Date: 2009-09-09
From: Kinsman Pond Campsite

To: Garfield Ridge Campsite
Miles today: 15.1
Weather: overcast clouds

Another absolutely marvellous day in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. A day of grand vistas and breathtaking views, a day of crisp fresh air and blue skies, a day were the abundant rewards elbow aside any memory of effort or exertion. A day to saviour.But it started not with a grand view but with a little pleasure. Mr Squirrel was up early and nibbling pine cone after pine cone off the trees around my tent. I was charmed: scurry, nibble, drop, plop, hop, scurry, nibble, drop, plop; on and on. Absolutely captivating and strangely therapeutic.I headed out at 6:30, Mr Squirrel in my head and a strange gleekit grin on my face, this was going to be good. Franconia Ridge had been the visual focus of my northerly passage since Mt Moosilauke and now, 3 days later, it was within reach. It dominated the skyline ahead of me and this morning the sun rose from behind its dark and impressive bulk. On other mornings I imagine it could be a less welcoming prospect but, today, with the ridge clearly visible below high broken cloud there was no apparent reason for fear or trepidation, just anticipation, contentment and a touch of excitement.I got some water at Lonesome Lake Hut and then found myself stopped in my tracks as I arrived at the lake. It was early and quiet and the lake was a perfect mirror, its stillness perfectly reflecting the ridge ahead and at a moment like this it was a place of intense calm. One of the crew from the hut was there, he was going for a swim, and although we were the only ones around we still still found ourselves speaking in respectfully hushed tones - as with a library or a church this seemed was no place, or time, for shouting.So, the ridge lay ahead but I still had to get there, 3,300ft from the valley floor to Little Haystack and then a little more to the ridge's high point on Mt Lafayette. I stopped for more water at Liberty Springs tentsite before continued up to the trail to Mt Liberty. Liberty lay off to the right but instead I turned left, continuing along a surprisingly flat trail through the trees. Plodding along I suddenly realised that I was on the ridgeline. The trail had climbed to the preceding 'junction' and that junction had actually represented the low point on the ridge, the low point between Haystack and Liberty. It wasn't some twisted trail maintainers cruel joke, this was the natural path of least resistance to the ridge. Not the path of no resistance mind, there was still quite a bit of elevation gain ahead and so the trail once again turned skywards, slowly leaving the trees behind as it wound up the flank of Little Haystack - sometimes trail, sometimes larger rocks and boulders, sometimes walking, sometimes pulling, sometimes clambering, but always upwards. Up above the trees, up where the views revealed themselves. Not now the view 'of' the ridge but the view 'from' the ridge. And I don't think it got any better than the way it started. For my money the views just below and then from atop Little Haystack are as good as anything the day offered. Being able to look back towards Liberty and beyond: to see the high ground snaking away and falling away to either side; to see the contrast of sky, rock and foliage. And then to turn my head 180 degrees and look up towards the higher ground; to Mt Lincoln; to the trail scored along the crest of the ridge; to the gulfs of blue on either side. To feel the light breeze and to feel the sun's warmth.From Lafayette the view south caught my eye - back passed Lonesome Lake and on towards the Kinsmans. Looking back at where I came from. A different perspective, a different appreciation. And while I sat there Chef appeared. It hadn't been a quiet day; it was Wednesday but it was a good weather day and while the ridge wasn't crowded there had been no shortage of hikers to share the experience with, many doing some sort of circuit. I headed not in circles but ever onwards. Down off the ridge, passed a pond and on up to Mt Garfield.I had good memories of Garfield and here, at 5pm, I found my solitude. You don't feel like a conquering hero on Garfield. You sit at the bottom on a U of higher ground, looking down to the valley below, a bowl hemmed in by Franconia to the south and by another higher ridge to the north - a ridge where I could make out South Twin and North Twin mountains, mountains I would know better tomorrow.I enjoyed a peaceful 40 minute dinner break, enjoying the moment and reflecting on the day just passed. A day that was almost over as I didn't have far to go until the day's hiking would be done and as the dipping sun and dropping temperature ensured I would not sit here so long that the final mile might be in the dark.Honestly folks, you can't knock it.