Cooler overnight temperatures on Sunday night left a heavy dew from inversion when Monday morning dawned. Although we felt none too spunky; rather lazy, in fact, we decided to plan for the Rattlesnake, reasoning that the weekend now over, crowds would be reduced at that popular climb.

It felt a trifle cooler, yet still warm with sun and cloud sparring to offer a little of both throughout the day, with the temperature finally nudging just over 70-degrees, and a very nice breeze. There were, thankfully, far fewer motorcycles on the road, a nice relief from their incessant, jarring blasts.

We had a pleasant drive, enjoying the rapidly changing foliage colouration; beautiful but, we thought, not quite a vibrant as Ontario's. A bit of chauvinistic nonsense there, to be sure. We drove through weary, worn towns and passed countless ski lodges, lakeside motels and cottages, mini-golf and tourism service-focused establishments. Along with impeccably maintained rural homes, some of pure heritage status and most impressive. Not so the motorhome parks and recreational boat and auto emporiums.

Finally, we embarked on the circuitous drive around Squam Lake, past Lake Winnepesaukee, where the drive becomes one of sightings of farms and elegant horse ranches to the left, cottages and rural estates to the right, contiguous with the lakeshore. We arrived at the trail parking areas to find both almost full, so much for our past-weekend theory. As we set out it was clear we would be sharing the next few hours with many others in near proximity.

We heard and saw chickadees, nuthatches and bluejays as we began the ascent. Oak, maple, beech and birch predominate with an understory of striped maple and some sumac and dogwood. The acrid odour of drying foliage complemented by leafy showers occasioned by wind bursts gave additional substance to the climb. People passed us coming down, others on their way up, each time a smile and a greeting, some with young children, some with companion dogs, sometimes both; occasionally just a single person intent on a vigorous climb and a pleasant opportunity to experience a series of lovely autumn landscapes in a fabulous geological setting. I always note that there is a preponderance of single women doing this; not so often single men.

The upward trek is tricky enough, faced with a series of rock-steps and trails heavily laddered with entwining tree roots. When we finally reached the area where the trail forks to the left, up to the modest summit of Rattlesnake, or to the right, a lookout whose views are not over Squam Lake like the summit, but where the sightlines and the views, in our opinion, are superior, we turned off first to the right. Most people, not from the area and unfamiliar with the climb, miss the outlook. A pity, really. We often try to direct people's attention to this oversight; some are interested, some not.

We took ample photographs, drinking in the contrasts, the stunted pines gripping their rock bases, sending down roots to the elusive soil. The robust mahogany of the oak leaves, the immensity of the landscape below, the mountain slopes beyond in the distance, the gripping drama of it all. We remained awhile, sat together and discussed our pleasure in seeing it all again, how satisfying it all was to us, to have and enjoy this privilege. When a few others made their way to this point, we felt it was time to depart. Then we made our way over to the trail continuance and the rise leading to the summit overlooking the lake.

And there we lingered, viewing the sumptuous fall scene, speaking with the blessedly few others whose timing there echoed our own. Finally, deciding to descend, our passage was considerably easier, and that included for Riley, better able to successfully pick his way on the descent which understandably, aside from the need to be nimble enough not to misstep the roots and the rocks, was much swifter than the ascent.

But who was in a hurry, anyway?