Presidential Range Traverse
“The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.”
―J.R.R. Tolkien
A story from Walter.
A month before our trip, a visitor – avid hiker, world traveler, adventure seeker – came to the Peg and Awl shop. He talked about different life-altering travel experiences and, after a few epic tales, his worst hiking trip ever – three days of cold, wet, isolating misery on the Presidential Range Traverse in the White Mountains, New Hampshire. It’s a fifty mile stretch of earth with a trail carved out heading straight up some of the rockiest terrain on the East Coast. The trail serpentines up and down the summits of each peak in the range through dense moss-covered conifer forest and into the alpine zone.
All of this sounded amazing: rocky crevasses, secret waterfalls, mysterious forests, and sweeping views of gradient blue steadfast giants erupting from the earth. But these formidable mounds of rock took up residence in the world’s most unpredictable weather. With extreme mood swings, the sky lavishes its energizing sun upon hikers one moment and the next it envelops the peaks with fog so thick fellow travelers who were only a step apart walk adrift, lost. A warm 80° day can plummet into the single digits with several feet of snow along with it. This range, with all its majesty, has engulfed many adventurers, taking their lives. It stands as a reminder to tread intentionally as we have no control over awakening the beast. All we can do is study its movements, measure its barometric pressure, test its air quality, and hypothesize about its intentions.
We were already aware of the range’s reputation but as we drove closer to New Hampshire towards the White Mountains and our very possible doom, our excited worry was bolstered by the strangers first-hand cautionary tale.
Little did we know that we were in for three glorious days.
The Scout Plein Air Box goes on every adventure!
The Ascent
Our ascent began in the dense moss-covered forest bursting with life. Green erupted from the earth filling every seam and overflowing into the path. The dark soil, white pine, balsam fir, birch, mountain ash, trillium, bunchberry, moss, and many small flowering plants flourished together, inviting us further up, further in. Like a temptress the forest pulled us close and let us drink in all its beauty and too hastily let go as we climbed into the boreal and alpine zones. Stubborn, crotchety krummholz spruce and fir replaced the greenest green. Trees and rock seemed to turn on one another in the great battle of survival. The rocks gained the upper hand the higher we climbed until the trees retreated completely and let the sedges, grasses, and Diapensia carry on the fight. The guides warned us to step cautiously for if we trampled the smallest bit of alpine plants it would destroy one hundred years of growth. We found our footing on the steep rocks and scrambled up.
The Ammonosauc River
Tiny worlds full of life
Diapensia, a very slow growing plant
Emerging from the boreal zone
Ever upward
Our first glimpse of the Lakes in the Clouds Hut
The Lakes in the Clouds
Suddenly our destination sprang into sight, The Lakes in the Clouds, a wood shingled hut that could sleep and feed 92 adventurers. One of eight huts dotting the mountain range like stars in a constellation, it was built in the 1880s and has been a continual refuge for hungry and weary travelers. Ten caretakers were garrisoned there maintaining the building, cooking meals, and researching the plant growth, insect world, and weather patterns. Twice a week they carried food and supplies in on their backs, strapped to oak ladder boards marked with the names and initials of past caretakers. Loaded up with 60-100 lbs of supplies they navigated the steep rocky traverse to the huts.
A small self-contained community hummed inside each wood paneled hut. Energy was extracted from the sun, water from the ground, waste composted and the message of leave no trace was shared with all who passed through. Each choice was intentionally made to create a minimal impact while enjoying the perilous and beautiful White Mountains. Come evening, we listened eagerly to the weather report – the one thing that would dictate our plans for the next 12 to 24 hours.
Our safety depended on it.
Photographs by Silas
Our home for one night
The Lakes of the Clouds hut is nestled in just below Mount Washington
Three Glorious Days
We spent our three days exploring this majestic part of the world, painting, drawing, playing cards, conversing with our guides, and laughing a lot. We learned about plants and animals and heard stories of the Crawford family, pioneers in guiding hikers though this rough terrain. We watched the sun set and saw clouds glide over the ridge as we hiked. Our hats flew off in the wind, and we were absorbed by the dense fog. There were murmurings of ferocious thunderstorms but instead we were graced with rejuvenating rain and one of the largest rainbows I have ever seen. That’s the thing about peril, it doesn’t always end in doom. The unpredictability forces us to give up control and appreciate the the good times. It reminds us that beauty and impermanence are inseparable and like complimentary colors, they make their counterpart more vivid, more alive! With Robert Frost’s Nothing Gold Can Stay flowing though my mind we hiked down and out. Farewell to the mosses, the flowers, the trees. Farewell to the mountains, but hopefully not for long.
Painting at Mizpah Spring Hut
The Hawkweed was amazing!
A rocky descent!
Hiking the ridge toward Mizpah Spring Hut
Wildland Trekking
This is my second trip with Wildland Trekking, a company whose goal is to inspire people and enrich their lives through experiencing the wonders of our amazing planet.
Trekking into the unkown
The oak ladder board
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