Northern Presidential Traverse, Presidential Range (White Mountains), NH

So.... you remember how two days ago, I died at the very end of a Great Range Traverse? And you know how you got done reading about it and thought, "good gracious, I hope she took a few weeks off from hiking after that mess!"

That's what a normal person would do, sure.

But at nine o'clock Sunday morning, Scott and I were at the Appalachia trailhead off Route 2 in Randolph, NH.  After the torturous end to Friday's GRT, we simplified the original plan for this hike, shaving off a whopping three miles by making it an out-and-back instead of having to either spot a car or manage to finish in time to catch the AMC's shuttle bus back to Appalachia.  After all, we didn't want to do too much in a single weekend.

The Skyline trail lures you in...

The hike starts with a three-mile ascent up the Skyline Trail from 1,318' to about 4783' at the top of King's Ravine.  Where hiking in the Great Range was constant plyometrics, this was so far more like a stair-stepper, and Scott and I were both feeling pretty darned chipper as we powered up the slope, eager to get above treeline.











 Wispy clouds created by adiabatic cooling as air is pushed up the ravine give King's Ravine a mystical quality.

Just before reaching the top of the ravine, we shoot off toward Madison Hut, where they're celebrating the Hut's 125th anniversary.

Mt. Madison looking like a pile of broken rubble, looming over his namesake hut.












From the top of King's Ravine, I took a moment to pause and look back at the last 3 miles.  There is definitely something to be said for being above tree line, though I wouldn't want to be up here in severe weather.

Mt. Madison, 5367'

The view from Madison.  There is a rarely clear day in the Presidentials, but even with a bit of haze, the view is truly impressive. This hike sure didn't start with some baby mountain like the Great Range did.









Onward and upward!  After rock-hopping down Madison and back past the Hut, Scott and I continue the scramble up the slope of Adams.  It is truly remarkable that this unconsolidated mess of boulders remains stable enough to clamber over.

Mt. Adams, 5794'

The summit of Mt Adams is a tiny cluster of boulders and both times I've been there has felt rather crowded with 6-8 hikers taking breaks.  At this point, Scott asked if I wanted to stop for lunch or press on.  I opted to head over to the much less crowded Jefferson before pausing for lunch.

Viewing Mt Washington from just above Thunderstorm Jct

Thunderstorm Junction

Alpine tundra

Mt Jefferson Summit, 5,716'

"Why doesn't it look closer?"

Scott is fond of mentioning how much this area looks like Scotland.  I'd agree if there were more sheep grazing around.

Seriously, someone needs to import some mountain goats and sheep to the area.








The cog railway was extremely noisy, though I don't know why that fact surprised me so much. I should have realized just how "touristy" the top of Mt Washington would feel, but it somehow didn't sink in till I was actually there.








This was the first time I ever had to wait in line for a summit picture. Also the first time I had to wait in line behind girls with flip-flops and people with... shall we say physiques not commonly encountered at the top of a mountain?

I think it's great that there are buses and the cog railway and the auto road to bring people to the top of such an amazing peak. If it weren't somehow made easy for the average American to reach the summit of an impressive mountain, I fear there would be no appreciation for mountains in general, and it would be even harder than it already is to conserve these amazing areas.

At the same time, I was disturbed by the whole situation.






The view down Tuckerman's Ravine.

Tip-Top House, restored from the version that burned down. I didn't really look at it very closely because it was mobbed with tourists.







 On the way back down, we nabbed Mt Clay for one last solid view of where we'd just been.

Mt. Clay, 5,533'

The sun was now setting, and the wind was picking up as we wound our way back down between the peaks.  The angle of light revealed the mountains in high relief, and cast the shadow of the entire range across the backdrop of the valley.

Looking down the Great Gulf, Mt Adams in the background

Sunset across the aptly named Castle Ravine

One last look from the top of King's Ravine before it got too dark for my camera to take decent photos.









There was considerably less to actually say about this Traverse than there was about the last one.  There were fewer summits, and the terrain was much more consistent, so I was able to leave most of the talking to the photos.

I will say that when the time came to switch on the headlamps, there were two magical things that happened: First, I discovered that the rocks above King's Ravine and down a good portion of the Skyline Trail are peppered with mica flakes that reflect the light of headlamps in direct competition with the blanket of stars overhead.  Diamonds have nothing on the mica flakes above treeline.

Second, the fear I'd felt just two days before when hiking by headlamp was almost completely gone. I won't try to claim there weren't times when I had to take a firm grasp on my imagination, but it was at least manageable this time.  I even managed to do a little jogging in the last couple of miles, which is saying something.

Oh, and I guess there was a third minor miracle: I didn't reach Death-Con 2 (I know it's a misappropriation of the Military DEFCON state of alert, but it's so fitting I don't want to correct it).