My wife and I find ourselves back in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It is the color season and although spectacular the annual autumn display is a bit subdued this year. This is due to a drought in the region, the rivers are very low and the streams are about dried up. Nevertheless, it is good to be back. It has been 8 years since I have last walked this terrain.
I was introduced to this region 50 years ago. My brother and I were bringing my son back to his mother in Worcester, Mass when we decided to head north and see Mount Washington, the highest peak in the Northeast United States. Here we set out to climb Mount Mooselacki one late afternoon only to realize that not only is the mountain higher than we had reckoned but the sun sets an hour earlier at this end of the time zone. A rather hurried descent was called for and we made it back to our car just a bit after dark. One can only imagine sleeping on the cold ground with no cover overnight because of some rudimentary miscalculations. I didn't make that same mistake again
The next time I arrived, I was prepared. About two thousand dollars of hiking equipment, backpack, cook stove, sleeping bag, tent, the works and we were ready. Accompanied by one of my ex wives, we ascended Mount Garfield. It was one of the great experiences of my life. I climbed up on an outcropping of granite and beheld the Franconia Ridge jutting up out of the clouds below and, looking to my east, Mount Washington high above the clouds. It was some sight, watching the clouds roll over the lower terrain while one watched from the overlook beneath my feet. We soldiered on, as they say, climbing Mt. Lafayette and further South along the ridge, descending past the AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club) hut near the Lake of the Clouds. This was in 1980 about this time of year.
We returned again a year later and hiked the trail from the south up the ridge. The colors were spectacular. I've never seen anything like it. On a clear day the yellow, orange, auburn, red and green panorama would literally leap out at you in the bright sunshine. The last day we spent on the ridge we awoke to two inches of snow on our tent. When we had completed our descent we were greeted by highways full of tourists, traffic literally bumper-to-bumper as people from all over New England and, indeed, the world come to see this annual spectacle.
I've been back since. My wife and I were here 8 years ago, and reached the peak of Mount Washington via the Cog Railway. This being my second trip up the mountain via the train. I had previously taken my son up the mountain during one of my infrequent visits to the area. It was our first camping experience.
This is god's country. I've heard people who have lived in New England, some former military men who have served here, talk about the scenery here. It is true. An old friend, now departed, who served in the Coast Guard and Merchant Marine and who had traveled the world would rave about it, saying that nothing he had seen, not even Alaska, held a candle to this. He's right. This is god's country.
