Way back in last spring, when I decided to finally become a backpacker, I daydreamed about the trails that were about to open up to me. Timberline Trail. Long Trail. And the Pemigewassett Loop, a 32-mile loop of interconnected trails in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. The Pemi Loop is often considered to be one of the toughest day hikes in the country, if you’re hardcore enough to do it as a dayhike. I would probably hike it in three days – that is, if I ever got the experience, and the guts, to hike it.
Throughout the last year and a half, I’ve learned how I’m affected by weather, rocks, elevation, solitude, peanuts. I use a thermometer to test out homemade gear. I shed pack weight a few grams at a time. The Escarpment Trail has humbled me, the Long Trail has taught me how to suffer, and sectioning the Appalachian Trail weekend by weekend has left me yearning for a bigger challenge. It’s finally time to take on that legendary loop.
- Map: Map Adventures White Mountains New Hampshire & Maine, 5th edition (2016), and Guthooks AT New Hampshire section
- Start/endpoint: Lincoln Woods Visitor Center, Lincoln, NH
- Days: 3
- Trails: Lincoln Woods, Osseo, Franconia Ridge/Garfield Ridge/Twinway/Appalachian Trail, Bondcliff, then more Lincoln Woods
- Miles: 31 loop miles, 32 total miles
- Peaks: Flume (4328′), Liberty (4459′), Little Haystack (4780′), Lincoln (5089′), Lafayette (5260′), Garfield (4500′), South Twin (4902′), Bondcliff (4265′)
- Total elevation gain: 9160′
- Camps: stealth site and Guyot Campsite ($10)
- Notable critters: boreal chickadees, spruce grouse, cute little squirrels, possible ravens
Day 0: Hancock Campground
It was going to take just under four hours to get from my home in Connecticut to the parking lot at Lincoln Woods Visitor Center, where the trail started. I opted to go up and camp the night before at Hancock Campground ($24/night), a half-mile from the trailhead. I drove up through the route Hubs and I took to Maine a couple weeks before, then veered north on 93, emotions and nerves bouncing around inside me the whole time, and I tried to channel them into singalongs as I drove through thunderstorms that obscured the mountain peaks I knew were around me.
At the campsite, I set up my hammock with my homemade topquilt and underquilt. It was a test. The low temperatures for Lincoln were reading between 49-53 degrees for the following night, and with the additional 3000 feet of elevation I’d gain the following day, I expected lows in the 40s. I had been rocking the lightweight, low-volume, down quilt combination all summer, but I’d never taken the combination below 58 degrees. And sure enough, I woke up at midnight, shivering, to find the thermometer read 55 degrees. I had no choice but to switch over to my sleeping bag: the bulky, 3.5 lb, 21 degree Mountain Hardware bag that I took on the Long Trail, the one that looks like a giant turquoise worm. I had grown accustomed to my lightweight DIY gear through the mild summer temperatures. But I run cold, and this was the Whites. I would need The Worm.
Day 1: Franconia Ridge (13.1 miles)
I swapped the underquilt for the warmer inflatable pad in the morning, chomped down some oatmeal and coffee, and drove down the road to pay the $5/day parking fee and get on the trail by 8:45 am. I would go clockwise around the loop, taking on the hardest and longest day while my legs were fresh. I’d gain nearly 4000 feet in elevation, AND need to carry all my water for the night across three peaks, AND find a stealth site below the treeline, AND do at least 13 miles to get there. Masochistic? Definitely.
I started on Lincoln Woods trail, meeting a happy writhing corgi (a good omen) on the bridge that took me to the west side of the Pemigewassett River. I followed the river for 1.4 miles, then Osseo Trail took me 4.1 miles up to Mount Flume, my first peak of the trip. The woods were oddly quiet. This wouldn’t be a big trip for wildlife.
There were rocks. There were unexpected ladders. There were false summits. Man, there were false summits. Was this going to finally be the summit?
NO. NOT A SUMMIT.
But I got my first view of Franconia Ridge, the 2.5-some miles of exposed ridge that includes Little Haystack, Lincoln, and Lafayette, the tallest peak of the trip at 5260′. I watched it get closer as I reached the top of Mt. Liberty, where I stopped to rest a couple minutes and check the map.
Okay. From here it was a short hike to the junction of Liberty Springs Trail, where the Appalachian Trail joins the loop. I hiked downhill 0.3 miles to Liberty Springs Campsite, where I filled up with 2.5 liters of water for the second half of my day’s hike, as well as for dinner and breakfast. Then, back up the trail…
…and before I knew it, I was on Franconia Ridge. I recognized it from photos I’d seen over the years, never really processing that it was real, never thinking that I could really stand on that ridge in person. (At first I hadn’t even realized I would be completing a section of Appalachian Trail on the loop, but it made complete sense that this ridge would be along the most fabled trail in the country.) My body had just taken me seven hours and nine miles over some of the gnarliest trails I’d ever hiked. My feet throbbed with every step, and the wind whipped my hood and threw all my loose straps across my face and tried violently prying my trekking poles and handkerchief away from me, and I’d forgotten to pack mittens. But it was a clear day with perfect views, and Franconia Ridge was more beautiful than I’d ever imagined. And I was there. I could see peaks for miles, including Mount Washington in the distance. I might have cried a little out of gratitude for being able to stand right there in that moment.
But I still had to push to Lafayette, and soon what little heat there was on the windy ridge would dissipate. I willed my legs to keep moving, promising myself I would reach Lafayette, my last exposed peak, by 5pm. I talked to myself as I did at the end of long days on the Long Trail, when I would motivate myself with “honey” or “lady” or “bitch” (in a nice way) or “bitch” (in a mean way). I was “lady” today, nicely asking my body to give me just a little bit more.
I made it at 5:01. Good enough! And I had the peak entirely to myself. Well, me and whatever critter it was I saw, or imagined I saw, darting behind a rock wall. A rabbit, maybe. And there were sparrows there too! And insects! Somehow, they could all tolerate the alpine wind up there.
I couldn’t stay long, though: I still had to limp my way down off the exposed rock and below the treeline for the night, before taking on the bald-looking Mt. Garfield in the morning. I had a mile or so of picking my way downhill over the rocks, praying I wouldn’t take a bad fall and spend the night alone wedged between two boulders with a twisted ankle and a plummeting body temperature. Luckily, around 6:30 I found a great site away from the wind, and hopefully just far enough from the trail to make it legal. I cooked up dinner, hung my bag of smelly things, and set my alarm for 6:00 the next morning.
Day 2: to Guyot Campsite (8.2 miles)
Yeah, so I woke up at like 8:15. Didn’t get on the trail until nearly 10. And the trail was TOUGH, like, northern Long Trail tough. I averaged less than a mile an hour. Which is to be expected after taking on Franconia Ridge in a 13-mile day, right? In between views, I amused myself by mentally reworking one of my many goofy teenage story ideas as a tale of a long thru-hike.
On the way up to Mt. Garfield, I heard woodpeckers around Garfield Pond, and a curious boreal chickadeee came about three feet away from me to investigate my presence. From the top of Garfield, I could see Flume, Liberty, and Franconia Ridge, as well as where I camped the night before. It’s always amazing to look back at all the miles you just put in.
Oh, but we had only begun. I still had to hike down Garfield (whose trail turned into a literal stream at one point), stop at Galehead Hut for water, and see if I could get a little beyond Guyot Campsite. And this was a smaller day compared to a number of other loop hikers I met, many of which had opted to spend their night way back at Liberty Springs Campsite, before Franconia Ridge.
At Galehead Hut, I shooed away shelter mice that were investigating my pack, tried to dry out my wet socks, and tried to even out my ridiculous backpacker tan while eavesdropping on AT thru-hikers and other Pemi loop hikers. I learned that I still had to get over South Twin today, that big peak that I was staring at. Apparently, it was a very steep, very rocky trail. Guthooks confirmed that “very steep” meant a 1300-foot gain in 0.8 miles. Shoot.
It was past 3 pm, and I still had almost 4 miles just to reach Guyot Campsite, which I decided would be my stopping point for the day once I realized just how slow it was going. It would cost $10 to stay there, but my legs were limiting me way more than my hammocking options. Maybe I could miraculously get my speed up and make it there before dark. With plenty of micro-stops to catch my breath and wonder why I made certain life choices.
I managed to drag myself to the top in about an hour, and a hiker I’d seen at Galehead came up soon after me. We traded photos and physical woes, striking up a conversation as we made our way to Guyot. Somehow, I managed to set a decent pace as we talked about outdoor adventures and a shared obsession with the Radiolab podcast, and we found out we lived only half an hour away from each other. Practically neighbors. We came across a male spruce grouse, which – like my docile Canada spruce grouse encounter, and unlike my explosively loud Long Trail ruffed grouse encounters – stood calmly in the middle of the trail, clucking softly and waddling forward as if we were a moderate inconvenience rather than a threat.
(Open that up and you might be able to see him!)
A few more rocks, a little more hiking above treeline, a turn southward from the AT onto Bondcliff Trail, and we were at Guyot Campsite with plenty of daylight to spare. Though I sleep best in a hammock, I was easily swayed (har dee har har) to stay in the shelter with Neighbor and not have to deal with setting up my gear over half a wooden platform.
Day 3: Bond and back (10.7 miles)
Inevitably when staying in a shelter, there comes a point when my body gets sick of flipping back and forth trying to get comfortable. That point was 5:15 am. Which was fine by me, since it allowed me to catch that magical quiet 30 minutes before sunrise when the first light comes into the sky. And I had a great view of it from the shelter, too.
Neighbor and I were back on the trail shortly after seven, making good progress toward Mt. Bond and Bondcliff, the last two peaks of the loop. We estimated we could finish by noon. My rocket boosters were fully engaged.
Bondcliff Trail wound down to a semi-flat rail trail running parallel to the river, then we rejoined Lincoln Woods Trail for the last 2.6 miles. Sure enough, we finished around noon. I devoured a convenience store bologna sandwich and deviled eggs before starting the drive back home.
Post-Hike
The Pemi Loop absolutely kicked my butt. My feet felt raw for days afterward, reddened and chafed in places that hadn’t been reddened and chafed since the Long Trail. I had hiker hobble like nobody’s business. I spent half the following workweek in arch-supporting athletic sneakers instead of my usual nice flats and dreaded bending down. I made terrible groaning noises when I stretched out my legs in downward dog. And despite the soreness, I felt like I had the energy to run a marathon. I had forgotten what it felt like to push myself so hard, and I realized that somehow, I missed that pain. Once I had a taste of it again, and the feeling of immense power that comes immediately in its wake, I craved it. Perhaps as much as I craved the experiences of awe-inspiring beauty.
Something my friend Loppers said to me on the Long Trail came to mind: “Congratulations. You’re a thru–hiker.” Yes. I am still a thru-hiker.
And now I need to find another way to beat myself to a pulp.
Lumba Hikes 
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