A Weekend at Upper Goose Pond

My 3-year-old runs past the cabin at Upper Goose Pond in Western Massachusetts.

We have set a record low for the number of family camping trips this year: two. We had such a rainy spring that we had to keep canceling our trips. We couldn't easily cancel our 6-day foray into the White Mountains,  despite the predicted (and realized) thunderstorms all week; we had a pricy reservation at the Greenleaf Hut. So that was our first trip of the season. Our second was a much more relaxing two-night stay at Upper Goose Pond in East Lee, Massachusetts in late August. The weather was perfect, and there was a cabin that hikers could stay in for free (my husband and eldest son spent one night in the bunkroom before deciding it was more comfortable to join the rest of the family at one of the tent sites; it had nothing to do with the bunks and everything to do with the fact that my son was coughing, falling out of bed, and probably disturbing other guests). There was even a friendly caretaker who made blueberry pancakes for our breakfasts and a couple of canoes that visitors could take out on the pond for no charge. The only downsides were that there were no campfires permitted at tent sites, so we had to do all our cooking at the designated area outside the cabin (so no private family marshmallow roasting just before bed) and that we could faintly hear the cars rushing along the Mass Pike, several miles away. Although those two annoyances did detract from the experience, we had enough fun to more than make up for the bother.

We pulled our canoe onto the shore opposite the cabin
and spent some time checking out the fish, which clearly
were used to having people feed them from this spot.

The boys had never been in a canoe before, and at first the younger two were afraid of the gentle rocking motion as our canoe simply sat by the dock. But once we convinced them to get in and give it a try, everyone loved it. We peered over the edge of the boat at the "jungle" of pond weeds below; we floated over underwater boulders and looked for fish; we admired some ducks paddling by ahead of us; we stopped to explore the far shore and feed bugs and grasses to some fish; and we found a little beach we'd passed on the trail the previous day and stopped for a picnic lunch. Afterward, the boys built towers with rocks, threw the ball into the water for our dog, and floated in the water in their life jackets.

Our dog crosses the bridge over the marsh.

 On the hike back to our car, we stopped to rest on a rock by a wooden bridge spanning a marshy stream into the pond. We picked raspberries along the trail, and I discovered some beaked hazelnuts I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed on the way in (they were hanging right along the trail). The trip was just about perfect until we reached our car -- and found that the battery was dead. Fortunately, we found a friendly neighbor to give us a jump. As the kids all munched on apples we'd picked from a nearby neglected apple tree, we started out for home.

Photo Gallery

The boys rest on a rock by the bridge on our hike out.

My 3-year-old cuddles up with his dad.

Picking raspberries alongside the trail.

I was excited to find hog peanuts growing along the trail in a muddy section just before one of the bridges. I have seen hog peanuts once before, at a friend's vacation house in Maine, but on that occasion we couldn't find any of the subterranean beans. This time I dug up a bean, although it was all white and clearly not ready for eating. I brought the bean and the connected vine home and planted it in a pot to see whether I could start my own patch of hog peanuts, but we had some particularly dry weather, and I didn't give it enough water. I guess we'll see whether the bean sprouts in the spring anyway. Hog peanuts look like small, multicolored pebbles. I've never tasted them, but I hope I will one of these days!

There are two types of hazelnuts that grow in my area: American hazels and beaked hazels. Last year I picked American hazelnuts, but I had never found beaked hazelnuts prior to this trip. On our hike out of camp, I suddenly noticed all of these French-horn-shaped, prickly green and brown nut husks hanging alongside the trail. I became more and more incredulous as the bushes went on and on. This was just further proof that I am truly one of the most unobservant people on the planet (in middle school I once passed a newly constructed wall around the school office twice a day for two weeks before noticing it). I didn't have anything to collect the nuts in, so I contented myself with taking pictures and bringing a few samples home for further examination. Beaked hazelnuts are supposed to be harder to de-husk (the husks are prickly, so it's best to wear gloves) than American hazelnuts, but the latter are said to be more wormy. I certainly did find that I had to pitch a large proportion of the American hazels I collected last year.

Lots of Indian cucumbers grew alongside the trail, too. The part you eat is the root, which looks like a tiny, white, hairy carrot and tastes more like a cross between a mild onion and a cucumber. Indian cucumbers are what got me started on my foraging obsession.

My youngest son shows off an Indian cucumber root (he later decided he didn't want to eat it).

My middle son pulls the canoe ashore after my husband took my eldest son for a ride while the rest of us enjoyed lunch on the bank.

My older sons finish their picnic lunch while my younger one goes back to building.

My younger two sons build on the beach after our picnic.

There were hopniss vines (the subterranean tubers -- ground nuts -- are delicious) growing at our picnic spot and by the boat dock. Here you can see one of the purple flowers. The hopniss leaves are the pointy ones at right center.

Here's a close-up of the leaves and thin vine.

Here are hopniss vines growing all over a bush by the boat dock.

My eldest son gets ready to throw the ball for our dog.

My eldest and youngest sons dig on the beach.

These grapes were growing at the water's edge where we picnicked. They were as large as concord grapes (or smaller store-bought grapes), but I don't know what kind of grapes they were. They weren't ripe yet.

All grape leaves are heart shaped and simple (no lobes) but roughly jagged along the edges.

We followed this duck family for a little while.

My eldest son shows off an interesting toad he found in the field that served as a parking lot at the trailhead.

A Short Retreat

View of Mt. Washington over Lost Pond in New Hampshire's White Mountains.

Every July or August, my husband and I are lucky enough to get a short respite from parenting while our mothers watch the kids and we escape to New Hampshire's White Mountains to celebrate our wedding anniversary (12 years this year!). We normally stay in Jackson and do a little hiking and a lot of relaxing. This year we ventured north and hiked some unfamiliar trails -- but they were so rewarding that we couldn't believe we'd never tried them before. We'll definitely be back with the kids (inevitably we spend portions of our vacation thinking about how much fun it would be to come back with the kids).

The larger of the two beaver dams

One morning we headed to the Pinkham Notch Visitor Center and embarked on the Lost Pond Trail. It's a relatively flat trail that (predictably) hugs one side of Lost Pond. We were looking for easy hiking this year because baby #4 is expected to arrive in November, and I'm not feeling super energetic these days (that is also why this post is so long overdue). Unfortunately, that also meant that I left my foraging books behind (I didn't want to carry a backpack in addition to a baby), and so I was unable to identify several interesting plants we came across. Next year we'll have to go back with the books (see the Photo Gallery and below for pictures of some of the plants I couldn't identify).

As we made our way around the pond, we saw two beaver

A beaver has been here!

dams and many signs of recent beaver activity. We stopped to sit on a large rock at the water's edge and take in the view of Mt. Washington for a few tranquil minutes. Then we followed the trail past the pond and through a field of boulders left by a glacier during the ice age (the picture of the boulder field didn't do it justice, so I haven't included it).

Glen Ellis Falls.

After the trail left the pond and the boulder field, we took a short detour to view Glen Ellis Falls, which drops an impressive 64 feet and was probably created by a series of avalanches. We descended by way of a picturesque stone staircase, which paused at a couple of lookouts along the way. Tall stone walls enclosed each lookout so that visitors wouldn't accidentally plunge to their deaths at the bottom of the falls below. Still, because of limited visibility from the trail, it was hard to get a good idea of what the falls were like until we reached the bottom, and the sudden view of 64 feet of falling water was unexpectedly, awe-inspiringly magnificent. According to one of the stone signs along the trail, so much water rushes over the falls each day that it could meet the daily needs of a city of 25,000 people.

My husband carefully plots his route across the Glen Ellis River.

After climbing back up the staircase and resuming our original route, we came to a river crossing just before the trail entered a tunnel under Rt. 16. I was thrilled to be wearing my new Keen hiking sandals, which I purchased after getting water-logged boots during several river crossings on our last camping trip. While my husband searched for

My new Keens in the river.

suitable stepping stones and boulders to aid his crossing, I just waded through at my leisure. The Keens have toe protection, essential for hiking, but are also water shoes. At approximately 1 lb, they're a little heavier than is ideal for taking along on a backpacking trip, but if they avoid my having to hike in soggy socks and boots if we meet watery conditions, they're worth it!

Possible elderberry bush with unripe berries.

After the river crossing and our passage through the Rt. 16 tunnel, our trail ascended a ridge. From time to time we could peek out of the trees and see how high we'd climbed. At one such lookout I noticed an interesting tree with bunches of unripe green berries hanging over the edge of the cliff. I thought they might be elderberries but wasn't sure without my guidebook. Interestingly, I planted elderberry bushes in my front lawn, so you'd think I could recognize them! We don't get nearly enough sun for elderberries, though, and the berries have been small and sparse -- our bushes don't droop like this under the weight of the berries (see the Photo Gallery for pictures of our bushes). And I still haven't seen elderberries on the bushes that were under the power lines in my town -- last year the birds got to them before I did, and this year the bulldozers got there first (the hazelnut bushes are largely depleted as well; apparently the electric company has some big project going on).

Once we reached the visitor's center again, we stopped at the Joe Dodge Lodge run by the Appalachian Mountain Club and inquired about rates and even took a tour of some of the rooms. The lodge is much fancier than the Greenleaf Hut, where we stayed on our July backpacking trip, and the rates are a little cheaper -- which stands to reason given that the Greenleaf Hut is off the grid and located 1 mile below the top of Mt. Lafayette and the Joe Dodge Lodge is easily accessible from a parking lot along a major road. We thought it might be fun to take the kids on a trip where we started out in the White Mountains instead of having to pack up and drive 3 hr to get to the trailhead, though. So we're filing this information away for future use.

My husband kayaking down the Saco River.

On the third and last day of our short vacation, we rented kayaks and took a paddle down the gentle Saco River. The river is wide and winds along around many sandy beaches perfect for picnicking or just taking a break. Along the way I saw some sunflowers that I thought might be my first wild Jerusalem artichokes (I have cultivated ones in pots in my garden). I didn't try to dig up the tubers (the part you eat) because the plants were growing on a steep bank, and even without trying to dig, I was at risk of toppling into the river. I took some pictures so I could try to identify them later, but unfortunately the pictures of the

Jerusalem artichokes? I didn't have a shovel,
and they were growing on a steep river bank, so
I didn't dig one up to see whether it
had a tell-tale tuber.

stems were blurry, so I can't tell whether they were hairy or not (Jerusalem artichoke stems are very hairy).  I waited much too long to look at the pictures after we got home, so my memory is doing me absolutely no good. I'll have to categorize this as one more unidentified plant on our trip.

Now I'll leave you to the Photo Gallery, where you can see more unidentified plants and a little more beautiful White Mountains Scenery.

 

 

 

Photo Gallery 

Another view from the Lost Pond Trail.

 

And another.

 There were a lot of bunch berries around Lost Pond and Glen Ellis Falls. I nibbled on many as we walked along. They have a mild, apple-ish taste.

These are the elderberries I got from the plant in my garden. They're very small and sparse in comparison to pictures I've seen in books. I did pick this bunch and try a berry. You're supposed to get better results from cooking the berries (supposedly they make fabulous jam and wine), but my middle son and I both thought the raw berries tasted pretty good. I didn't get enough to do anything with them on their own, so I added them to some autumn-olive fruit leather. There were so few elderberries in comparison to the autumn olives that it's not possible to tell the elderberries are there, but maybe we're getting some small portion of their many health benefits.

I've no idea what this bush is, but I thought it looked interesting.

I thought this might be a chokecherry bush (the berries are still mostly green, whereas they'd be almost black when ripe).

Here's a close-up of the unripe berries.

And here's a close-up of the leaves. These look very much like the leaves in my foraging book, at least in this picture. I really wish I'd had my book along!

Here's a view of the stairs that led to and from the falls.

We liked these stairs so much that I took several pictures so we can remember how they looked, just in case we want to put stone stairs on our property some day.

Before we reached the real falls, we passed this smaller version. We thought it was quite nice until we saw the real deal.

A Week of Wilderness

 We started at the Lincoln Woods Visitor Center. The green line shows our actual route (18.2 miles in all). The red line shows our intended route over the Franconia Ridge. The two paths diverge at the Greenleaf Hut (labeled blue dot). Peaks are not to scale.

Over the week of July 4^th, my family embarked on our most ambitious backpacking trip to date, and our first of 2013. Normally, my husband, three boys, and I go out for three days and two nights, and we spend both nights at the same campsite because it takes us so long to pack everything up each morning (the boys – now 3, 5, and 7 but obviously at least a year younger on previous trips – traditionally have hindered rather than helped the packing process). By the time we get hiking after packing up camp, it's often nearly lunchtime! Last year the two older boys asked to go on a longer trip – maybe for a week – and promised to learn to pack up their own sleeping bags and hammocks.

We probably should have chosen a less challenging route for our first week-long foray into the wilderness, but we picked a loop starting at the Lincoln Woods Visitor Center off the Kancamagus Scenic Highway (Rt. 112) through New Hampshire's White Mountains. Our initial path is shown in green on the map above. We planned to hike around Owl's Head Mtn., up Mt. Garfield, and along the Garfield Ridge to Mt. Lafayette (elevation 5,249 feet above sea level) and then spend the fourth night at the Appalachian Mountain Club's Greenleaf Hut (labeled blue dot on the map), which is 1.1 miles down the other side of Mt. Lafayette. From the hut, we intended to hike across the breathtaking Franconia Ridge (which my husband and I have hiked a couple of times without kids) and end up back at the Lincoln Woods Visitor Center and our car.

The boys (and our springer spaniel) 1.4 miles
into our trip at the junction of the Osseo trail
(by which we would have returned if we
had completed our loop) and the
Lincoln Woods Trail, which we were following.

As usual, we got off to a later start than we intended, despite the fact that we'd spent the previous day (Saturday) packing. We thus didn't make quite as much progress the first day as we would have liked, but things weren't that far off track. We started by crossing a bridge over the East Branch Pemigewasset River and following the Lincoln Woods Trail and then the Franconia Brook Trail around the base of Owl's Head Mtn. We had a little rain during our hike and overnight on Sunday, but it was nothing too troublesome. As we neared our stopping point Monday night (still just a little behind schedule), however, the rain worsened, and our sleeping bags, hammocks, and clothes all got wet as we set up sleeping quarters. During the night, it poured as hard as I have ever heard it pour, and by the next morning our trail had turned into a running stream. The water level in the multiple rivers and brooks we had to cross along the way had risen to the point that the usual crossings were submerged; in one case, there was no choice but for my husband and me to plunge through knee-high water (in a strong current) with our hiking boots on (but at least the water wasn't thigh high, as fellow hikers heading in the reverse direction reported it had been just hours earlier). My husband carried our kids, their packs, and our dog (who wouldn't have been able to swim against the current) to the other side.

One of the lower-water-level brook crossings. We laid this log across the brook
and used it as a balance beam. Our dog watched my husband ferry gear across
so many times that she thought she'd try walking the log, too.
She got much farther than we expected her to, actually – on one attempt
I think she made it a couple of feet with all four paws on the log!

Needless to say, it was slow going, and we got severely behind schedule. It rained every night, so our gear never properly dried out, although we did spend one morning hanging things over a fire instead of making progress on the trail (I think we traveled less than 2 miles that day). On Wednesday night, we faced climbing the dreaded waterfall we'd heard had given other hikers so much trouble. Fortunately, by the time we reached it, torrents of water were no longer rushing over the falls, so it was possible for us to stay on the trail rather than bushwhacking around the sides as those before us had had to do. Nonetheless, it was definitely a challenging climb for little kids, not to mention for me (my fear of heights paralyzed me at a particularly vertical part close to the top, but my husband took my pack, and I managed to keep going). By that evening, the night of our hut reservation, we had only made it just below the top of Mt. Garfield. We sent word with another hiker (who, unencumbered by small children, would be making it to the Greenleaf Hut that day) that the hut staff was free to give our spots to other hikers and that we'd be showing up in the next couple of days.

The boys peeking out from behind a windbreak at the top
of Mt. Lafayette.

The daytime weather on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday was much improved. On Thursday, after a steep but short climb to the top of Mt. Garfield (where the clouds momentarily let up and we got a nice view), we finally got to drier conditions on the other side of the mountain. Bridges, always popular with our boys (and particularly with my 3-year-old, who made me recount The Three Billy Goats Gruff and hunt for mountain trolls for the vast majority of the trip), lined the trail around Garfield Pond, which lies along the ridge from Mt. Garfield to Mt. Lafayette. We camped just below tree line on Mt. Lafayette Thursday night, and on Friday we made it out of camp in record time and had climbed to the summit of Mt.

My two older boys descending the rocky trail
from the top of Mt. Lafayette to the Greenleaf
Hut, which is a small white speck at the left edge
of the picture (just below the bare rock on
the distant mountain).

Lafayette by 10:00. Again the clouds cooperated and afforded us a magnificent view of the rolling White Mountains extending in all directions. After a snack break at the top, we descended the rocky 1.1 miles (see picture) to the Greenleaf Hut, where we arrived in time to purchase lunch. Unfortunately, despite the messages we'd sent ahead with other hikers, the staff would not transfer our reservation, but at least they had space for us to spend the night.

After all our ordeals (and the parental worry over how long our food supply would last given that we were behind schedule), it was wonderful to relax at the hut, chat with other hikers, and have someone else do the cooking (and the food, by the way, was phenomenal – despite the fact that we were off the grid high in the White Mountains and that hut staff have to pack all supplies up and down the 2.7 miles from Lafayette Campground below). It of course rained again in the afternoon, and everyone had to hurry inside for a while, but we were rewarded by a magnificent double rainbow spanning the mountains once the showers let up (my picture below does not do it justice!). This was our first time staying at an AMC hut, but it probably won't be our last.

A portion of the double rainbow we saw from the hut.

On Saturday, because we had run out of time and almost run out of food, we descended by the Old Bridle Path to Lafayette Campground off Rt. 93 rather than traversing the Franconia Ridge and attempting to make it back to our car. Once descended, we called a hikers' taxi service and got a ride to our vehicle.

Although we didn't complete our intended route, and although we were all tired and waterlogged (you don't even want to know what happens to feet that have been walking in soggy boots for days), we felt very accomplished. If the adults had known ahead of time what trail conditions we would encounter – if we had known about the high-water river crossings, the stream-trail, the waterfall scaling, the downpours – we would certainly have thought our kids, accomplished hikers though they are, would not be up for the task. They surprised and amazed us with their stamina, positive attitudes, and resilience. And although we certainly faced some challenges and miserable conditions, we also had some fun times playing in mountain streams, taking in magnificent views, eating like royalty at the hut, and yes, even hunting for trolls (but I hope not to have to tell the story of the Billy Goats Gruff again for a long, long time).

Picture Gallery

My 3-year-old having a snack on the trail. His mother (who is that irresponsible woman?) decided against buying him a lightweight, backpacking-appropriate rain coat because he already has a perfectly good (although quite heavy) raincoat, so he wore this emergency rain poncho. It ripped in several places during the trip and had to be tied around him in knots.

My two older boys underneath some tree roots we passed on our descent out of the mountains. We were trying to figure out how the tree ended up like this.