Mt. Moosilauke

Our journey brought us to the foot of the White Mountains two nights ago. At the base of Mount Moosilauke we camped and reflected on how far we've come. Two miles short of four hundred to go, we let the magnitude of the distance wash over us. We knew that in the morning we would climb this massif, the first in the region and an outlier that stands guard to the rest of the range. Four thousand feet would be the vertical change over four miles, it was a bigger climb than any we have done thus far. Because of the high altitude of the Whites and the harsh weather that plagues the area most of the mountains are above tree line. These exposed ridges and summits offer spectacular views when the weather is cooperative but in other times it can be a curse; gale force winds tore at our friends who crossed it a day before us and fog obscured our entire climb. Rock cairns are the only guide in the fog and snow and on the northern slope metal rods and wooden pegs are used as ladder rungs to descend the granite faces. A large stream also parallels the trail here, and as the water plunges over ledges it splashes onto the trail, making the rock treacherously slick. After a night off in North Woodstock we re enter the rugged world of the Whites to tackle the Kinsman peaks and Franconia ridge.