Carter Notch
From Wednesday to Sunday this week I switched hut shifts with Tom of Carter Notch: he filled in at Zealand until Friday and hutchecked this weekend, while I spent four lovely days with my old flame, Carter Notch Hut.
Carter was my first home as a caretaker, almost one year ago in the spring of 2004. Carter has a unique atmosphere to it- the hut is nicknamed "Cozy Carter" and with its location at the bottom of a huge glacial cirque, with impressive crags looming over it to the east and to the west, it does have a cozier feeling than Zealand, from the front porch of which you can see for miles. Each place is beautiful in its own manner, but it was good to be back at Carter for a few days.
It was also good to sample some of the skiing that Carter Notch hosts. On Thursday I skied down the Wildcat River Trail southward towards Jackson, and made a few laps in a beautiful birch glade about a mile down from the hut. On Saturday, I skied the Ramparts, an open field of boulders that have rolled down from the glacially-gouged cliffs on the western face of Carter Dome.
When I was working at Carter last spring, there was much less snow, and the Ramparts were a treacherous maze of rocks, krummholz, and undermined corn snow. I'd read in the crew logs how some former caretakers (if you care to let their skiing prowess awe you, and you should, they were Mark Dindorff and Adrianne Gass) had skiied down among these boulders, and I could hardly believe it then. But this weekend, with the snow from a fairly impressive winter burying most of the stubby trees in the bowl, I decided to give it a shot.
When I say I skied down the Ramparts, don't get the impression that I linked tight telemark turns to weave a graceful path among the many obstacles there. I may have linked seven or eight turns the whole way down, and four of these were in a relatively clear meadow near the top of my descent. Mostly, it was a program of long side-hill traverses puctuated with quick jump turns. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful, sunny day, and I was able to venture into a part of Carter Notch that is impassable for ten months out of the year. And now, perhaps I will astound future caretakers of Carter Hut when they read my own account in the crew log.
Sunday evening was to be our final caretakers' meeting in North Conway, and I skied all the way from Carter Notch to Pinkham by way of the 19 Mile Brook Trail, the Aqueduct Trail (part of the Great Glen trails network), the Auto Road, and Connie's Way ski trail, a tour of seven miles or so. And what a day it was, with sunshine and temps around 40. I returned to Pinkham tired, sun-kissed, and in the finest of moods.
It was the first day of spring, and I suppose that I was happy to see it. But feet of snow are still on the ground, tree buds are still merely buds, and there are still a few weeks of employment left for this caretaker, and for this weblog.
Carter was my first home as a caretaker, almost one year ago in the spring of 2004. Carter has a unique atmosphere to it- the hut is nicknamed "Cozy Carter" and with its location at the bottom of a huge glacial cirque, with impressive crags looming over it to the east and to the west, it does have a cozier feeling than Zealand, from the front porch of which you can see for miles. Each place is beautiful in its own manner, but it was good to be back at Carter for a few days.
It was also good to sample some of the skiing that Carter Notch hosts. On Thursday I skied down the Wildcat River Trail southward towards Jackson, and made a few laps in a beautiful birch glade about a mile down from the hut. On Saturday, I skied the Ramparts, an open field of boulders that have rolled down from the glacially-gouged cliffs on the western face of Carter Dome.
When I was working at Carter last spring, there was much less snow, and the Ramparts were a treacherous maze of rocks, krummholz, and undermined corn snow. I'd read in the crew logs how some former caretakers (if you care to let their skiing prowess awe you, and you should, they were Mark Dindorff and Adrianne Gass) had skiied down among these boulders, and I could hardly believe it then. But this weekend, with the snow from a fairly impressive winter burying most of the stubby trees in the bowl, I decided to give it a shot.
When I say I skied down the Ramparts, don't get the impression that I linked tight telemark turns to weave a graceful path among the many obstacles there. I may have linked seven or eight turns the whole way down, and four of these were in a relatively clear meadow near the top of my descent. Mostly, it was a program of long side-hill traverses puctuated with quick jump turns. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful, sunny day, and I was able to venture into a part of Carter Notch that is impassable for ten months out of the year. And now, perhaps I will astound future caretakers of Carter Hut when they read my own account in the crew log.
Sunday evening was to be our final caretakers' meeting in North Conway, and I skied all the way from Carter Notch to Pinkham by way of the 19 Mile Brook Trail, the Aqueduct Trail (part of the Great Glen trails network), the Auto Road, and Connie's Way ski trail, a tour of seven miles or so. And what a day it was, with sunshine and temps around 40. I returned to Pinkham tired, sun-kissed, and in the finest of moods.
It was the first day of spring, and I suppose that I was happy to see it. But feet of snow are still on the ground, tree buds are still merely buds, and there are still a few weeks of employment left for this caretaker, and for this weblog.
3 comments:
First of all: Why aren't there more comments here? Do the hut's other visitors lack my burning curiosity? Maybe they aren't part of the internet-inclined elite? Or perhaps they read but simply don't have anything to say. The day I have nothing to say will be the day I die, so while this may belong more in my own blog than in yours, I'm going to defy convention and my own common sense (as I tend to often do) and post it here.
I've just returned from my own glorious Zealand pilgrimage as part of a group from Hopkinton High School in Contoocook, NH. We have been collecting and analyzing the acidity of snow pack samples at various depths and elevations, this week and Zealand and last at Carter, on excursions I dubbed pre-trip "Freezing My Ass Off In The Name Of Science." The data collected will go to the state environmental agency, as it has for the past eleven years, where it will probably be passed around extensively and subsequently ignored. What? Acid rain? What? It can't be. Keep on emitting bad shit, it's good for you.
Anyways, with 6% bodyfat (yes, I'm alive, moderately healthy, very scrawny and quite active), I'm historically not fond of cold weather. As the gap between my last calendar X and our first date of departure narrowed, I became more aware of the snowstorms and sub-freezing temperatures that were likely to greet us. I thought of backing out, but sacked up, packed all of my warm clothes and went through with it. It turned out to be a perspective-altering-for-the-better decision. I can now proudly proclaim "I like winter! I like snow! I enjoy sitting alone in the dark woods in 15-degree weather!" The more profound conclusion I've reached are numerous, but since my time and any potential reader's attention span are limited, I'll have to leave those mostly out.
You caretakers have an amazing job, and one I hope to someday hold. I'm saddened by the knowledge that I don't have another impending trip to which I can count down the days, and will soon have to remedy that (though I think I'll wait til summer to venture back out on my own). The views from the huts and associated psychological exhiliration are rivaled in my memory only by those from my first 4k-footer and from the top of my first multi-pitch climb. I think they're in good company there. Thank you-- and everyone else in the AMC-- for giving me the opportunity to spend the last few weekends as I did. And watch out; there is nothing that'll keep me away now.
-Joules
Climber Of Rocks, Internet Superhero(ine), Newly Recruited Lover Of Winter, Holder Of Far Too Many Self-Bestowed Titles, and Writer Of Things That Tend To Be Exorbitantly Long
Joules-
If you'd like to drop out of high school, there's an opening for this spring at either Lonesome Lake or Zealand. Although, if you're still in high school, you probably don't meet this crucial requisite: no one younger than 18 gets hired, even if they're a superhero(ine) who's too precocious for her own good. Don't worry, Zealand Hut will be there for you when it's time for you to pay your college loans.
I regret that I wasn't around while you and your fellow chemists were stealing my snow. Do you habitually squat on others' comment pages, or do you have a blog of your own?
-c. neal
Unfortunately, as luck may have it (or maybe chronology, if you dig technicalities) I am only sixteen and will remain so for another five months and change-- which puts my birthday at the end of the summer, a fact for which I've often berated my mother. "Couldn't you have squeezed me out just a few months earlier?!"
This August, though, I'll be leaving the great white North for the greener pastures (as they always are on the other side of The Fence) of Flagstaff, Arizoner, for some indeterminate amount of time. There, I will climb boulders, re-learn how to snowboard, show Northern Arizona University how "it" is done, and spend some time in the deserts with which Edward Abbey has me so infatuated. Once I make it out of the Southwest, whether for a summer or for good, I intend to return for some homestyle White Mountain lovin'.
I had a blog, once. I mostly gave it up when even I stopped wanting to read it. Maybe it's a habit I ought to pick back up.
-Joules
Climber of Rocks, Internet Superperson, Eater of Many Sammiches, Blurry-Eyed Insomniac, and Blogsquatter Extraordinaire
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