Looking over the Bowl from near the summit of Mount Passaconaway.

The White Mountain National Forest is big. I’m not breaking any new ground here, of course, but it is a huge swath of land – 1225 square miles. All the hiking I’d done before this outing was off one loop – along the Kanc from Conway to Lincoln; from Lincoln up through Franconia Notch; over through Crawford Notch; then back to North Conway. There are all kinds of little towns and trailheads and routes that aren’t on this loop, but I never had a chance to check them out before I planned this trip to knock off two 4000-footers, Mount Whiteface and Mount Passaconaway.

After a late Friday at work I didn’t have the time or inclination to drive to the White Mountains and bushwhack into the woods to camp, so I opted to wake up at 5 a.m. and make a pretty straight shot west to Ossipee Lake, then up to the little hamlets of Tamworth and Wonalancet. I’d never taken this route into the mountains before – usually I go into New Hampshire through Fryeburg – and the new scenery made the hour-and-a-half ride go by quickly.

I headed out from the Ferncroft parking lot at 7 a.m. without another hiker in sight. After a short walk down the road I crossed Squirrel Bridge (with a friendly “Hikers Welcome” sign) and hit the trailhead proper.

The going was pretty quick up to the lower Blueberry Ledges, with gradual elevation gain through the woods. The forecast was for a humid day, but this early the air had yet to heat up and there was a cool fog hanging in the trees. I was treated to some of my first views of the day at the junction with the Blueberry Ledge Cutoff (marked by a large cairn on some exposed ledges), then headed back into the woods.

The next mile or so reminded me a lot of my hike up Mount Liberty a month earlier – a long, steady climb, without so much as a peek out of the woods. I hiked in bursts, chugging water as I rested, making good time and hoping to get onto some higher, open ground before the heat became too oppressive.

Finally I passed the junction with the Tom Wiggin trail, where the trees thinned a bit and the trail hit more ledges. I was wary of this final stretch before the summit – the AMC guide warned that it was some of the most difficult hiking in the Whites. In truth, it wasn’t a stretch of difficult hiking, just one somewhat precarious rock face that needed to be scaled. At one time this 10-20 foot face had ladders – the holes drilled in the stone are still there – but now it’s an exercise in finding handholds and doing a little hand-over-hand climbing. The ledge made me a little nervous about hiking alone, but didn’t provide too much of a challenge.

The awards for getting over this rock face were well worth it – sunny, wide-open ledges with views across the Bowl Natural Research Area to Passaconaway and beyond. It seemed I’d beat the humidity to 4000 feet, so I stopped for a quick breakfast and dried off in the breeze.

Above the ledges it was a quick, easy climb to the wooded proper summit of Whiteface (4020′), marked with a flag.

From the summit, Rollins trail took me on a winding, up-and-down path through the wooded col between Whiteface and Passaconaway. I found myself jogging over the downhill and flatter sections – not much to see here. Occasional twists to the brought me close to the edge of the Bowl, affording wonderful views over the unforested area.

After two miles of easy hiking, I connected with Dicey’s Mill Trail, a north-south straight-shot that runs from the parking area straight up through the Bowl. I crossed a small stream and set out on the 1.5-mile loop over the summit of Passaconaway, a deceptively short trail that quickly gains more than 500 feet in elevation.

The loop joins the Walden Trail for the final ascent, which involves a lot of scrambling – some hand over hand, but no bare rock faces like on Whiteface.

The views are pretty restricted, except for a few openings in the trees, and the true summit (4043′) is completely closed in by trees. There is a great outlook to the west just below the summit, where I stopped for a rest and a liberal dose of trail mix.

The trip down Dicey’s Mill went fast, with the assistance of gravity and more jogging. The trail follows an old logging road, meaning pretty easy, consistent grades. There’s one beautiful stream crossing near the bottom, but nothing much in the way of views or challenges.

The trail crosses some private farmland where the owners have graciously allowed hikers access before joining back up with Ferncroft Road and heading back to the parking lot.

This was my longest hike to date – close to 12 miles – but it allowed me to bag two 4000-footers and check out some parts of Maine and New Hampshire I’d never been to before. With tired feet I climbed in my car and left the (now full) parking lot with plans to return already forming in my head.

Mount Whiteface and Mount Passaconaway Hike Photos on Google+

Summit marker on Mount Liberty.

After my early-June hike up to Franconia Ridge, I was eager to get back to the White Mountains and cross another 4000-footer off my list. Luckily, I was able to get a Friday off from work, and on Thursday evening I packed my gear into my car and made the 2.5 hour drive from Freeport to Lafayette Place Campground in Franconia Notch.

It was almost dark when I arrived at the campground, where I’d managed to get a prime spot on the banks of the Pemigewasset River. I quickly set up my tent, got a fire started, and kicked back with a beer. Unlike my last trip, I had my whole hike planned: a straight shot up the Liberty Spring Trail to the 4459′ summit of Mount Liberty.

The weather was nice enough that I was able to sleep without a fly over my tent, and I managed to get up at about the same time as the sun. I broke down camp and enjoyed breakfast to the simple sounds of the Pemi, then headed to the trailhead.

I left my car in trailhead parking just north of the Flume visitor center. There are a few places to park to get to the Liberty Spring Trail – the trail proper actually starts near the midpoint of the multi-use bike path that runs parallel to I-93 from the Flume to the Basin. This meant I had a nice walk through the woods for a little less than a mile before I crossed the Pemi and started climbing.

I didn’t see another soul as the trail climbed gradually from the Pemi up the base of Mount Liberty. After about half a mile the Flume Slide Trail split off from Liberty Spring Trail, and the trail started to gain a little more ground a little more quickly.

After a brook crossing, the trail started to climb – and climb fast. For more than a mile the hike turned into something akin to climbing up a neverending set of stairs. With no outlooks and not much variation in scenery, I had to get into the rhythm of putting one foot in front of another and just making myself go up, up, up.

I put my head down and climbed, and when I raised it again I saw that I had made it to the caretaker’s big canvas tent at the Liberty Spring Tentsite. The 10 or so tent platforms looked downright luxurious, and I took a breather to enjoy the sounds and smells of two or three weekday backpackers preparing their breakfasts. As nice as it was to wake up on the Pemi, it must be exhilerating to open your eyes at 3700-feet.

The tentsite is right at the Liberty Spring itself, so I got a quick refill of my water bottles and headed up the remaining quarter-mile of Liberty Spring Trail to Franconia Ridge.

Ah, the Ridge! While my hike from Little Haystack to Lafayette was all above treeline, here the Ridge Trail dipped into the woods, and it stayed pretty sheltered from this junction almost to the summit of Liberty.

Just before the summit, though, the trail broke out of the trees and offered a spectacular view of the rocky final push.

I was lucky enough to have the whole summit to myself for the half hour I spent there. The temperatures were just starting to rise – it hit 90 before I made it back to Maine – but there was a cool breeze on the exposed summit. It was a clear day, and there were spectacular views of Mount Lincoln, Mount Flume, Cannon, the Sandwich Range and the Pemigewasset Wilderness.

It was a quick descent, and before I made it back to the trailhead I ran into at least a dozen people. I gave everyone the same review – clear as a bell – while quietly relishing the fact that I’d gotten it all to myself. Back at the Pemi, I gave my tired feet a dip in the cool water before hitting the road back to Portland.

Mount Liberty Hike Photos on Google+


Franconia Ridge from the summit of Little Haystack.

At the start of June I began a quest that’s been undertaken by many a New Englander – summiting the 4000-footers in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I’ve been an avid hiker since my parents introduced me to Mt. Battie and Maiden’s Cliff at a young age, but I’d never broken the 4,000-foot barrier.

In all honesty, I didn’t exactly plan on breaking the 4,000-foot barrier on this hike. A heat wave was rippling through New England the weekend of June 1st, and after a muggy night at Passaconaway Campground on the Kancamagus, spending the better part of the day in 90+ degree heat and humidity  didn’t sound like a winning proposition. On top of that, I’d forgotten matches and kindling when I rushed out of work the day before, so breakfast was little more than a bag of trail mix.

Poring over my White Mountain Guide in Lincoln as I sipped a convenience store coffee, the Falling Waters Trail in Franconia Notch seemed a good place to bag a short hike and cool off in the cascades. A mile or two up the waterfalls, a quick dip, then back to the trailhead – easy.

Temperatures were still cool when I started around 7 a.m., and once I got into the rhythm of the trail, my desire to call it a short day quickly ebbed. Falling Waters is a gorgeous trail, with brook crossings, cascades, and a few scrambles. Sitting in the cooling mist of the falls, I decided on a new plan – up the rest of the trail to the top of Little Haystack (4760′), then retrace my steps back down.

You don’t break treeline until just before the summit of Little Haystack, so I was unprepared for the unobstructed 360ª views that awaited when I stepped onto the rocky peak. Despite the threat of a humid haze, the sky was clear as glass in every direction. Clear views across the notch, south to Lincoln and the Kanc, east to Crawford and up to Cannon and northern NH. There was also the magnificent Ridge itself, stretching over the rocky summit of Lincoln and winding out of view. Munching on trail mix and taking in the scenery, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to turn around and head back down. I could see the Greenleaf Hut in the distance, on the far side of a loop that would take me back to the trailhead. The Ridge wasn’t going to let me go home without spending some time together.

Between Little Haystack and Mount Lafayette (5.249′), the ridge snakes along for almost two miles, crossing the summit of Mount Lincoln (5,089′) in the middle. I can say, unequivocally, that it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve been in my life. The weather conspired to give me a worry-free hike, with cool breezes keeping the temperatures comfortable and wispy clouds hanging harmlessly in the distance.

I spent more than an hour crossing the ridge before I stopped for a long rest on Lafayette, standing more than 5,200 feet in the air – almost as high as Mount Katahdin, the tallest spot in my home state of Maine.

After a solid stretch of baking, lizard-like, in the sun, I headed down (what a novel concept!) the Greenleaf Trail. Almost 500 feet above the summit of Little Haystack, I spent a lot more time on exposed rock than I had coming up, which let me savor the breeze and the scenery. A mile and a reluctant return to the woods later I arrived at Greenleaf Hut, one of the AMC’s 8 high huts in the White Mountains.

The hut was staffed by the friendly Greenleaf Croo, and their fresh Chocolate Chip and Zucchini cookies were calling my name. The hut was clean, cool and beautiful, and the free water and coffee helped me get ready for the remainder of my hike. I’d played with the idea of planning a hut-to-hut hike this season, and now I’m determined to make that a reality. The cookies weren’t necessarily the deciding factor, but the didn’t hurt.

Away from the exposed ridge and back in the woods, the heat was starting to become oppressive. Thankfully, the well-maintained Old Bridle Path made jogging easy, and I traversed the downward stretch of the loop in about half the time it took me to go up. Descending into the woods, there were a few open spots to look back up at the ridge.

When I got back to the parking lot I was surprised to find it full – while my hike up in the morning had been calm and relatively solitary, the muggy trail would now be packed with hikers. I waited for the hot air in my car to cool down and finished off the rest of my water, thankful that I’d decided to tackle the ridge when I did.

Franconia Ridge Hike Photos on Google+

Great story in Airman Magazine about the “Boneyard” – an Air Force base in Arizona that looks like a plane graveyard, but actually gives old aircraft new life:

The planes range from older ones, like the F-86 and B-52 Stratofortress, to newer ones, like the C-5 Galaxy. Though retired from active duty, each aircraft still performs a vital mission.

“Parts,” said Bill Amparano, an aircraft mechanic with the 309th AMARG. “These planes offer parts to the fleet. If a unit can’t find a replacement part for one of their aircraft, they’ll send us a request and we’ll take the part off one of our planes and send it to them.”

In other words, the AMARG is like a giant “pick-and-pull” for the Air Force, offering hard-to-find parts to units around the world. And, while it’s said the Boneyard is where planes go to die, it’s the opposite that’s true.

“They don’t come here to die, they’re just taking a break,” Amparano said.

“Holding Pattern” by Tech. Sgt. Matthew Bates

Ice in the ocean on Ferry Beach in Scarborough

My workplace does an annual Christmas Eve hike on the Cliff Walk around Prout’s Neck in Scarborough – a little over 4 miles, almost all of it right on the water. I couldn’t make it out on Christmas Eve last year, but I managed to squeeze in the hike last weekend. Thanks to the near-subzero temperatures, I seemed to have most of Prout’s Neck all to myself.

I’m consistently surprised and delighted by all the trails and green spaces around Portland. Portland Trails maintains a great network of trails within the city limits, while groups like Saco Bay Trails and Freeport Conservation Trust maintain trails in neighboring cities. The White Mountains National Forest is only about an hour from Portland, but it’s always good ro remember there are plenty of options for getting outside and taking in some scenery right in our backyard.


Photo: "Cedar stump house, Edgecomb, Washington, 1901" by Darius Kinsey / University of Washington Libraries

Photo: “Cedar stump house, Edgecomb, Washington, 1901” by Darius Kinsey / University of Washington Libraries

I’m working on a writing project with a friend of mine, and I’m still in one of the most enjoyable parts of the process: research. The story takes place at a logging camp, and in doing my research I found this great piece of source material – “Life in a Lumber Camp,” a piece from Munsey’s Magazine in 1894. The writer, who undoubtably visited from some place more urban and “civilized,” describes life in the camp:

Camp customs, while many and varied, are not so strictly observed as they were a few years ago. In some camps, in the evening, singing, dancing, and rough games are kept up until a late hour. It is an amusing sight–a couple of sets of great, clumsy men dancing the quadrille or “stag dance,” and keeping time to the “tweedledee” of an old, squeaky fiddle, apparently having as good a time as if they possessed every advantage of the modern ball room. Hazing, which was a common practice a few years ago, is no longer tolerated to the extent it once was. Formerly all newcomers must either sing a song or buy a pound of tobacco– a rule which, I am told, kept the drowd well supplied with to luxury. Strangers were often subjected to a good deal of ill treatment. A common practice was for six or eight men to seize another and toss him up in a blanket. Stealing was practiced to such an extent that socks were stolen from the feet of sleeping men.

“Life in a Lumber Camp” by George Austin Woodward

Photo: "Untitled (D.A.)" by Menno Aden /

Photo: “Untitled (D.A.)” by Menno Aden /

Menno Aden finds art by simply changing his perspective and photographing rooms from above. As he explained in an interview with Slate, the different angle can change the whole feel of the room:

“This happens because all the things on the floor such as the furniture flatten into two dimensions,” explained Aden. “I knew about it and I wanted this organized look over chaotic spaces because it makes the viewer feel elevated—sublime—but to be honest I didn’t know that an untidy room would look so organized, too.”

Room Portraits by Menno Aden

Photo: AP Photo/Narciso Contreras (from Atlantic In Focus)

Photo: AP Photo/Narciso Contreras (from Atlantic In Focus feature “Syria’s Long, Destructive Civil War”; click photo to see more)

Kelly McEvers has an arresting story on today’s Morning Edition about a displaced family squatting in a school in Syria’s largest city, Aleppo. The heartbreaking details cut through the death tolls, news clips and political statements to show the real cost this civil war has on Syrian families:

Em Ali laughs even when she’s telling the sad stories. But before she says good night, her voice gets quiet. She says that from time to time, she hopes that she will be killed with her kids, “just to stop all this, all of it.”

This kind of journalism, which shows the human side of this distant war, is so important. It seems that the devastation of this conflict don’t become real and impossible to ignore until we can hear the real voices and listen to the real experiences of those involved.

Listen to “For Those Still in Syria, A Daily Struggle” on