A Day in the Whites: The Bonds to Ethan Pond

This post will describe one extraordinary day in early October. It takes place during the time that I cover in Diverse 360° Views of the Whites. Guyot Shelter, above, was a great place to spend the night. The Appalachian Mountain Club had managed to place a shelter, tent platforms, and a bear box on the steep, forested slope of Mt. Bond. It was as protected as an open, uninsulated structure can be: the fourth side, usually left open, was mostly closed in except for a large door-sized opening, and a ceiling over the porch added additional shelter and luxury. We had it to ourselves, and took advantage of the railings to dry out everything–tent, sleeping sacks, sleeping bags, sleeping mats–that had gotten vaguely damp in the two days of fog. Essentially, we had our own mountain cabin for the night. We wanted to see the sunrise from the summit of Mt. Bond, 0.7 miles from the shelter. We rose in the dark and charged up the mountain in the purple pre-dawn light, seeing shafts of orange starting to spread across the sky, hoping to get there in time. We reached the summit–an open, rocky top with unimpeded 360° view of the Pemigewasset Wilderness–just as the sun was starting to show over the horizon. It was an unusually clear morning. Even the Presidential Range, with Mt. Washington at its center, lacked its usual cap of clouds. The valleys were filled with ethereal threads of fog, but we were in the peaks rising above them.

The Presidentials. Mt. Washington is the highest peak in this photo.

Diverse 360° Views of the Whites

Early October.

When we left Jeff and Martha’s to hike up to the Franconia Ridge, we knew that we were taking some chances with the weather. Franconia Ridge is a knife-like piece of trail that is almost entirely above treeline, affording fabulous views to both sides during good weather. However, it’s quite common to have sunny weather in the valleys with some clouds sitting on the mountains. We’d heard some mixed weather reports for the day that we were planning to be on Franconia Ridge, but decided to go along with it anyway. The night before, we stayed at a campsite unlike any other we’d seen, but very typical for the Whites: tent platforms, a designated eating area away from the tent platforms, and a strong metal box for food storage, all to reduce travel impact and remedy the effects of careless hikers leaving food around, which had led to aggressive bear visits at that site. (We didn’t see any bears–it was working.) We ate dinner with a European couple about our age, Wendelin and Cécile, swapping travel stories as we watched the fog roll in.

On the way up there, we saw some more spectacular moss and lichen–New Hampshire and Vermont were taking the prize for world-class rock flora on the trail so far.

Entering the Whites

We weren’t quite in the White Mountains National Forest yet, but we were definitely in the mountains of New Hampshire.

View on the way up Smarts Mountain. I associate this photo very strongly with having an earnest conversation about how dgenna’s startup gear company is going to manufacture its first products.

After we left Bill Ackerly’s house, we started a beautiful, unexpectedly punishing late afternoon hike up Smarts Mountain. The path went up and up and up, pretty gradually, until it stopped and just went hand-over-hand straight up up for the last half mile or so. As we panted for breath, we couldn’t help but notice the gorgeous evening light on the rocks and trees, although we admired it with enjoyment and anxiety–soon it would not only be incredibly steep, but incredibly steep and also dark. We pushed, and the sun set about a minute before we reached the top.

The Whites have the most epic rock work on the trail. And there is some stiff competition.

Smarts Mountain wasn’t done with us yet, though. Come for the evening scenery, stay for…