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I've been to the Northern Presidentials several times. In 2003, I looped up Osgood, over Madison, Adams and Jefferson, and then down Six Husbands (bad idea) and out the Great Gulf. In 2005, a cool July day was perfect for an afternoon climb of Jefferson from Jefferson Notch. In 2006, the AT took me near Jefferson and Adams, but I only climbed over Madison (since the trail crosses its summit) owing to fog and rain. So by my count, it was Madison 2, Jefferson 2 and Adams 1. That doesn't quite seem fair to our second president, does it?

Having just worked my rear off to finish a data entry project, and seeing a full-time, no-running-off-to-the-woods job on the way, I was rewarding myself with a day of hiking. Since it is November, I was rewarding myself with an alarm clock set for 3:30. I'd done a bit of reading and it seems that amongst the web of trails winding up the northern flank of the Northern Presis, which I'd never climbed, a fun route would be up King Ravine and down Valley Way from Appalachia. I groggily made my way out of bed a bit before 4:00 and was on the road just after 4:30.

The sky was just brightening when I drove through Franconia Notch and as I looked up at Lincoln and Lafayette I thought that I might just do a nice loop up over that ridge, but it was early enough that I kept on going up to Route 2 and the Appalachia lot, where I was the first car of the morning.

I got out and stretched, and packed up my bag. I had, because it was slated to be a cold and lonely day, food, two fleeces, two polypros and a windbreaker, ski tights, shorts, two pairs of gloves and two hats. Luckily, I was wearing most of it with the temperature hovering in the upper 20s. Also in my bag was a sleeping bag and bivy sack, so I'd at least have a chance of surviving the night should I be immobilized. Not that that was the plan.

I shouldered my pack and headed up Air Line. It was a beautiful late-fall morning, some of the best hiking of the year. The only color left north of the notches were the tamaracks and a few birches which had forgotten to drop their leaves. The scene is a bit gray and bleak, sure, but so much more open than in the summer, when the trail is consumed by the forest. The sweet smell of rotting birch and beech leaves had all but disappeared from the forest and the recent dry spell meant the leaves generally crunched below my feet with only a few wet spots.

I made my way gradually upwards, on to Short Line and Randolph Path to the splendid Mossy Falls, where the spray of the water had created a little ice in the cold morning. I snapped some photograps of the falls, and looked up through the trees where the sun was just hitting the top of the west side of the ravine. In the shadow of the hills with the sun to the southeast, it was nearing 9:00 and I had a long time before I'd see a single ray. On a winter morning, King Ravine is an exceptionally cold place.

It was not much past Mossy falls that the trees grow stunted and the views abound. It was also here that the snow along the path was a bit more prevalent. I knew that there wasn't much accumulation in the Whites, and I felt that I'd be fine making my way towards the summit. The alternative plan was, if the snow proved too hazardous, to descend to a trail which ran the ridge, which would have less snow. There was soon a junction where I had two alternatives: The Elevated or The Subway.

I do quite like the naming schemes in the northern presidentials. Many of the names are descriptive, but in a whimsical way: Air Line for a trail on the ridge, Valley Way for the route in the Valley, Brookside for the trail by the brook. Some are similarly descriptive, but only in foreign languages (Chemin Des Dames, the easiest way out of King Ravine). The Elevated and The Subway describe two short segments of trail in King Ravine. I'd guess they were laid out in the early 1900s, when this terminology would have been prevalent amongst the Bostonians coming up to hike. I think that the web of trails in the area might be explained by the presence of the railroad right along the base of the mountains, where passengers could go straight from the platform to the high peaks.

Anyway, The Elevated is a rather nondescript trail amongst the rubble at the runout of King Ravine. The Subway, however, is a Mahoosuc Notch-like scramble through car- and house-sized boulders, sometimes several yards through a subway-like tunnel, hence the name. It is a famed trail of the whites, and while it took longer, it was well worth it. The trail was generally dry, which was good, although there were a couple of icicles coming off some of the overhanging moss.

After my ride on The Subway, I made my way up the Ravine. I thought about taking the Great Gully Trail to Thunderstorm Junction, but after whipping out the White Mountain Guide, decided against it. Both the King Ravine and Great Gully Trails are "not recommended for descent," but Great Gully is also "extremely difficult in wet or icy conditions." And today was a little icy. I decided to stick with the plan and go up King Ravine.

The snow got a bit more coverage further up, and clung to the short trees along the trail. It was a dry snow and crunched underfoot, and was very rarely masking ice beneath. The trail got steeper, but the footing was generally good up the ravine. It was cold and dark in the ravine, as the sun was just making it to the floor at 11:00 in the morning (still on daylight time). There was a bit of ice on some of the grass and rocks near the King Ravine Gateway, the entrance to the high plateau, where all that lay ahead was blue sky and an ice-encrusted sign bathed in the sunlight.

The wind was whipping through the ravine, and the temperature was chilly, but when I stepped in to the sun, it was about ten degrees warmer. I still needed three layers and lobster gloves — temperatures were in the mid 20s with a nice breeze — but it was pleasant. Almost immediately I met another fellow and his excited dog who had come up the Air Line. He was a pastor from Claremont, N.H. and was also making for Adams. I was stopping constantly to take pictures, mostly close-ups of the rime ice feathers on the rock, but also great views of the mountains, especially Madison above Star Lake and Washington over the Great Gulf. With my fits and starts, we made the summit at the same time.

It was chilly, but nice, at the top. Pastor Kent seemed like a nice enough guy, he'd mentioned his religion a couple times, but, hey, it is his profession. I find a lot of clergy (but certainly not all) to be fine people, as long as there is an unspoken agreement that I won't demean his profession as glorified smoke and mirrors if he doesn't try to push his religion on me. So after a perfectly nice chat, it all went downhill:

Pastor Kent: Has anyone ever talked to you about their faith?
Ari: Yes, they have. And I'm not interested. I've been fine without it for quite some time and I think I'll continue without it.
Ari interior monologue: It's been a really nice day. I hope he doesn't say anything more about this.
PK: Well, you now it's not an it, it's a person.
AIM: It's time to go.
Ari: Actually, faith means many different things to many different people, so what it is for you is different that what it is for me.
PK: No, faith is Jes—
Ari: I'm going to get going.
PK: Well, I respect your ideas.
AIM: No you don't.

I packed up my bag and scampered down the mountain. The trail was still pretty dry, with only a little snow and some rime ice, and I was able to follow our footsteps from the way up on my trip down. When I got to where Air Line splits off from Gulfside, I decided to go down to see Madison Hut and Star Lake. The hut was bolted shut in the late fall weather, ready for whatever winter would blast it with. The trail to Star Lake was mostly a frozen stream, and while I tried to stay to the rocks, I once fell through the snow-covered ice in to inch-deep water. Star Lake was half-frozen, with interesting formations where the wind blew the open water in the cold air. The coming cold front in a few days would probably freeze it solid until May.

A couple of photos, and I was on my way down. Back down the icy trail by the hut, and then on to Valley Way, 3.5 miles of steady grade losing 1000 feet per mile. The top of the trail was snow-covered down Valley Way, and then just a bit wet. It is a nice, easy trail for descent, and while I stopped for a while to take in the falls near the bottom (on Fallsway), I made it to the car around 3:00.

It was a short, slow day, but with a lot of climbing. With half the trail snowy or icy, and a camera to take it all in, there was no reason to beat book time. I made it up, took it in, and made it down. If it is the last hike of the year before ski season and winter comes, it won't be a bad one.

For more information on the peaks I've climbed, see my 4000 footer page.

Oh, yeah, and I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2006.

And I have a homepage, too.

Copyright Ari Ofsevit, 2007. All rights reserved. For usage permission, email myfirstname.mylastname[at]gmail[dot]com. Code for Topo and DOQ from Tom Dunigan