The White Mountains of New Hampshire were hiding from us. They were hanging out in their shadowy northeastern corner like a silent spider waiting to pounce upon our neglect. I mean, whoa. Spectacular. Who knew? We didn’t!
We drove up to the highest peak, Mt. Washington, watching the trees mellow in hue and dwarf into a shrubby carpet of tundra. The air chilled, and the sky exhaled eye-level endless grey clouds that coolly slinked by as if to say, “Welcome to the big kids’ playground.”
At the top, the mountain dives down then opens and unfurls into rocky, peaty tiers like a massive god palm. We scrambled down the face, a tumble of silver and black-pocked boulders and smaller cracked chunks laced with yellow lichen. Patches of spongey crimson, white and green vegetation squeak and spring beneath your feet. We hiked down 2 miles onto one of the wide bumpy fingers and shot a dreamy (or nightmarish) Hellbender scene. The wind was righteous and perfect for that witchy whipped black cloak kinda shot. And the spectral haze was a generous gift for the likes of nothing-but-a-camera-and-tripod-keep-it-simple us.
It was really cold and getting late… and then it started raining. This made for a slippery climb back up as the last licks of sun sank deeper behind the mountains. We made it up, frosty but unscathed, to find we were the last souls up there. There was a tiny piece of paper on our windshield saying the Auto Road was now closed. Hmm. We made the steep winding ride back down, and sure enough the gate was closed and locked. We were wondering if we’d be sleeping in the truck for the night when we got lucky. A man who works there happened to see us from another road and came to open the gate. Another act of kindness we will pay forward. So we made it out, but we’ll never ignore those mysterious tall beauties again. We’ll be back for more, White Mountains!
Moving on…. to Maine!