Franconia Ridge Traverse

Before

Once I set my mind on completing the White Mountain 4,000 Footer list, I thought maybe I should start with the smallest mountain - Mt. Tecumseh, 4,003 feet, still 837 feet higher than Mt. Monadnock, the highest mountain I had climbed in years. My line of thought somehow warped into choosing the sixth highest mountain in the state, the highest outside of the Presidential Range - Mt. Lafayette. I had heard good things (and later I would hear some bad things), but 5,260 feet of elevation had me worried. So, I recruited my friend Court who willingly obliged to a day-long excursion. He offered to be my hiking buddy a few weeks ago, and I was stupidly excited since he hiked a huge chunk of the AT ("I must not be THAT hopeless after all!"). I have been enjoying learning things on my own, sometimes the hard way, but I knew I could use the guidance of a more experience hiker. Plus, it would be a great way for me to get to know the guy who's been dating one of my best friends (and Facebook wife) for so long.

So, I chose Mt. Lafayette. My research turned up that it would be about a 8 mile trip up and down, or an 8.9 mile trip for the loop. I immediately started doubting my abilities. The loop consists of three mountains (though I somehow forgot this the day of... read on); the 4,800 foot Little Haystack Mountain, the 5,089 foot Mt. Lincoln, and the 5,260 ft Mt. Lafayette. To do all three is to complete the Franconia Ridge Trail, which links up to several other trails and the Greenleaf Hut along the way. My doubt started to grow as we worked out the logistics, but Court reassured that I would be fine. My NH hiking guide rated the views as a 5/5, and the difficulty as a 10/10. Oh, crap. I felt a little better that Mt. Monadnock had the same rating. But... a mountain 2,094 feet higher than the biggest mountain I've hiked in recent memory? Even more troubling: the elevation gain of Mt. Monadnock is around 2,094 feet whereas this trail was almost 4,000 feet of elevation gain. Even MORE troubling: the site I was using for reference estimated the total time would be 6.25 hours for about 9 miles. I hiked almost 17 miles in 7 hours on the Wapack Trail. In short, I knew I was in for a challenge. 

The night before I'm doing something important or exciting (first day of work, waking up for a flight, etc.) I always have a stress dream. This was no different. I was supposed to be up at 6am, and in my dream I slept until 9:30, Court was calling me to see why I had blown him off, and there was 6 inches of slush on the ground in July. "I'm so sorry, I slept in! It's supposed to be 90 degrees today, maybe the slush will melt!" None of those things happened. I was up before my alarm and we left our neck of the woods at 7:00. It's about an hour and a half drive to the White Mountains region, and after a few minutes of confusion over where the trail head was we parked among a sea of cars and prepared to set off. On the drive up we decided to change our plans from hiking up Old Bridle Path (the most direct) to taking Falling Waters Trail, a friend had suggested the Falling Waters Trail since it had, believe it or not, some lovely falling water and was less steep than Old Bridle.


During

Along the Falling Waters Trail

Hours 0 - 2: We hastily set off to avoid being stuck with a group of about 15-20 people that were converging at the trail head. No thanks. The Falling Waters Trail did not disappoint! There were some sections of high, fast moving water, but I only had a fully submerged boot once. I was carrying a ridiculously large expedition pack provided by my step dad that shifted around a little bit when I was jumping, which did not make for the most graceful leaps. My waterproof boots held up, though. It was hot and humid, and though hiking along the water provided some cool breezes we were thankful for some ice cold, crystal clear mountain water. I hesitated for a moment, envisioning myself bent over vomiting from some bacteria, but my fears were eased when I saw how clear the water was. A water fall coming out of the side of a mountain is about as safe as you can get. My mom still wasn't too happy with that, but I'm here, right?

Trail, or rock climb?

This trail was quite unforgiving, with very few stretches of flat ground and plenty of places to face plant. I wanted to keep a decent pace to prove to myself that I could do it, but also to make sure we were making good time. I'm proud to say that I did quite well! It was not without a lot of sweating and feeling like I wanted to vomit at some points. The trail is riddled with rocks and roots, so almost every step had to carefully placed. We stopped twice, once for a water break / my inability to breathe, and once so I could wrap my knee, which was starting to feel particularly wobbly. Did I mention that I strained something in my knee about a week ago? No? Well I did, and it was feeling particularly unsettled all week. Not very reassuring when you're going to be stepping over uneven rocks for 6 hours. Just before our second pit stop I said to myself "Oh, Molly, you will never hike the AT because this is miserable and why do you want to do this to yourself?" Then I ate a Chewy bar and Gatorade "energy chew" that my parents bought me for my birthday, and I suddenly felt much better. It's amazing what a little gooey square of pure corn syrup will do for morale. We finally started to see some viewpoints when we were almost at the summit (though we didn't know that), and were able to look back onto "'The Old Man In The Mountain' Mountain (RIP)", as I call it, or Cannon Mountain, as most other people call it.

Hours 2 - 4: We popped out to the summit just about 2 hours after setting out. As I mentioned before, I somehow forgot that we were going to Little Haystack Mountain and not Mt. Lincoln. In my head I had planned to do the loop in the other direction, meaning Mt. Lafayette first, and it just slipped my mind that it was three mountains and not two. I quickly realized my mistake when I saw a marker that said "Mt. Lincoln" with an arrow pointing left. I quietly cursed myself as I looked over to Mt. Lincoln, realizing that we had two more "uphill" stretches instead of one. A double-decker PB&J, Dorito's, and astounding views quickly reset my woes, though I had almost zero appetite.

View from the Summit of Little Haystack Mountain (stolen from Court)

Headed towards Mt. Lincoln

Cameras rarely do justice to what you see with your eyes, but the photo I stole from Court's much-nicer-camera comes close. We spent about 20 or 30 minutes at the summit of Little Haystack before heading towards Mt. Lincoln. The trail, though still quite rocky in some areas, was a nice change from the ascent. The rock-lined path across the ridge was easy to navigate and provided amazing views the entire way. We frequently stopped to take in our surroundings, or to await a traffic jam to clear. The path narrows significantly when it enters the trees, so it really only allows for one-way traffic. The ridge walk is almost completely exposed, and it's obvious to see how the weather could change drastically and conditions could become dangerous very quickly. Luckily, we had a mostly clear day (it was a little hazy), and we were thankful for some cloud cover so the sun wasn't beating down on us the whole time.

Looking towards Mt. Lafayette

Linking up the AT

We stopped only briefly at Mt. Lincoln, mainly so I could take my typical "here's my feet relaxing with a nice view" photo, but also because the biggest mountain, Mt. Lafayette, was next. The Franconia Ridge Trail is part of the AT, and I smiled when I saw the white blazes I knew were part of the AT. Huzzah! I started secretly hoping we would meet a thruhiker. 

Success!!

About 2 miles after we left the summit of Little Haystack Mountain we arrived at the summit of Mt. Lafayette. It was crowded and a little noisier than I would have liked, but it was incredible nonetheless. Trees looked like toothpicks, cars were just little blobs of color, even the highway looked majestic. How often can you say nice things about 93? Reaching the third summit of the day was a great feeling, but the impending blisters I was feeling were not. I didn't bother to take off my boots, but I was silently rooting for the liners I purchased from REI to do their job. Basically, the idea is that the thin, form-fitting sock liner prevents blisters by creating a sock-on-sock instead of sock-on-skin situation. My hopes were being dashed as I felt the "hot spots" forming in the usual areas, but I was distracted by a particularly rugged-looking hiker reaching the summit and yelling "Okay, who brought the beer?!"

Looking back to Mt. Lincoln (stolen from Court)

We soaked up the view for a few more minutes before beginning our descent. I realized Court wasn't directly behind me, and when I turned I heard him ask the "where's-the-beer" guy if he was a thruhiker, and he was (afterwards Court told me "that was the thruhiker smell"). My silent hopes of running into a thruhiker were answered! He was particularly cheerful and eager to chat with us for a few minutes. I asked him why he was carrying a beat-up hockey stick with him, and he said his trail name was Puck. Fair enough. He was hiking North - South and had started in Maine 42 days ago. I offered up my uneaten Snicker's, which he humbly accepted after saying "oh... oh man... only if you're willing to part with it". As I was handing it to him, "blue-shirt-man" (nicknamed so because he was wearing a blue shirt) popped out behind us and offered him a pear. We wished him well and started our descent.

Heading to the Greenleaf Hut (small, but visible!)

Hours 4 - 6ish: The first mile or so was very rocky (seems to be the theme, right?), and crowded at times. Every step had to be carefully placed, which was true for almost the entire trail, to avoid becoming a tangle of flailing limbs. My knees were a tad wobbly, my ankles were starting to ache with each step, my quads were getting a decent workout, but I kept up a decent pace. We re-entered the woods where the trail slimmed down to one-way traffic again, and just under 2 miles after the summit we reached the Greenleaf Hut. But, oh, I left out a lovely squander of mine. There's a small lake next to the Greenleaf Hut, and the trail runs adjacent to a muddy section next to the lake. I went first, jumped from one rock to the next, and then thought I was close enough to effortlessly leap to over the last bit of mud to solid ground. Well, I underestimated my ability to jump from a standstill on a rock with an awkwardly large pack on my back. My left foot plunged into the mud up to my sock line, luckily I was able to rip it out before it went any deeper. Court laughed at me as I whacked the mud off on a rock. Thankfully my waterproof boots held up and no mud got through. I immediately praised myself for purchasing gaiters with the liners the day before, otherwise I would have certainly had a boot full of mud. The Greenleaf Hut was overrun with kids, but at least it had a bathroom for those of us without outdoor plumbing. I'm not against dropping trow in the woods, but I'd rather not if there's an option.

Looking back at Mt. Lafayette (left) and Mt. Lincoln (right)

A four mile descent down Old Bridle Path seemed much longer than that, because as I mentioned before I had to really pay attention to each step. I could feel myself getting tired but I knew that if I let my guard down it could end poorly. I was very thankful for my "hiking poles" (free ski poles from the dump) and every stretch of level ground. There were a few times that I crab-crawled down some rocks, because I figured I might as well be on my ass voluntarily rather than waiting for an ill-placed step to do it for me. Thankfully I didn't have any major qualms, but I did get two decent scrapes, one on each leg, from rubbing against a rock. I made a mental note to invest in the convertible pants I had been eyeing during my clothing training at work. Pants are abrasion resistant, my skin is not.

Can you tell which foot went in the mud?

The sound of water confirmed we had linked back up to the Falling Waters Trail, meaning the loop was complete! A short .2 mile walk on mostly level ground took us to the trail head and completed our journey. We walked under the highway and back to our car, where we saw two men trying to fish something out of their car window with their trekking poles. We assumed they had locked their keys in the car, but a few minutes later they told us their father had the keys and was on his way, they just wanted to get the beer that was inside. Fair enough. I peeled off my muddy boots, gaiters, and socks, and cringed awaiting my blister-riddled fate. But alas, the liners did their job and I was blister free! Best $6 (even less with my discount) I've spent. As we were packing up the car, blue-shirt-man, the one that gave Puck a pear, approached us asking for a ride back to a trail head 3 miles down the road. He thanked us several times, saying he didn't want to have to walk three miles after having done 10 miles of hiking. I thought back to the day I completed the last stretch of the Wapack, then had to walk 5.5 hilly miles to my car. I feel ya, bro, I feel ya.

After

The car ride home was quiet, mostly due to how exhausted we were. Sometimes silence can be awkward, especially with someone who haven't hung out with a lot, but the mutual understanding of how tired we were was enough to squash any need to make small talk. I noticed that I still had no appetite, but I made myself eat some jerky anyway. No appetite... but a beer wouldn't be so bad. I stopped at the store on the way home to get myself a celebratory beer. Later I would eat an amazing meal prepared by my mom and then venture out for a root beer float. Hiking is amazing for anyone who watches their calories. I burned around 3,200 calories, and I couldn't eat/drink enough to replace all of that.

I spent yesterday exhausted despite sleeping for 11 hours. I sat at a family friend's kids birthday party slumped in a chair, unable to finish a beer. I did put away three slices of pizza like a champ, though. My shoulders, back, and quads ached. I was doing well right after the hike, but the day after it seemed like every time I sat down it was harder to get up. Thankfully I'm feeling better today, and the only evidence of the trip are a few nasty bug bites and the scrapes on my legs. And some great pictures, obviously.

Overall, this was an A++ trip. The views were unbeatable, it was challenging yet rewarding, and I was able to check two mountains off my 4,000 list. Little Haystack Mountain is not on the list despite being over 4,000 feet; to be on the list a peak must rise 200 feet above any ridge connecting it to a higher neighbor (this disqualifies Little Haystack). I know I'm up for the challenge of the other 5,000 footers on the list, and hopefully the 6,288 foot Mt. Washington!

4,000 Footer Club

I get comfortable with routine. I have found myself getting "stuck" with climbing the same few mountains over and over, same trail every time. I am perfectly happy doing that, but one of the big reasons I got back into hiking was to push myself out of comfort zone. Why do I need to push myself out of my comfort zone? Well, I write this sitting behind the computer I stare at for hours a week, alone in a room. I'm bored. Though I'm not AS bored anymore, because I got a second job at REI (WOOOOP WOOOOOOOOOOOOP!). It's retail, yes, but the people I work with are awesome and from what I've heard most of the customers are great as well. The discount doesn't hurt, either. I'm excited to be surrounded by like-minded people, and to learn more about the outdoors than I could have hoped for at a job.

Anyway, I felt that I needed to start pushing my boundaries past the usual three or four hikes I've been doing in my neck of the woods. I love you, Monadnocks, but I need to meet some new mountains, too. I had heard several people talk about the 4,000 footer club, so I decided to look into it.

The AMC 4,000 Footer Club  was formed in 1957 in an effort to get hikers to explore new mountains in the Whites. Perfect! Not only does it get people out to mountains they may not have hiked, it helps the AMC stay updated on the conditions of the White Mountain region. There are three lists that the club recognizes, and I chose to go with White Mountain 4,000 Footers. I figured this would be the most practical for me, as it's much more time consuming to travel to areas in Vermont and Maine than it is New Hampshire. Plus, I've never really had a great experience in Maine... totally unrelated to hiking but still damaging nonetheless.

I'm excited to get started on this list, though I know it'll be a marathon and not a sprint. Balancing two jobs will make it somewhat difficult to get enough time off to get up to that region, but hopefully I can knock off a few before the summers over!

$50 Sock Update

Good news! Compression socks aren't all bad!

And more importantly, I didn't spend $50 on socks for nothin'.

I believe my main problem was not warming up properly. The second time I used them I biked to the gym from my house. It was just over a 2 mile ride, so nothing too strenuous but just enough to loosen up my muscles. I stretched when I got the gym, then hopped on the treadmill anxiously awaiting the fate of my decision to keep $50 socks. My endurance wasn't great, but I didn't get my dead legs! I've had the same results every time I've used them since.

Three cheers for not having to return things.

Diet Fail

Three days past my deadline of "stop eating and start moving", and I am already failing. Why? Well, here are my excuses.

1. I am terrible at diets.

Or beer.

I'm always someone that says "never go on a diet! You're setting yourself up to fail! Just work on making healthier choices every day!" Then, not long after that, I do not heed my own advice and I do the exact opposite. And I fail.

I try to make healthy choices, but I tend to go through phases. I'll eat really well and exercise a lot for a few weeks, then I'll fall off the wagon and be an obese sloth for a bit. That could be an exaggeration. Making the switch to a healthier lifestyle (like, 90% healthy eating) has been difficult for me... but, who isn't it difficult for? Plus, once I "fall off the wagon" I tend to just throw caution to the wind and shove all of the food down my gullet. "Well, I already failed so why not FAIL HARDER?!"

Dreams really do come true.

2. It is summer.
And all I want to do is float in my raft, the USS Awesomesauce, with some sort of alcoholic beverage in the cup holder. I want to sit next to a lake. I want to sit on a beach. I want to sit in my yard and watch my mom make me giant-ass burgers.

Speaking of giant-ass burgers, not only do I want to sit on my ass next to some body of water but I also want to eat every single typical summer food item possible. It's like I'm coming out of hibernation from what seems like 9 months of New England winter and have finally reached my Utopian paradise filled with fruity drinks, burgers, hot dogs, BBQ, pasta salad, potato salad, lobster, ice cream, margaritas... etc. And I am on a mission to eat all of it. Anyone who has been to King Kone in Merrimack, NH, will know that you must consume as many ice cream cones as you can before summer ends.

Not only am I lazy and preoccupied with shoving my face with summer food, but it has been hot and really fucking humid. I can deal with the heat, no problem. I'm cold unless it's above 85. But the humidity... man. I referred to running through hot clam chowder in my last post, and that weather trend has not let up. Walking to the train in the morning (about 5-7 minutes, downhill) leaves me sweating. Do I have a gym membership? Why, yes, I do. But when I'm sitting in my apartment sweating my ass off just by simply existing the last thing I want to do is pull on some tight spandex and hop on the train to the gym, or, even worse, go outside for a run.

3. I am too focused on the numbers.
I'm up 3 pounds from my average (5 pounds above my lowest), and when people hear me say that they immediately want to punch me in the face. Rightfully so, I suppose. My logical brain knows that three pounds isn't that much (though it's about 2.5% of my body weight), but my illogical brain doesn't like to see the number. My logical brain knows that my BMI and body fat are well within the healthy range, as I had my friend measure me last night, but my illogical brain is still like THREE POUNDS THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SIT ON YOUR ASS. The gain could also be muscle weight. I've been focusing on my upper body  more - I did five REAL pullups, all in a row, last night (oooooooh aaaaaaaaaaah) - and the increase in amount of running/hiking/cycling could definitely build muscle.

Ironically, I tend to ignore the "good" numbers. I started running at the end of January because I was that bored. I didn't really think about how much I would be running, so I picked a random number out of the air and decided "it would be kind of cool if I ran 100 miles in a year". I joined a gym in February, and hit that goal pretty quickly.  I'll recap my "good" numbers in an attempt to make myself feel better about life.

January: 6 miles (I started at the very end of January)
February: 12.23 miles - actually not that bad considering it was like 20 degrees for most of February and I was running outside.
March: 12.25 miles
April: 46.26 miles of running, 1.57 miles of biking
May: 30.1 miles of running
June: 20.33 mile of running, 40.42 mile of biking
** I didn't count hiking miles

So, it's obvious that I've definitely made improvements over the months but even as I was writing I said "damn, I ran HALF as much last month as I did in April." You can see the hotter the month the less I wanted to be inside at the gym or running outside in the humidity.

4. My routine changed.

Drinking on the beach is much more fun than running.

I think April was such a good month for me because I was getting into the swing of things at work, I got through my bout with mono at the end of March, and I had my routine down pat. I was working from 9-2, so I would get out at 2 and go to the gym on my way home. It was a good time frame; not too long after eating that I was starving but not too soon after eating that I was bursting at the seams. My schedule changed for the summer, so now I get out at 4. I was usually starting to get hungry and the gym would fill up with the after-work crowd. I started going home a lot more. I want to park my ass on the beach at every opportunity.

Then my schedule changed even MORE when I got my second job at REI (which I am very, very excited about, but more on that another time). I don't know what my schedule will end up being like, but for the past two days I've come to job # 1 from 11-4, then straight to training sessions until 8:30 or 9. So, either I wake up a few hours earlier and get a workout in or I skip it altogether. I have opted for the latter. The schedule change has meant adjusting my eating schedule, too. I have been hopping around from my apartment, to NH, to friend's places so often that I haven't really gone food shopping in a while, meaning I have no (healthy) food to cook and bring with me to work. Working through lunch and dinner often means eating something small, snacking all day, or waiting until I get home and eating late at night (sooo bad for you).


Well, hopefully once things settle down with my schedule a little more I'll get back into the routine of working out more frequently. If I can find it in myself to stop being a gypsy, or at least being a smarter gypsy, then I can stop eating out all the time and make myself some healthier meals. Let's face it, I'm not reaching my summer goal of hiking Mt. Washington by sitting on my ass eating cupcakes and drinking beer!... that would be nice, though.