We’re on the Ammonoosuk trail following the river of the same name to its source at Mt. Washington’s Lakes of the Clouds, 5000’ above sea level. At 2,800’, the trailhead has the jump on most routes up the mountain. Summer hikers pass numerous waterfalls, cascades, and pools; all considered hazards along a waterway that is used as a ski route winter and spring. Ammonoosuk is Abenaki for “fishing place”. In the 1820s, the legendary Mt. Washington guide and innkeeper Ethan Allen Crawford reportedly took six to seven hundred pounds of fish per year out of some of the lower pools; four to five pound square-tails and ten pound salmon.
The trail is still snow-covered, hardened by human traffic and a deep freeze last night. On the steeper sections, it gets slippery as deer guts on a doorknob. There’s water ice in places. The breakdown lane is pretty much off limits, full of crotch-deep traps where rotten snow gives way underfoot. At the Gem Pool (open early this year for swimming), the trail shoots up about 900' in a half - mile. Steep! Here, climbing skins are folded up and put away, we’re driving our toes into the slope, and nobody’s suggesting it might be fun coming down this way. We abide in the hope that the snow will soften everywhere today. Phil assured us it would.
Soft snow means melting snow. By 5 PM today, peak flow on the Ammonoosuk down-river at the Bethlehem gauging station will be about 500 CFS, about fives times what is normal for this time of year. During the thaw over the next 5 days, it’ll run at 1,000 CFS every day, but the river will stay well below flood level. The lower Ammonoosuk was running at 9,000 CFS on August 28, 2011 when tropical storm Irene came through. Paddlers love snowmelt and this moderate runoff poses no threat to the downstream communities of Littleton, Lisbon, Bath, and Woodsville, towns that saw more than their share of flooding with Irene.
In less than 2 miles, our views begin to open up as the trail breaks out of the evergreens. Looking northwest, an undercast blankets the valley and above us it’s brilliant sun on snow.
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| Phil Ostroski photo |
Phil has a mountaineer’s tanned, ruddy complexion highlighted by his recent trip to Alaska and Montana. Less swarthy, Rick and I dwell under fluorescent tubes in an office and a classroom. All of us are packing sunblock, having raised six fair-haired children in this post-tanning butter era. Ten minutes is the normal, safe exposure time to sun without protection. Reduce that to three-and-a half minutes to account for elevation and the intensifying effect of sun reflecting off snow; just barely enough time to smear sun cream around sunglasses and shirt collars. Today’s SPF of 30 will give us 105 minutes of carefree exposure to what may be possibly the most broad spectrum drug available.
For me, sunshine is the best legal mood elevator I can get without a prescription. Add in the endorphins released during an entire day of physical overload, and there’s no better antidote to a week at work.
chapter 7: It's the Tundra, Man
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