Overnight At Carter Notch (overnight)

Brought the younger of our two dogs, Nia, out on Route 16 just north of Pinkham Notch. The plan was to hike into Carter Notch & overnight with the tent. Things went great.

I arrived at the trailhead (Nineteen Mile Brook Trail) without money, and with this being a "U.S. Fee Area," I wanted to be sure to put money back into the system that supports and maintains areas I love to use. I went back south to Pinkham Notch, got some funds, drove back to the trailhead, and paid my fee. I was sure to lash the waterproof cover for my backpack before we left, as it looked like rain. Alas, it did not. In the end, I am not complaining. Better to prepare for rain and not need those items, then to not have them and have the rain fall freely upon you. I placed Nia's backpack on her [water/booties], and we headed out.

The first 2/3 of this hike follows Nineteen Mile Brook, and the brook itself is quite stunning. The roar of the water was only outweighed by the simply stunning views of the cascading water. About a mile in, we met two other dogs, said hello [as they were coming down], and labored on. The first half of the trail is a mix of dirt path and stone steps. Nothing too arduous.

We ran in to several of AMC's trail maintenance lads. These young men were likely not over 21 years old. They were pick-axing and digging, restructuring the trail in 3 or 4 different parts, having been torn up from Hurricane Irene. They were doing brilliant, hard work. I can only imagine how sweaty they were throughout that humid day.

At our second stream crossing, I slipped — again [see trip through Kinsman Pond].  Boots and socks, totally soaked. I was OK with it. The magic of wool hiking socks never fails to impress me. Half way up, the trail split: Carter Dome Trail going to the top of Carter Dome and Nineteen Mile Brook trail leading us to Carter Notch. Onward we went.

This last half of the hike was a bit more arduous than the first. I ditched my T-shirt, as it was much too humid to be worrying about social niceties like clothing. And the last 1/4 of this part of the trail is thigh bustingly good. Nia tackled it all like a champ. We crested a small level spot and noticed a trail junction. Here, the trail headed south to Carter Notch Hut, west up Wildcat Mountain, and southeast [though Carter Notch] up to Carter Dome. It was also here that I found two primitive/stealth sites for pitching a tent or hammock. After some branch management, I cleared us a spot and got our tent up. This area for tenting was just outside of the wilderness area where it is not permitted that you camp near the trail. Dogs cannot stay at the shelter, so I had come prepared to use one of the two sites I found.

After putting up the tent, feeding Nia, and hydrating a bit, we headed for the actual lakes and hut in Carter Notch. The .3 miles to the hut was delightful. Lots of vistas of Wildcat Mountain and the very rocky trail up to Carter Dome. The hut is split into 3-4 different buildings. We took in the surroundings, snapped some pics, took in the cool breeze cutting through the Notch, and headed back up to our tent.

Once back up to camp, we briefly checked out the AT going towards Wildcat Mountain, but it seemed to rise steeply very quickly. I abandoned the idea, sparing us the challenge of .7 miles each way. We headed for the tent, opened the rain fly doors, and soaked in the cool White Mountains' breeze. Nia slept, and I read. This eventually turned into sleeping for the evening—at 3,400 feet.

Awoke shortly before 6:00 am. The rain was off and on. After deciding there was no waiting it out, I tied Nia to a tree, fed her, and broke down camp. For breakfast, I ate a peach and granola bar. After, I threw the rain cover over the backpack, and headed down from The Notch.

The descent was great. Nia was a pro—staying behind me the entire time [shout-out to my wife for helping Nia learn this invaluable skill. Sierra (our other dog) does not do this. When it was raining and my footing was unstable, I appreciated not having a dog "drag" me down the mountain. As you will discover, I do not need a dog to make me fall.] It was about half way down when I placed my foot on a wet log and quickly went down. The backpack made it hard to get on my feet. Upon inspecting, I had some minor scrapes on my knee, palm, and forearm from the granite on the path. All manageable. In the end, I was just glad I did not break my wrist or forearm.

The rest of the trip down was wet but fun. The views of Nineteen Mile Brook were great heading down the trail. We eventually hit the trailhead. I loaded Nia into the car, got my clean shirt out for the drive home, cued up some tunes for the drive [The Tallest Man on Earth's album "There's No Leaving Now"], and headed for home.


Pictures:
1) Map of the area I was hiking with Nia, the intrepid Chinook.
2) Cool sign at the trailhead.
3) Nia enjoying Nineteen Mile Brook's sights and sounds.
4) This is a picture I took with the camera beside my thigh, trying to capture Nia's ability to hike perfectly behind/beside the hiker. What a pro!
5) Tent site with views of rocky, southeastern-facing Wildcat Mountain.
6) Nia observing the water at one of the two ponds in Carter Notch.
7) A trail I had initially thought about doing with one of the dogs. Goes up to Carter Dome. Yikes. Glad we didn't do that. Seems a bit too much of a rock scramble for dog paws.
8) Notice the chunk of missing flesh from my hand. They don't call it the "Granite State" for nothing.
9) Nia on the drive home. Tuckered out.

 

Kinsman Pond Hut (overnight)

With a buddy from work and the elder canine (Sierra) in tow, we headed for Lafayette Trailhead in Franconia Notch. We departed through Lafayette Campground. The going was rough in the beginning. My trail amigo was feeling under the weather, but soldiered on (kudos to him for this!). We pushed onward, switchbacking hard two times. The trailed level off, and we enjoyed the flattening out towards Lonesome Lake.

The winds in the Notch were coming off the water of Lonesome Lake and cutting through the trees. It was refreshing to say the least. We sailed around the southeastern edge of the Lake, making it to Lonesome Lake Hut. Here, we recharged: water, thought about getting some food, medicine for my compadre. About this time, the skies changed. We headed in to this trip fully aware of the weather forecast [scattered & severe t-storms, lightning, possibility of hail, gusts of wind, etc.]. We decided to let nature "do its thing." We tied Sierra to a post under an overhang near one of the bunk houses, unloaded some food, and chatted while watching the rain fall. It was never too bad. Just faint rolls of thunder. After maybe 20 minutes, the rain seemed light enough that we could soldier onward.

We packed up and headed out. I meant to bring us up Kinsman Pond Trail up to the hut. Due to my own misreading of signs and ignorance, we ended up taking Fishin' Jimmy Trail. There was a fair amount of up and down initially on this trail. I was still looking for Kinsman Trail, but we pushed on.

After maybe 45 minutes, the ascent began. My interpretation of the trail: rocks. Up. Rocks. Up. Repeat for an hour and 30 minutes. Sierra is a champion backpacker, but she struggles when there is no trail and just rocks. Four or five times, there were wooden steps anchored to otherwise slippery, steep rock faces. So this turned into carrying her for sections of the hike. Mind you, I am carrying a 40 pound pack and have now added a 50-53 pound dog. The last time I hoisted her, I was not confident I could do it. Glad we both stuck with it though.

We continued our ascent. Sierra eventually gave up and laid down at one of our water breaks. Good dog! My trail amigo and I chatted about the semantic difference between "climbing" and "hiking." This trailed seemed to lean a bit more towards the former, and less towards the latter. Regardless of the amount of sweat and lactic acid, we made the best of it.

We crested a batch of rocks, and we saw the sign notifying us that the campsite at Kinsman Pond was coming up. Excellent. A bit more ascending, a bit more, a bit more ... and then we saw the caretakers white tent through the trees. Score.

We circled through the tent platform sites: no dice. They were all taken. This was particularly disheartening since both I and my trail amigo were carrying tents. We headed to the hut, claimed a spot, and rolled out our sleeping pads and bags.

Fired up the stove, made dinner, fed Sierra, filtered some water. And about this time, the real storm rolled in. It was quick (maybe 30 minutes) but it did include the following: thunder, lightning, torrential rain (as in, buckets), and some hail to top it all off. Ha, hail. Awesome, especially because I was in a dry shelter. [A note about this shelter: Rebuilt in 2007, this shelter is quite nice. Large doorway, elevated and floor sleeping areas. Pegs for drying gear. Not a lick of "carvings" in the wood. Let's keep it that way, eh? I recommend making the trip and checking it out.]  

Some late arrivals showed up soaked to the bone. Plenty of room in the shelter. The hut slept 8 (plus 2 dogs) comfortably. My trail amigo and I sipped some adult potables, traded stories, and called it a night.  Evening temps were a balmy 48 degrees, but it was actually really nice. I'll take that over the warmth of black fly season any day.

Sleeping was not so great. Sierra thought we should get up at 3:00 am. Bad dog. I held her still until other started to stir. We rolled up of our sleeping pads, ate some oatmeal, fed Sierra, packed up, and headed down. This time, we were headed down Kinsman Trail Pond on the south side of the pond. Now, this trail is more of a brook than a trail. Imagine boulders varying in sizes: the size of a computer printer ... to, say, the size of your average Honda Civic. This continued for what felt like an inordinately long time. Ultimately, this section of the trail we were doing was only 2.5 miles. Those slippery, wet, slime covered rocks made it feel like much longer. Somewhere after all the rocks, we were to forge a steam. I made a misstep and landed hip deep in refreshingly cool mountain water. Boots, socks, shorts ...  totally water logged. Meh, that's hiking!

We eventually converged with Cascade Brook Trail. Here, we took a left and ascended back up to Lonesome Lake Hut. This was only .8 miles, but again, a fair amount of rock hopping. We arrived at the hut. My trail amigo refilled his water, and I sat by the lake staring at Franconia Ridge bathed in 9 am sunlight. Then I laid down, pondering the quiet of the blue sky. A swim. Why not? I tied off Sierra, my trail amigo offered me his towel, and I dove in to Lonesome Lake. A invigorating dip after a sweaty morning. I got out and the wind coming across the lake wailed to life. I crouched behind my pack, blotting the wet spots where I could feel the chill the most. After changing and getting some food and water, we headed back towards the trail we came up and descended.

I cleaned Sierra's feet in the accompanying brook near the trail head [so much mud on her], got in the car, and coasted home.

This trip was a true pleasure, given what the forecast had me believing it may be like.
See you out there!

Pictures [didn't have the camera, so I used Google Images to give you an idea of what it was like. I do not own these photos.]: 

1) Rough map of the area we hiked.
2) View across Lonesome Lake [background is Franconia Ridge]. Stunning, I know.
3) "The steps" on Fishin' Jimmy Trail
4) Kinsman Pond Hut
5) Kinsman Pond