Franconia Notch, New Hampshire

It’s only 3pm and Fitz is already in bed. He’s earned it.

Ten years ago when Amy and I hiked the Appalachian trail, the single most beautiful day for me was the time we hiked the ridge along Franconia Notch. The memories from that day exist only in my head. That night my phone got destroyed in a rain storm and I never got to see my pictures from that day. I still have the camera in the hope that some day technology will be able to bring these pictures back from the afterlife. When I knew that this summer we would be passing through The White Mountains, I immediately went to check and see if this is at all feasible. I find that there is a loop to reach the ridge, but it’s nine miles and takes an average hiker over eight hours. The trail is always labeled as strenuous because there isn’t a higher rating for people to select. You cover over 3000 feet in elevation in the first three miles. The trail literally goes straight up the edge of a rock and boulder covered mountain, you can go miles without touching dirt, the rocks are covered in lichen and condensation forcing you to constantly consider where to deliberately place each foot. I know that it’s a long shot for anyone, including me to be able to actually do this hike, but I planned it anyway, in case. I figure maybe if we leave super early we could maybe slowly complete it. For the past two months, I have been hyping this hike, letting everyone know that if we train hard enough all summer we may be able to build up our stamina to attempt Franconia Notch. Throughout summer, they often took on the challenge and proclaimed that they were going to be ready for it. But now tonight camping in Franconia Notch State Park, it’s real, it’s no longer a silly idea for the future. The more we read, the more it’s clear that this trail is not built for Maple, Everest doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about the prospect of hiking straight up hill into the clouds, and so perhaps a lesser hike is more appropriate for us. Additionally, the rangers issue a high elevation summit weather report each morning and the last few days haven’t looked great. At the summit one can expect hurricane force winds and a chill below freezing even in the open sun. With no vegetation able to grow due to these winds, you are above tree level for much of the hike. The reason for the endless incredible views is also the reason there is nowhere to hide if the weather goes to work.

Fitz and I really want to try. Amy will let us go if the weather prediction is safe and we bring a two way radio the entire time. I don’t know what the weather plans to do but I’ll prepare in any case.

The plan is simple, leave super early, take many breaks, and go down at the first sign of danger. We will need an entire backpack full of gear we hope to never use. I packed winter outfits, thousands of calories in fruit snacks, rain gear, an emergency shelter, a walkie talkie, and water purification.

My alarm went off at five but I’d already been awake staring at the ceiling of the bus wondering if this is stupid. It’s still dark and cold out and I am bundled up all warm under these blankets. Also, what if I get to the trailhead and the weather report there is awful, why waste a perfectly good opportunity to go back to bed. Or, alternatively go have the most intense and possibly most enjoyable father son bonding time imaginable.

It took Fitz a second to realize why he was being shook awake and also told to keep quiet. I’ll let him cancel the hike, then I can say that I would have gone. He jumps up and gets dressed, eats his muffin, and tells me how excited he is. It’s apparent that he is not canceling anything. I’m also excited but wouldn’t it be easier if the ranger just stops us and says you can’t go up today? We walk from our campsite and by the time we get to the trail it’s nearly 6am and there’s a small crowd of twenty hikers waiting by a ranger booth. Here the Ranger would give us the rundown, the first three miles are hard, the last of which he explain will “separate the men from the boys and the women from the girls.” He asked if anyone had checked the weather, I had and I knew it wasn’t ideal but I’m anxious to hear his take. A woman in the back spoke up and said she saw its a perfect sunny day with no rain. The ranger exclaimed, “that’s all you saw!” as he slammed his hand down with a legendary eye roll. She had looked up the weather in the valley, once we get above tree line it’s going to be cold and windy but especially windy and cold. I think it will be manageable for us, but after he finished his lengthy warning he pulled me aside and told me to, “watch out for short legs.”

Truth is, I didn’t know how myself or Fitz would perform at this level of difficulty. I assume we can always just turn around. I do know that we are experienced enough hikers to not put ourselves in danger or give up. Because the group was all excused together, we naturally formed a sort of bubble that worked its way up the mountain. Some of them were so fast we never saw them again, others we would pass and they would comment about their old legs and point to Fitz hoping along from rock to rock. Others we leapfrogged all day, regardless of the person, everyone wanted to fist bump Fitz and tell him how impressed they were. He hadn’t realized that this was a big accomplishment for someone his age and to drive home the point further, we would not see a single child for the rest of the day. Many parents would tell us their kids were sitting at home and they hadn’t considered bringing them. I think the minor moral boosters he was receiving on trail really helped him along in the tough sections.

It was all true, not an exaggeration, you legit just go straight up this hill for 3200 vertical feet. After three miles we emerge from tree line and the mood immediately shifts from a leisurely vertical stroll to a get the fuck off the ridge pace. We put on our jackets and beanies quickly and just started jogging along the trail where we could and slowed down to climb over rocks when needed and we got distracted by the occasional blueberry patch before the wind would remind us to move along. Frequently, you would see people ducking down behind a rock to try and find a brief respite from the constant winds. Fitz would claim Haystack Mountain as his first true New Hampshire summit. There wasn’t much time to celebrate with the wind but the skies were clear and spirits high. Although the most rigorous of the path is behind us, the next two miles is the most dangerous as it leaves you out and exposed with no where to go if the weather turns for the worse. The mountains here are known for their wind speed with Mt. Washington across the range holding the world record for fastest wind speed ever recorded on Earth. In the Presidential Range, each mountain in order of elevation is named after a president in the order of their years served. The tallest, is of course the previously mentioned Mt. Washington and eventually Mt. Obama will be slightly taller than Mt. Trump and they will both sit a tad higher than Mt. Biden etc. Ahead of us is Mt. Lincoln, Fitz’s favorite president. We spend so much time at Gettysburg that he has a healthy appreciation for the man who abolished slavery in America and today we are motivated to the top in his honor. And we need the motivation, the wind has grounded us each a few times. If you are slightly off balance when a gust comes, then you get an AT on the AT and I got many ankle twisters during this stretch. Right as we were approaching the summit, we notice the clouds started forming above our heads around the summit. The rocky pointed peak so clear to us before was now hidden. It was eerie and this was when Fitz stopped and said he wanted to turn back. I worked through all of my years of experience parenting and all the quality research based parenting advice I’d learned over the years and I said, “if you make it to the top, I’ll buy you a soda.” Worked like a charm and within twenty minutes we were up at the peak with no views to show for it. Our cloud was windy and blocked the views we woke up early for but thankfully wasn’t dangerous. We spent almost no time celebrating our second summit, preferring just to get out of this haze. We went down a bit but the cloud consumed us still. Eventually the ridge brought us to the prize of the day, Mt. Lafayette, a gorgeous peak with 360 degrees views of the wildest and most majestic mountain range on the east coast. Occasionally the clouds would wisp in a way that let us see the views that I have never forgotten about, it was both magical and somewhat scary. The clouds may have ruined the views and our fingers are frozen solid but they also hide how high up you are and how steep the face is on each side of you. I remember, as if it was one final test to make sure we wanted to keep going, the largest wind burst of the day came and nearly knocked us over. It was the one time Fitz and I grabbed each other and held on tight. It ended quickly and we scurried on with a little more pep in our step. What Mt. Lafayette really signifies to us though is the end of our upward climb. This couldn’t have happened at a better time because I think if this mountain was ten feet higher my legs would have fallen off. Although some hikers found “shelter” among the boulders or ducking down behind rock walls stacked by previous hikers hoping for a little break from the constant stream of air, we looked around at this miserable bunch and pushed on. We started down, eventually returning to tree level, endless sun, and the desire to strip off all of our clothes. Roughly 2/3 of the way through our hike was another highlight, one that is rare in America and I have been looking forward to returning for years. The Appalachian Mountain Club maintains a series of huts throughout The Whites. In theory one could connect a series of trails through the region stopping to rest and eat at the huts. For around 150 dollars you get a dorm style bunk bed, a hearty dinner and breakfast before you leave again in the morning on the way to another hut perhaps. The huts are replenished by a group of savage back country workers who carry huge packs of gear up to the hut so you don’t have to. The best part of the hut is mid day, hikers passing through, like ourselves can pay a small fee for a bowl of endless soup and a slice of fresh baked bread. We went to town on that soup. Earlier in the day Fitz asked me what kind of soup will they have, I explained that it won’t matter, whatever it is, you’ll be so hungry, it will end up being your new favorite food. They really tested it with a soup that was 90% mushy peas but that didn’t slow us down a bit. We ended our meal with a hot tea before realizing we better move along. I was in such a hurry to get to here, the weather will only get worse above us as the day goes on and from here I can radio Amy and let her know we are safe and if a storm comes we can wait it out here safely. Now I have no hurry at all, as far as I am concerned, we did it, my legs are barely holding me up but they are somehow still wobbling me down the mountain. As we stand up and look back at the ridge and the climb we just accomplished we noticed the sky clearing, the clouds previously engulfing the peaks are gone. We were warned to go quickly before the worst of it but those lazy bums who didn’t get up at five AM will be rewarded with one of the best views I’ve ever seen. One guy at the hut turned to me and said he’s thinking of going back up to the summit, haha good luck my guy, good luck. We turned around and let that crazy man go on his way. The trail down was somehow rockier than the way up which seems impossible but we slipped and slid our way down the mountain eventually getting back to our campground. I was so happy to get back to the bus and lay down, I craved it. When we reached the camp store, Fitz reminded me of my promise, I tried to reason with him that we can get it later but he would have none of it. He grabbed his Coke and he got some much deserved final admiration from the Rangers.