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Mt. Liberty (2/48)
From the summit of Flume, we pushed along the Franconia Ridge Trail towards Liberty. It was getting late and we were afraid the Liberty Spring tentsite would be filling up. I have no aversion to backcountry camping, but didn't feel like hunting for a flat spot down from the ridge. It was quite the experience moving in and out of the alpine zone and treeline; had some great views (as far as they went) down into the Pemigewasset Wilderness.
Pulling up a few boulders to the summit of Liberty gave us an excellent view of Flume.
The trail moves in and out of the trees just to the right of the slide.
We quickly realized that just posing by the cairn for all 48 summits was going to get really, really dry, so we tried to add some interest to the posing.
That's the USGS surveying mark to my right, as I look down into Franconia Notch. Two down.
Rain wasn't actively coming out of the sky anymore, but we were ready to get down to Liberty Spring.
The tentsite was nearly empty, it being a Friday night, despite arriving after 7. We were happy to pony up the fee, eat, and pitch. Most of our cooking and pitching was in the dark, and we were very worn out from overexerting for the day. It felt like a lot of work to just walk from the tent pad to the spring to the toilet. The outhouse is composting, all done manually--so there are "please don't pee in the toilet" signs. The caretaker scoops everything out, mixed in bark chips, and dries it in the sun once it's composted, so any extra moisture is unwanted. I want to make them a "Please don't pee in our toilet; we don't swim in your pool" sign.
On a more sublime note, the cloudcover broke about when we turned in so we got some nice views up through the trees.
Erik was trying out his new TarpTent and I was using the piece o' junk cheapie that had served me well in Snowmass. I woke in the morning with condensation everywhere. 9000' in Colorado is a lot drier than 3500' in the Whites, and the tent just didn't have the ventilation. It also is way too small for me to maneuvre without touching the walls, so nothing really dried from the night before.
Breakfast was nifty new freeze-dried eggs, sausage, and dehydrated hash browns...I need to work more on the hash browns. We were so slow from the day before that we decided to cut the trip after this day, bagging Lincoln and maybe Lafayette before heading out.
Reascending the Liberty Spring Trail to the ridge, we made it to Little Haystack in time to see a storm blowing in from the Pemi.
Given the unpredictability of weather in the Whites, the gustiness of the wind, and the narrowness of the ridge north, we decided to bail down the Falling Waters Trail and leave Lincoln for another day.
The trail cuts back and forth across Dry Brook, sometimes on its shores and sometimes effectively in it. The rain started again in earnest as we reached the ledges.
Every time we thought the trail had leveled out in the lowlands, we reached another scramble that was in running water.
This would be absolutely gorgeous if we weren't dog-tired and on very treacherous footing. My legs were also starting to feel the effects of my cheap hiking boots; they have very little padding and don't work too well for mile after mile of rock.
Eventually we rejoined the Old Bridle Path and out to the Lafayette Place campground. After wringing out our socks, we hoisted pack and practically flew down the bike path two miles back to the car.
As is a common theme, this trip was very much a learning experience.
Pulling up a few boulders to the summit of Liberty gave us an excellent view of Flume.
The trail moves in and out of the trees just to the right of the slide.
We quickly realized that just posing by the cairn for all 48 summits was going to get really, really dry, so we tried to add some interest to the posing.
That's the USGS surveying mark to my right, as I look down into Franconia Notch. Two down.
Rain wasn't actively coming out of the sky anymore, but we were ready to get down to Liberty Spring.
The tentsite was nearly empty, it being a Friday night, despite arriving after 7. We were happy to pony up the fee, eat, and pitch. Most of our cooking and pitching was in the dark, and we were very worn out from overexerting for the day. It felt like a lot of work to just walk from the tent pad to the spring to the toilet. The outhouse is composting, all done manually--so there are "please don't pee in the toilet" signs. The caretaker scoops everything out, mixed in bark chips, and dries it in the sun once it's composted, so any extra moisture is unwanted. I want to make them a "Please don't pee in our toilet; we don't swim in your pool" sign.
On a more sublime note, the cloudcover broke about when we turned in so we got some nice views up through the trees.
Erik was trying out his new TarpTent and I was using the piece o' junk cheapie that had served me well in Snowmass. I woke in the morning with condensation everywhere. 9000' in Colorado is a lot drier than 3500' in the Whites, and the tent just didn't have the ventilation. It also is way too small for me to maneuvre without touching the walls, so nothing really dried from the night before.
Breakfast was nifty new freeze-dried eggs, sausage, and dehydrated hash browns...I need to work more on the hash browns. We were so slow from the day before that we decided to cut the trip after this day, bagging Lincoln and maybe Lafayette before heading out.
Reascending the Liberty Spring Trail to the ridge, we made it to Little Haystack in time to see a storm blowing in from the Pemi.
Given the unpredictability of weather in the Whites, the gustiness of the wind, and the narrowness of the ridge north, we decided to bail down the Falling Waters Trail and leave Lincoln for another day.
The trail cuts back and forth across Dry Brook, sometimes on its shores and sometimes effectively in it. The rain started again in earnest as we reached the ledges.
Every time we thought the trail had leveled out in the lowlands, we reached another scramble that was in running water.
This would be absolutely gorgeous if we weren't dog-tired and on very treacherous footing. My legs were also starting to feel the effects of my cheap hiking boots; they have very little padding and don't work too well for mile after mile of rock.
Eventually we rejoined the Old Bridle Path and out to the Lafayette Place campground. After wringing out our socks, we hoisted pack and practically flew down the bike path two miles back to the car.
As is a common theme, this trip was very much a learning experience.