The area of castellated peaks that form Franconia Ridge are among the most popular hiking destinations in New England. Why? Well the access to a major highway for one, and the beauty of the area I suppose. My trips have taken me along these peaks in 7 of the past 10 years and some of those hikes have been on the edge of adventure.
I wouldn’t think from my first time on the summit that this peak would hurl me back forcefully so many times in the future. I climbed it in 1994 on a fine June day and then traversed the tough Garfield ridge. My next time on the ridge was in May of 1997. I hiked the spectacular Franconia loop starting at Falling Waters and ending on Old Bridal Path trail. That day was a bit tougher; I had to deal with blow-downs, one hard stream crossing and lots of soft corn snow.
I was pleased to reach Little Haystack and then Mt Lincoln before the clouds descended. The fog moved in quick and wrapped me in a wet tendril embrace. The hike from Lincoln across to Lafayette was easy enough, one cairn to another to another and then the summit. No views greeted me on this day; I quickly headed down and made a big mistake. Instead of heading west down Greenleaf trail and back to OBP and my car, I headed north on Garfield ridge. Fortunately I’d hiked this trail once before and noticed it in about 15 minutes or I’d have ended up with a very tough and unpleasant climb back to the summit. At the bottom of the col is the Skookumchuck trail which I could’ve taken but I would’ve had a long walk back to my car. As it was I was on top in only 10 minutes! I was mad at myself that day. But I safely descended. It was a stupid mistake but I learned something. Was I in peril that day? No, I was tired and disoriented but the weather was forgiving.
A couple of years later I decided to extend my usual hiking season (May to October) and hike the ridge in November. There wasn’t much snow yet and I easily ascended Falling Waters trail, averting several icy sections and found myself at treeline. The world above me was white; everything was coated in rime ice and new snow. I left the safety of the woods and headed to the summit of Little Haystack.
Winds were blowing fairly hard, between 20-40mph and there were no views at all. It was pretty cold too and as I reached treeline I debated on whether to continue to the summit (I was unprepared clothing-wise.) As I looked back to make sure I could find my way back in the white murk I noticed the wind was erasing my footprints. I basically tagged the summit and seeing nothing ahead decided to retreat. I was alone and unprepared to cross that exposed ridge. A solo hike across might've put me on the edge of peril.
I picked my way down frozen Haystack and with no difficulty found the trail as it entered the woods. I realized at this point finding the trail in much worse conditions would be like finding a needle in a “haystack.” Huh huh I chuckled, my mood lightened as I enjoyed the hike back down Falling Waters. It was a different world in the woods and back at the trailhead.
My next time in the area was in late December of 2000. I was now better prepared for wintry conditions and set off up Old Bridal towards Greenleaf hut. I was alone again and it was now officially winter. Just weeks before I’d successfully climbed to the top of Mt Jackson which was wintry but not officially “winter.”
On the hike up you pass several nice outlooks of the ridge, “Uh oh I said, clouded in again.” Well I decided to just push on as far as I felt comfortable. I ascended the very steep agonies (do they get steeper each year?)
Greenleaf hut which I knew as friendly, open and warm was shut up, frosted in and forlorn. I paused for quite a long time. The summit was under a heavy layer of cloud, you couldn’t see anything. Winds weren’t too bad. I lingered hoping that a group would come up so I could hike with them to the summit. Despite being there twice I was nervous. That mountain scares me somewhat, it always has. I remember the first night I spent at Greenleaf listening to an awful storm pound away at the summit and ridge.
I turned back and of course in about a half hour met a large group coming up. They asked, did you summit? I shook my head, no.
I was back the following year, it was December, 2001 had been an amazing year, I’d done so many wonderful and strenuous hikes in Arizona and Colorado, Maine and NH and was in great shape. It was two weeks before the official start of winter and there was no snow on the ground. It was an unusual late fall day to be sure, warm and sunny with light winds.
I easily climbed up Old Bridal, over the agonies, to the hut and without pausing headed up the summit cone. I was on the summit less than an hour later and spent a glorious hour on top without seeing a single person. I took a couple of pictures and felt great, victorious! My third time on top now, but still not in "winter" (officially!)
Well, that following year (2002) I decided to get in Lafayette as an official winter peak. I’m not a winter “peak bagger” (or am I?) It was much colder this year and the snow was deeper. My snowshoes bit well into the frozen sidewalk of the Old Bridal Path. I debated quickly on Falling Waters, the weather was deteriorating.
I was alone again and in fine spirits as I quickly ascended the easy parts, sweated the Agonies and found myself at the hut……again. Within 10 minutes of resting two men came to the hut via another trail. They stopped, we exchanged hellos and I asked them if I could accompany them to the summit. The mountain was wrapped in white, no views but not much wind either.
We started up and I was pleased at how easy I kept up with the two younger men. The hike went well until about the 5,000 foot mark where one of the two said he was getting dizzy and couldn’t go on. I looked up and could just see the first false peak as the weather seemed to be lifting. My altimeter read just above 5,000 ft, I gave them this information. Temps were manageable and the winds were still light. But in the end I descended with them, should I have gone on? Oh well, another day I said to myself. We reached the hut and parted company as they descended Greenleaf trail while I went down OBP. The one who’d gotten sick apologized. I waved it off saying, no problem I probably wouldn’t have tried for it without you guys anyway....maybe I'm chicken?
And that brings us to 2003, late December again and I decided to try it one more time. This time Steve Branchaud came with me and I had a good feeling that we’d make it to the top. We hiked again through the easy parts (made tougher by 8 inches of new snow) and I left him well behind on the Agonies, sweating heavily upon reaching the hut.
The summit was under cloud again (who’d guess.) Winds were a little stronger than last year and it was fairly cold. I walked around to keep warm and finally headed pack-less down the trail to find him. He said the Agonies had kicked his butt and he looked tired. We saw a group head up from the hut towards the summit cone, crossing Eagle Lake. They’d passed me on the last bump before the hut.
After a rest we headed off. It was starting to get late (in December that means 1:30pm.) The group ahead turned back below the summit and we continued on following their footprints. Gosh they’d looked tired and defeated as they passed us on the way down. We climbed on for another 10 minutes or so and then waved the white flag ourselves. Now I looked tired and defeated, Steve was simply exhausted. The mountain had eluded me again in winter! I wondered if I would ever climb it.In 2004 it slipped through my hands again! This time on the last weekend of winter. But I tricked the mountain on that day and decided the weather was too bad before climbing. I hiked the Osceola’s instead and had a great day! We got two peaks instead of none, oops, guess I am a peak-bagger.