[Journal entry for January 21-22, 2008] Dallas and I were among a group of eight hikers on an overnight trip to Mt. Cardigan (New Hampsire) and the AMC's High Cabin. The trip was organized by Paul and Gigi Estes and also included Al, Annie, Chris and Sue.

We drove a rather long way through the back roads of Alexandria, New Hampshire to reach the AMC's Cardigan Lodge (43 38.967, 71 52.659, WGS 84), which is located east of Mt. Cardigan. The day was sunny and crisp, in the low 20's Fahrenheit. The rocky summit of Mt. Cardigan and its firetower are just visible above the tree tops west of the lodge. We stopped briefly in the Lodge, which reminds me of an old New England farmhouse, and then head up the Holt Trail, toting our backpacks. The snow on the trail is hard-packed, so I decide to wear crampons, rather than showshoes. Initially, the trail is quite easy - a low grade through open hardwood forest. After crossing the Bailey Brook via the Croo Bridge, we turn off the Holt Trail and make our way towards the Clark trail. The ground gradually steepens and the vegetation begins to transition to mostly conifers. We start to expend a bit more energy in the climb. We stop at PJ Ledge, an overlook that commands a nice view towards the northeast, to catch our breath. I can see the east flank of Mt. Cardigan and the more distant and lower Firescrew to its right. Here the trail forks. The High Cabin (43 38.762, 71 54.645 WGS-84) is just a few hundred yards up the left-hand trail.

The day is gradually becoming more cloudy, so I decide to just drop off my backpack at High Cabin and continue uphill, in order to take photogtaphs while the sun still shines. I hike up though fairly thin conifer trees, past the smallish Warden's Cabin, to the rocky summit area of Cardigan. Gigi told me that the mountain was originally completely forested, and that its current rocky state was due to a forest fire followed by the loss of top soil. Given the fierceness of the wind today, I have no trouble imagining that unprotected soil would blow away! I take several dozen photos, being especially intrigued by ice that is encrusting many of the trees. I did not go all the way up to the summit, though, reserving that for a group trip.

I rejoin the group back at High Cabin. They have been busy starting up the wood stove in order to melt snow for drinking water (as well as heat the cabin up a bit). I lite up my Primus stove and make a pot of hot chocolate, using water from my pack, and share it around. After relaxing for a half hour or so, we decide hike up to the top. Chris and I choose to ascend the main - but very windy - Cardigan summit, while the rest of our group visits the somewhat lower and more protected South Peak. Chris and I mostly follow the Clark trail, but have to make detours to find patches of snow that can protect our crampons from wear on the hard granite rock (well, I can't resist notong that it's actually a quartz monzonite, not a granite per se). The hike from the Warden's cabin to the firetower takes only about ten minutes. We stand at the summit, taking photos and admiring the view. The sky is clear; my earlier worries about clouds prove unfounded. The surface of the rock at the summit is very smooth, but with big crystals of feldspar protruding a little, so that at the small scale it has a slightly corrugated texture. I think I can pick out some glacial furrows crossing the mountain top as a whole, made more apparent by the low sun angle. After braving the wind for a few minutes, we move over to the firetower and stand in its lee. Still, the air felt very cold and my hands are getting numb, even through my thich gloves. So we head down, following cracks in the rock pavement that hold a little snow. We pass many small trees and bushes, growing from these cracks, that were completely encrusted in rime ice - very beautiful, but perhaps hard on the trees.

Back at high cabin, we put out hors d'oevres of swiss cheese, salami, anchovies, crackers and pickeled vegetables, make hot cider toddies and leisurelely set up the cabin for the night. We change into dry clothing, hanging our damp gear on an elevated rack to dry overnight. We unpack our bedding and start to prepare our dinner. Each of us has brought one of its components. Dallas and my responsibility is spagetti sauce, and we have brought with us two Nalgene bottles of it, complete with sausage. Chris cooks the spagetti, Dallas heats up the sause and others see to the salad and garlic bread. We eat dinner, washing it all down with an excellent wine.

The evening is slowing growing darker. I spend quite a lot of time relaxing in a chair on the porch, watching first the setting of the sun and then the rising of the moon, which is almost full. I have brought my heavy down suit for just this purpose. It enables me to sit in the near-zero air without getting chilled. The rest of the group played balderdash during this time. Gigi has copied a set of 'acronymn questions' onto paper in preparation for the trip, so avoiding the need to haul the game cards, themselves. I can overhear discussion of the possible meanings of GSA (was it Geological Society of America or Georgia Society of Arbors?) and TJFL (perhaps Tasmanian Junior Football League?) as I linger on the porch. Chris joins me for a while, and we chatted about Life, Death and Politics. Chris measures the air temperature with his digital thermometer. Its a nippy 4 degrees Fahrenheit. The cabin is quite a bit warmer than that, perhaps in the fifties, at least near the stove.

We are all pretty tired, so we turn in early. I sleep first just in the down jumpsuit, but slide into the sleeping bag in the early morning hours, after the heat from the now-damped stove has dissipated.

We awake around sunrise. The sky is partly cloudy and the horizon is a pale orange. We mostly eat leftovers for breakfast, reheating the spagetti using an improvised double-boiler. The temperature at day break is 7 F, but the air soon warms up into the low twenties as the morning progresses. I spot a squirrel prowling near the hut's entrance, just before we leave. It's waiting to see what feast has been left behind, or so I assume.

The hike down is relaxing and uneventful. We stop at Cardigan Lodge, where the caretaker shares leftover homefried potatoes with us. I stand for a while outside on the deck, watching chickadees and squirels compete for seeds from a feeder. Gigi then suggests that we visit Weltonm Falls, which is a mile or so dowm one of the region's many trails.

I am quite lively now, since I am mo longer carrying a pack, so I charge down the trail. Annie, Dallas, Gigi and Sue follow. Chris has already left for home and Al and Paul are resting in the Lodge. We take the Lower Manning Trail, which follows the Fowler River. We have to ford the Fowler at one point just short of the falls. Fortunately the stream, while not completely frozen over, has enough ice for us to safely cross, at least with crampons. We then ascend up a short way up a hill that overlooks the falls.

Welton Falls are within a narrow gorge, a slot cut by the river in the rock, which has been given smooth, curving faces by its action. Numerous ice formations cling to the rock, yet the falls also contains open pools of water and splashing cascades. This winter's weather has been unseasonably warm. We view the falls from two prospectives, one in a small overhang or cave just above the point where the water plummets down, the other from the far side of the gorge. We pass a second chasm, very deep, that now contains no flowing water. Perhaps it was formed at some earlier stage in the waterfall's history. Snow begins to fall as we walk back.

The hike from the Lodge to the cabin took a little less than two hours. The hike from the Lodge to the Falls about an hour and a half. Overall, the excursion lasted 28 hours.