MrAmeche
New member
Normally I'm a morning hiker, but today I decided to try an afternoon hike, with the (hopeful) possibility of being on the trail at sunset and giving me the chance to test out my new headlamp. My plan was to hike Cannon via the Hi-Cannon Trail, then over to the Kinsmans by way of the Kinsman Ridge Trail. It looked to be a gorgeous day as I drove up I-93 and pulled into the Lafayette Campground parking lot, with clear blue skies and temperatures in the 60's. I got my pack together, stretched, and hit the trail at 1:10 PM. There were about twenty other cars in the parking lot, and quite a few people were taking advantage of the weather, hanging out at the picnic tables.
I started along the Lonesome Lake Trail, which meandered through the campground and into the woods at an easy grade. The trail was in great condition, and I set a comfortable pace for myself as I took in the foliage. A few trees had started turning yellowish-orange, but everything was a light green for the most part. I crossed a few streams, and after a few minutes I reached the intersection of the Hi-Cannon Trail and turned right onto it. The path steepened quite a bit here and began to switchback, but otherwise the trail was in great shape and not as rough as I had imagined. I began passing a few hikers on their way down, and I paused to take pictures of Franconia Notch from a few outlooks here and there. Eventually I reached the infamous ladder section of the trail, which I enjoyed immensely, though I could see how the exposure would paralyze some. The trail started to level out as I worked my way toward the summit and offered some great views of Lonesome Lake below. The path was very muddy here; I had to jump over a few large puddles from Monday night's rain. I joined onto the Kinsman Ridge Trail and reached the summit at 2:45.
As I walked up the stairs to the observation platform, I was immediately blasted with a freezing cold wind from the northeast. The wind chill couldn't have been more than 40 degrees, and I grabbed my fleece jacket out of my pack for some warmth. There were a dozen or so people on the deck, presumably via the tram, and a few stared at me like I was out of my mind for hiking up. I took a few pictures and debated eating lunch here, but the wind and the cold convinced me to look elsewhere. I descended the platform and walked back to the intersection of the Hi-Cannon Trail, turning right onto the Kinsman Ridge Trail. To say that this is a rough trail would be a serious understatement. The path down to Coppermine Col was incredibly steep, and required some tricky footwork over the boulders. I passed the turnoff to the Lonesome Lake Trail and started up the Northeast Cannonball.
This short uphill trek, for some reason, absolutely killed me. My legs felt like lead, and I glanced at my watch to reconsider my plans. It was already 3:30, which meant that I had roughly three hours of daylight left. Given my sudden lack of energy, and the revelation that this trail was becoming a serious chore, there was no feasible way I would be able to hike to both Kinsmans and back before sundown. (I made a mental note to avoid eating half a pizza for dinner the night before a hike.) There was also a more important reason lurking beneath my train of thought, and it chilled me to the bone. I was getting married next weekend, and if I came home with a broken leg from hiking in the middle of the night, causing me to crutch my way down the aisle, my fiance would break my other leg for symmetry. I had no choice. The Kinsmans would have to wait for another day.
I turned around and headed back down the Northeast Cannonball. I took some small comfort in the fact that if I ever decided to complete the NEHH, I could cross this rugged little hill off my list. I turned right onto the Lonesome Lake Trail, and noticed immediately how much easier the path was. I descended to Lonesome Lake after a mile or so and decided to walk around it on the timber-planked path. I took some pictures of Franconia Ridge across the lake and passed a guided group of kids on a scavenger hunt. It occurred to me that, surprisingly enough, this was the first lake I had reached by trail since hiking in New Hampshire. It was lovely in the late afternoon sun. I circled around the lake and met the trail again, and continued down to the campground.
The hike down was uneventful except for an odd run-in with two hikers ahead of me. A woman was leading at a pretty good pace, with a man following close behind; they seemed to be hiking together. The man stepped aside to let me pass, which I thanked him for, yet the woman seemed to deliberately want to block my way. I found this curiously amusing, especially since in her haste, she had left her friend a few hundred yards behind us. After a few minutes she stopped and said in a thick Eastern European accent, "Fine. I give up. You are faster. You may pass." Gee, um... thanks? I got back to my car at 5:15, loaded up, and started the long drive home back to Boston. The subtle, autumnal afternoon glow of sunlight is distinctly different from the morning light that I'm used to, and I made it a point to try to hike more in the evening from now on...
I started along the Lonesome Lake Trail, which meandered through the campground and into the woods at an easy grade. The trail was in great condition, and I set a comfortable pace for myself as I took in the foliage. A few trees had started turning yellowish-orange, but everything was a light green for the most part. I crossed a few streams, and after a few minutes I reached the intersection of the Hi-Cannon Trail and turned right onto it. The path steepened quite a bit here and began to switchback, but otherwise the trail was in great shape and not as rough as I had imagined. I began passing a few hikers on their way down, and I paused to take pictures of Franconia Notch from a few outlooks here and there. Eventually I reached the infamous ladder section of the trail, which I enjoyed immensely, though I could see how the exposure would paralyze some. The trail started to level out as I worked my way toward the summit and offered some great views of Lonesome Lake below. The path was very muddy here; I had to jump over a few large puddles from Monday night's rain. I joined onto the Kinsman Ridge Trail and reached the summit at 2:45.
As I walked up the stairs to the observation platform, I was immediately blasted with a freezing cold wind from the northeast. The wind chill couldn't have been more than 40 degrees, and I grabbed my fleece jacket out of my pack for some warmth. There were a dozen or so people on the deck, presumably via the tram, and a few stared at me like I was out of my mind for hiking up. I took a few pictures and debated eating lunch here, but the wind and the cold convinced me to look elsewhere. I descended the platform and walked back to the intersection of the Hi-Cannon Trail, turning right onto the Kinsman Ridge Trail. To say that this is a rough trail would be a serious understatement. The path down to Coppermine Col was incredibly steep, and required some tricky footwork over the boulders. I passed the turnoff to the Lonesome Lake Trail and started up the Northeast Cannonball.
This short uphill trek, for some reason, absolutely killed me. My legs felt like lead, and I glanced at my watch to reconsider my plans. It was already 3:30, which meant that I had roughly three hours of daylight left. Given my sudden lack of energy, and the revelation that this trail was becoming a serious chore, there was no feasible way I would be able to hike to both Kinsmans and back before sundown. (I made a mental note to avoid eating half a pizza for dinner the night before a hike.) There was also a more important reason lurking beneath my train of thought, and it chilled me to the bone. I was getting married next weekend, and if I came home with a broken leg from hiking in the middle of the night, causing me to crutch my way down the aisle, my fiance would break my other leg for symmetry. I had no choice. The Kinsmans would have to wait for another day.
I turned around and headed back down the Northeast Cannonball. I took some small comfort in the fact that if I ever decided to complete the NEHH, I could cross this rugged little hill off my list. I turned right onto the Lonesome Lake Trail, and noticed immediately how much easier the path was. I descended to Lonesome Lake after a mile or so and decided to walk around it on the timber-planked path. I took some pictures of Franconia Ridge across the lake and passed a guided group of kids on a scavenger hunt. It occurred to me that, surprisingly enough, this was the first lake I had reached by trail since hiking in New Hampshire. It was lovely in the late afternoon sun. I circled around the lake and met the trail again, and continued down to the campground.
The hike down was uneventful except for an odd run-in with two hikers ahead of me. A woman was leading at a pretty good pace, with a man following close behind; they seemed to be hiking together. The man stepped aside to let me pass, which I thanked him for, yet the woman seemed to deliberately want to block my way. I found this curiously amusing, especially since in her haste, she had left her friend a few hundred yards behind us. After a few minutes she stopped and said in a thick Eastern European accent, "Fine. I give up. You are faster. You may pass." Gee, um... thanks? I got back to my car at 5:15, loaded up, and started the long drive home back to Boston. The subtle, autumnal afternoon glow of sunlight is distinctly different from the morning light that I'm used to, and I made it a point to try to hike more in the evening from now on...
