NH Zealand to the Cohos Trail

The last of the Appalachian Trail

It was still raining when I woke up in the tent, and I worried that it would rain all day. I had no access to a weather report. But it soon miraculously stopped and I was able to get up and cook some breakfast, excited to finally link up with the Cohos Trail and get picked up by my husband.

Zealand Trail! Zealand Pond, looking back towards Mt. Zealand

After some brief backtracking on the Applachian Trail, I said goodbye to the white blazes and turned north onto Zealand Trail.  I've been following white blazes since the Connecticut-Massachusetts border except for a short stretch of the SRK Greenway.

Beaver Pond along Zealand Trail

What an incredibly beautiful trail, and a super pleasant stroll. Especially after the frantic hike the day before along the ridge and then down the steep mountain in the rain.

It's all beautiful.

The trail started out along a series of beaver ponds and one postcard view after another. No other hikers for the first half. So peaceful.

Zealand Trail was mostly very easy

Zealand Trail is about 2.5 miles long and mostly level. Much of it (but not all) is almost like a sidewalk. The trail provides access to the Appalachian Trail and Zealand Hut, well as some other trails, and the AMC shuttle makes stops at the trailhead. So it gets busy, but it wasn't busy when I was on it.

Zealand Trail boardwalk

I very much enjoyed being able to relax and soak in the scenery. I had to eleven miles to cover by 3:00 pm, but it was mostly easy road walking, so there was plenty of time. And it wasn't raining!

Zealand granite, nice and gritty

I took a picture of the worn, crumbly granite that was typical of the rock there and which had provided such great footing in the rain the previous day, even on the steepest rock scrambles. I dubbed it "Zealand Granite." The white feldspar was crumbling away with the scouring of hiker boots and extreme weather, creating a coarse sand nearby, and a rock surface that was perpetually freshly broken instead of mossy and slick, the way rock is along lesser-used trails.

Blue blazes

There was a funny moment when I noted a blue blaze and out of habit suddenly thought I'd made a wrong turn because the blaze wasn't white. It took a moment to register that I wasn't on the A.T. any longer and the blazes weren't supposed to be white. Der. Interesting tidbit: In the White Mountains, the Appalachian Trail is blazed white. Each side trail off of the A.T. is blazed dark blue. Each trail that connects with a blue trail (but not the A.T.) is blazed yellow.

Zealand Road, crossing Hoxie Brook I think

After passing through the bustling parking lot at the trailhead and using the plush restroom, I headed north on Zealand Road, which is really just a gravel park road. I did pass the entrance to a cross-country ski trail which runs roughly parallel with the road and is an alternative to the road walk, but I wasn't sure if it was groomed for hiking and at this point I was in the mood for a nice road walk anyway.

Zealand River

Scenic Zealand River runs along the east side of the road, and much of the road walk was to the sound of the roaring water. The sky was getting a bit foreboding and dramatic. One minute it looked like rain and the next it was sunny and bright again.

Zealand River and Zealand Road

The road passed a number of parking areas and pull-offs, mostly empty on a Wednesday. Towards the end, it became paved and passed Sugarloaf Campgrounds parts 1 and 2.

Passing the campgrounds. 

A quick bridge-walk over the Ammonoosuc River, and then there was Zealand Picnic Area and Zealand Campground on either side of the road next to Rt 302. That was fast.

Ammonoosuc River

A history plaque described how the village of Zealand served the logging industry in the late 1800s until all the trees were cut. Then some fires destroyed the valley and the village. So there you go. How times have changed.

Drastic history

Farewell, Zealand. On to new lands. I turned east on Rt 302 and started walking down the highway, but soon realized there was some kind of track down below the road along the river and followed that. Turned out to be a snowmobile trail. It was nice.

Snowmobile trail along Rt 302 and the river

Before long, the snowmobile trail rose up to the highway and I could see the vast empty parking lot for the Lower Ammonoosuc Falls trail on the other side of the highway. The sky was getting weird. Clouds moving fast.

Dramatic sky looking back towards Zealand

Crossing the highway, I remembered that there might be a cell phone signal here according to the Verizon coverage map. So I gave it a shot and had 4G. Great! I sent off a text to my husband, the first since the top of South Twin Mountain. Checking the Verizon coverage maps before these hikes has been very helpful. You might not get a signal where they say you will, but if they show no signal then you definitely won't. So I let my husband know when I'm heading into an area with no signal and not to worry that he isn't hearing from me.

The falls trail followed an old railroad and was super easy and completely deserted.

Lower Ammonoosic Falls Trail

The falls came up quickly and were spectacular. A man and his boys were fishing in the big pool at the base, but there was no one else there. After awhile they left and I had the falls all to myself.

Lower Ammonoosic Falls

What a great place for a break. I did some math and allowed myself two hours to walk up Cherry Mountain Road to the pick-up point, meaning I would wait at the falls until 1:00 pm, about an hour or so.

White Admiral Butterfly

For me this marked the transition to the remote Cohos Trail, since the Cohos guidebook lists the spur trail to the falls. The Appalachian Trail was done. Zealand was done. From here to Canada I'd be following the Cohos. A butterfly landed on my foot and lingered, reminding me of the dramatic beetle that had hung out on on my boot at the top of Mt. Lafayette, the high point of the New England route.

Rain cave, just in case

It was a glorious stop, my feet in the falls, my back on the cool granite, and my face in the warm sun, watching the clouds speed by and the trees sway in the wind, and listening to the roar of the falls. Sigh.

Aster, probably New England Aster

The clock came around to 1:00 pm and it was time to head to the rendezvous point at the top of Cherry Hill Road.

Ammonoosic Falls access road looking towards the Presidential Range

I continued east on the trail for Lower Ammonoosic Falls, which quickly turned into a paved access road heading towards Cherry Mountain Road. There was so much plant life in this open area. Lots of berries and flowers.

Chokecherry at the junction with Cherry Mtn Road

Cherry Mountain Road. Yay! I was officially on the Cohos Trail. I first learned about this trail the previous year while hiking the Monadnock-Sunapee Greenway, and had been pining for it ever since. The Cohos is a little-known backpacking route between the White Mountains and the Canadian border, 165 miles long. I going to miss the part that went over the White Mountains, but since I'd just come over the Franconia and Twin Ranges, I mentally just made the substitution as roughly equivalent. The major difference would be that the Cohos Trail is meant to follow the quieter trails and I had just followed the busiest trail. I figured it would give me a nice contrast.

The Cohos Trail follows Cherry Mtn Road for about 3.5 miles

The road climbs gradually up the base of Cherry Mountain for about 3.5 miles, gaining about 800 feet if I recall. It had gotten hot and humid and the guidebook was wrong about tree cover: I was walking in the sun. No sooner had I run out of water than I heard a little brook off to the side and was able to get a refill.

Fabyan Guard Station

A log cabin called the Fabyan Guard Station was a welcome surprise. The cabin was built in 1923 by White Mountain National Forest rangers.

I was pretty hot, so when it started raining I didn't care overly much. It felt good. Maybe the moose would come out. It looked like it was going to rain for a long time, maybe all day, but after maybe half an hour it was all over and the sun was back out.

Coming up to a campsite

It was on Cherry Mountain Road that my plantar fasciitis finally acted up, and I limped slowly up the hill. It's always the easy parts that do it.

There are nine well-spaced campsites along this road, each numbered sequentially as you head up the road. Most of the sites were occupied, but a few were empty. I needed to get to campsite number nine. The Cherry Mountain Trailhead would be just after that.

Mt. Deception and a pond favored by moose

The road was pretty quiet, with only a few cars passing by. I was at the trailhead parking area (room for several cars) before 3:00 pm and my husband pulled in within ten or fifteen minutes after his golf game. How's that for timing?

Cherry Mountain Trailhead

He had secured us a room at the Four Season's motel in Twin Mountain. Hot shower!! And there was a great view out the window of the Twin Range nearby and the Franconia Range off in the distance. Perfect!

View of Twin and Franconia Ranges from our room

NH Appalachian Trail: Mt. Garfield to Zealand

Moody morning sky from the Garfield Ridge camp

After a restless night at the Garfield Ridge campsite (possibly from sharing the platform so closely with another camper) I checked my phone and learned about potential severe thunderstorms around 4 pm. So at 5 am I walked up to the food area to retrieve my bear bag. The sky was a vivid, angry red. Red sky in morning, hikers take warning. Yup. Time to make time. I broke up camp as quietly as I possibly could and headed down towards the main trail. Others were getting up, too, and preparing to hit the trail.

Garfield Spring

The day before, I'd heard something about a very steep downhill and bam, there it was, first thing in the morning. The little stream from the spring went down the hill and the trail soon joined it, so many of the rocks were wet. I didn't need any coffee after that descent.

Looking back up the trail

The trail continued down pretty steeply, so it was slow going. My legs were quite sore from the previous two days and I think I heard them groaning.

More downhill

After the steep stuff, the trail did some gradual ups and downs and I passed a number of tents in this area.  Makes sense. It was quieter and the thru hikers didn't have to pay $10 or share a platform. Smart.

Overlook a mile from Galehead Hut, looking into the Pemi Wilderness

The trail eventually came to a nice overlook. By this time, the thru-hikers were starting to pass me, and one came up while I was standing there. We conferred with the maps and managed to spot Galehead Hut a mile away at the base of the Twin Range. It was so tiny.

Galehead Hut is the tiny white dot up in the upper center part of the photo. 

More thru-hikers flew past me on the way to Galehead, but I met up with them again at the hut, which was bustling. This must happen every morning this time of year, the wave of northbound thru-hikers coming in from Garfield. It was the last source of water for a long ways, so everyone was topping off their tanks and grabbing something to eat. They have food at the hut, which some people were eating, but the downside to that is you aren't lightening your pack. Food is heavy, so the more of it you eat, the lighter your pack gets. I ate something from my pack.

Galehead Hut

It was much cooler and breezier that the two previous days and it felt wonderful and energizing. People actually started to get chilly and talked about heading up South Twin to warm up. The word going around was it was 1000 feet up in 0.8 mile. That would be the highest elevation for the day, and then I'd be following a ridgeline. Pretty sure I heard my legs grumbling.

From Galehead Hut back to the main trail, Twin Range ahead

I got out before most of the other hikers, eager to make time before the storms, but they all flew past me going up the hill. I bet fifteen of them at least. They've been hiking up mountains since Georgia, while I've been mostly sitting at a desk all summer, and it showed. The cool breeze was refreshing, though.

Looking back at Franconia Ridge and Garfield

Getting up to the top of South Twin was a psychological milestone for me. At elevation 4902, it was the last big climb of the trip and it was a gradual downhill along the ridge to Zealand Mtn and the drop to Zealand Hut.

South Twin summit, Mt Washington on horizon

So I was overjoyed to find that the summit empty. Views opened up to the east and the buildings on Mt. Washington were sort of visible. That's where the thru-hikers were headed. Good for them. The sky seemed pregnant with the approaching front, and isolated low clouds raced across the higher peaks. After a few minutes, one of the older thru-hikers came up and asked me to take a photo of him at the top with his camera. The thru-hikers were mostly in their twenties, but there was a good minority of retired men (no older women, though). They were a bit slower and definitely quieter. I had the best conversations with the older men. The "kids" didn't seem to realize I was even there. I don't blame them. I'd probably be the same if I were them.

A level trail!!!

After a short but steep descent, the trail leveled out and for about a mile it was like a typical Connecticut trail: mostly level but full of roots and rocks. I flew. Around 11:00 am came across a family hiking the opposite way to Galehead Hut and asked them about the weather forecast (I had no coverage at this point). They said they had recently seen the radar and there were big storms in Vermont headed our way, and we had maybe two hours at most before they hit. Yikes. I practically started running down the trail. At some point I checked Guthook and found I was five miles from Zealand Hut. Seemed pretty close considering how easy the trail was. My hope was to get to the hut before the storms hit.

Mt Guyot ("GEE-oh")

There was a bit of uphill to Mt. Guyot, which was unexpectedly open. A couple classroom-type groups were sitting about the trail, in one spot actually blocking the Appalachian Trail, and I had to asked them to move so I could get through. They didn't seem too disturbed about any approaching rain, which I hoped was a good thing. Or maybe they just had no idea. I could have taken a side trail to the Guyot Shelter and set up my tent, but it seemed way too early and I wasn't in the mood.

Mt. Zealand

I got about another mile down the trail when I first heard the thunder. Or maybe it was a plane. Nope, thunder. Ack. I donned my rain gear and continued. More thunder, closer, and the trail was going up to a more open area. What? I checked Guthook to find I was going up Zealand Mtn. Great. Because I want to be on a mountain top during a thunderstorm. Even if I stopped, I'd still be on a ridgetop, so I continued. The rain started at the top of Zealand. Not heavy, but steady. Oh well. I slowed way down in fear of slipping on slick rock, but the crumbly, scoured granite turned out to have very good traction in the rain. Still, it got very steep on the way down towards Zealand Hut, with many shear rock faces that were rather terrifying since they were wet. But I never slipped. It was about 2.5 miles to Zealand Hut in the rain, but it seemed to take forever. 

It stopped raining here

Eventually I needed some energy and all I had handy was a bag of pretzels and a cup of peanut butter to dip the pretzels in, so I sat down in the rain on a log and ate my pretzels. A younger hiker came down the trail while I was sitting there. "How much longer to we need to hike to get to the hut?" "Forever," I replied. "We will be hiking downhill in the rain until we die of old age." He cracked up and commented that he could check Guthook, but his phone didn't work in the rain. That was my problem, too.

The rain stopped about a quarter mile from the hut. Figures. Descending the ridge, I was noticing how lush all the vegetation was getting. So much diversity after being up on the ridges for a few days. Instead of the balsam-spruce forest, there was a dense mixed forest with all kinds of species competing for space.

Lush mixed forest

I had been to Zealand Hut about 25 years ago with my husband and remember that we really enjoyed the hike and the hut. We didn't stay there, just stopped in to admire the hut. So I was looking forward to returning as an older backpacker.

Crossing Zealand River

The area got it's name because at one time it was considered so remote as to be "New Zealand", but no longer. The hut was full of soaked hikers. I got a delicious cup of hot coffee. They also had clam chowder and various sweets for sale. I hung out for a good half hour or more, trying to dry off. My raincoat had not been terribly effective, and water had seeped through the material. Good thing this happened here and not during a long cold spell.  There was still no cell phone service. I asked around and was told it was supposed to rain all night. What?? I looked outside and the rain had started up again. Argh.

View from the Zealand Hut

There was supposed to be an informal tenting site just a bit further down the trail, so I headed down past the turn-off for Zealand Trail and found the site near Whitewall Brook. It was deserted. Much of the site looked like water from heavy rain flowed right through it. The rain had picked up but was still pretty light, so I picked a spot on the higher, grassy periphery and pulled out my tent. That's when the sky opened up and it POURED. Seriously?  It turned into the worst tent set-up I've ever done. There was a lake of water on the tent floor I kept trying to dump out before staking down the tent. Water was coming down in buckets and I was swearing up a storm. After doing a bad job of staking the tent, I ducked inside for cover. The tent was leaking due to my poor job of staking and the fact that I was at the toe of a good slope, so I kept everything tightly sealed in my wet backpack and used my bandana to bail out the incoming water.

This went on for about an hour until the rain stopped. Thank goodness. I popped outside and restaked the tent so that the fly would actually drain water. The tent was on a significant cross slope which I normally would have fixed, but I didn't want to risk another downpour at the wrong time. An older thru-hiker came in and set his hammock tent on the far end. I found a spot for my bear bag. Bear boxes are probably the biggest advantage of the busier official campsites. Bear bags are a hassle.

Last night camping in the rain

The rain started back up, but this time the tent was secured. It still leaked a bit, but I had a big plastic inner liner which kept things mostly dry. I still kept everything in plastic bags and didn't pull out the down-filled sleeping bag or jacket until it was time to sleep. All night I rolled downhill into my pack and bag of stuff. But it didn't matter, I slept pretty well my last night on the Appalachian Trail.

NH Appalachian Trail: Mt. Lincoln, Lafayette, and Garfield

Trees along the Franconia Ridge knocked over by storms

I got a rather lazy start in the morning (but still earlier than most of the college students, it would seem) and ambled back to the top of Franconia Ridge. But this time I turned left and headed north along the ridge towards Lafayette, excited to reach the timberline and walk along the ridge.

Monarch on some species of goldenrod

It was a very pleasant stroll along the forested ridgeline for about a mile or so, mostly level, and I only saw one hiker. A lot of trees appeared to have been hit with a big wind from the east at some point, which is not the prevailing wind direction, so it was probably a nor'easter or hurricane. Although it was in the trees, you could sense the land dropping off sharply on either side.

At the top of the ladder facing Liberty & Flume

After a spell, the land started rising again, and a ladder lead to the top of a rock with dramatic views to the south. Two matched peaks stood out: Mt. Liberty and Mt. Flume. Their profile would help orient me at future overlooks.

Bearberry

The next few miles were in the alpine zone and I had a lot of trouble making progress because I kept stopping to admire the unfamiliar plants. And the views, of course, always the views. There was lots of Bearberry, a plant I'm familiar with only because I purchased some for a native species garden, and the plant slowly died over the years. But it thrived up here, and was covered with berries. I'm going to assume bear eat these berries.

Alpine Bilberry

Another widespread low shrub with big blue berries was  (I believe) Alpine Bilberry, also known as Bog Blueberry, Northern Bilberry. This was a hard one to find any natural history on, because the Internet tubes and wires were clogged with the therapeutic uses for of bilberry.

Little Haystack

I kept heading uphill and arrived at a peak around 9:15 am. I thought it was Mt. Lincoln, but it turns out it was just Little Haystack. This peak barely even shows up as a peak on maps or profiles, but while hiking the ridge, it does feel like one. No sign indicated the peak, but a trail sign for Falling Waters Trail placed me on the map. Up head was another peak: Mt. Lincoln. 

Mt Lincoln up ahead

These peaks along the ridgeline always looked closer than they were. It looks like it should take twenty minutes to get there, but it was closer to 45 minutes. Granted, I stopped frequently for photos.

The weather had been most pleasant so far, but suddenly a gust came out of nowhere, and if I didn't have my trekking poles I'm pretty sure I would have been completely knocked over. There were a growing number of day hikers on this section and they were donning their jackets.

Pretend this is Old Man in the Mountain or something

The Old Man of the Mountain used to be located across the Notch from this area before it fell apart, and I could see how these rocks would form a face.

View across Franconia Notch: Kinsman peaks & Lonesome Lake

The wind died down quickly and the sun was quite warm due to the higher elevation. Day hikers were wearing shorts and no-sleave shirts, and sweating. Nearing elevation 5,000 ft, I bet it was even hotter down at the bottom of the valley.

Day hikers on Mt. Lincoln

Mt. Lincoln (elev. 5089 ft) was bustling with backpackers, some of them from Liberty Spring. I don't think they were thru hikers, but I'm not sure. A lot of people go on shorter backpacking trips in this area.   Seemed like a lot of college kids.

Mt Lafayette directly ahead, Garfield beyond. Nice landslide. 

Mt. Lafayette first became visible from the summit of Mt. Lincoln. It looked really close, but took longer than expected to reach. By this time, I was starting to see a lot of day hikers in very good shape.

Mt. Lafeyette summit

I climbed up onto the somewhat crowded summit around 11:15. Top of the world! At elevation 5260 ft, Lafayette is just twenty feet short of one mile high, and is the highest point on my route between Long Island Sound and the Canadian border. What a great feeling!

Looking north across the gentle Connecticut River Valley

I did not realize it at the time, but the air is a bit thinner up here for those of us who live near sea level. At 5,000 ft, there are reportedly 7% fewer oxygen molecule in every breath of air you take in. So I think I can say that 7% of my gasping up the hills was due to thin air, right?

Mt. Lafayette summit

All in all, the weather was really nice for the ridge line and about as good as one could expect, though at the time I found the sun quite intense and the uphills hot and tiring.  I was wishing for some of that cold breeze to return. I was also concerned about sunburn in case I missed a spot with the sunscreen. The thin air seemed to make the sun's rays stronger.

Meet my friend, the Majestic Longhorned Beetle

Hanging out at the summit, a big dramatic beetle flew in and landed on my boot. It crawled around  on my boot for a couple of minutes, then on the rocks.  Looking it up later, I found it's called the Majestic Longhorned Beetle.

Heading down Lafayette with Mt. Garfield directly ahead. 

I didn't stay at the top very long as it was pretty busy up there, but started down the north shoulder of Lafayette. The trail suddenly got very quiet here, with just a trickle of backpackers. I passed a woman having lunch on a boulder. "Nice and peaceful here," I said. "Exactly!" she laughed. A bit further on, still above treeline, I did the same thing. Lunch time. It was gorgeous.

Mt. Garfield ahead. It doesn't look like very much from up above heh heh

I picked my way down the rocky hill, in no particular hurry, with the trail gradually circling to the East off of the Franconia Range and onward towards Mt. Garfield and the Twin Range (or Ridge). Had a nice conversation with a woman who had backpacked in with her dog, set up camp on the back side of Garfield Pond, and day hiked up to the top of Lafayette. Said she did it every year, and said there was plenty more room near the pond there. I thought about it. But when I got to the pond it was only 2:45 pm. Lots of daylight left, and I wanted to get closer to Zealand.

Garfield Pond

My water was getting low. I started with 2.5 liters, but with the heat and maybe the thinner air, I only had about half a liter left. I halfheartedly tried to get some from the pond, but the mud was so deep along the shore it didn't seem worth it. Later I heard from a number of thru-hikers who were completely out of water and did manage to refill at the pond.

Heading up Garfield

Garfield kicked my butt. By this time I was probably dehydrated, not to mention hot and tired, and the air was a bit thinner. The uphill was relentless, about 800 feet, and thru-hikers started speeding past me. I was actually getting shaky and light-headed, probably from dehydration. The afternoon sun was beating down on the west-facing slope and my thighs burned. But eventually I made it near the top to a great overlook.

Near the top of Garfield, looking back at Flume, Liberty, Lincoln, and Lafayette

Just a bit further was the summit. I didn't stay long, since there was a group of loud thru-hikers monopolizing the top.

Mt. Garfield summit

There was a great view of the Pemigewasset Wilderness down below, basically a broad valley with prominent hill in the middle called Owl's Head, not to be confused with the Owl's Head peak on Cherry Mountain. The Pemi Wilderness is 45,000 acres surrounded on three sides by the Franconia, Twin, and Bond Ranges. It reminded me a giant volcanic caldera.

The Pemi Wilderness from Mt. Garfield. 

It was a short but rather steep downhill to the Garfield Ridge campsite. The camp is located up a spur trail at a spring, and that noisy group of thru-hikers was there. After filling up a couple bottles (I drank the first so fast I got a brain freeze from the cold spring water), I headed up the spur and asked the caretaker for a quiet spot away from the noisy hikers that were coming up behind me. He brought me down to the farthest platform, which was wonderful, and I set up the tent.

The Caretaker Tent

The young thru-hikers were making a lot of noise, so I head back down to the spring to wash up and get some more water. An older thru hiker was waiting for a friend there at the spring. He said he was hiking southbound. He'd down the first half of the trail northbound, then drove on up to Maine and started southbound. This is an option a number of people do who want more time, especially retired people. That was interesting. On our last hike, we had passed some AT thru hikers heading south, and wondered how that worked. 

Overlook rock on the way back to the spring

Back in the camp, there is a common area near the bear boxes where everyone is asked to cook and eat their food, so any bears will look there and not sniff around the tents. This was the big hang out location for what I'm guessing are the so-called "Mayflies." Those are thru hikers who start late in May and then have to rush up the trail trying to get to Katahdin before winter. Someone just graduating from college, for example, can't start until classes end, typically in May.

I grabbed my supplies and cooked up some dinner while listening to the thru-hikers. They all knew each other pretty well it seemed and there were a lot of running jokes. As I was heading towards the cooking area, the caretaker had brought down another hiker to set up a tent next to mine on the same platform. I never got a chance to talk to her. I was eating my food when she came up to the cooking area, and was warmly greeted by her fellow through hikers. There was basically one big circle of thru hikers having a conversation that I didn't want to intrude upon, so I did like an anthropologist and just listened to this species of hiker.

Three bear boxes and a shelter

After dinner, I headed back to the tent. It was dusk, so I retired. My platform-mate didn't come down for another half hour or so, heading straight into her tend. So that was a little weird. She was very nice a quiet, and I tried to be the same.