This time around, on this trip to New Hampshire's Waterville Valley, we left the hike that is the most physically strenuous for us now at age 82 for the last of our forays. We headed out for Rattlesnake Mountain on Monday, the penultimate day of our week away. Never a good idea to plan to ascend the Rattlesnake trail to its modest summit on a week-end. It's just too popular. Because it is accessible with moderate effort, and because it has a nice view, and because it's just beyond the popular Lake Winnipesaukee.

It is, in fact, the West Rattlesnake that we climb, once we've driven past Holderness, an area that represents 'old stamping grounds' for us, since it's where we spent many holiday outings with our children when they were young. Of course at that time we were interested in climbing far more physically challenging mountain trails that consumed far more time and awarded us breathtaking views of considerable heights.

The trail to the summit is just under two miles in length. It's hugely popular with people of all ages. Even an overflow parking lot across the highway is hard put to accommodate all the people who aspire to climb to the summit overlooking Squam Lake. Once there, you have viewing access to a panoramic landscape below. Often, when we visit it's under cloudy skies and light rain.

This time, however, the sky was clear and the sun warmed the atmosphere. And we were quite happy to see that the main parking lot was only half full, though just slightly dismayed to see two school buses parked, one in each of the parking lots. Still, once we began our ascent we came across relatively few other  hikers. We did pass several groups of school children on their way down.

We were more than satisfied with Jackie and Jillie's behaviour in encountering a flood of young people on those several occasions. They were quietly obliging while many children oohed and aahed over their presence, wanting to pet them. Jillie more willing to be touched; Jackie his usual elusive little self with some exceptions.

Often, mosquitoes and black flies are a real nuisance on the trail, but they were fairly innocuous that day. The forest glowed with the shades of green reflected by a well-irrigated woodland. Red oak, pine, yellow birch and maple make their presence there. The trail itself has undergone many changes since we first accessed it decades ago. On our first introduction to the trail it was just a gradual climb over a slope that was sometimes steep but always navigable.

Eventually, someone somewhere involved one supposes both in the stewardship of the area and conservation conceived of the idea of building stone and/or log 'steps' over the sometimes-steep gradient. We've always found those 'steps' to be horribly annoying, completely unnecessary, and in fact, having the effect of making the climb more difficult.

There's lots of moose maple and dogwood in the understory, false Solomon's seal, the odd Ladies Slipper, buttercups and daisies, thistles and hawkweed. The elevation is about 1,200 feet, so not too demanding. The trail itself is popularly called the Old Bridle Path. There are two destinations once we reach the 'top'. One is the summit which leads off to the left, the other the main lookout, accessed to the right.

The summit is usually crowded with people. Of course when you're in a relatively limited space any number of people can make your senses decipher their presence as a 'crowd'. Most people have no idea of the presence of another picturesque area whose view is equally impressive. So we usually head to the lookout, and plan to sit around there for a while, to enjoy the view and the solitude.

Which is just what we did on this occasion, opting to bypass the summit altogether this time. The exertion for Jackie and Jillie mandates they be offered water from time to time. And they know they'll also be given little doggy treats as well at the conclusion of any hike.

A fit and energetic young person can easily access the summit in a half-hour, and spend the same amount of time or less descending to the trailhead. We likely take twice that time to make the climb, though we're closer to the average on the descent, even though some 'fancy footwork' is required thanks to scattered rocks and networks of roots.

We're not too concerned about how long it takes us to complete a hike. We don't, after all, consciously make an effort to speed up our efforts. We take our time and because we do that, we enjoy the scenery of the landscape more than would occur if our goal was to match the time it would take that we were capable of many years. And we're grateful to still be able to get out onto mountain trails to take advantage of nature's landscapes.