We had decided last year on our return from New Hampshire in September that we'd no longer make that pilgrimage to the White Mountain National Forest that we've been returning to twice a year, in spring and early fall for decades. When our children were young, before their teens, we first took them there, and the older they got the more accustomed we became to the mountains and the energy it would take to begin climbing them. They, like us, took to the adventure of it all, and we would rent cottages close to either the Crawford Notch, the Franconia Notch or Pinkham.

 

 

They're now far older than we were when we began vacationing with them there, and we've been returning on our own for the past thirty years, a week in June, another in September or October. The last summits we climbed was Welch-Dickey's 4-mile loop and that's almost ten years ago. When Jackie and Jillie were puppies we climbed with them nine years ago to the lookout and went no further. Their predecessors, Button and Riley, accompanied us year after year on our climbs. Button, older than Riley by seven years, climbed most of the Presidential range with us, with the exception of Mount Washington. 

 

The Basin, Franconia Notch

Old habits have a way of nagging at you. We had agreed between us, that at age 86 the long drive, the settling in, the packing, the search for trails in a mountain region that would still serve our need to be out in nature on forested trails without stretching our energy resources beyond what we could muster was unrealistic. Those days were over, we agreed. No trip in June.

 

But in August, Irving felt restless and said he'd been looking at the reservations available and found an opening for us for September and would I agree that we'd give it another go? Reservation made, we left home with the puppies on the 3rd of September and took that drive to the Waterville Valley. On the way, going through Vermont, we saw just how serious that state is about 'clean, green' energy. There are vast wind farms and electrical grids in wide stretches along the route we took. 

 

Sabbaday Falls

We left on a beautiful driving day, clear sky, sunny, mild temperature. We stopped for a brunch and the opportunity to have Jackie and Jillie get a little walk, before resuming the trip. They're great little travellers, content to be with us, uncomplaining, well behaved. When we finally arrived in New Hampshire, to our surprise there were motorcyclists everywhere. We're accustomed to seeing them in June, for the big rallies at Motorcycle Week, but here they were, brigades of them zipping about, many unhelmeted.

 

When we finally arrived at our destination, we were greeted by our hosts, Donna and Byron O'Donnell, who have in fact become dear friends over the past twenty years. Unpacking was a ritual we've been long familiar with. The puppies remembered the cottage; they've stayed at a number of them over the years, and they adjusted well. The days to follow gave us the opportunity to resume our acquaintance with that colossal, beautiful landscape.