Sprung for Spring

I'd been spending too many weeks trapped in a federal courtroom or behind my desk reporting on a trial, and longed to smell fresh air and experience the honesty the mountains have to offer.

Last summer, I felt as though I had started off my hiking season biting off more than I could chew, going on really long jaunts from the get-go.

I decided to be easy on myself and try to get my body used to the idea of lugging a heavy pack, strapping on my boots and hitting the trails.

This time, instead of being focused on hitting 4,000 footers, I decided I would set my sights on exploring everything that the White Mountains have to offer: campsites, beautiful ponds, vistas _ as well as those beautiful peaks in the clouds.

So, on the first weekend in May, I plotted my course: Ethan Pond Campsite. It's named after Ethan Crawford, of the famed Crawford family of mountain explorers in New Hampshire.

I reached the trailhead just past noon, gave my pack one more check and hit the trail. It was a clear day, no nasty bugs had yet arrived for the season, and the trail was clear of everything but dirt, a few rocks and leaves leftover from autumn.

I forced myself to go slow, to stop every 15 minutes to grab a shot of my energy gel, take a swig of water, and keep my heart rate at a reasonable level to avoid getting burned out. It had been a long time since I'd taken in the smell of pine, heard the rustling of leaves and the occasional squeak from a friendly chipmunk. I heard woodpeckers off in the distance, seemingly having a back-and-forth conversation hammered out in some poor, unsuspecting tree trunk.

Along the Ethan Pond Trail, I ran across a man and his dog doing spring maintenance on his adopted path. I admired his work and his dedication, and continued on after a brief exchange of pleasantries and a few pats on his adorable dog's head.

Soon, the trail climbs in earnest. And before long, I encountered some of the lingering snow from this past winter. It was slushy at first.

Then, at the junction with the Willey Range Trail, the snow became compact and deep. I ran across a couple and their dog, and was told the Willey Range Trail was thick with snow. I took a mental note of their trail report and decided I probably wouldn't venture that way the next day.

Go To Page: 1 2 3