North Kinsman (4,293') and South Kinsman (4,358')

The stars aligned; for the first time in years, I finally made it back up to New England during peak foliage weekend and getting to experience it in the White Mountains of New Hampshire was just the icing (foreshadowing?) on the cake!

As the days grew shorter, my partner and I drove up to my mom’s under the Friday moonlight. Getting in around 11 pm, we went straight to bed anticipating a 4 am alarm and just over a 2 hour drive in to Franconia, NH. I had a Snickers bar and a 5 Hour Energy in the car - breakfast of champions, am I right? - once again traversing across state lines in the cover of darkness. When the light finally broke as we crossed over the Connecticut River, the world awoke with it in vibrant fall colors. Fire reds, golden yellows, and warm oranges swept over the valley surrounding the Kanc and Highway 116. Saturday’s forecast called for no rain…and lots of leaf-peeping tourists along I-93, so we opted to avoid a dismal parking situation and tackle the Kinsmans from the quieter western side via the slightly longer Mt. Kinsman Trail.

Starting around 7:45 am, the first two miles shared with an old logging road were very gentle. At mile 2.1, you meet up with the spur to Bald Peak which has some nice views - we passed on this as we were on a bit of a time crunch. Continuing on, the typical rock scrambles of the Whites came out to play. I was surprised how cold it got, and how quickly. I tend to start hiking cold, knowing that once I get moving I won’t need the extra layers so I can avoid stopping to take layers off. The air was incredibly damp from the rain the area experienced in the week prior, so between that and the physical activity, my base and mid-layers condensed with sweat quickly. Time to invest in a marino wool base-layer set. Thankfully, my puffy helped immensely, though I was hoping to not need it until we got to the ridge.

After another 1.6 mi of climbing, the Mt. Kinsman trail joins the Kinsman Ridge Trail (a section of the Appalachian trail) to hit both summits. There’s a nice overlook at this intersection - we stopped for a snack and to snap a few pictures then continued on 0.2 mi of full-body climbing to the North summit. Here, the 180° view point ledge was crowded with hikers coming up the east side from Franconia Notch. There was snow on summits of Flume, Liberty, Lincoln, and Lafayette of the famed Franconia Ridge putting the ‘white’ in White Mountains. Even the trees atop Kinsman Mountain were sporting a throwback hairstyle of frosted tips. My partner decided to turn back complaining of knee pain, so I tossed him the keys to the truck and we parted ways for the time being. Almost immediately after, a young woman with her dog asked if I’d like to finish the hike with her and I was happy to oblige! I love making friends in the mountains - it’s one of my favorite things about this community.

We chatted the whole way to the slightly taller South summit and back where we were met with even more bright white alpine vegetation, adding 1.8 mi to the trip. The clouds had moved by the time we got back to North Kinsman so we were able to enjoy more views - and for me, a summit beer and summit burrito I’d packed out. It looked to be autumn and winter at the same time. Unfortunately, they had come up from the I-93 side so we said goodbye for now after exchanging phone numbers to plan more hikes in the future. The downhill was pretty quick, especially once I’d passed Bald Peak, the logging roads serving as a nice cool down after a few hours of tough climbing. Overall, an absolutely gorgeous day - it’s trips like these that make me wish I didn’t live 7 hours away from this magical place!

NH 13 and 14/48
New England 18 and 19/67
New England 23 and 24/100 Highest
Northeast 20 and 21/115

Mount Moosilauke (4,802')

Our first trip of back to back hiking to make the most of the drive didn’t come without any concerns. I was strategic in my planning and chose a second hike that would hopefully not cause our legs to fall off from sheer exhaustion after the 9-ish miles yesterday and I believe I picked the right one. My partner was never a huge hiker, but has always been supportive of my goal (although insignificant to him) so the fact that this became his favorite mountain we’ve hiked felt even more justified.

The day didn’t look particularly inviting for a scenic summit, I seem to attract the clouds, but the iconic sign atop ‘The Moose’ and perhaps even more iconic propensity for poor weather seemed fitting for our first trip up. We ascended via the Gorge Brook trail, the roaring water serving as a sort of calming soundscape. For what we’d accomplished yesterday, we were moving fairly quickly, though the trail was quite forgiving with only a few high-grade steep portions towards the top. For the most part, we fell silent and took in all the sights and sounds of the forest. As far as the White Mountain four thousand footers go, though well-traveled, Moosilauke stands alone in its own remote section of the Whites. My partner has a better phone camera than I do, so I played around in portrait mode capturing the quiet things that no one ever really knows are there. Moss, lichen, and spiderwebs coated the trees like lace; they gripped onto water droplets from the misty morning air.

Entering the alpine zone I was met with the most refreshing, delectable smell I lack the words to describe. Zippy evergreen pine; sweet, sticky syrup; the earthy decay of the forest floor - I wish I could have collected it in a jar and made it into a candle I could burn for the rest of my days. It had been quite some time since I’d been on a truly bald summit, trodding over rock piles through the haze. At the summit sign, I popped open an appropriately named Cloud Walker IPA and exchanged some pleasantries with a few AT thru-hikers gearing up for the Whites.

The descent was equally peaceful, despite the breeze growing stronger, whispering through the alpine grasses. Ferns and branches billowed in the wind, needles cascaded to the forest floor. It was pure sensory satisfaction today in every detail and it’s pretty incredible to think that Mama Nature made it all herself. I understand the appeal of the White Mountains; the polarity of the woods wrapping its coniferous arms around you versus the barren but beautiful ‘Life on Mars’-esque nature of the open summit. Nonetheless, I felt so at home. As we crossed the bridge back to the Ravine Lodge, I wondered if perhaps in another life I had been there before. Perhaps, I was just there to visit an old friend.

NH 3/48
New England 8/67
New England 9/100 Highest
Northeast 9/115