Lava Lamp
New member
Hannah, the 19-year-old daughter of my hiking companion Barbara, was home from college and anxious to bag her 26th White Mountain peak. So Saturday morning the three of us met at the park-and-ride at Exit 5 and set off for Osceola East. As planned, we were on the Greeley Ponds Trail at about 9 a.m.
My prior experience with this trail was in winter, so I was pleasantly surprised by the rich greenery, gentle grades and easy footing. There was plenty of hobblebush and different flavors of trillium. Wherever moisture threatened, a bog bridge was there to protect us.
The scenery was right out of "Lord of the Rings," with moss-covered nooks and crannies. I was surprised not to see an elf living under this rock.
The 1.5 mile stretch of the Mt. Osceola Trail between the Greeley Ponds Trail and the summit was quite another experience. I haven't done much hiking since an injury last fall and had almost forgotten what steep feels like. It's hard to catch that quality on film, but here's the view -- quite exciting at the time -- looking up as the long, hard pull nears an end and we were about to reach the ridge.
That's followed by a pleasant ridge walk among conifers,
and then a mildly harrowing slide that must be crossed. This shot was taken as Barbara and Hanah were descending the slide.
The wooded summit makes for a perfectly fine place for photos and lunch, but you're better off stopping at the outlook shortly before the top to catch any views.
We met some very nice people along the way, including young Quincy and Allie, who flew by us with their parents, and an Irish couple and their kids. Just as I was starting to regret the absence of true eccentrics, such as the East European Elvis impersonator who set up an amplifier at the base of the Cog Railway a couple of years ago, I ran into a gentleman whose bare arms, legs and torso were covered with colorful tattoos. Are they real, I asked. Absolutely. The man told me he'd been collecting images on his flesh for years, each one a reflection of a different part of his life. He let me photograph him, but only on condition that I not put the picture on the Internet. You're just going to have to get lucky, as I did, and run into him.
Our luck continued on the way home. We got stopped at the Border Patrol's check point on Route 93 somewhere around Exit 30. The guard looked into the car and asked the three of us what country we were from. We all said the U.S., which must have been the right answer because he let us through. At least one other guy had been pulled over and was being questioned by a State Trooper. Not a good idea to answer "Waziristan" or to pronounce the word "about" the wrong way.
My prior experience with this trail was in winter, so I was pleasantly surprised by the rich greenery, gentle grades and easy footing. There was plenty of hobblebush and different flavors of trillium. Wherever moisture threatened, a bog bridge was there to protect us.
The scenery was right out of "Lord of the Rings," with moss-covered nooks and crannies. I was surprised not to see an elf living under this rock.
The 1.5 mile stretch of the Mt. Osceola Trail between the Greeley Ponds Trail and the summit was quite another experience. I haven't done much hiking since an injury last fall and had almost forgotten what steep feels like. It's hard to catch that quality on film, but here's the view -- quite exciting at the time -- looking up as the long, hard pull nears an end and we were about to reach the ridge.
That's followed by a pleasant ridge walk among conifers,
and then a mildly harrowing slide that must be crossed. This shot was taken as Barbara and Hanah were descending the slide.
The wooded summit makes for a perfectly fine place for photos and lunch, but you're better off stopping at the outlook shortly before the top to catch any views.
We met some very nice people along the way, including young Quincy and Allie, who flew by us with their parents, and an Irish couple and their kids. Just as I was starting to regret the absence of true eccentrics, such as the East European Elvis impersonator who set up an amplifier at the base of the Cog Railway a couple of years ago, I ran into a gentleman whose bare arms, legs and torso were covered with colorful tattoos. Are they real, I asked. Absolutely. The man told me he'd been collecting images on his flesh for years, each one a reflection of a different part of his life. He let me photograph him, but only on condition that I not put the picture on the Internet. You're just going to have to get lucky, as I did, and run into him.
Our luck continued on the way home. We got stopped at the Border Patrol's check point on Route 93 somewhere around Exit 30. The guard looked into the car and asked the three of us what country we were from. We all said the U.S., which must have been the right answer because he let us through. At least one other guy had been pulled over and was being questioned by a State Trooper. Not a good idea to answer "Waziristan" or to pronounce the word "about" the wrong way.
Last edited:
