Our destination on the fourth day of our Waterville Valley stay in the White Mountains of New Hampshire was to turn back to the Franconia Notch and go along to the Basin, since no such trip could be complete without checking in to that landscape of mountain and the ancient waterway that has scoured the mountainside down to the Pemigewasset River, since time immemorial. Late in the season, between summer getaways and autumn tourism, we found the site not nearly as packed as it most often can be in peak season.

We decided we would first off take the trail leading to the 'Baby Basin', one we don't often take, but did this time around, with its narrow twisting trail laddered with tree roots, the trail worn, like the one trailing up the mountain slope, by years of countless boots making the pilgrimage to one of nature's spectacular natural sites.

The Baby Basin is considered to be a miniaturized version of the basin itself, but to our uncritical eyes it represents a visual counterpart of equal attraction to the other. The trail isn't very long and it runs contiguous to the highway, which, when the highway at one point comes into view and disturbing sound, goes a long way to negating the sensation that you're in a bit of a wilderness area, but it's a pleasant diversion.

From there we went along to the Basin itself, which unlike its more modest counterpart which we had to ourselves, had a bit of a crowd of sight-seers around it, snapping photos of themselves and incidentally the scoured-out basin with its tumbling, frothing water for good measure. We knew the crowd would thin and then disappear as we made our way up the mountainside on the trail that very few seem inclined to take.

We spent little time at the Basin itself, just a brief pause and then made our way up toward the trail ascending the slope where the ancient granite bedrock of the mountain stream winds its way upward -- and the reverse when you're descending, right? -- nicely accessible through mini-trails off the worn and tree-rooted, rock-strewn main trail for breaks in the clamber; areas where it's an inviting interlude that presents itself, to linger awhile, seat yourself, contemplate the immensity of the landscape beyond, glimpsed through the screen of trees marching up the mountainside.

The scenery is breath-taking in its scope and majesty, the proliferation of discrete landscapes, the rushing mountain stream, the granite hosting it, the tumbled erratics, the trees growing improbably but determinedly in what should surely be a climate hostile to their presence, perched so close to bedrock for trees to take root, much less stubbornly establish themselves.

Jackie and Jillie tried to go everywhere at once, their interest piqued by everything around them, their senses aroused and their curiosity as well. But, as elsewhere we ventured on this trip, we took care to keep them leashed since their instincts are not necessarily infallible to taking the wrong step here and there or meandering off beyond recall, (despite that they normally respond instantly when we call them) and though we enjoyed the pleasure of our leisurely examination of the area, we were also mindful of the need to ensure our little charges were never in harm's way....