Bondcliff Semi-Pemi Loop
Where: Bondcliff/Twinway/Franconia Brook trails
When: 9/2-9/3/1999
With: Solo
When: 9/2-9/3/1999
With: Solo
Well, I finally ran out of excuses. The weather forecast was perfect, there hadn't been recent rain to swell the streams, the lawn didn't need mowing, it was midweek (fewer crowds), Andy was in school, Jane was on vacation, my boots were broken in... In short, there was no reason why I shouldn't go hiking, so I went.
Hoping to make the trip as comfortable as possible, I packed as light as I could and wound up with about a 25 pound pack. No stove or pots. Instead I took snacks for the trail (Kudos bars and Batman gummies), sandwiches for lunch/dinner, and instant breakfast for, well, breakfast. Spare clothing was kept to a minimum also. A sweater for warmth and a spare set of socks was about it. For sleeping, I brought the hammock tent and my Cat's Meow bag. No pad required. I threw in a rain tarp and parka and pack cover, having learned my lesson on the previous trip with Andy, though I didn't think I'd need them. The rest of the gear was things like water bottles, a first aid kit, headlamp, multitool, radio, etc.
So the day came and I was up and out the door by 6:30 or so. Three hours later I arrived at the Lincoln Woods parking area, where I paid my parking fee ($5 for 7 days), laced up my boots, and hit the trail. It was with a certain amount of disbelief that I made my way along the old familiar route of the Wilderness trail. I was actually out hiking. In the summer. Solo. To some extent I think I avoided really thinking about it out of concern that I might still change my mind. Instead I focused on just keeping moving forward.
As forecast, the weather was indeed perfect. Clear skies, moderate temps, and tolerable humidity. I couldn't have asked for better conditions, and I made my way quickly up the trail. My hope was to chew up the first five miles to the Bondcliff trail as quickly as possible. The last time I'd done this route solo I'd managed to cover that section in an hour and a half. I'd forgotten my watch this trip though, so I had no way to gauge my progress. Perhaps that was for the best. I just hiked along at what felt like a solid but not overly aggressive pace. There was plenty of daylight and I didn't want to burn out too early on.
A short ways along the trail I encountered three guys walking out. I'd guess they were in their late teens, tall and lanky. They carried black plastic garbage bags full of gear along with small coolers, sleeping bags tucked under their arms, and assorted other loose gear. A couple of battered cookpots clanked away on one fellow's shoulder. We greeted each other as we passed and I smiled as I continued along. Perhaps someday they'll all be caught up in the gear game, but for now they were just enjoying the woods with whatever they had available. Good for them.
They turned out to be the last folks I'd see for the rest of my hike along the Wilderness trail. As planned, I kept up a steady plod until I reached the Bondcliff trail, though I did have to stop once at the Franconia Brook bridge to tend to a problem in my right boot. I'd felt a pain growing on my heel and figured I'd put on a Band-Aid as a preventative before it worked its way into a blister. I was a bit concerned that I was already encountering a problem in this area so early in the hike and hoped the Band-Aid would resolve it. My attentions did help for a while, but the pain soon returned and I was hobbling by the time the Bondcliff trail came into sight.
As I turned on to the trail I heard a woman call, "No peeking!" and a man reply, "Okay, I won't" from the woods nearby. Looking in I spied a bit of their camp, though I never saw the people themselves. I made my way to the stream, dropped my pack, and took off my boots. The Band-Aid was still in place, but a sizable blister had formed anyway. It was time for some serious action. I started by applying a moleskin patch and then extracted my spare pair of socks from the backpack. I let my feet rest a bit while I ate one of my sandwiches and examined my boots for some sign of the problem. Feeling around inside I discovered a tiny fold in the boot insole right where the blister had formed. Though small, that fold had become a sharp point that had cut into my foot. After an unsuccessful attempt to smooth it out, I took out some scissors and cut the offending fold away.
I finished my lunch, topped off the water bottles, then put my boots back on. Though my foot was still sore, the extra socks, moleskin, insole modifications and some firm lacing resulted in a tolerable comfort level. Since the trail would begin climbing at this point, I extracted a pair of hiking poles from my pack and set them up for use. This was to be my first real test of these new toys and I hoped that they'd be worth the additional weight, especially in terms of saving wear and tear on my aging knees.
The trail passed a couple of well-used campsites right away, then began climbing into the woods. There were a few steep parts at first but after a bit the trail rejoined the stream and an old road and began a smooth, steady ascent. A stream crossing shortly thereafter signaled that the winter campsite Chip & I had used a few years back was nearby. I passed an open space covered with logs to discourage camping there (That was where Chip and his friend camped the previous winter, the logs buried under a thick blanket of snow.) and then made my way into the woods. I was a bit surprised to spot the remains of the fire Chip & I had built in the snow more than two years before. I thought they'd have been long buried under forest debris. Remembering that Chip had lost a waterproof sock there, I did a quick search of our old campsite in hopes of finding it, but had no luck.
Returning to the trail, I continued my hike. I was curious to see how much further it was to where the trail made its final crossing of the stream, a spot where I'd remembered seeing another good campsite. From one map I'd checked, I didn't think it was too much further. I was wrong. The path crossed the stream again shortly after the campsites and then veered away into the woods for quite a while. I knew I had to make at least one more crossing before the one with the campsite and I kept expecting to see it, but it failed to appear. I began to wonder if a trail relocation had changed the route.
Finally, the trail turned sharply right, crossed the now-dry streambed, and began to descend. I was pretty tired by this point and mighty hot, and this change really threw me. The trail rounded a few more curves and I suddenly found myself at the base of a long, steep set of stairs formed of rocks. As I made my way slowly up, I thought about the poor trail crew that had the task of building this portion of the route. What a job! Of course I wasn't doing much better. I did manage to reach the top, but was soon confronted with another set of stone stairs. I'd had it. I dropped my pack and sat down.
I sat there for a good while, getting my breath back, drinking water, eating some snacks, and considering my situation. I was pretty whipped and didn't know if I could handle much more of this kind of exertion. I began to think of options and figured that I could probably make it to the final stream crossing and, if I still felt bad, set up camp there and just hike back out the next day. With that thought in mind, I managed to get myself going again.
I started up the second rock staircase and found that the extended rest break had helped considerably. Within a few minutes I was at the top. The trail leveled off and the easy walking improved my mood a good bit, as did the sight of the approach of the final crossing. I'd made it! I practically had a bounce in my step as I emerged from the woods into the sunlight along a familiar sandbank above the stream. I knew the crossing was just ahead, and then I heard the voices.
A few steps later the rocky crossing came into view and strewn across the boulders was a large group of hikers. I'd say about a dozen of them, perhaps high school age kids with a lone male adult leader. He told the kids to clear a way for me and let me know that some water could be found up the streambed a bit. I crossed to the other side, dropped my pack and gathered my filter and water bottles. The next water was Guyot and it seemed a good idea to top off my supply while I had the chance. I chatted with the hikers while I filled my bottles. They were heading out after a night at Guyot and wondered how much further it was to the Wilderness trail. I told them they had a ways to go, but that the trail wasn't too bad after the steep section.
Bottles full, I bid the group goodbye and continued on my way. I did manage to spot the campsite by the trail I'd remembered. It was only a few yards past the crossing, and it too was covered with logs to discourage use. I was surprised to find myself running into quite a few other hiking groups within a short distance of the crossing. It almost seemed as if they had all left Guyot about the same time. One group of about 8 women, college age I'd guess, was having lunch on the trail as I passed. The apparent leader noted my Patriots T-shirt and asked where I was from. I mentioned Hopkinton and she replied that she was from Dedham. I asked if anyone knew the time and was told that it was 1:30, so I'd been hiking for about four hours. It seemed like a reasonable pace and gave me hope I could reach my goal after all.
After leaving that group, I had the trail to myself once again. It was much easier now, ascending very gradually as it made its way around the mountain's flank, and I found myself enjoying the hike once again. The heat was becoming a factor though and I made a few stops for water and rest before the trail made its final turn to begin the summit ascent. Shortly after that turn I crossed paths with another solo hiker, an older man, who asked if I had any rope. I said I didn't and he said I'd soon see why he'd asked. Sure enough, a little further along I found myself at the base of a small (10 foot high) cliff. A few routes were obvious on it, but none were particularly easy, especially with a pack pulling me backwards.
I studied it a bit, then picked a route and started up. There were a few dicey moments, but I made it without too much trouble and found myself suddenly above tree line. The view in all directions was magnificent and the summit was in sight. I pulled my hat from my pack and put it on as I left the forest's shade and scrambled through the scrub brush toward the top. Looking up, I spotted yet another group sitting on top. I greeted them as I trudged the last few steps to the summit cairn. After more than eight years, I was atop Bondcliff once again.
The folks I'd met appeared to be another college group. I asked them which way they were going and was surprised to hear they were heading to Guyot. That meant they'd been ahead of me all day, but I hadn't noticed any other groups signed in at the parking area that morning before me and none of the previous day's groups had listed Guyot as a destination. No matter. I asked for another time check and was told it was now 2:30.
They began packing up to go, so I dropped my pack to the side and admired the views a bit while they departed. I also pulled out the camera I'd shoved into the pack at the last minute before I'd left. My last time up here I'd regretted not bringing a camera so I made sure I had one this trip. I snapped shots in all directions, including a self-portrait beside the summit cairn to prove I'd made it. The visibility was awesome, though a bit hazy and I had a tough time choosing the best shots.
Having given the other group enough of a lead, I hoisted the pack once again and started toward the next goal, Mt. Bond. It's separated from Bondcliff by a col deep enough to allow Bondcliff to be regarded as a separate peak (rather than just a secondary summit of Bond). I recalled the climb up Bond from my last trip as especially arduous, steep and rocky and preceded by 10 miles of hard hiking, and I was concerned about how I'd fare. I looked ahead to the other group and saw them resting partway up the slope. I took my time, going slowly and using my poles as much as I could. It seemed to work, because I found the climb wasn't really all that bad. I was able to make pretty steady progress without needing any major rest stops.
Thankfully and somewhat oddly, the trail climbed into the trees so I was able to get some relief from the sun's heat for the latter part of the ascent to Mt. Bond. I met up with the college group at the summit and once again they were just getting ready to leave as I arrived. I took some more photos, gave them some time to get ahead of me and then continued on my way.
The trail was especially beautiful in this section, partly because it wound through some pretty little woods and partly because it was all downhill! I followed it as it passed the cutoff to West Bond, then noted a few trailside campsites (Guyot overflow sites, I assume) before arriving at last at the side trail to the Guyot shelter. I'd forgotten how long that side trail was (perhaps it's just a matter of how tired I was), but soon enough I found myself greeting the Caretaker. He was a nice enough fellow, though not exactly bubbly, and he sat on his tent platform tallying the folks arriving at the campsite for the evening. I told him I was just there for the water and commented on the group that had preceded me. He said he'd been surprised by them and hadn't really expected anyone that evening. He asked if I knew of any others and I told him I hadn't seen any one else on the trail behind me.
I made my way down to the water, passing the college group now sprawled across 3-4 of the tent platforms. I wound up chatting with one woman as I filled my bottles and took pictures of the shelter (again to prove I'd made it there). She told me they were from Amherst college, up on an orientation trip. They'd stayed at Franconia Falls the night before, which explained how they managed to get ahead of me. We talked a bit more before I headed back out. I stopped to talk with the Caretaker again. I got another time check (4PM), an opinion on the idea of making it to South Twin for the night (possible), and a lament about how many folks had been staying at the site. 33 the night before, he said. Mostly college orientation trips.
I bid him farewell and started the climb back to the main trail. On the way I passed two guys coming down. So much for no more visitors at the campsite. I passed another couple on the way up Mt. Guyot and another two near the intersection with the Twinway, all heading to the camping area. I considered and rejected a summit picture with the cairn on Mt. Guyot, too tired to unpack the camera one more time. As I passed the cairn however, I noted a small cleared area where a tent or sleeping pad could be fit for someone seeking a peak-top campsite. The weather that evening would've been perfect, but I had no pad or tent so I continued on.
I managed to get on the Twinway and headed south, but soon found myself on a dead-end trail in the above tree line scrub. As I backtracked to locate the true trail I heard a noise and looked up to see a hat with a man underneath it. "I assume you're on the trail," I called and made my way over to where he stood. Another hiker going to Guyot it turned out. I told him how much further it was, warned him about the crowds and continued along, once again back on the trail.
At this point I was on the Appalachian Trail once again, and its frequent white blazes made it easy to find my way. The trail descended into a woodsy col before beginning a slow rise along the ridge top. Now, my intention had been to try to get to the col between the Twins, or perhaps over to North Twin for a campsite. I figured I'd get some privacy and nice views there, and would be well positioned to start the next day's hike. There was still plenty of daylight, so it seemed feasible. I was getting tired though and when I spotted a small site by the side of the trail, I had to check it out.
Like the others I'd seen it was strewn with logs to discourage use, but it was a nice space, with plenty of trees to hang my hammock and a spectacular view over the Franconia Brook valley. I walked in and shuffled around a bit, debating what to do before finally admitting that I really wanted to stay there. So that's what I did. I dropped the pack and called it a day.
My first order of business was just sitting. There was a very nice little chair formed by the roots of a tree and I sat there drinking water and munching snacks while admiring the view and settling in mentally. A few bugs made a point of trying to bother me, but it really didn't work. While I was enjoying it all, a few more folks came along the trail. Two sets of two guys. Big handsome men in their late 20s/early 30s, I'd guess. Also all heading to Guyot. Once again I warned them about the crowds. The second group seemed particularly bothered by the prospect of sharing a sleeping area with energetic kids, and one of them said they should've stayed back at "the cliff."
After a bit of resting, I decided to set up camp. I moved the logs from the site and started stringing up the hammock. I tried using a number of trees before I found two that seemed to be the right distance apart. When I tested out the setup though, I heard a pop and dropped rather abruptly to the ground. One of the roof loops had ripped off due to too much tension. Fortunately I had a small sewing kit in my pack, so I sat in the dirt and spent about 15 minutes sewing it back together. All fixed, I tried yet another tree combination and finally managed to get a good setup.
That done, I sat down again and had a quiet supper of sandwich, snacks, and salmon jerky from Vancouver. Yum! The sunset on the valley below made for a nice view. I pulled out my radio in hopes of getting some idea of the time and managed to tune in an NPR station out of Vermont. It was about 7 PM. I listened a bit, finished my food, and then went for a walk up the trail to see what was there. I half thought I might be close to South Twin, but turned back when nothing appeared quickly. I made a side trip into a small open area for a view of the sunset and spotted people on top of Mt. Guyot. Perhaps the last pair of hikers I'd met, camping on the summit, or just up there from the campsite for the view.
It was getting dark now, so I returned to my campsite. I sat in the root chair for a while, enjoying the evening. The bugs had retreated and it had even turned a bit cool. I put on my silk shirt and North Face sweater and zipped my pant legs on to keep comfortable. As the last of the sunset faded away, I found myself dozing off so I decided it was time to head to the hammock. Most of my stuff got shoved into the pack, which was hung on a tree well above the ground. Next to the hammock I placed my water bottles and my boots, which would serve as holders for my glasses and headlamp. I later regretted having those pungent boots so close to my head!
The radio came into the hammock with me, and after I got settled in I put on the earphones and tuned in some wonderful jazz. The announcer said it was 8 PM and I spent the next two hours enjoying the music and winding down before I finally put the radio away and tried to sleep. As usual, I didn't just pass out for a solid eight hours of unconsciousness. I tossed and turned a bit, got up a few times to check out the stars, adjusted clothing and sleeping bag for warmth, and in between all this, slept. I know I slept because eventually I opened my eyes and it was morning!
Despite all the tossing, it had been a pretty comfortable, restful night. I wound up zippering myself completely into my sleeping bag, including the hood. Something I've never done. I suspect I even did a significant amount of sleeping on my back, another first. There's just something about that hammock.
Anyway, I found my radio and turned it on in time to hear the announcer say that it was just past 6AM. Perfect! I rolled out of the hammock, greeted the day, and then made breakfast. Instant milk, instant breakfast, instant coffee. All mixed together in one of the water bottles with the right amount of water. Add a vigorous shaking and you've got breakfast. I gulped that down, along with some of the Kudos bars and gummies, then began breaking camp. It only took a few minutes and by 6:30 I was standing on the trail, bidding farewell to the campsite.
I was pretty upbeat about the day. Perfect weather again and a nice route. An initial climb up South Twin and then downhill all the way back to the car. Seemed pretty easy and I hoped to make good time getting out. I added options of sidehikes to North Twin and Galehead, depending upon how I felt at each junction.
The walk to South Twin took longer than I'd expected. I counted two separate ascents and descents before the final steep climb to the summit. It was well worth it though. The views in all directions were unbelievable. Visibility limited only by a bit of haze, ranges of purple-tinted mountains extending to the horizon in all directions, and the early morning sun adding its glow to everything. I spent a good half-hour up there taking in the views and snapping photographs. One thing I didn't do was take a side trip to North Twin. It was a mile away and looked a bit too long for a quick visit over and back. I noted the availability of some great spots up there for sleeping under the stars and somewhat regretted the lack of a pad that would've allowed me to do that. Another time, perhaps.
Just as I was about to leave, I heard the distinctive clatter of hiking poles and turned to greet another solo hiker coming up. One of the Guyot shelter campers, it turned out. I left him to enjoy the summit by himself and started the descent to Galehead. From my last trip this way (14 years ago), I recalled this to be a long, steep drop and I was right. The hiking poles really proved their worth in this section though. They'd been handy all along, but on this drop they definitely saved me. No screaming thighs, no tortured knees. I took my time and took care to let the poles bear my weight on each downward step, rather than trying to support it with my legs. As a result I arrived at the bottom none the worse for wear.
As I approached the bottom, I could hear the sound of activity at the Galehead hut. It was being dismantled in preparation for the building of its replacement. Other hikers mentioned seeing helicopters delivering lumber on previous days. I passed a couple and a solo hiker (pleasant young man) going up South Twin (ouch!) as I made my way to the hut. A generator was running and I could hear the sound of power tools growling in the woods. I just hoped I could get water. I'd finished off one of the two bottles I'd gotten from Guyot the night before and half of the other bottle had been used for breakfast, so I was down to half a bottle. Alas, as I made my way around the cordoned-off hut, signs indicated that no services were available and that turned out to include water. Oh, there was a commercial container on the back porch, but it had a sign saying to use it sparingly. Not wanting to cut into the worker's supply, I figured I had enough to last me and just kept on going.
I was now on a brand new trail for me, the Frost Trail. A short distance past the hut, the Twin Brook Trail departed to left, in the direction I planned to follow. But the Frost Trail continued just 0.4 miles to the summit of Galehead Mountain, a bona fide 4000 footer. I decided this was probably my best opportunity to add it to my list, so I dropped my pack and headed up. I hoped it wouldn't be too tough of a hike, and while it was a pretty constant steep climb, it was over quickly and I soon found myself standing at a small overlook. I snapped a few pictures of the valley and the hut demolition, then continued on to the true summit for a self-portrait with the summit sign for proof of visitation. The walk back down went quickly and I began my descent into the valley (and to a water supply) on the Twin Brook Trail.
The trail dropped steeply at first, with lots of rocks, but it leveled out as it moved into the woods and turned into a rather pleasant little downhill walk. The path wasn't well marked at all, but for the most part the route was obvious. A few small glades proved tricky but there were no serious problems other than the length. I found myself really looking forward to seeing the sign indicating I had reached the ¼ mile boundary around the 13 Falls tentsite. I made two stops along the way and finished off the last of my water at the second one, so that sign would mean water was close by.
At last it appeared and I endured what seemed like a mighty long ¼ mile before I heard the water and emerged at the Falls. I quickly made my way to the brook and dropped my pack for a rest. It had been quite a descent since the top of South Twin and the rest of my hike would be much easier. I stayed at the Falls a good while, washing my face, drinking water, and refilling my water bottles. I had expected to see other folks there, but there wasn't a soul around.
At last, I packed up and began to prepare to leave. The rest of the route was all flat, level walking, so I decided to stow the hiking poles back on my pack. It felt nice to have my hands free again as I began the final part of my walk out. The route was an old railroad bed, like the Wilderness trail. Straight as an arrow and nearly level. The occasional stream crossing broke things up a bit, but for the most part I was able to just plod along at a nice steady pace, enjoying the woods and reflecting on the hike. I met a few other hikers along the way, heading the opposite direction, but walked alone most of the time.
It wasn't too long before signs of the trail's end began to appear. The Lincoln Brook trail rejoined, then the trail went into a rough section that descended to a stream crossing before rejoining the railbed. The final section back to the Wilderness trail took a lot longer than I expected. Perhaps it was the anticipation of completion. In any case, the trail did end at last and I found myself back at the trail junction I'd passed through the day before. I gave the trail sign a pat and turned toward the car. It was a long three miles out, but easy walking. I nodded hello to day hikers on their way in to see the Falls, hoping I wasn't overly aromatic.
As I walked, I tried to guess what time I'd arrive back at the car. I optimistically guessed around 11AM, but granted that I wouldn't be surprised by a time as late as 1PM. As in the past, the trail's end never seemed to arrive, but eventually it did appear and I happily crossed the bridge back to civilization. I wound my way through crowds of hikers at the visitor center and trudged over to my car, where I quickly threw my pack and boots into the seats, changed into my sneakers and prepared to leave. As the engine came to life, the clock on the dash showed 1:30. I'd been walking for 7 hours, pretty much non-stop. That really surprised me, but I didn't care. I was going home. And I made up for it by making the drive home (including a stop for gas) in less than 2 ½ hours. Great hike.
Notes and thoughts: I wouldn't change much at all. Really a great hike, and once again, I'm just happy I was able to do it. This old body's still got some life in it. In hindsight I didn't need any of my rain gear, but my pack weight was so light anyway that it really wasn't a burden to have along, and better safe than sorry. The only thing I really regretted not having was footwear for the campsite. I wound up going barefoot just because I needed to be out of my boots. A pair of water shoes would've been perfect. Light, sturdy, and comfy.
The food was just right for the trip. I made a point of eating the snacks frequently as I walked, so my energy levels stayed up, and the sandwiches were a good choice. Probably not a good idea for a long trip or winter, but great for a summer overnight.
The initial collapse of the hammock got me thinking about different rigging patterns that would avoid stress on the roof. I tried one when I got home and it seems to work fine. That hammock is the best! Not something I'd want to bring if storms were anticipated, but perfect for fair weather camping. On this trip though, I could've left that home too, brought a pad instead and just slept out on one of the peaks. I bet the star views would've been spectacular.
More pictures
Hoping to make the trip as comfortable as possible, I packed as light as I could and wound up with about a 25 pound pack. No stove or pots. Instead I took snacks for the trail (Kudos bars and Batman gummies), sandwiches for lunch/dinner, and instant breakfast for, well, breakfast. Spare clothing was kept to a minimum also. A sweater for warmth and a spare set of socks was about it. For sleeping, I brought the hammock tent and my Cat's Meow bag. No pad required. I threw in a rain tarp and parka and pack cover, having learned my lesson on the previous trip with Andy, though I didn't think I'd need them. The rest of the gear was things like water bottles, a first aid kit, headlamp, multitool, radio, etc.
So the day came and I was up and out the door by 6:30 or so. Three hours later I arrived at the Lincoln Woods parking area, where I paid my parking fee ($5 for 7 days), laced up my boots, and hit the trail. It was with a certain amount of disbelief that I made my way along the old familiar route of the Wilderness trail. I was actually out hiking. In the summer. Solo. To some extent I think I avoided really thinking about it out of concern that I might still change my mind. Instead I focused on just keeping moving forward.
As forecast, the weather was indeed perfect. Clear skies, moderate temps, and tolerable humidity. I couldn't have asked for better conditions, and I made my way quickly up the trail. My hope was to chew up the first five miles to the Bondcliff trail as quickly as possible. The last time I'd done this route solo I'd managed to cover that section in an hour and a half. I'd forgotten my watch this trip though, so I had no way to gauge my progress. Perhaps that was for the best. I just hiked along at what felt like a solid but not overly aggressive pace. There was plenty of daylight and I didn't want to burn out too early on.
A short ways along the trail I encountered three guys walking out. I'd guess they were in their late teens, tall and lanky. They carried black plastic garbage bags full of gear along with small coolers, sleeping bags tucked under their arms, and assorted other loose gear. A couple of battered cookpots clanked away on one fellow's shoulder. We greeted each other as we passed and I smiled as I continued along. Perhaps someday they'll all be caught up in the gear game, but for now they were just enjoying the woods with whatever they had available. Good for them.
They turned out to be the last folks I'd see for the rest of my hike along the Wilderness trail. As planned, I kept up a steady plod until I reached the Bondcliff trail, though I did have to stop once at the Franconia Brook bridge to tend to a problem in my right boot. I'd felt a pain growing on my heel and figured I'd put on a Band-Aid as a preventative before it worked its way into a blister. I was a bit concerned that I was already encountering a problem in this area so early in the hike and hoped the Band-Aid would resolve it. My attentions did help for a while, but the pain soon returned and I was hobbling by the time the Bondcliff trail came into sight.
As I turned on to the trail I heard a woman call, "No peeking!" and a man reply, "Okay, I won't" from the woods nearby. Looking in I spied a bit of their camp, though I never saw the people themselves. I made my way to the stream, dropped my pack, and took off my boots. The Band-Aid was still in place, but a sizable blister had formed anyway. It was time for some serious action. I started by applying a moleskin patch and then extracted my spare pair of socks from the backpack. I let my feet rest a bit while I ate one of my sandwiches and examined my boots for some sign of the problem. Feeling around inside I discovered a tiny fold in the boot insole right where the blister had formed. Though small, that fold had become a sharp point that had cut into my foot. After an unsuccessful attempt to smooth it out, I took out some scissors and cut the offending fold away.
I finished my lunch, topped off the water bottles, then put my boots back on. Though my foot was still sore, the extra socks, moleskin, insole modifications and some firm lacing resulted in a tolerable comfort level. Since the trail would begin climbing at this point, I extracted a pair of hiking poles from my pack and set them up for use. This was to be my first real test of these new toys and I hoped that they'd be worth the additional weight, especially in terms of saving wear and tear on my aging knees.
The trail passed a couple of well-used campsites right away, then began climbing into the woods. There were a few steep parts at first but after a bit the trail rejoined the stream and an old road and began a smooth, steady ascent. A stream crossing shortly thereafter signaled that the winter campsite Chip & I had used a few years back was nearby. I passed an open space covered with logs to discourage camping there (That was where Chip and his friend camped the previous winter, the logs buried under a thick blanket of snow.) and then made my way into the woods. I was a bit surprised to spot the remains of the fire Chip & I had built in the snow more than two years before. I thought they'd have been long buried under forest debris. Remembering that Chip had lost a waterproof sock there, I did a quick search of our old campsite in hopes of finding it, but had no luck.
Returning to the trail, I continued my hike. I was curious to see how much further it was to where the trail made its final crossing of the stream, a spot where I'd remembered seeing another good campsite. From one map I'd checked, I didn't think it was too much further. I was wrong. The path crossed the stream again shortly after the campsites and then veered away into the woods for quite a while. I knew I had to make at least one more crossing before the one with the campsite and I kept expecting to see it, but it failed to appear. I began to wonder if a trail relocation had changed the route.
Finally, the trail turned sharply right, crossed the now-dry streambed, and began to descend. I was pretty tired by this point and mighty hot, and this change really threw me. The trail rounded a few more curves and I suddenly found myself at the base of a long, steep set of stairs formed of rocks. As I made my way slowly up, I thought about the poor trail crew that had the task of building this portion of the route. What a job! Of course I wasn't doing much better. I did manage to reach the top, but was soon confronted with another set of stone stairs. I'd had it. I dropped my pack and sat down.
I sat there for a good while, getting my breath back, drinking water, eating some snacks, and considering my situation. I was pretty whipped and didn't know if I could handle much more of this kind of exertion. I began to think of options and figured that I could probably make it to the final stream crossing and, if I still felt bad, set up camp there and just hike back out the next day. With that thought in mind, I managed to get myself going again.
I started up the second rock staircase and found that the extended rest break had helped considerably. Within a few minutes I was at the top. The trail leveled off and the easy walking improved my mood a good bit, as did the sight of the approach of the final crossing. I'd made it! I practically had a bounce in my step as I emerged from the woods into the sunlight along a familiar sandbank above the stream. I knew the crossing was just ahead, and then I heard the voices.
A few steps later the rocky crossing came into view and strewn across the boulders was a large group of hikers. I'd say about a dozen of them, perhaps high school age kids with a lone male adult leader. He told the kids to clear a way for me and let me know that some water could be found up the streambed a bit. I crossed to the other side, dropped my pack and gathered my filter and water bottles. The next water was Guyot and it seemed a good idea to top off my supply while I had the chance. I chatted with the hikers while I filled my bottles. They were heading out after a night at Guyot and wondered how much further it was to the Wilderness trail. I told them they had a ways to go, but that the trail wasn't too bad after the steep section.
Bottles full, I bid the group goodbye and continued on my way. I did manage to spot the campsite by the trail I'd remembered. It was only a few yards past the crossing, and it too was covered with logs to discourage use. I was surprised to find myself running into quite a few other hiking groups within a short distance of the crossing. It almost seemed as if they had all left Guyot about the same time. One group of about 8 women, college age I'd guess, was having lunch on the trail as I passed. The apparent leader noted my Patriots T-shirt and asked where I was from. I mentioned Hopkinton and she replied that she was from Dedham. I asked if anyone knew the time and was told that it was 1:30, so I'd been hiking for about four hours. It seemed like a reasonable pace and gave me hope I could reach my goal after all.
After leaving that group, I had the trail to myself once again. It was much easier now, ascending very gradually as it made its way around the mountain's flank, and I found myself enjoying the hike once again. The heat was becoming a factor though and I made a few stops for water and rest before the trail made its final turn to begin the summit ascent. Shortly after that turn I crossed paths with another solo hiker, an older man, who asked if I had any rope. I said I didn't and he said I'd soon see why he'd asked. Sure enough, a little further along I found myself at the base of a small (10 foot high) cliff. A few routes were obvious on it, but none were particularly easy, especially with a pack pulling me backwards.
I studied it a bit, then picked a route and started up. There were a few dicey moments, but I made it without too much trouble and found myself suddenly above tree line. The view in all directions was magnificent and the summit was in sight. I pulled my hat from my pack and put it on as I left the forest's shade and scrambled through the scrub brush toward the top. Looking up, I spotted yet another group sitting on top. I greeted them as I trudged the last few steps to the summit cairn. After more than eight years, I was atop Bondcliff once again.
The folks I'd met appeared to be another college group. I asked them which way they were going and was surprised to hear they were heading to Guyot. That meant they'd been ahead of me all day, but I hadn't noticed any other groups signed in at the parking area that morning before me and none of the previous day's groups had listed Guyot as a destination. No matter. I asked for another time check and was told it was now 2:30.
They began packing up to go, so I dropped my pack to the side and admired the views a bit while they departed. I also pulled out the camera I'd shoved into the pack at the last minute before I'd left. My last time up here I'd regretted not bringing a camera so I made sure I had one this trip. I snapped shots in all directions, including a self-portrait beside the summit cairn to prove I'd made it. The visibility was awesome, though a bit hazy and I had a tough time choosing the best shots.
Having given the other group enough of a lead, I hoisted the pack once again and started toward the next goal, Mt. Bond. It's separated from Bondcliff by a col deep enough to allow Bondcliff to be regarded as a separate peak (rather than just a secondary summit of Bond). I recalled the climb up Bond from my last trip as especially arduous, steep and rocky and preceded by 10 miles of hard hiking, and I was concerned about how I'd fare. I looked ahead to the other group and saw them resting partway up the slope. I took my time, going slowly and using my poles as much as I could. It seemed to work, because I found the climb wasn't really all that bad. I was able to make pretty steady progress without needing any major rest stops.
Thankfully and somewhat oddly, the trail climbed into the trees so I was able to get some relief from the sun's heat for the latter part of the ascent to Mt. Bond. I met up with the college group at the summit and once again they were just getting ready to leave as I arrived. I took some more photos, gave them some time to get ahead of me and then continued on my way.
The trail was especially beautiful in this section, partly because it wound through some pretty little woods and partly because it was all downhill! I followed it as it passed the cutoff to West Bond, then noted a few trailside campsites (Guyot overflow sites, I assume) before arriving at last at the side trail to the Guyot shelter. I'd forgotten how long that side trail was (perhaps it's just a matter of how tired I was), but soon enough I found myself greeting the Caretaker. He was a nice enough fellow, though not exactly bubbly, and he sat on his tent platform tallying the folks arriving at the campsite for the evening. I told him I was just there for the water and commented on the group that had preceded me. He said he'd been surprised by them and hadn't really expected anyone that evening. He asked if I knew of any others and I told him I hadn't seen any one else on the trail behind me.
I made my way down to the water, passing the college group now sprawled across 3-4 of the tent platforms. I wound up chatting with one woman as I filled my bottles and took pictures of the shelter (again to prove I'd made it there). She told me they were from Amherst college, up on an orientation trip. They'd stayed at Franconia Falls the night before, which explained how they managed to get ahead of me. We talked a bit more before I headed back out. I stopped to talk with the Caretaker again. I got another time check (4PM), an opinion on the idea of making it to South Twin for the night (possible), and a lament about how many folks had been staying at the site. 33 the night before, he said. Mostly college orientation trips.
I bid him farewell and started the climb back to the main trail. On the way I passed two guys coming down. So much for no more visitors at the campsite. I passed another couple on the way up Mt. Guyot and another two near the intersection with the Twinway, all heading to the camping area. I considered and rejected a summit picture with the cairn on Mt. Guyot, too tired to unpack the camera one more time. As I passed the cairn however, I noted a small cleared area where a tent or sleeping pad could be fit for someone seeking a peak-top campsite. The weather that evening would've been perfect, but I had no pad or tent so I continued on.
I managed to get on the Twinway and headed south, but soon found myself on a dead-end trail in the above tree line scrub. As I backtracked to locate the true trail I heard a noise and looked up to see a hat with a man underneath it. "I assume you're on the trail," I called and made my way over to where he stood. Another hiker going to Guyot it turned out. I told him how much further it was, warned him about the crowds and continued along, once again back on the trail.
At this point I was on the Appalachian Trail once again, and its frequent white blazes made it easy to find my way. The trail descended into a woodsy col before beginning a slow rise along the ridge top. Now, my intention had been to try to get to the col between the Twins, or perhaps over to North Twin for a campsite. I figured I'd get some privacy and nice views there, and would be well positioned to start the next day's hike. There was still plenty of daylight, so it seemed feasible. I was getting tired though and when I spotted a small site by the side of the trail, I had to check it out.
Like the others I'd seen it was strewn with logs to discourage use, but it was a nice space, with plenty of trees to hang my hammock and a spectacular view over the Franconia Brook valley. I walked in and shuffled around a bit, debating what to do before finally admitting that I really wanted to stay there. So that's what I did. I dropped the pack and called it a day.
My first order of business was just sitting. There was a very nice little chair formed by the roots of a tree and I sat there drinking water and munching snacks while admiring the view and settling in mentally. A few bugs made a point of trying to bother me, but it really didn't work. While I was enjoying it all, a few more folks came along the trail. Two sets of two guys. Big handsome men in their late 20s/early 30s, I'd guess. Also all heading to Guyot. Once again I warned them about the crowds. The second group seemed particularly bothered by the prospect of sharing a sleeping area with energetic kids, and one of them said they should've stayed back at "the cliff."
After a bit of resting, I decided to set up camp. I moved the logs from the site and started stringing up the hammock. I tried using a number of trees before I found two that seemed to be the right distance apart. When I tested out the setup though, I heard a pop and dropped rather abruptly to the ground. One of the roof loops had ripped off due to too much tension. Fortunately I had a small sewing kit in my pack, so I sat in the dirt and spent about 15 minutes sewing it back together. All fixed, I tried yet another tree combination and finally managed to get a good setup.
That done, I sat down again and had a quiet supper of sandwich, snacks, and salmon jerky from Vancouver. Yum! The sunset on the valley below made for a nice view. I pulled out my radio in hopes of getting some idea of the time and managed to tune in an NPR station out of Vermont. It was about 7 PM. I listened a bit, finished my food, and then went for a walk up the trail to see what was there. I half thought I might be close to South Twin, but turned back when nothing appeared quickly. I made a side trip into a small open area for a view of the sunset and spotted people on top of Mt. Guyot. Perhaps the last pair of hikers I'd met, camping on the summit, or just up there from the campsite for the view.
It was getting dark now, so I returned to my campsite. I sat in the root chair for a while, enjoying the evening. The bugs had retreated and it had even turned a bit cool. I put on my silk shirt and North Face sweater and zipped my pant legs on to keep comfortable. As the last of the sunset faded away, I found myself dozing off so I decided it was time to head to the hammock. Most of my stuff got shoved into the pack, which was hung on a tree well above the ground. Next to the hammock I placed my water bottles and my boots, which would serve as holders for my glasses and headlamp. I later regretted having those pungent boots so close to my head!
The radio came into the hammock with me, and after I got settled in I put on the earphones and tuned in some wonderful jazz. The announcer said it was 8 PM and I spent the next two hours enjoying the music and winding down before I finally put the radio away and tried to sleep. As usual, I didn't just pass out for a solid eight hours of unconsciousness. I tossed and turned a bit, got up a few times to check out the stars, adjusted clothing and sleeping bag for warmth, and in between all this, slept. I know I slept because eventually I opened my eyes and it was morning!
Despite all the tossing, it had been a pretty comfortable, restful night. I wound up zippering myself completely into my sleeping bag, including the hood. Something I've never done. I suspect I even did a significant amount of sleeping on my back, another first. There's just something about that hammock.
Anyway, I found my radio and turned it on in time to hear the announcer say that it was just past 6AM. Perfect! I rolled out of the hammock, greeted the day, and then made breakfast. Instant milk, instant breakfast, instant coffee. All mixed together in one of the water bottles with the right amount of water. Add a vigorous shaking and you've got breakfast. I gulped that down, along with some of the Kudos bars and gummies, then began breaking camp. It only took a few minutes and by 6:30 I was standing on the trail, bidding farewell to the campsite.
I was pretty upbeat about the day. Perfect weather again and a nice route. An initial climb up South Twin and then downhill all the way back to the car. Seemed pretty easy and I hoped to make good time getting out. I added options of sidehikes to North Twin and Galehead, depending upon how I felt at each junction.
The walk to South Twin took longer than I'd expected. I counted two separate ascents and descents before the final steep climb to the summit. It was well worth it though. The views in all directions were unbelievable. Visibility limited only by a bit of haze, ranges of purple-tinted mountains extending to the horizon in all directions, and the early morning sun adding its glow to everything. I spent a good half-hour up there taking in the views and snapping photographs. One thing I didn't do was take a side trip to North Twin. It was a mile away and looked a bit too long for a quick visit over and back. I noted the availability of some great spots up there for sleeping under the stars and somewhat regretted the lack of a pad that would've allowed me to do that. Another time, perhaps.
Just as I was about to leave, I heard the distinctive clatter of hiking poles and turned to greet another solo hiker coming up. One of the Guyot shelter campers, it turned out. I left him to enjoy the summit by himself and started the descent to Galehead. From my last trip this way (14 years ago), I recalled this to be a long, steep drop and I was right. The hiking poles really proved their worth in this section though. They'd been handy all along, but on this drop they definitely saved me. No screaming thighs, no tortured knees. I took my time and took care to let the poles bear my weight on each downward step, rather than trying to support it with my legs. As a result I arrived at the bottom none the worse for wear.
As I approached the bottom, I could hear the sound of activity at the Galehead hut. It was being dismantled in preparation for the building of its replacement. Other hikers mentioned seeing helicopters delivering lumber on previous days. I passed a couple and a solo hiker (pleasant young man) going up South Twin (ouch!) as I made my way to the hut. A generator was running and I could hear the sound of power tools growling in the woods. I just hoped I could get water. I'd finished off one of the two bottles I'd gotten from Guyot the night before and half of the other bottle had been used for breakfast, so I was down to half a bottle. Alas, as I made my way around the cordoned-off hut, signs indicated that no services were available and that turned out to include water. Oh, there was a commercial container on the back porch, but it had a sign saying to use it sparingly. Not wanting to cut into the worker's supply, I figured I had enough to last me and just kept on going.
I was now on a brand new trail for me, the Frost Trail. A short distance past the hut, the Twin Brook Trail departed to left, in the direction I planned to follow. But the Frost Trail continued just 0.4 miles to the summit of Galehead Mountain, a bona fide 4000 footer. I decided this was probably my best opportunity to add it to my list, so I dropped my pack and headed up. I hoped it wouldn't be too tough of a hike, and while it was a pretty constant steep climb, it was over quickly and I soon found myself standing at a small overlook. I snapped a few pictures of the valley and the hut demolition, then continued on to the true summit for a self-portrait with the summit sign for proof of visitation. The walk back down went quickly and I began my descent into the valley (and to a water supply) on the Twin Brook Trail.
The trail dropped steeply at first, with lots of rocks, but it leveled out as it moved into the woods and turned into a rather pleasant little downhill walk. The path wasn't well marked at all, but for the most part the route was obvious. A few small glades proved tricky but there were no serious problems other than the length. I found myself really looking forward to seeing the sign indicating I had reached the ¼ mile boundary around the 13 Falls tentsite. I made two stops along the way and finished off the last of my water at the second one, so that sign would mean water was close by.
At last it appeared and I endured what seemed like a mighty long ¼ mile before I heard the water and emerged at the Falls. I quickly made my way to the brook and dropped my pack for a rest. It had been quite a descent since the top of South Twin and the rest of my hike would be much easier. I stayed at the Falls a good while, washing my face, drinking water, and refilling my water bottles. I had expected to see other folks there, but there wasn't a soul around.
At last, I packed up and began to prepare to leave. The rest of the route was all flat, level walking, so I decided to stow the hiking poles back on my pack. It felt nice to have my hands free again as I began the final part of my walk out. The route was an old railroad bed, like the Wilderness trail. Straight as an arrow and nearly level. The occasional stream crossing broke things up a bit, but for the most part I was able to just plod along at a nice steady pace, enjoying the woods and reflecting on the hike. I met a few other hikers along the way, heading the opposite direction, but walked alone most of the time.
It wasn't too long before signs of the trail's end began to appear. The Lincoln Brook trail rejoined, then the trail went into a rough section that descended to a stream crossing before rejoining the railbed. The final section back to the Wilderness trail took a lot longer than I expected. Perhaps it was the anticipation of completion. In any case, the trail did end at last and I found myself back at the trail junction I'd passed through the day before. I gave the trail sign a pat and turned toward the car. It was a long three miles out, but easy walking. I nodded hello to day hikers on their way in to see the Falls, hoping I wasn't overly aromatic.
As I walked, I tried to guess what time I'd arrive back at the car. I optimistically guessed around 11AM, but granted that I wouldn't be surprised by a time as late as 1PM. As in the past, the trail's end never seemed to arrive, but eventually it did appear and I happily crossed the bridge back to civilization. I wound my way through crowds of hikers at the visitor center and trudged over to my car, where I quickly threw my pack and boots into the seats, changed into my sneakers and prepared to leave. As the engine came to life, the clock on the dash showed 1:30. I'd been walking for 7 hours, pretty much non-stop. That really surprised me, but I didn't care. I was going home. And I made up for it by making the drive home (including a stop for gas) in less than 2 ½ hours. Great hike.
Notes and thoughts: I wouldn't change much at all. Really a great hike, and once again, I'm just happy I was able to do it. This old body's still got some life in it. In hindsight I didn't need any of my rain gear, but my pack weight was so light anyway that it really wasn't a burden to have along, and better safe than sorry. The only thing I really regretted not having was footwear for the campsite. I wound up going barefoot just because I needed to be out of my boots. A pair of water shoes would've been perfect. Light, sturdy, and comfy.
The food was just right for the trip. I made a point of eating the snacks frequently as I walked, so my energy levels stayed up, and the sandwiches were a good choice. Probably not a good idea for a long trip or winter, but great for a summer overnight.
The initial collapse of the hammock got me thinking about different rigging patterns that would avoid stress on the roof. I tried one when I got home and it seems to work fine. That hammock is the best! Not something I'd want to bring if storms were anticipated, but perfect for fair weather camping. On this trip though, I could've left that home too, brought a pad instead and just slept out on one of the peaks. I bet the star views would've been spectacular.
More pictures
