[Journal Entry for December 14-17, 2009]

December 14, 2009. Trip to Carter Notch Hut and Carter Dome. I start up the Nineteen Mile Brook Trail at 1:15PM, with uncomfortable few hours of daylight left in the day, owing to having been caught in slow traffic. The trail follows Nineteen Mile Brook, a fast-flowing and rocky stream, with many small cataracts where water pours over boulders. About a foot and a half of snow lies on the ground, but the trail has been broken and I use only my Sorel snow boots, rather than don snowshoes or crampons. The trail rises steadily, crossing several small streams via wooden footbridges. I admire ice formation in the brook: plates of ice on its edges, snow hummocks on boulders and icicles. I encounter several sets of moose tracks. The trail is only 3.8 miles long, but the uphill grade and my heavy pack slow me down. I hike the last few minutes of the trail in very dim light, having to look very carefully for footprints so as not to lose my way. By the time I reach Carter Lake, I’m in complete darkness and have to stop to don my headlight. I have no idea how to get to the hut. I follow footprints across a corner of the lake, through the woods again, past another lake to where finally I can see the lights of the hut. I am welcomed by Heelan, the caretaker. In retrospect, walking across the lake, even if only a corner, was not a good idea, since I had no idea how firm was the ice. Fortunately nothing bad came of it. I discovered the next day that the trail winds around the lake’s shore, but somehow I had not seen it in the dark.

Carter Notch Hut is actually a complex of five buildings. It includes the original hut, which functions as kitchen, common room and caretaker’s quarters, two bunkhouses, a bathroom building and a shed. I change into my down suit - my usual “hut pajamas” - and unpack my gear. I use the hut’s gas stove to cook a dinner of macaroni and cheese with tuna. Heelan then lights the wood stove and we sit around chatting for several hours. I recount that this is my third visit to the Hut, but only the first in winter. May first visit was during a family backpacking trip on an extremely rainy day in August 1997 and the second was during a solo hike along the Carter-Moriah Trail in August 2002. No other guests show up tonight. Heelan and I are the hut’s only occupants. I retire to the nearest bunkhouse for the night.

December 15, 2009. When I awaken, around 7AM, the horizon is aglow in orange but the sky is mostly cloudy. I can now see that the hut sits in a notch between two mountains, Wildcat Mountain to the south and Carter Dome to the north. The trees on both are encrusted with snow, as are all the trees nearby the hut. Patches of fog roll by, occasionally obscuring these peaks. The air, though below freezing, is not particularly cold, about 26 degrees F. I walk over to the hut proper and cook a breakfast of eggs and fried rice. I decide that the day is too cloudy to make an ascent of one of the mountains worthwhile, and instead decide to hike eastward, down the Wild River Trail into the Wild River Valley. Heelen warns me that the trail is unbroken and that this trail is not particularly well-blazed and wishes me luck.

Heelen is right on both counts. I am indeed the first person on the trail since the snowfall and the trail has very few blazes, and almost none of which are usefully positioned. The trail is exceedingly difficult to follow. As usual, I spend quite a bit of time futzing with my snowshoes, stopping twice in rapid succession, first to adjust the left when it falls off and then to adjust the right when it falls off. The snow is very heavy and sticks to my snowshoes, weighing them down. I have to stop numerous times to puzzle over the trail. I make several wrong turns, but actually do quite well in keeping to it. Occasionally I come across a blaze and am reassured that I am still on track. The day is pretty cloudy, so I find no panoramic views. But the snow-covered woods are beautiful and peaceful. As I did yesterday, I come across several sets of moose tracks. I also find a spot where a moose rested on the ground, brushing the snow aside to make a sort of bed. I see no moose, but maybe they see me. After about three hours, I reach a point where the trail crosses Cypress Brook. I ford it in a shallow spot, stepping from rock to rock. A little while later I come to a trail junction that informs me that I’ve come 1.7 miles from Carter Notch Hut. I’ve been hiking three hours and not made as much progress as I had hoped for. I decide to turn back, so as to reach the hut in daylight. I trip climbing down the river bank to get to the ford, and get my hands wet in the brook. Fortunately, the day is warm enough – and I am active enough – that I can merely shake off my hands without them even feeling cold. Had the temperature been minus ten I would have been much more uncomfortable (and would have had to break out my spare pair of gloves).

The hike back up is strenuous but pretty mindless, as I merely have to follow my own footsteps. The afternoon becomes rather misty and a perhaps even a little sleety. I begin to appreciate the virtue of an unbroken and poorly-blazed trail, for the need to constantly scour the landscape for trail clues forced me to see much more – animal tracks, rocks, plants – on the way out than on the way back. I arrive back at Carter Notch Hut well before darkness having spent about five hours hiking.

Heelan has spent the morning hiking – and also breaking trail - up to Carter Dome and the afternoon ice skating on the smaller of the two Carter Lakes (after shoveling the snow off of it). We each make our respective dinners and spend the evening sitting around the wood stove reading. I read through some of the previous years’ guest books, looking for – and eventually finding - the entries from my two previous visits. Heelan makes a wreath out off pine boughs and sprays of red berries that he collected during his hike. The wind has picked up and is howling outside.

December 16, 2009. The morning is clear and the sun lights up Wildcat Mountain and Carter Dome in a wonderful orange color. The temperature is 4 degrees F. After breakfast, I hike up Carter Dome. The sky has not remained as clear as I had hoped for. Patches of cloud have developed over many of the summits, including Carter. Yet the sky is still quite pretty with many patches of blue. The hike is very steep and very tough. Enough snow has drifted during the night that Heelen’s tracks are mostly gone. I’m breaking trail, once again. I encounter many steep spots where I slide back several times before I can find the footing to make progress. My feet are feeling rather cold, and I stop to put on a second pair of socks. I eventually come to a side trail that leads to viewpoint on the edge of a cliff on Carter Dome’s southern flank. I spend a few minutes there resting and admiring the view. I can see westward towards Mt. Washington, and though it heights are enshrouded with cloud, I can see its flanks and a white glow where I imagine its snowy summit to be. I can also see Wildcat Mountain to my south, the Wild River Valley to my east and Carter Notch Hut below me. The hut is built on top of an old landslide, The Ramparts, said to be early Holcene in age, that brought hundreds of huge boulders down from the side of Carter Dome. I then continue upward. The trail straightens out and its grade decreases a bit. It has overhanging evergreens that make it almost a tunnel. It’s still awfully steep, though, and seeming endless. I finally emerge at an open area of the summit. It’s very cold and windy, much colder and much windier than at the hut. The trees are all snow-encrusted. The clouds are too low for much of a view. I visit the cairn where, back in 1997, we took a family snapshot. I take my own snapshot, using the time-delayed shutter on my camera. This exercise leaves my hands very cold, for I have to take off my gloves to work the camera’s controls. After a few minutes, I head back. The hike down is still tough in places, for I have to watch my footing very carefully. Many places are too steep for the snowshoes to find any traction, and I slowly ski down on their edges – and occasionally fall on my butt. My feet are cold again by the time I reach the hut. I spend a good half-hour warming up and drinking numerous cups of instant coffee. Today’s hike took about four hours to go 2.6 miles.

Heelan and I are joined by Mike, another AMC employee who will take over as caretaker for the night while Heelan attends a Christmas Party back in town. Two day hikers also show up. They stay in the hut for only a few minutes before heading up Wildcat. Heelen, Mike and I think their trek is pretty foolhardy, for the day is already late – 2:20 PM. They are unlikely to make the summit before darkness sets in. But we wish the luck. Heelan then leaves and Mike and I cook our respective dinners and sit around the wood stove, chatting while we dry out our clothes. I find that Mike is a canoeist who has done several long trips. We chat about the various virtues of canoeing and kayaking (my sport) and between long-distance canoeing and sprint racing (my daughter’s). Mike also has training in wilderness rescue and we chat about disasters old-time and recent (including my own 1998 Iceland accident).

December 17, 2009. The morning is very clear – much clearer than yesterday and very cold and windy – much colder and windier than yesterday. The temperature is minus 4 degrees F. After breakfast, I say goodbye to Mike and make my way back down the Eighteen Mile Brook Trail, back to the car. My hands are feeling awfully cold at the start, probably because I spent too much time with my gloves off taking pictures of the lakes and surrounding mountains, beautifully lit in the morning sun. But as soon as I am on the trail through the woods I feel completely comfortable. I enjoy looking at the snow and ice formations on the brook and at the vegetation. I catch glimpses of Mt. Washington and other peaks to the west through the trees, but really have to shop around for gaps that provide unobstructed views.

Despite the cold, my car starts as soon as I turn the key.