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A short and sparkly hike January 22, 2009

Posted by Jenny in hiking, nature, White Mountains.
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Champney Falls

Champney Falls

Since I was going solo midweek and after a lot of new snow, I decided to do a short, easy hike.  Chocorua via the Champney Falls Trail seemed like just the ticket.  As it turned out, I didn’t even make it all the way to the summit of Chocorua.  But it was not a waste of time.

I was late getting started (to be honest, I rolled over and went back to sleep when the alarm went off), but I finally galvanized myself for action and eventually set foot on the trail around 10:30.  The temperature was around 8 degrees.  The first thing I noticed along the trail was that the snow was extraordinarily sparkly.  Snow in sunshine always sparkles, but there was something different about this.  My theory is that each “snow event” (as meteorologists would say) has a different type of snow crystal, depending on moisture and temperature and wind and all kinds of other obscure meteorological determinants.  These snow crystals seemed rather large and very sharp-edged, so that the broad sharply defined face of the crystal really caught the light.  At any rate, it was like walking between heaps of twinkling diamonds.

Not far up the trail I came across a rather endearing frost creature that I wish I could have taken home with me.  It had such beautiful fern-shaped crystals.  Then I got to the Champney Falls loop trail and dropped down to wander around the falls and the titanic icicles.  After I viewed the falls, the first serious hiking challenge of the day presented itself.  Getting back up to the trail involved quite a bit of floundering to get past a steep bit with ice underneath the snow, but I didn’t feel like stopping to put on my crampons or microspikes just to get up a short stretch.  Eventually I heaved myself past the difficult bit and got back onto the main trail.

The "Frost Tribble"

The "Frost Tribble"

I’d been bare-booting up to this point, but I could see the traffic had been much lighter above the falls, so I put on my snowshoes.  My guess is that one person had gone up the trail on Sunday or Monday, and that there hadn’t been a whole lot of traffic in the past week. There was about 6-8 inches of new snow over the most recent tracks, and the trail seemed a bit too much on the fluffy side—not really what you want in a trail.   “Just keep trudging, and you’ll get to the top,” I told myself.

After a while of doing this—it was fairly hard work—I thought, “Maybe I’ll just go up to Middle Sister instead of up Chocorua.”  I could see both of the ledgy summits above me, shining in the sun.  After all, I had been up Chocorua many times, most recently just a few months ago.

But when I got to the Middle Sister cutoff, it showed no signs of having been used any time this winter.  I felt lazy.  I decided to keep going up to what I remembered as a ledgy open outlook.  That was at the main junction with the Middle Sister Trail.  I could see Middle Sister seemingly just a stone’s throw away, over a (once again) unbroken trail.  I stopped and had lunch.

Feeling singularly unambitious, I then proceeded back down the mountain.  I think I needed someone along with me to egg me along.  It was just one of those days when I wasn’t fired up with a “go get ’em” mentality.  I continued down past the Champney Falls loop trail, noticing that the trail felt like a sidewalk below the loop compared with conditions above.  Eventually I got to the steep little esker covered with hemlocks where the trail climbs up to get out of the narrow stream valley.  The trees seemed very beautiful in the afternoon sun.  Hemlocks were my Dad’s favorite tree, and I often think of him when I am in a hemlock forest.  I stopped and just absorbed my surroundings for a few moments, and I felt that I was communing with Dad, who departed eight years ago.  I don’t believe in an afterlife, but I believe that people continue to live on in our memories about them.100_0670

So I continued down the trail.  The sun angle had changed, and all the sparkling crystals had gone to sleep.  I ended up quite satisfied with my hike, despite its unambitious nature.

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Comments»

1. Susan Evenden - January 22, 2009

Beautifully described.

Some days are meant to be absorbed slowly, being “egged” on could have distracted you from communing.

2. Jenny - January 23, 2009

Thank you. Maybe I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t have to prove something to myself every single time I go into the mountains…

3. Laurence Hunt - January 23, 2009

The notion of a “summit” implies that hiking is a goal-directed activity. However, if you consider it an “outing,” then you’re just walking – or trudging – for as long as you feel like doing so. As a runner, I sometimes have a clear objective as to how far I am going to go. And sometimes I just run decide where I am going as I go. You could certainly frame this one as a photographic expedition!

4. Peter Bennett - January 24, 2009

I think Mom and Dad were more into the ‘just being out in nature’ walks than anything goal oriented. This hike sounds like it was more their kind of outing.

We have a rather large male Golden Retriever (Guin’s dog, but she is in South America now) who is 18 months old and full of energy. I have become the unofficial dog walker. Every day I take him out in the fields behind our house following the same route more or less every time. Some people might consider it boring to do the same walk every day, but I enjoy each walk because I focus on being in the here and now. I am more apt to see subtle differences in the conditions and I can appreciate being outdoors.

5. Jenny - January 24, 2009

Dad was more of the aficionado of trees, and Mom had a special way of seeing details in nature. She was able to see shapes and textures and patterns in almost an abstract way. I owe a lot to her, and I will be writing about her and our family’s “walks in the woods” in future posts.

By going for a walk in the same place every day, you get to see how things change through the seasons. That’s always interesting!


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