Conditions were fair-to-good for hiking on the exposed Franconia Ridge: High clouds, intermittent sun, a gusty wind that wasn’t quite enough to stave off the pesky flies that feasted upon us whenever we entered the Alpine Zone. We made it to Mount Liberty less than an hour later.
It’s been exactly 4 years since we first ascended Mounts Lincoln and Lafayette on the otherworldly Franconia Ridge Trail. The allure of peak-bagging distracted us, but we always yearned to return to Lafayette, which is perhaps the most popular tourist hike in the White Mountains owing to its gothic rock formations, expansive views, and convenient access off of I-93.
We summited Lafayette at around 5:30pm and then descended 1 mile to the AMC Greenleaf Hut. Because the hut is in self-service mode in May, dinner was already in full-swing, with guests loitering around the kitchen waiting for their pasta to cook. We claimed our bunks, wiped down our salty bodies, then dug out our stash of pastis and almonds for aperitif before the kitchen freed up around 7pm.
I have never experienced sleep in anything more than fits and starts at any of the AMC huts, but that night at Greenleaf was by far the worst. A quartet of Quebecois stayed up until11pm playing cards, drinking Baileys, and ignoring the pleas of the hut caretaker to be quiet. They stumbled into the bunkroom and promptly fell into drunken, nasal slumber while I tossed and turned. I know that I must have slept for at least a minute because I had a bizarre dream involving me interviewing old people at an ice cream parlor. They were eating a flavor called “Cat’s Meow,” and I asked what was in it. “Crushed gumdrops,” I was told. I woke up desperately wanting ice cream, but choked down a Cliff Bar instead. I needed carbs for the toughest part of the day: the morning 1-mile hike back up to Mount Lafayette.
After Mt Garfield, it was all downhill. Thank goodness.
We trekked down into the Pemigawasset Wilderness and cruised along the mostly-flat 8 mile trail back to the car at Lincoln Woods. Along the way, we stopped at the Thirteen Falls area for lunch. Mr. P tried to go swimming, but the frigid mountain water precluded any body part above the knees.
We reached the car at 4:30pm, tired, relieved, slightly dehydrated. On the way to the highway, we stopped for ice cream. Normally I would eschew ice cream, but my body demanded fuel, and last night’s dream of Cat’s Meow ice cream prompted me to order a vanilla soft-serve. It tasted fantastic. We sat in the fresh ice cream parlor, smelly and itchy and dirty, licking our spoons, enjoying a moment of post-hiking Zen.
