Odiorne Point

Today we went for a walk on Odiorne Point. We followed a grassy trail down to a beach of smooth stones - they reminded me, incongruously, of river stones - most the size of a deck of cards, but well rounded. They clanked pleasantly as we walked. The stones got smaller and smaller, and eventually we reached a sandy beach.

We clambered out on some rocks where the receding waters had left tidal pools. In one we saw darting aquatic creatures. They moved too quickly for us to get a bead on what they were exactly.  We stepped back to the rocks over what looked like a swampy marsh but was actually very firm footing anchored with grasses and sea lavender.

As we headed inland, ascending and descending a gunnery hill, I saw a sudden movement away from me under the leaves on the side of the trail.  The quick-moving bulge looked about the size of a chipmunk, but I peered more closely into the scrabble of leaves and vines:

Sure enough, it was another yellow and black striped snake! (Presumably a garter snake.) This one was a bit longer than the one we saw on the Discovery Trail, and he didn't make a clean getaway.  After his initial burst of movement, he tried to be more still and stealthy, but we were able to find him:

Here I captured a bit more of his length (maybe 18 inches altogether?):

 But my mom caught him with his red tongue out -  a great shot!  (Really, surprisingly red.  Not just pink.)

Sunset at the White Mountain National Forest

As the sun set, we stopped at a scenic overlook in the White Mountain National Forest (on the Kancamagus Highway, NH Route 112).

Around the gazebo, rowan trees with large clusters of berries glowed in the golden light:

  

The folds of mountains made for an ethereal backdrop to the darkening forest silhouette:

Behind us, a nearly full moon:

It was easy to lose sight of our fellow nature-gawkers, who took pictures and spoke in subdued tones:

White Mountains National Forest: Discovery Trail

I wouldn't necessarily recommend the Discovery Trail to people who have already gone hiking in the woods more than once (the focus is on very basic ecology and forest management), but it was getting late, and we chose it pretty much at random to get one last spot of hiking in before it got dark.  For all our mockery, it actually met our needs as a short and very easy trail with occasional items of interest, such as this insect-laced tree:

Strangely, most of the benches en route had no view whatsoever.  Except for this one, which we made a point of sitting on briefly just as encouragement for being in the right place.  Not a bad view, eh?

Franconia Notch State Park: The Flume Gorge

It was a spectacular weekend, so we joined the throngs at the Flume Gorge in the White Mountains (see also this nice blog post by someone I don't know).

At the start of the trail, some shelf-style fungi on a tree trunk:

Glacial boulders adorned the landscape - this one was specifically labeled as such:

  A covered bridge over the Pemi.


A first glimpse of the Slide:

The surface was not worn smooth and flat, but smooth and rippled, as if from eons of waves:

 

 I liked the mini-fountains that formed around the little rocks resting on the ridges.


Important warning for visitors:

 

In the Flume itself, an 800-foot long gorge formed where basalt dikes have worn away faster than the Conway granite,  trees have sprung up in the (seemingly inhospitable) long horizontal cracks in the walls.  It makes the roots look kind of espaliered:

And even some of the branches have a similarly artificial feeling: 

It was slow going, as the boardwalk was clogged with people stopping for photos.  (Unnecessarily, I might add, since the path is actually wide enough for a passing lane if only people would keep to the right when they are not moving!)  A view up the Flume:

This natural archway to nowhere (it's very shallow) is labeled "The Pulpit":

The Avalanche Falls toward the top of the gorge were cool because the water kept ricocheting back and forth like a pinball machine:

Practically a whole ecosystem is on the rocks (literally), with lichen, mosses, grasses, dead leaves descended from the trees, etc.

As we exited at the top of the gorge, the temperature rose noticeably.  The Flume must be great on a hot summer's day (natural air conditioning).

Unfortunately, in a crowd this large, it's inevitable that not everyone will actually obey the signs:

 

A picture postcard of tenacity - tree roots gripping a rock:

(I found myself wondering at times whether the trees maybe hoped to crush the rocks over time until they give forth all their nutrients - what a bonanza, if they pull it off!  Cue the Far Side cartoon with a spider web strung across the bottom of a playground slide: "If we pull this off, we'll eat like kings!")

 Birch and pine trees grow at quite an angle on a steep slope :

Here, the water flows down through an arch to create a second waterfall:

 A nice NH mountain stream view:

 

A close-up of water rushing through rocks:



The Sentinel Pine Bridge takes visitors across to a prime viewing spot for the Pool.  From the NHDPR website:

The Pool is a deep basin in the Pemigewasset River. It was formed at the end of the Ice Age, 14,000 years ago, by a silt-laden stream flowing from the glacier. The Pool is 40 feet (12m) deep and 150 feet (45m) in diameter, and is surrounded by cliffs 130 feet (39m) high. A cascade rushes into it over fragments of granite that have fallen from the cliffs above.

On the high cliff above the Pool, the Sentinel Pine stood for centuries. It was one of the largest in the state, nearly 175 feet (53m) high, with a circumference of 16 feet (4.8m). The hurricane of September, 1938 uprooted the giant pine whose trunk bridges the river above the Pool and forms the base for the covered bridge. The bridge offers a fine view of the Pool.

Was this the scene after the Ents smashed up Isengard?

As we soaked in a view of Mts. Liberty, Flume, and Osseo, occasional gusts of wind would fill the air with leaves, fluttering and even glinting as they caught the sun:

The top of Mt. Liberty (4460') is supposed to look like a profile of George Washington's face.  Imagine that he is lying face up, and the top of his head on the right.  It's really just the nose and a hint of the forehead.  Kinda almost works:

(You're actually supposed to imagine he's lying in state, but that really defies belief, IMHO.)

I couldn't get enough of tree roots gripping rocks.  There's something so compelling about the imagery. It really makes the trees look human - in a chilling, inhuman way.  It's like fingers, or arms, or tentacles.  Oooh, that gives me the shivers!



It was a lovely walk, very fun.  We had some lunch outdoors (including birthday cake - thanks, Ruth!!!) and then prepared for Round II.

Broken Bridge

I went over to check out the bridge to Loon over the Pemigawasset River.  It was a lovely day.

From the Loon side, it all looks kind of OK at first (if you don't mind that the casements for the bridge supports are perhaps a bit asymmetrical).

So I went further downstream to get a better view.

The trees are starting to change color, and the river is full of great boulders and rocks.

Looking downstream, it's just lovely: 

But looking back upstream, I can finally see that yes, they were not kidding.  The bridge legitimately needs to be closed to pedestrians and cars at this time.  There is a big chunk missing on the highway side.

Muted colors of driftwood and river stones (no, this is not a ssssnake):

Closeup of swirling currents.

Just a few clouds in the azure sky:

I think this tree was washed up during Tropical Storm Irene:

A cairn to guide visitors to the river's edge?  Or the sad memento of a snowsick wanderer (in the sense of homesick rather than seasick)?