Desolation Shelter, Nancy Pond
Where: Desolation via Nancy Pond
When: October, 1988
With: Chip
Yet another route into Desolation, though not in the snow this time. An autumn hike instead. The weather was cool and drizzly, so we didn't expect much company. We drove in Wendy's old car, a blue Toyota, going up route 95 and the Spaulding Turnpike into Conway. We stopped there for food and then went on to the Nancy Pond trailhead. The trail was pretty easy and in a short time we were at Nancy Falls, where we stopped to admire the scene. The Falls were more of a cascade than anything, ending in a pool. The water was quite high and the falls were full.
After the falls, the trail headed up the side of the hill on switchbacks, coming back to the cascade at a couple of points before going off into the woods. We saw patches of snow on the trail as we gained altitude and the drizzle got a bit heavier. We passed through some marshy areas before reaching the top, where the trail leveled off and passed along the shoreline of three ponds. The first was a medium sized body and the second was small, but the third was the best. It was a good size and seemed to end in the air. From its eastern end, where we first met it, we could look across the water and out over the Pemigewasset Wilderness.
We continued on the trail to the western end and the outlet of the pond. It did end in the air, almost. The water flowed over a hunk of stone and straight down the wall of the valley. A beautiful campsite was nearby, and we noted it for the future. We went out onto the rock holding back the pond and stood in a torrent of wind and mist that rushed across the flat surface of the pond and cascaded down the mountain along with the water. It was an amazing scene.
Finally the cold got to us and reluctantly we continued on. The trail followed along the stream down the valley. A snow cover over much of it actually made for better footing, as it gave us something to grip into. A few stream cuts would have made for interesting skiing, but on foot it wasn't bad. Down in the valley finally, the trail leveled off and followed an old railbed through marshes and woods.
Suddenly Chip stopped us and pointed up ahead. I didn't know what he was indicating at first, but then I saw it. A head. A moose head. With the moose still attached. It was standing on the side of the trail perhaps 100 yards up ahead, much of its body still on the woods off the trail. Then I noticed another head above it. Two moose! I couldn't believe it. Then I realized there was yet another head there also, above the two others. Three moose, a bull and two cows, I would say. They were only there an instant before they turned and went off into the woods. Chip and I rushed to the spot, but saw no sign of them. Amazing how such large animals could disappear so easily.
We hiked on, talking of the sighting until we got to the shelter. To our disappointment, it was fully occupied by a large group of men. If not for the fact that hunting isn't allowed in the White Mountains, I'd have said they were hunters. We probably could've claimed some space in the shelter but decided to seek a bit of privacy. Fortunately we'd brought my old orange pup tent.
We crossed the brook and followed it upstream a ways to a nice spot near the junction of another stream. We set up the tent, covered it in a cocoon of thin plastic film, and made camp. It started to rain soon afterwards and we hurried through dinner and then settled in. The cocoon worked pretty well and we arose the next morning to find only one small wet spot in the tent. There was also this loud rushing sound. We poked our heads out of the tent to find that the stream was just inches from cresting its bank, completely flooded. A bit more rain and we would have been washed away!
After breakfast we reviewed our situation. It was certain that we couldn't go back downstream and cross...the water was much too high for that. We checked the map and found that if we could follow the other stream at the junction upstream a bit, we'd come to a trail crossing that might be passable. We crossed over on a log at the junction and started our bushwhack. Sure enough we found the trail and did manage to cross. We stopped for a break and then continued. Suddenly Chip realized he'd left his glasses back at the stream crossing, so we did a quick backtrack to find them and then resumed our journey. Back up the valley we went, past the ponds, and then back down to the car.
The journey back turned out to be the kiss of death for that car. It made it back, but just barely.
When: October, 1988
With: Chip
Yet another route into Desolation, though not in the snow this time. An autumn hike instead. The weather was cool and drizzly, so we didn't expect much company. We drove in Wendy's old car, a blue Toyota, going up route 95 and the Spaulding Turnpike into Conway. We stopped there for food and then went on to the Nancy Pond trailhead. The trail was pretty easy and in a short time we were at Nancy Falls, where we stopped to admire the scene. The Falls were more of a cascade than anything, ending in a pool. The water was quite high and the falls were full.
After the falls, the trail headed up the side of the hill on switchbacks, coming back to the cascade at a couple of points before going off into the woods. We saw patches of snow on the trail as we gained altitude and the drizzle got a bit heavier. We passed through some marshy areas before reaching the top, where the trail leveled off and passed along the shoreline of three ponds. The first was a medium sized body and the second was small, but the third was the best. It was a good size and seemed to end in the air. From its eastern end, where we first met it, we could look across the water and out over the Pemigewasset Wilderness.
We continued on the trail to the western end and the outlet of the pond. It did end in the air, almost. The water flowed over a hunk of stone and straight down the wall of the valley. A beautiful campsite was nearby, and we noted it for the future. We went out onto the rock holding back the pond and stood in a torrent of wind and mist that rushed across the flat surface of the pond and cascaded down the mountain along with the water. It was an amazing scene.
Finally the cold got to us and reluctantly we continued on. The trail followed along the stream down the valley. A snow cover over much of it actually made for better footing, as it gave us something to grip into. A few stream cuts would have made for interesting skiing, but on foot it wasn't bad. Down in the valley finally, the trail leveled off and followed an old railbed through marshes and woods.
Suddenly Chip stopped us and pointed up ahead. I didn't know what he was indicating at first, but then I saw it. A head. A moose head. With the moose still attached. It was standing on the side of the trail perhaps 100 yards up ahead, much of its body still on the woods off the trail. Then I noticed another head above it. Two moose! I couldn't believe it. Then I realized there was yet another head there also, above the two others. Three moose, a bull and two cows, I would say. They were only there an instant before they turned and went off into the woods. Chip and I rushed to the spot, but saw no sign of them. Amazing how such large animals could disappear so easily.
We hiked on, talking of the sighting until we got to the shelter. To our disappointment, it was fully occupied by a large group of men. If not for the fact that hunting isn't allowed in the White Mountains, I'd have said they were hunters. We probably could've claimed some space in the shelter but decided to seek a bit of privacy. Fortunately we'd brought my old orange pup tent.
We crossed the brook and followed it upstream a ways to a nice spot near the junction of another stream. We set up the tent, covered it in a cocoon of thin plastic film, and made camp. It started to rain soon afterwards and we hurried through dinner and then settled in. The cocoon worked pretty well and we arose the next morning to find only one small wet spot in the tent. There was also this loud rushing sound. We poked our heads out of the tent to find that the stream was just inches from cresting its bank, completely flooded. A bit more rain and we would have been washed away!
After breakfast we reviewed our situation. It was certain that we couldn't go back downstream and cross...the water was much too high for that. We checked the map and found that if we could follow the other stream at the junction upstream a bit, we'd come to a trail crossing that might be passable. We crossed over on a log at the junction and started our bushwhack. Sure enough we found the trail and did manage to cross. We stopped for a break and then continued. Suddenly Chip realized he'd left his glasses back at the stream crossing, so we did a quick backtrack to find them and then resumed our journey. Back up the valley we went, past the ponds, and then back down to the car.
The journey back turned out to be the kiss of death for that car. It made it back, but just barely.
