Guyot Shelter
Where: Guyot Shelter
When: 3/25-26, 2000
With: Chip
When: 3/25-26, 2000
With: Chip
At last! Four years after we made our first attempt we finally got Chip to Guyot shelter. Can we stop winter camping now?! But seriously, folks...
As usual, chat about the trip started in early January, with Chip aiming for a date in mid-February. My schedule was already booked, so we pushed it out to early March. Our initial plans were for a ski trip to 13 Falls, hauling our gear on sleds. It was my suggestion, based on my walk along that route last summer. It seemed like a relatively easy trip, though long and somewhat mundane. No climbs, no summit assaults. Chip was agreeable and had three friends from Topsfield lined up to join us.
March came and Chip called to say his friends had decided to opt out, so it was just the two of us. Given that, I suggested we take another shot at getting to Guyot shelter. I'd hiked the route last summer so I had a good recollection of the route, and it seemed feasible for us to do. Chip was surprised, but pleased. Unfortunately a nagging back injury forced me to cancel at the last minute and the hike was put on hold. Too bad, since the weekend had Chip's fantasy weather...a storm moved in Saturday night and dumped six inches of new snow on the mountains.
Spring arrived, my back felt better, and we decided to try again while there was still enough snow to qualify as a "winter" hike. A check of the trail reports revealed that at least one group had gone up in the intervening week and indicated that the route was in good shape. The weather outlook was favorable too - temperatures predicted to be high enough to allow us to leave a lot of heavy winter gear (sub-zero sleeping bags, for example) at home. In fact, I began to get concerned that it would be TOO warm. Soft snow on the trails, overheated hikers, etc..
Saturday arrived and we were off. 5AM alarm for me, 6:15 arrival at Chip's, a quick turnaround and back on the road for the drive north and we pulled into the Lincoln Woods parking lot at 8:30. We paid our parking fee, chatted a bit with the rangers (a couple of guys who obviously spent WAY too much time in the woods!), packed up and got on our way around 9:00. A friendly couple obligingly took our picture in the parking lot.
There was very little snow in the surrounding woods, but the trail was still covered with a well-packed layer. No trouble with sinking in but grip was an issue, so we both put on instep four-point crampons (which helped greatly). We were able to stretch out and put some distance between the car and ourselves. We passed the couple who'd taken our picture and two other men, and then were on our own as we made our way up the Wilderness trail.
The hike along the river was uneventful. We arrived at Franconia Brook after an hour's walking, took a short break, then continued on toward the Bondcliff trail. The path was a bit less traveled in this section and didn't offer as firm a footing as we might have liked, but we still managed to arrive at the trail junction by 11:00. Two hours into the hike and we were already nearly 5 miles along.
We took another short break for food, water, and moleskin for a blister Chip had developed, then started our climb. I put on my snowshoes at this point, figuring the extra grip and stability would be helpful. I also broke out my hiking poles. I'd benefited from their use on my summer hike and hoped they'd prove useful on this trip too. Chip decided to continue with just his boots and crampons as long as he could.
Climbing now, our pace slowed considerably, but that was okay. We had plenty of daylight and were more concerned with making it than making it quickly. We fell into an easy plodding rhythm that steadily ate away the miles. It wasn't all that difficult, though I was hampered a bit by a sore hip resulting from a strain when stepping over a fallen tree early on. That soreness wound up plaguing me for the rest of the trip.
We tracked our progress by various landmarks: rejoining the old logging road along the stream, the first stream crossing, our campsite from previous years (where we stopped briefly for lunch), the second stream crossing, and then the long stretch of trail up to the third crossing. At each point a check of our watches showed we were on a good pace, as long as our legs would hold out. We got a little bit of distraction along the way by a couple of A10 Warthog warplanes doing training flights above us. They made a number of passes through our area, flying low, disappearing behind some ridge, and then reappearing with their engines roaring. Very cool.
The weather was cooperating very nicely. Despite a threatening sky, we managed to get bits of sunlight every so often and the temperature stayed at a comfortable level. I was wearing bibs and a wicking thermal t-neck shirt, with only running tights on my legs under my bibs. No gloves and just a ball cap on my head. Certainly not my usual full winter garb. While walking, I even built up enough heat to open up the side zips on the bibs to cool off my legs. At our rest stops though it got rather chilly, and I was grateful for the fleece vest I’d thrown into my pack at the last minute. It was perfect for keeping me from cooling off too much when I wasn’t moving.
Eventually the trail turned and dipped down to the streambed for the third crossing. This landmark was significant because it marked the beginning of what I regarded as the crux of the route. A steep climb here had proved so disheartening last summer that I nearly abandoned my hike, but the path beyond it turned out to be significantly less difficult. In fact, I'd reached the summit of Bondcliff after only an hour's additional walking. I knew our goal would be in reach once we reached the top of this climb.
Up the slope we went, and though it was certainly tough, my knowledge of its length helped me to keep going. In a few minutes we were over it and resting at the final stream crossing. The time was 1:30 and I figured we had another 2 1/2 hours of hiking left. Still a lot of walking, but doable. We took a long break to rest our legs, warm ourselves in the sunshine and eat some food. Chip headed upstream a bit to look for water, which he found (though he had to dig down through the snow with his snowshoe to get to it). We topped off our bottles and resumed our journey.
Just beyond the stream I pointed out a couple of possible campsites to Chip for future reference. The first was on the right at the top of the stream bank, while the second was on the left a hundred yards or so down the trail. The trail continued to slab the slope on the right, then turned in a switchback and headed back while gaining altitude. Another switchback reversed our direction again and a final turn to the right put us on a long sloping climb along the hillside, with the valley stretching out to our left. I mentioned to Chip my amazement that I didn't recall those switchbacks from my previous hike of just 7 months previous, and blamed it on an encounter I'd had just after the stream crossing with a group of college women. Guess my mind was elsewhere as I took those turns!
Partway through the switchbacks this time I decided to put my snowshoes back on my pack. They'd been helpful on the climbing, but now their weight on my legs was beginning to prove detrimental. The relief was immediate and appreciated, and I began to turn my attention to anticipation of the final turn to Bondcliff. Given the nature of anticipation, it seemed to take longer than I remembered, and I wound up taking at least one rest stop. It started to rain a bit, and both Chip & I put on our parkas for protection.
Finally the trail did turn and we headed up the slope. Chip led, as he had all day, and quickly disappeared into the trees. I moved along steadily behind, glancing in the woods for signs of a bushwhack route up from the valley (none seen). Again, the distance seemed longer than I recalled and I called for Chip, asking if he was at The Rock (a small ledge on the trail) yet. He called back to say he was there, and was on top. I soon joined him, scrambled up (with the help of a convenient snowbank), and we turned to savor the view. We'd reached the highest point Chip had ever been on this path. Beyond was new territory for him, and the summit (at last) of Bondcliff.
Out in the open now, with only low scrub at our feet, the wind blasted us as we made our way up. A few steps and something that looked like a summit cairn appeared. A few steps more and we were there. It wasn't really the summit - that was a little bit further along - but it was close enough for a celebration. Bondcliff at last! It was 3:00. We recorded the event with pictures as we made our way along the summit area, marveling at the views all around. The storm clouds, though dark and ominous, were well above the mountaintops and we had spectacular views in all directions.
A few more photos, including shots of each other standing on a finger of rock jutting out into the abyss, and we turned our attention to our next objective - Mt. Bond. Looming above us, it represented the final obstacle in our journey. A climb to its top and it was all downhill from there to the shelter. We picked our way down the jumble of rocks from Bondcliff's summit, descending into the col between the peaks. We were pretty beat by this time, and stopped briefly before the ascent up Bond to gather our strength. We split one of my Clif bars for a little energy boost and then started climbing.
The path stayed in the open at first, giving us views down into the Hellgate Brook valley below, then turned and made its way into the trees once again. Chip was far above me as I struggled my way up the twisting path, certain that the top was just around each corner, but only finding more path instead. At last the top did come into sight, and I stumbled out into the summit area to find Chip sheltering himself from the wind and rain in the lee of the summit cairn. Exhausted, we only stayed at the top a short time before starting down the trail toward the shelter.
The snow-covered descent was a pleasant relief for our weary legs, but fleeting. Too soon the trail leveled off and then began to climb again. It seemed a final insult, but eventually the top of the small shoulder was reached and the path began to descend for good. I lead the way and soon enough came to the spur for West Bond, where I waited for Chip. He appeared at last, announcing that he'd stopped to make phone calls to his wife and Mom. We continued our descent and within minutes were at the path to Guyot shelter. As usual, the path down seemed awfully long, and Chip questioned the reasoning for locating the shelter so far down the mountain. Eventually though, the caretaker's platform came into sight, and we were there. It was 5:00.
We made our way to the shelter, which I hailed as we approached. I heard the reply at the same time that I saw the evidence of the occupants. We'd be sharing the shelter that night. There were three guys there, all in their early-mid twenties. They quickly made room for us, giving us half of the top platform for our sleeping space, and offered to share some of their dinner (Ramen noodles). Pleasant fellows, they'd hiked in to Galehead the night before (in the dark) and camped there, then hiked over to Guyot on Saturday.
We all chatted a bit and shared some refreshments as we settled in. Food was a priority, so we quickly got water boiling (using Chip's new Whisperlight stove) for our tortellini. The spring at the shelter was running fine, and it was nice to not have to boil snow. The pasta was devoured as soon as it was ready, accompanied by a red bell pepper pesto sauce, red wine, and biscotti for desert, then we cleaned up and prepared to settle in for the night. Our shelter companions brought out lanterns and magazines and the day turned quiet.
We all made our way into our sleeping bags around 7:30, and started to doze off. Chip, as usual, announced it was way too early to be sleeping, then proceeded to snore like a locomotive with muffler trouble. I, as usual, couldn't get to sleep at all, despite being really tired. I read a bit, listened to some music on my radio, and tried not to worry about it too much. I was relatively comfortable, nicely warm, and not hiking, so it wasn't all that bad.
The temperature stayed up all night, which was nice for a change. Our water bottles and hiking boots (both containing about the same amount of water, it seemed!) stayed unfrozen and we all stayed reasonably comfortable up on the top bunk. My 20-degree bag and bivy cover did a great job of keeping me toasty enough to sleep in nothing but my silk long underwear.
Eventually I did doze off, aided in part by the sound of a fairly steady rain on the roof of the shelter. I slept for four solid hours at one point and probably caught another couple of hours in catnaps before the next day began to dawn. Around 5:00 I got up, took in a nice view of the new day from the open-door throne in the outhouse, then headed back to the shelter. Chip started stirring and around 6:00 we were both up and going. Our shelter-mates were still asleep, so we tried to be quiet as we made breakfast (oatmeal, coffee, and biscotti) and began to pack up.
Considering the rain the previous night, we were pleasantly surprised to have a nice dawn to the day, with beautiful, far-ranging views from the porch of the shelter. A couple of Gray Jays came to visit, looking for food, and a red squirrel skittered around too. It looked to be a nice day for hiking, but then a dark cloud moved in and overshadowed the entire area. I feared a rainy walk out, but the sun quickly reappeared, followed by more clouds, then sun, and then clouds... The day just couldn't make up its mind.
Around 7:30 we bid our now-stirring companions farewell and started our journey home. Chip & I both predicted the walk could be done in as little as six hours, but figured it would probably be more like 7. Still that would get us out and home by a very reasonable hour. We looked forward to a late lunch (and beer) at Truant's Tavern as we started back up the path to the main trail.
We were in good spirits, though deservedly sore, for our hike out. All of our climbing would be done at the beginning, on fresh legs, followed by long, easy downhill slogging. Despite the rain during the night, the trail remained in good shape and we were able to continue to hike using just our boots and instep crampons. We made our way past the West Bond spur, which received a very cursory consideration for exploration before being rejected in favor of a direct push to the summit of Bond. One of the Gray Jays followed us up the trail, posing accommodatingly for pictures despite our lack of food to offer, and it was still with us as we summited Mt. Bond once again, reaching the top at 8:00. One climb down, one to go.
The weather was a bit more pleasant this morning, so we lingered a while, taking in the view and snapping photos before starting down to the col. We paused once, briefly, to light up a couple of cigars Chip had bought. Today was my day, and I was able to travel faster than Chip on the downhill sections. Perhaps it was my hiking poles, which doubtless helped. If nothing else they kept me from falling a number of times and saved a lot of wear & tear on my knees and thighs. In short order I emerged from the trees and wound down along the rocky slope to a spot above the valley where I stopped to put on some wind protection. The passing storm system was forcing a steady blast of air up the valley and straight across the ridge we were crossing.
Chip joined me quickly and we proceeded up Bondcliff. Nearly at the top we came to a chimney formed by the cliffs that funneled a particularly ferocious blast of wind up at us, threatening to blow us over. We moved past, reached the summit once again, snapped a few more pictures, bid our cigars and the Bonds goodbye, and dropped down into the woods once again.
Back on the sheltered, snowy trails, I let Chip know that I planned to stretch out my legs and cover some miles. Now that I wasn't climbing, my hip wasn't bothering me any longer and I was able to move relatively pain-free. The snow was getting a bit mushy, but it still held me up as I locked in a strong pace down the mountain. The sun had returned and I enjoyed the beauty of the woods I was striding through. Down to the first turn, around the first switchback, around the next switchback and suddenly I was back at the top stream crossing, less than an hour after leaving Bondcliff (10:00).
I found a sunny spot to rest, drink some water, and eat an energy bar while I waited for Chip, who arrived only a few minutes later. We both enjoyed the sun's warmth for a bit while we debated our plan. Chip had come up with the idea of putting on our snowshoes and bushwhacking down the streambed to the next crossing, rather than following the trail. Given the amount of snow he'd dug through the previous day to get water, it seemed there was plenty of snowcover to be safe. Still, there had been all that rain the night before and we could hear water gurgling beneath our feet that hadn't been audible the day before.
We thought about it a bit and decided to go for it. It turned out to be a great idea. The streambed was a beautiful change from the trampled look of the trail and we had no trouble making our way down. A few fallen trees to get over/under, but no waterfalls or open spots, and in a few minutes we were back at the trail. It probably saved us a little time and certainly provided a nice break and a little adventure.
From this point on it was all slogging, and we resolved to just put our heads down and do it. The trails were all relatively straight and open, generally downhill, and the snow was still holding up well. I decided to try to get all the way to the Wilderness trail without stopping, and that's what I did. In reverse order all of the landmarks from the previous day flowed past: second stream crossing, old campsites, first stream crossing, and then the turn away from the stream and into the woods. Here the trail wound its way up and down a good bit before finally beginning its ultimate descent to the valley floor. I clomped my way to the trail sign, dropped my pack, and declared the hike all but over. Funny to be nearly five miles into the woods and feel like I was back in civilization, but that's the Wilderness trail for you.
I drank some water, went to check out the old railroad bridge, then returned just as Chip appeared. He too had set his legs on autopilot and done the route non-stop, though he discovered along the way that he'd lost one of his crampons. We rested a few minutes, then resigned ourselves to the inevitability of the long, flat, straight, boring walk out. By this point our legs were responding to only the most basic of commands, so perhaps the route was for the best, but we still fantasized about calling to the rangers for taxi service! The increasingly unstable snow surface didn't help matters, requiring constant muscular adjustments from muscles no longer interested in adjusting. Still, we made it to Franconia Brook in only 40 minutes.
Another, final rest stop, then we shouldered our packs for the last time and headed down the last three miles. We managed some relatively cheery hellos to the few folks we saw walking in on this cloudy day and arrived at the parking lot almost exactly 6 hours after we'd left the shelter. We heaved the packs into the car, changed into clean clothing (oh, the luxury!), and bid Lincoln Woods goodbye once again. A quick stop for gas, then a longer visit at Truant's (smoking, non-smoking, or stinky?) for beer and lunch, before we aimed the car south for the run home. Chip was deposited in his driveway at 5:00 and I arrived home at 6:00, where I grabbed a beer and headed for an absolutely wonderful reunion with my shower.
Great hike.
Notes & Thoughts:
Pack weight - ~35 pounds, maybe less
Hike length - 11.2 miles each way, 8 hours in, 6 hours out
No adventures or misadventures, no serious injuries, losses, or problems. Just a long, hard hike to some of the most spectacular views in the White Mountains and a stay at one of the nicest shelters. My fourth trip up this route, the second time I've stayed at the shelter, and the first time I've returned along the same route. At one point we considered a bushwhack route out over West Bond, but decided against it in favor of the safe, known route. In hindsight we might've been able to do it. Another group of folks had been at the shelter the night previous to us and I suspect they either came/went via that bushwhack route. Their sign-in at the Lincoln Woods ranger house said they were staying at Guyot and 13 Falls and we'd seen no sign of their passage on the Bondcliff trail, so unless they came/went up the Twin Brook trail and over South Twin, the only other route was the bushwhack. Oh well.
More pictures
As usual, chat about the trip started in early January, with Chip aiming for a date in mid-February. My schedule was already booked, so we pushed it out to early March. Our initial plans were for a ski trip to 13 Falls, hauling our gear on sleds. It was my suggestion, based on my walk along that route last summer. It seemed like a relatively easy trip, though long and somewhat mundane. No climbs, no summit assaults. Chip was agreeable and had three friends from Topsfield lined up to join us.
March came and Chip called to say his friends had decided to opt out, so it was just the two of us. Given that, I suggested we take another shot at getting to Guyot shelter. I'd hiked the route last summer so I had a good recollection of the route, and it seemed feasible for us to do. Chip was surprised, but pleased. Unfortunately a nagging back injury forced me to cancel at the last minute and the hike was put on hold. Too bad, since the weekend had Chip's fantasy weather...a storm moved in Saturday night and dumped six inches of new snow on the mountains.
Spring arrived, my back felt better, and we decided to try again while there was still enough snow to qualify as a "winter" hike. A check of the trail reports revealed that at least one group had gone up in the intervening week and indicated that the route was in good shape. The weather outlook was favorable too - temperatures predicted to be high enough to allow us to leave a lot of heavy winter gear (sub-zero sleeping bags, for example) at home. In fact, I began to get concerned that it would be TOO warm. Soft snow on the trails, overheated hikers, etc..
Saturday arrived and we were off. 5AM alarm for me, 6:15 arrival at Chip's, a quick turnaround and back on the road for the drive north and we pulled into the Lincoln Woods parking lot at 8:30. We paid our parking fee, chatted a bit with the rangers (a couple of guys who obviously spent WAY too much time in the woods!), packed up and got on our way around 9:00. A friendly couple obligingly took our picture in the parking lot.
There was very little snow in the surrounding woods, but the trail was still covered with a well-packed layer. No trouble with sinking in but grip was an issue, so we both put on instep four-point crampons (which helped greatly). We were able to stretch out and put some distance between the car and ourselves. We passed the couple who'd taken our picture and two other men, and then were on our own as we made our way up the Wilderness trail.
The hike along the river was uneventful. We arrived at Franconia Brook after an hour's walking, took a short break, then continued on toward the Bondcliff trail. The path was a bit less traveled in this section and didn't offer as firm a footing as we might have liked, but we still managed to arrive at the trail junction by 11:00. Two hours into the hike and we were already nearly 5 miles along.
We took another short break for food, water, and moleskin for a blister Chip had developed, then started our climb. I put on my snowshoes at this point, figuring the extra grip and stability would be helpful. I also broke out my hiking poles. I'd benefited from their use on my summer hike and hoped they'd prove useful on this trip too. Chip decided to continue with just his boots and crampons as long as he could.
Climbing now, our pace slowed considerably, but that was okay. We had plenty of daylight and were more concerned with making it than making it quickly. We fell into an easy plodding rhythm that steadily ate away the miles. It wasn't all that difficult, though I was hampered a bit by a sore hip resulting from a strain when stepping over a fallen tree early on. That soreness wound up plaguing me for the rest of the trip.
We tracked our progress by various landmarks: rejoining the old logging road along the stream, the first stream crossing, our campsite from previous years (where we stopped briefly for lunch), the second stream crossing, and then the long stretch of trail up to the third crossing. At each point a check of our watches showed we were on a good pace, as long as our legs would hold out. We got a little bit of distraction along the way by a couple of A10 Warthog warplanes doing training flights above us. They made a number of passes through our area, flying low, disappearing behind some ridge, and then reappearing with their engines roaring. Very cool.
The weather was cooperating very nicely. Despite a threatening sky, we managed to get bits of sunlight every so often and the temperature stayed at a comfortable level. I was wearing bibs and a wicking thermal t-neck shirt, with only running tights on my legs under my bibs. No gloves and just a ball cap on my head. Certainly not my usual full winter garb. While walking, I even built up enough heat to open up the side zips on the bibs to cool off my legs. At our rest stops though it got rather chilly, and I was grateful for the fleece vest I’d thrown into my pack at the last minute. It was perfect for keeping me from cooling off too much when I wasn’t moving.
Eventually the trail turned and dipped down to the streambed for the third crossing. This landmark was significant because it marked the beginning of what I regarded as the crux of the route. A steep climb here had proved so disheartening last summer that I nearly abandoned my hike, but the path beyond it turned out to be significantly less difficult. In fact, I'd reached the summit of Bondcliff after only an hour's additional walking. I knew our goal would be in reach once we reached the top of this climb.
Up the slope we went, and though it was certainly tough, my knowledge of its length helped me to keep going. In a few minutes we were over it and resting at the final stream crossing. The time was 1:30 and I figured we had another 2 1/2 hours of hiking left. Still a lot of walking, but doable. We took a long break to rest our legs, warm ourselves in the sunshine and eat some food. Chip headed upstream a bit to look for water, which he found (though he had to dig down through the snow with his snowshoe to get to it). We topped off our bottles and resumed our journey.
Just beyond the stream I pointed out a couple of possible campsites to Chip for future reference. The first was on the right at the top of the stream bank, while the second was on the left a hundred yards or so down the trail. The trail continued to slab the slope on the right, then turned in a switchback and headed back while gaining altitude. Another switchback reversed our direction again and a final turn to the right put us on a long sloping climb along the hillside, with the valley stretching out to our left. I mentioned to Chip my amazement that I didn't recall those switchbacks from my previous hike of just 7 months previous, and blamed it on an encounter I'd had just after the stream crossing with a group of college women. Guess my mind was elsewhere as I took those turns!
Partway through the switchbacks this time I decided to put my snowshoes back on my pack. They'd been helpful on the climbing, but now their weight on my legs was beginning to prove detrimental. The relief was immediate and appreciated, and I began to turn my attention to anticipation of the final turn to Bondcliff. Given the nature of anticipation, it seemed to take longer than I remembered, and I wound up taking at least one rest stop. It started to rain a bit, and both Chip & I put on our parkas for protection.
Finally the trail did turn and we headed up the slope. Chip led, as he had all day, and quickly disappeared into the trees. I moved along steadily behind, glancing in the woods for signs of a bushwhack route up from the valley (none seen). Again, the distance seemed longer than I recalled and I called for Chip, asking if he was at The Rock (a small ledge on the trail) yet. He called back to say he was there, and was on top. I soon joined him, scrambled up (with the help of a convenient snowbank), and we turned to savor the view. We'd reached the highest point Chip had ever been on this path. Beyond was new territory for him, and the summit (at last) of Bondcliff.
Out in the open now, with only low scrub at our feet, the wind blasted us as we made our way up. A few steps and something that looked like a summit cairn appeared. A few steps more and we were there. It wasn't really the summit - that was a little bit further along - but it was close enough for a celebration. Bondcliff at last! It was 3:00. We recorded the event with pictures as we made our way along the summit area, marveling at the views all around. The storm clouds, though dark and ominous, were well above the mountaintops and we had spectacular views in all directions.
A few more photos, including shots of each other standing on a finger of rock jutting out into the abyss, and we turned our attention to our next objective - Mt. Bond. Looming above us, it represented the final obstacle in our journey. A climb to its top and it was all downhill from there to the shelter. We picked our way down the jumble of rocks from Bondcliff's summit, descending into the col between the peaks. We were pretty beat by this time, and stopped briefly before the ascent up Bond to gather our strength. We split one of my Clif bars for a little energy boost and then started climbing.
The path stayed in the open at first, giving us views down into the Hellgate Brook valley below, then turned and made its way into the trees once again. Chip was far above me as I struggled my way up the twisting path, certain that the top was just around each corner, but only finding more path instead. At last the top did come into sight, and I stumbled out into the summit area to find Chip sheltering himself from the wind and rain in the lee of the summit cairn. Exhausted, we only stayed at the top a short time before starting down the trail toward the shelter.
The snow-covered descent was a pleasant relief for our weary legs, but fleeting. Too soon the trail leveled off and then began to climb again. It seemed a final insult, but eventually the top of the small shoulder was reached and the path began to descend for good. I lead the way and soon enough came to the spur for West Bond, where I waited for Chip. He appeared at last, announcing that he'd stopped to make phone calls to his wife and Mom. We continued our descent and within minutes were at the path to Guyot shelter. As usual, the path down seemed awfully long, and Chip questioned the reasoning for locating the shelter so far down the mountain. Eventually though, the caretaker's platform came into sight, and we were there. It was 5:00.
We made our way to the shelter, which I hailed as we approached. I heard the reply at the same time that I saw the evidence of the occupants. We'd be sharing the shelter that night. There were three guys there, all in their early-mid twenties. They quickly made room for us, giving us half of the top platform for our sleeping space, and offered to share some of their dinner (Ramen noodles). Pleasant fellows, they'd hiked in to Galehead the night before (in the dark) and camped there, then hiked over to Guyot on Saturday.
We all chatted a bit and shared some refreshments as we settled in. Food was a priority, so we quickly got water boiling (using Chip's new Whisperlight stove) for our tortellini. The spring at the shelter was running fine, and it was nice to not have to boil snow. The pasta was devoured as soon as it was ready, accompanied by a red bell pepper pesto sauce, red wine, and biscotti for desert, then we cleaned up and prepared to settle in for the night. Our shelter companions brought out lanterns and magazines and the day turned quiet.
We all made our way into our sleeping bags around 7:30, and started to doze off. Chip, as usual, announced it was way too early to be sleeping, then proceeded to snore like a locomotive with muffler trouble. I, as usual, couldn't get to sleep at all, despite being really tired. I read a bit, listened to some music on my radio, and tried not to worry about it too much. I was relatively comfortable, nicely warm, and not hiking, so it wasn't all that bad.
The temperature stayed up all night, which was nice for a change. Our water bottles and hiking boots (both containing about the same amount of water, it seemed!) stayed unfrozen and we all stayed reasonably comfortable up on the top bunk. My 20-degree bag and bivy cover did a great job of keeping me toasty enough to sleep in nothing but my silk long underwear.
Eventually I did doze off, aided in part by the sound of a fairly steady rain on the roof of the shelter. I slept for four solid hours at one point and probably caught another couple of hours in catnaps before the next day began to dawn. Around 5:00 I got up, took in a nice view of the new day from the open-door throne in the outhouse, then headed back to the shelter. Chip started stirring and around 6:00 we were both up and going. Our shelter-mates were still asleep, so we tried to be quiet as we made breakfast (oatmeal, coffee, and biscotti) and began to pack up.
Considering the rain the previous night, we were pleasantly surprised to have a nice dawn to the day, with beautiful, far-ranging views from the porch of the shelter. A couple of Gray Jays came to visit, looking for food, and a red squirrel skittered around too. It looked to be a nice day for hiking, but then a dark cloud moved in and overshadowed the entire area. I feared a rainy walk out, but the sun quickly reappeared, followed by more clouds, then sun, and then clouds... The day just couldn't make up its mind.
Around 7:30 we bid our now-stirring companions farewell and started our journey home. Chip & I both predicted the walk could be done in as little as six hours, but figured it would probably be more like 7. Still that would get us out and home by a very reasonable hour. We looked forward to a late lunch (and beer) at Truant's Tavern as we started back up the path to the main trail.
We were in good spirits, though deservedly sore, for our hike out. All of our climbing would be done at the beginning, on fresh legs, followed by long, easy downhill slogging. Despite the rain during the night, the trail remained in good shape and we were able to continue to hike using just our boots and instep crampons. We made our way past the West Bond spur, which received a very cursory consideration for exploration before being rejected in favor of a direct push to the summit of Bond. One of the Gray Jays followed us up the trail, posing accommodatingly for pictures despite our lack of food to offer, and it was still with us as we summited Mt. Bond once again, reaching the top at 8:00. One climb down, one to go.
The weather was a bit more pleasant this morning, so we lingered a while, taking in the view and snapping photos before starting down to the col. We paused once, briefly, to light up a couple of cigars Chip had bought. Today was my day, and I was able to travel faster than Chip on the downhill sections. Perhaps it was my hiking poles, which doubtless helped. If nothing else they kept me from falling a number of times and saved a lot of wear & tear on my knees and thighs. In short order I emerged from the trees and wound down along the rocky slope to a spot above the valley where I stopped to put on some wind protection. The passing storm system was forcing a steady blast of air up the valley and straight across the ridge we were crossing.
Chip joined me quickly and we proceeded up Bondcliff. Nearly at the top we came to a chimney formed by the cliffs that funneled a particularly ferocious blast of wind up at us, threatening to blow us over. We moved past, reached the summit once again, snapped a few more pictures, bid our cigars and the Bonds goodbye, and dropped down into the woods once again.
Back on the sheltered, snowy trails, I let Chip know that I planned to stretch out my legs and cover some miles. Now that I wasn't climbing, my hip wasn't bothering me any longer and I was able to move relatively pain-free. The snow was getting a bit mushy, but it still held me up as I locked in a strong pace down the mountain. The sun had returned and I enjoyed the beauty of the woods I was striding through. Down to the first turn, around the first switchback, around the next switchback and suddenly I was back at the top stream crossing, less than an hour after leaving Bondcliff (10:00).
I found a sunny spot to rest, drink some water, and eat an energy bar while I waited for Chip, who arrived only a few minutes later. We both enjoyed the sun's warmth for a bit while we debated our plan. Chip had come up with the idea of putting on our snowshoes and bushwhacking down the streambed to the next crossing, rather than following the trail. Given the amount of snow he'd dug through the previous day to get water, it seemed there was plenty of snowcover to be safe. Still, there had been all that rain the night before and we could hear water gurgling beneath our feet that hadn't been audible the day before.
We thought about it a bit and decided to go for it. It turned out to be a great idea. The streambed was a beautiful change from the trampled look of the trail and we had no trouble making our way down. A few fallen trees to get over/under, but no waterfalls or open spots, and in a few minutes we were back at the trail. It probably saved us a little time and certainly provided a nice break and a little adventure.
From this point on it was all slogging, and we resolved to just put our heads down and do it. The trails were all relatively straight and open, generally downhill, and the snow was still holding up well. I decided to try to get all the way to the Wilderness trail without stopping, and that's what I did. In reverse order all of the landmarks from the previous day flowed past: second stream crossing, old campsites, first stream crossing, and then the turn away from the stream and into the woods. Here the trail wound its way up and down a good bit before finally beginning its ultimate descent to the valley floor. I clomped my way to the trail sign, dropped my pack, and declared the hike all but over. Funny to be nearly five miles into the woods and feel like I was back in civilization, but that's the Wilderness trail for you.
I drank some water, went to check out the old railroad bridge, then returned just as Chip appeared. He too had set his legs on autopilot and done the route non-stop, though he discovered along the way that he'd lost one of his crampons. We rested a few minutes, then resigned ourselves to the inevitability of the long, flat, straight, boring walk out. By this point our legs were responding to only the most basic of commands, so perhaps the route was for the best, but we still fantasized about calling to the rangers for taxi service! The increasingly unstable snow surface didn't help matters, requiring constant muscular adjustments from muscles no longer interested in adjusting. Still, we made it to Franconia Brook in only 40 minutes.
Another, final rest stop, then we shouldered our packs for the last time and headed down the last three miles. We managed some relatively cheery hellos to the few folks we saw walking in on this cloudy day and arrived at the parking lot almost exactly 6 hours after we'd left the shelter. We heaved the packs into the car, changed into clean clothing (oh, the luxury!), and bid Lincoln Woods goodbye once again. A quick stop for gas, then a longer visit at Truant's (smoking, non-smoking, or stinky?) for beer and lunch, before we aimed the car south for the run home. Chip was deposited in his driveway at 5:00 and I arrived home at 6:00, where I grabbed a beer and headed for an absolutely wonderful reunion with my shower.
Great hike.
Notes & Thoughts:
Pack weight - ~35 pounds, maybe less
Hike length - 11.2 miles each way, 8 hours in, 6 hours out
No adventures or misadventures, no serious injuries, losses, or problems. Just a long, hard hike to some of the most spectacular views in the White Mountains and a stay at one of the nicest shelters. My fourth trip up this route, the second time I've stayed at the shelter, and the first time I've returned along the same route. At one point we considered a bushwhack route out over West Bond, but decided against it in favor of the safe, known route. In hindsight we might've been able to do it. Another group of folks had been at the shelter the night previous to us and I suspect they either came/went via that bushwhack route. Their sign-in at the Lincoln Woods ranger house said they were staying at Guyot and 13 Falls and we'd seen no sign of their passage on the Bondcliff trail, so unless they came/went up the Twin Brook trail and over South Twin, the only other route was the bushwhack. Oh well.
More pictures
