Lafayette, We Have Arrived!

July 2009 - Mount Lafayette, White Mountains, New Hampshire

It was a humid July afternoon. Colin and I were being sluggish on our couch in Allston, watching Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job!, waiting for Nick to get home from work so we could head to New Hampshire. By the time Nick arrived and we hit the road, we bumped into the Friday rush hour traffic that plagues 93 North all summer, every summer. After a few hours drive and a pit stop at the New Hampshire State Liquor Store (a requirement for any car coming from Massachusetts), we arrived in New London, where we would spend the night. It was already dark and we only had one thing on our minds: food. A rural town like New London offers few late-night food options, but luckily we found Pizza Chef. We ordered a couple of pizzas (we're growing young men after all) and looked on as middle-aged townies flirted with the clearly high school-aged cashiers. Greasy as the pizza, they were! Our bellies full of 'za and Dr. Pepper, we headed to Colin's grandparent's "camp" to kick back and sleep before hiking Mount Lafayette* the next day.

The camp (read: lake house) on Pleasant Lake was quiet and empty. The grandparents were still in Mass for the weekend, so we had the joint to ourselves for the night. After cracking a few Pabst and looking at old photos of Colin and family, we hit the hay. In the morning, we woke early, sat out on the porch, and enjoyed the view of the still lake.

We decided to take an early morning canoe/swim before we left for the mountains, so we grabbed the boat and hit the water. Landing on a small island, we took turns jumping off of rock outcrops. The air was still cool, but the water was warm and inviting, smoothly wrapping around our bodies in that way only lake water does. The morning was passing us by, so we made way for the house, packed a lunch, and got in the car.

Nick took the wheel and drove in an aggressive manner that both suits him and made Colin and me rather nervous. After speeding through the narrow pass where Lafayette and Cannon meet, we got out in the parking lot at the base of the mountain and watched an old man fishing in Echo Lake, floating on an inner tube. The parking lot was busy, but most people seemed to be opting for the arduous chair lift ride up to the summit of Mount Cannon to look down at the rubble that was once the Old Man of the Mountain (Colin joked that it would be cheaper for the state to rebuild the Old Man than change all of the state signs that feature him).

Searching for a way up Mount Lafayette, we found the Green Leaf Trail across the still highway, hidden next to the on-ramp. Heat was radiating off of the asphalt, so we were glad for the cool shade of the trees.  Streams of sunlight peered through oak leaves and moths buzzed around our heads. We hiked for a long time without much talking. Past an exposed sheer rock face looking out on the valley, we entered a hemlock grove, where mountain streams trickled unseen beneath a carpet of thick moss, reminiscent of Endor. We passed no one. A bit farther on, we came to Greenleaf Hut and took our lunch, looking over Eagles Lake. A few old timers gave us gruff stares as we pulled out our phones to snap pictures--not to text gurlz, as they must have thought. Colin, feeling weary, was conflicted about pushing on. But with the summit in view, he decided to continue, Vans slip-ons and all.

As we left the tree line, we scrambled over large boulders and--fooled by the treeless view, like many who climb in the Whites--figured that the summit was imminent. Granite boulders became larger and more geometric, carved from the mountainside over a hundred years ago for a shelter at the top. Finally reaching the peak, we stood as cool clouds passed over our sweaty skin. We met a through hiker from England--whose legs could have been mistaken for hairy tree trunks--and he took our photo. He told us about hiking the trail, home, and a weekend of R&R he'd recently taken to Boston. As he picked up his pack and schlepped his lumber yard of a body to Mt Garfield--and Katahdin beyond--we headed back down Green Leaf, rewarding ourselves with an occasional pull of Evan Williams (only the finest Kentucky has to offer for us).

We stopped again at the rock face for a pipe and watched the sun cast an orange glow on the mountains. We were close to finishing, but the highway seemed an infantile stream in the valley below. I let one more smoke ring off into the air before we picked up our packs and finished the hike in time to catch the setting sun fall behind Mount Cannon. We laid on the hot pavement for a moment, soaking up the warmth, and enjoyed the last bit of New Hampshire air before we sped away in the car, back to our trash-covered little corner of Allston.


Photo: Left to right-Colin, me and Nick on Mt. Lafayette

*Fun fact, although Mt Lafayette is in the Presidential Range, Lafayette (the man) was never actually president. Sorry Gilbert.