I had been missing New England so much, especially the White Mountains. I missed the sweet scent of evergreens tall and dense, lining the pulpy earth with their needles. I missed the special quiet that comes with breaking treeline and entering the alpine zone. I missed trails that will simultaneously break your heart with the sight of gorgeous moss and break down your willpower with punishing climbs and rocky obstacles.
I had also been missing one of my dearest friends, Danielle. We have remained spectacular friends since we bonded over a strange first day of high school technology class. But more than just remaining friends, we’ve managed to develop similar interests even though our friendship has been mainly long-distance. Danielle, like me, is also beholden to her camera, specializing in nature and landscape photography. Unsurprisingly, then, she is also an avid outdoorswoman who hikes and paddles all over New England. Somehow, despite our convergent passions, we had never been backpacking together…until now.
In July, Danielle and I drove west from Portland into New Hampshire. It felt so good to be back in the northeast driving by rows and rows of pines, hemlocks, and firs. Moose, Danielle’s endlessly enthusiastic and adorable adventure sidekick, accompanied us on our excursion. Us three gals set out on the trail brimming with anticipation of mountaintop frolicking.
The trail, though not long, was steep in its incline and I welcomed the challenge that this presented. Hiking in Virginia is lovely, but it does not elicit the same kind of suffering that I respect and relish in the Whites. We stopped frequently to check on Moose, for she frequently bounded ahead of us in search of exciting smells and new sights. Most of the way up was unsurprisingly dense with foliage, only allowing one or two peekaboo views. The real reward waited for us at the peak.
Mount Kearsage North sits at a low 3,268 feet - inconsequential in comparison to other peaks in the White Mountains. But, unlike many other summits in the area, it boasts a gorgeously weathered fire tower that offer both 360-degree views of the area and also protection from the oftentimes harsh elements. And not only can you admire the scenery from within its shelter, but you can also camp. When we realized we’d have the summit entirely to ourselves, we could hardly contain our joy.
After setting up camp, we plopped ourselves down for a well-deserved rest. Moose got more out of this intermission than any of us - she promptly fell asleep next to her bone and sailed off to doggy dreamland. Danielle and I just sat quietly in awe of the grandeur before us. The mountain is situated right at the edge of the White Mountain range, so on one side the view was mostly flat and pastoral with a few lakes and ponds dotting the sea of green. On the other, the mountain ridges rose up higher than us with great dignity. Mount Washington sat highest of all, its mighty peak often shrouded in a puff of cloud. Looking at northeastern nature in all her glory, it was hard to sit there and feel like I could ever really soak it all in. I have such an attachment to this corner of the planet, and to witness it as a visitor made me feel all kinds of nostalgic.
After a thorough recess, we resumed exploring by crawling all over the summit. As a squad of three, we searched and sniffed every corner we could find and devoured as much magnificence as we could. The sun continued to sink lower and lower into the sky, intensifying the colors and drawing the warmth away with it. Fog settled among the mountain ridges and the sky blushed pink. We found wild low-bush blueberries and snacked as we watched a priceless performance. Danielle and I, each used to being behind the camera, took turns catching each other in front of the lens for once. We played and laughed and finally stood quiet, paying homage to the day. I savored being in there with her.