couldn't really do significant damage our journey, but still, lingering upon Lincoln (which was lovely) and Haystack (equally lovely) would have been sort of a drag due to the population.
And as all the ancient texts reveal, sagbaggers are transient beings, oft becoming skittish when not in motion. In a moment of urgency, they bolted off the final summit and onto Falling Waters trail.
Falling Waters Trail wasn't supposed to be quite as steep as the Old Bridle
Path, but the difference was minimal.
It was steep as shit and rushing downward was, for me, out of the question. Self preservation, ya know? I just imagine the sound and sensation of, say, a torn ACL, and I slow my bad self right on down. Simple as that.
This is not to say it wasn't a really beautiful trail. I enjoyed its rather crude welcome. And true to its name, it's middle/lower section was adorned with quite a few waterfalls, including one little 0.1 spur path that led to Shining Rock.
What is Shining Rock? I wondered. At only 0.1 mile off the trail, it was a deal we could not refuse. We headed down (yes, down) to investigate.
How peculiar! It turns out that it's a rock, a rock that is shining. It's basically a tremendous granite wall, a not-quite-vertical cliff, with a sort of flat waterfall along most of it. I imagine the ice climbers probably dig this like mad.
Another impressive sight - three chicks frolicking up the path, totally barefoot. I was wearing kind of crappy/flimsy/older trail running shoes due to various footwear, uh, "issues". (It's, how you say, complicated...) I was pretty sure they'd work, but that I'd be not thrilled with them by the end of the day.
Unfortunately I was right, they mostly worked but I was missing a more substantial boot or at least a tougher shoe. (Good points too though - no friction issues, good grip on rock, very light.) Barefoot is a level of tough that, simple as it seems, is hella intense and over my head at the moment. (Let's revisit this in a year.) I wonder if the trio of barefooters descended barefoot as well. That'd be wicked hardcore. But anyway....waterfalls!
The trail remained quite rocky at times until finally flattening out as we neared the trailhead. We were mostly back at the car around 2:15 pm. Mostly, because I am still sort of on the ridge and have no plans of coming down anytime soon.
Thanks again to all of you who chimed in with advice before the hike. Your expertise is a wonderful resource.
----
Franconia Ridge - Mt Lafayette (5249'), Lincoln (5089'), and Little Haystack (4800')
Distance: ~8.9 miles
Pace: Comparatively brisk. Romano says it'll take 8 hours and he's usually right on, for me. We did it in 6.5 hours.
Trailhead: Lafayette Place, north of Lincoln, NH.
At 3:40am on Tuesday morning, suddenly all of the reasons and excuses were gone, and everything was ready. I was ready. I ran down my packing list one more time, grabbed a fistful of spinach, and headed for Franconia Ridge.
I had managed to cajole another enthusiastic human to brave the sunrise and come along, so after a brief detour to find him around 5:15am, we sailed westward. I believe most of our conversation involved discussion of whether to hike the upcoming loop clockwise or counterclockwise.
My extensive research on the matter concluded that one had to do it both ways, and also from the north via Skookumchuk, and also at night, and worth a visit for sure in the winter, and autumn; I have made note of all these recommendations and intend to try them in years to come. (And thanks to the VFTT crew for all the insight! You are hardcore.)
Today, however, after my trusty companion and I both had pored over the AMC book and the well-broken-in Jeff Romano book, the decision was eventually (at nearly the last moment) made to travel clockwise. We would begin on Old Bridle Path. Note: Jeff says to go counterclockwise! This is one of my first blatant Jeff defiances!
We reached the inside of a cloud containing Lafayette Place a little after 7:30am, and after shuffling about with packs and footgear (trail runners instead of boots this time; the future is upon us!?!), were en route by 7:44am. The clouds were in motion and we caught frequent glimpses of surrounding peaks as we arrived, and once on the trail it was somewhat bright and a bit chilly - ideal climbing weather.
Old Bridle Path begins honestly enough, clearly heavily used but decently maintained. The footing was relatively flat-ish for the first mile or so, even runnable if one wasn't carrying a pack. Before too long, the steady ascent steepens and gives way to the wild jumbled rockiness of our glacial past.
Roughly halfway to the AMC Greenleaf Hut, we emerged up onto some magnificent, open granite ledges, fringed with patches of mountain(bog?) laurel, with views to the west of Walker Ravine, and also ahead to a partial profile of Franconia Ridge. Clouds tumbled about the scenery, interspersed with brightness, and the temperature remained cool and impeccably perfect.
Our first landmark, pre-hut, would be The Agonies, no doubt a term of endearment given by hut croo for an especially steep and especially rocky area in an area already pretty rocky and steep. There is no upper limit to what the croo will shuttle up and down; their loads could spook a yak. I think they must all keep the ibuprofen companies on speed dial.
Apparently named because horses used to ferry tourists to the Lafayette summit, Old Bridle Path looked anything but passable by horse, especially several miles in, where nonstop rocky areas require some careful navigation. My own horse is a rugged little Lippitt Morgan, a breed that originated in Vermont and is known for sure-footedness. I'm pretty sure there is no way he wouldn't fall on his schnoz on this sort of terrain, no doubt launching his passenger into orbit. I wonder if the trail used to be graded to some extent, or perhaps its current condition is the result of erosion and over-use. Or if horses back then had diamond encrusted hooves.
Slightly mystified, we continued moderately along The Agonies, stopping here and there to try to get a decent photo of the fabulous terrain.
We quickly reached Greenleaf Hut (~4200') and paused briefly to check it out (it's pretty sweet!) It's the third highest in elevation of the AMC huts, with only Madison Spring and Lakes of The Clouds higher. We'd traveled ~2.9 miles at this point.
We continued on the somewhat-less-steep Greenleaf Trail for ~ 1.1 mile, passing by Eagle Lake on the way. Soon, the trees went from scrubby to gone. Mist with snaps of wind presented a dramatic atmosphere as we scampered (him) and ambled (me) up through the alpine zone toward Lafayette's summit.
There is something akin to a silence within the sound of wind, in between and/or through it somehow, that I find positively irresistible. I also appreciate the feeling of total isolation when fog is all there is, omnipresent, visible yet blocking visibility, a hitchhiker picked up by every passing inhalation.
Rocky paths wove upward linking hive-like cairns together like knotted string. Tiny pale wildflower clusters with miniature, dense, green foliage huddled low and brightly.
Mist wrapped around everything. Green and gold grasses seemed too tough to react to the wind; they hunkered as you would, too, if you live up here.
Lafayette's summit (5249') was just past a flock of stray boulders, and it was all gray and whiteness.
Mere hints of surrounding peaks showed through, but it was apparent that the the sun was hard at work.
A granite enclosure of sorts remains from years past. I admire infinitely whoever built that thing. Foundation? Paddock? Fabulous, regardless.
One banana later, our sojourn adjourned toward Mount Lincoln via the Franconia Ridge Trail which is blazed white, for it is also the Appalachian Trail.
The thru-hikers were as always easy to pick out - huge packs, minimal clothes, rather unforgettable odors (weed, hikerfunk, etc the most common).
Anyone know when this slide happened? Nothing seemed to be growing on it; does this mean it was quite recent? Are there any other ways to tell?
The only thing better than walking on an amazing ridge above treeline is to do it when the clouds are flying about, and the only thing better than that, is to have all of the above plus an encounter with surprise wild ginormous rocky formations.
They don't show much on the map, and photos don't do them justice. You simply have to go there and experience them yourself, or if you can't, at least enjoy it vicariously through my twitterpated ramblings.
Flume and Liberty (remember them?) remained visible to the south.
The geographically spastic area between the much hailed summits was like no other, and in a hike of consistent badassery, it was downright extraordinary.
And thus it was christened: The Sag. Move over peakbaggers, the sagbaggers
have arrived. I believe my co-conspirator coined the term; look for it in the next issue of HIKING ILLUSTRATED. Photo credit goes to the fleet and nimble Colin.
Sadly, it doesn't show well in my photos, but the much of the lichen up here was a most vivid neon green.
Franconia's reputation for hosting hoards of tourists was realized as the morning rose toward noon. A mere tourist-gaggle couldn't really do significant damage our journey, but still, lingering upon Lincoln (which was lovely) and Haystack (equally lovely) would have been sort of a drag due to the population.
And as all the ancient texts reveal, sagbaggers are transient beings, oft becoming skittish when not in motion. In a moment of urgency, they bolted off the final summit and onto Falling Waters trail.
Falling Waters Trail wasn't supposed to be quite as steep as the Old Bridle
Path, but the difference was minimal.
It was steep as shit and rushing downward was, for me, out of the question. Self preservation, ya know? I just imagine the sound and sensation of, say, a torn ACL, and I slow my bad self right on down. Simple as that.
This is not to say it wasn't a really beautiful trail. I enjoyed its rather crude welcome. And true to its name, it's middle/lower section was adorned with quite a few waterfalls, including one little 0.1 spur path that led to Shining Rock.
What is Shining Rock? I wondered. At only 0.1 mile off the trail, it was a deal we could not refuse. We headed down (yes, down) to investigate.
How peculiar! It turns out that it's a rock, a rock that is shining. It's basically a tremendous granite wall, a not-quite-vertical cliff, with a sort of flat waterfall along most of it. I imagine the ice climbers probably dig this like mad.
Another impressive sight - three chicks frolicking up the path, totally barefoot. I was wearing kind of crappy/flimsy/older trail running shoes due to various footwear, uh, "issues". (It's, how you say, complicated...) I was pretty sure they'd work, but that I'd be not thrilled with them by the end of the day.
Unfortunately I was right, they mostly worked but I was missing a more substantial boot or at least a tougher shoe. (Good points too though - no friction issues, good grip on rock, very light.) Barefoot is a level of tough that, simple as it seems, is hella intense and over my head at the moment. (Let's revisit this in a year.) I wonder if the trio of barefooters descended barefoot as well. That'd be wicked hardcore. But anyway....waterfalls!
The trail remained quite rocky at times until finally flattening out as we neared the trailhead. We were mostly back at the car around 2:15 pm. Mostly, because I am still sort of on the ridge and have no plans of coming down anytime soon.
