TRIP #5, 2014--Rain, Rain, Go Away

Rain, Rain, Go Away
"It's raining lightly, so what are we going to do?" moaned an older couple in the motel breakfast room.
"But the sun is breaking through the cloud layer in the East, and it's only 9:15 a.m.," I told them, as I returned our room key.  "It's supposed to burn off by noon."
We headed toward Gorham in a roundabout way.

As clouds shroud the valley, the ducks
at Willey Pond follow us across the bridge
to the far side, hoping for a handout.

At Willey Pond, 1340 feet, the ducks followed us for a handout. A line of low clouds dribbled on the valley in a cold mist as we crossed the foot bridge. Webster Cliffs, over 3800 feet, were nearly shrouded in fog at 10:00 a.m., and the summit of  Mount Willey, over 4,300 feet, only peaked through the damp mist.

The hillside at Silver Cascades shows
early signs of fall foliage color.

By the time we drove down the road to Flume and Silver Cascades, it was sprinkling again.  We waited 20 minutes, watching the heavy trucks struggle up the gorge road, and then made a run across the street to see Silver Cascades. Just up the hill, the Flume Cascades dribbled down the cliff face in a steady stream.  "I'll bet this waterfall is gorgeous in the spring," said Andy.
At the top of the hill by the Appalachian Trail Club's Highland Lodge, we spotted a patch of blue sky, the drips stopped and one ray of sun promised clearing.  "Through hikers have about a month left to make it to Mount Katahdin," said Andy, and the manager at the Crawford Notch Railroad Depot told us the high for tomorrow would only be in the 50's.

Mount Washington Hotel Resort holds a
place of honor at the base of the mountain.

Nestled against the foot of Mount Washington, the legendary Mount Washington Hotel Resort at Bretton Woods looked like a Cinderella castle.  Even though the rain had stopped, a thin cloud layer outlined the red turreted roof.  A few golfers discussed their shots on an outlying green, but an imposing guard house discouraged us from driving in and trying to walk the grounds.  I guess that's reserved for the rich and famous.

Activity at the Mount Washington Cog
Railway increases as tour buses pull in and
locomotives gear up for the morning runs.

The Mount Washington Cog Railway is a relic of times gone by.  Built in 1869 as a coal driven steam locomotive running on a cog rail track up the steep slope, the railroad has survived to modern times and continues to draw crowds of tourists.  A bus load pulled in as we parked.  "I don't think they will see much today," said Andy, even though we noticed a few patches of blue sky.
"And I hope they take coats," I added, remembering the newscast had promised a high of 37 degrees at the summit.

The business office is ready for action.

This isn't exactly the bear
Sue had in mind, but it will do.

In the museum we shook our heads about one display.  A wooden sled on a cog track could slide a single man down the track for 3.25 miles in three minutes.  It had a hand brake which must have been laughable at that speed.  We imagined the Olympic toboggan or bobsled run, but this contraption had no sides on the sled or the cog track.

The Cog Railway retains some coal driven
engines, even though others have been
replaced by more eco-friendly locomotives.  

I snapped a picture of the original office desk and old Smith typewriter.  It looked just like one my father used for many years in his accounting business.  He composed nightly letters to me in college as well, detailing the accomplishments of the day and even what he had for dinner.   Like father, like daughter, I guess!

Ripley Falls is a half mile
hike into the backcountry.

Ripley Falls Trail climbed .6 mile to a hidden waterfall.  The sheets tumbled and spread across a sheer granite face.  We trekked in, avoiding puddles and scrambling over rocks.  Just as the trail turned left and descended over a huge jumble of boulders at the base of Ripley Falls, the sun broke through.  Several chipmunks scurried from under one boulder to another, avoiding our company.  "That was a good choice," complimented Andy.  "Drew and I never saw Ripley Falls.  When we came down the other branch of that trail from Zealand Hut, it poured for 7.4 miles and never let up."  Andy and I were a lot luckier today.

Andy tells me this is a freight line.

We headed north to Pinkham Notch.  Instead of clearing as the patches of blue sky had hinted, the clouds descended.  Mount Washington was shrouded in misty, grey cloud-cotton.  Totally overcast, many of the other peaks poked in and out of the undulating mass.  Every so often a bank shifted and a brighter spot developed and then disappeared.
By 2:45 p.m., we pretty much gave up on any further hiking.

Hidden in the wilderness from a trail off
an unimproved road, Triple Falls is a
little gem of nature.

"It's 32 degrees at the summit," reported the ticket salesman at the Mount Washington Auto Road office. "But it's fog covered up there, so you won't see anything."  We hadn't intended to drive it anyway.  But we browsed in the gift shop, chatted with some people from Pennsylvania and watched a couple cars start through the main gate.
After we had checked into our motel in Gorham, the showers ended and a rainbow arched across the sky.  We set out to find a moose.  Pinkham B, an unimproved summer passage, took us past the trail to Triple Falls.  A short .15-mile climb over thousands of tangled roots followed a tumbling brook to a hidden gorge with three small waterfalls.  Moss covered everything and the huge trees tossed on the sides of the brook were a testament to the powerful forces of water in other seasons.  By the time we got back to the car and followed Pinkham B to Route 16, there were more patches of blue sky.  "This is the clearest it has been all day," said Andy.
But the summit of Mount Washington was still hidden in fog.  And no bears or moose were to be found!