Descent to Greeley Ponds Trail

The following is a continuation from the previous post.

[Click on the photos to enlarge them]

Although the Greeley Ponds Trail is closed, I have little choice but to descend this way, on the established routes, rather than returning to the woods and bushwhacking for the brook, as there would most likely be a friendly mutiny on the bounteous Goodrich Rock; and so, as I skip down the worn path of the Goodrich Rock Trail, feeling a unique sense of pedestrian mastery, as the walking on a trail is so much easier than tramping through the untrodden woodlands, I am suddenly relaxed, as the anxiety and mystery of the adventure has mercifully left the scene.

We weave through the Davis Boulders with great aplomb, and are doing fine, very cheery, until Ralph reminds us that for all who are not wearing Crocs, we still have some bushwhacking to do. I confirm that, as far as I know, Greeley Ponds Trail is still full of water. Running water, because the Mad  River has been diverted by a giant log jam, and until that gets dismantled, the trail will remain a "branch" of the river itself.

And sure enough, that is what it is, almost two months after Hurricane Irene. There are three areas where the river has been diverted, flooding the trail, but one of them crosses the trail and then weaves back and forth across it a few more times, causing havoc for both the trail and the hikers.




 

...And as the hike comes to a close, we feel a mixture of relief, pride and fatigue, as the bushwhack was typical: every few feet or so there is a route-finding decision, because no tramp is ever exactly the same, and there was effort and perseverance and a little anxiety, laughter, conversation, beauty and peace, and we did it. And on the conclusion of our epic excursion, we are amazed at the power of nature as we witness the condition of the Greeley Ponds Trail, crossing the rivulets and thrashing through the trailside hobble bush. Another adventure complete.

Look for our newsletter coming out soon which will have the latest on the the recovery of the Greeley Ponds Trail.

 

Oct.8th Goodrich Bushwhack

[click on photos to enlarge them]

Moving more slowly now, as the grade steepens, and the spruce and balsams are getting thick and tight-together amidst the crisscrossed deadfall trees, I stop and wait for the others. Ralph is right behind me, and then Dorothy a few steps back; further down the slope, Marcelo keeps an eye on his wife Bev, and Ralph's wife, Blanca, and Kathy, who, quietly, slowly, yet seemingly effortlessly, ascends at the back of the group.

"So, I think if we head this way," I tell them, "it's a little more... um..... open."
"Which way?"
"This way."
"That way?"
"That way."
So we go that way. I wrestle a thick dead log down to the ground, and then hack away all its little branches with my hands and follow that by crashing my body through the medium sized pieces that snap off with each step. There. Shortly after that short steep open section, we are closed in again by deadfall, and are traversing east trying to find a way past a giant spruce log. Ralph catches up to me and says that maybe we should think about lunch, as the others are talking about things like low blood sugar.

While the others eat, a hastily whack westward, to be sure that we haven't wandered off on the wrong tributary. Friday [my dog], who is right behind me, wishes we were stopping for lunch. Soon, I find the head of the brook in a cavernous gorge-like chip out of a sizeable scaur amidst the conifers; and despite my anxiety at not being at Goodrich Rock by now, I am momentarily pleased, as if finding the genisis of the water from this un-named Osceola brook, has suddenly calmed me, as it's a special place in these woods, a place where few people have been, and the trickling sylvan watermusic soothes my soul.
Then I look again at my map. Shoot! The head of the brook is beyond the Goodrich Rock! We've gone too far! I start heading back to the group, dreaming of soon seeing the rock hiding amidst the greenery of the conifer forest...

After lunch, during which time Ralph has broken out the compass, and Dorothy has broken out the altimeter, and Ralph also has a GPS, and there is much discussion as to where the elusive rock is; I stand up and announce that I'm pretty sure it's right down that way.
"That way?"
"That way."
We all seem to agree. Having stayed alongside the brook for too long, I figure we're northwest of it. We are soon stumbling down the steep-nested rocks and rootclumps, heading southeast. Another reason I'm sure that we've gone too high, is that on one of my scouting missions, while the others took a break, I hiked until I saw the ridge, with the blue blue sky as a serene backdrop to the wind-fluttered yellow birch leaves, and the usual fungal accompaniment beneath the hardwoods. Knowing that Goodrich Rock sits in a den of conifers, similar to the one we're now tramping through, I am sure we've gone to far. If we went over the ridge, we'd begin descending down to Timber Camp... hmmm... sounds interesting.... another day maybe...

 Leading the way, somewhat hastily, we are now descending, our group-line spreading out somewhat, as the going is more open, easier, and with each step I scan the distances around me: uphill, downhill, and straight in front of me, saying to myself... where is it? it's got be right here... somewhere... but where is it?
And then Dorothy, cries out, "Is that it? That's it! There it is!"

and turning back up the hill, I see it, just some fifty feet down the hill. From below, the rock is an imposing tower-like feature; but from above, it is considerably more covert and
diminutive. I am astounded that I had just passed it without seeing it. We crown Dorothy and scale the ladder. After the climb up the ladder, the view we'd been waiting for greets us with a wide open countenance of blue above nature's forest quilt of reds, oranges and yellow amongst the green. Magnificent.  We made it. Halleluliah. Although never truly lost [I prefer the term temporarily misdirected], we were tested; and now, sitting peacefully at the top of the prodigious rock, we feel an elevated sense of accomplishment after the arduous bushwhack and the psychological fatigue of not knowing exactly where we were. We summarize that we missed the rock by about 200 feet as we hiked up.

Wilderness First Aid

Once again, the WVAIA is sponsoring a Wilderness First Aid Class. Instruction will be provided by Stonehearth Open Learning Opportunities (SOLO) of Conway, NH. The class will be held here in Waterville Valley.

WHEN: Saturday / Sunday
November 5^th & 6th, 8:30 AM- 5:00 PM
COST: $125.00, WVAIA Members $100.00
WHERE: Brookside Room
For Info, Email: wvaiatrails@gmail.com