Hike

On Saturday I walked to winter and back. John, my boss, invited me to go for a hike with him and Jody, another guy at BU, in the White Mountains in New Hampshire, about 2 1/2 hours drive to the north of Boston, and I, glad of the opportunity to get out of the city, agreed immediately. So he picked me up at half past seven on a beautiful morning at South Station (on a Saturday! D'oh!) and we headed out on the highway. Ah, it was nice to sit in a car and let somebody else navigate those infernal roads! We were to meet Jody at a car park in Reading at eight. We arrived early and waited until twenty past, but there was no sign of Jody. There were, however, a few wild turkeys wandering about the car park...



They're quite common around here, apparently. Anyway, after we phoned Jody and he informed us that he had been up until three the night before and was still in bed, we manoeuvred on. The only valid excuse I could think of was that he'd been out painting Boston red the night before, but his explanation was, unfortunately, rather dull*. Don't follow the asterisk, you'll find it a dull explanation. Oh, you did. Told you.

Now, I've mentioned the autumn leaves before, and people at home have questioned why it's so impressive over here, as opposed to in England. The answer is that, despite the Yanks' best efforts, there are still vast swathes of land in this region that are clothed in untamed forest, and when all that decides to turn gold or bright red at once it is spectacular. England, on the other hand, manages to contrive a few coppices here and there that have escaped the axe and calls these "forests". In this respect, I'm afraid to say I'm slightly with the Americans, if only because their country is so much bigger than ours. England has very few truly wild places left. Of course, you understand that all this applies to England, not Yorkshire, which is the wildest and yet most civilized country on the planet.

Anyway, the original plan was to head to the (snigger) Willey Range (he he he) and climb Mt Willey (ha ha ha guffaw), which could possibly have appealed to the base side of my sense of humour. Unfortunately, as we neared our destination (which, by the way, did I tell you was called Mt Willey? ha ha ha) the weather worsened and the snow-covered tops of the mountains began to shroud themselves in clouds. We decided that it would not be a good plan to climb those peaks, and turned the car back round to head for some of the lower hills. The contingency plan was to climb the less amusingly named Mt Israel, which was in the "Lakes District" (humph, there should be copyright issues, I didn't see a bar of Kendal mint cake anywhere) of New Hampshire. This turned out to be a 2000ft hillock overlooking Squam Lake. We parked up and got ready to hike. Now, I once had a nasty experience high on the slopes of Mt Fuji, when a couple of good mates and I found ourselves caught woefully unprepared in the dead of night by a vicious typhoon. We were lucky that time and managed to get off mountain in one piece, but this time I was not leaving it to chance. My pack was more rammed with spare clothes than Em would have packed for a week's holiday. And that's a lot of clothes, let me tell you :-)

So we set off up the trail in what they term around here as Fall. Whether this is a reference to the leaves or the mercury I have yet to figure, as both are falling rapidly at present. In either case, we found ourselves walking through gorgeous golden woodland. But as we climbed, we noticed the ground dampened and the leaves became more and more scarce.







The trail became steep and treacherous, with the rocky uneven ground covered by leaves and the rocks slippery underfoot. More than once I had to use all fours to advance, and almost went base over apex a couple of times. But as we ascended and the temperature dropped, the deciduous trees gave way to evergreens and we found ourselves walking through a winter scene.



Before we reached the summit, we heard a howling in the treetops, and sure enough when we arrived at the peak the air temperature was below freezing and there was a significant wind chill to boot. Needless to say we didn't hang around but I took a few photos of the spectacular view to the north.







On the way back down we found a rocky outcrop to sit on, which afforded a cracking view to the south over Squam Lake on which we could gawp while eating lunch.





As we descended, we found ourselves slipping and sliding even more than on the way up, and once or twice almost took the quick way down the mountain, but sure enough we arrived back in the golden woods, and eventually the car, with no harm done. It was a grand day out ah tell thee.

* He had been at a meeting and on the way back one of his friends got a puncture on his car. The friend decided he wasn't going to fix it, despite his having a spare, and wanted to drive it back home. So he drove home with the flat tyre, pumping it up whenever the car started bouncing on the axle. Jody decided he had to follow him to make sure he got back ok, which he didn't do until 3am. Hmmm, I know what I'd have said to such a stupid mate, and it's not repeatable here.