New Hampshire, 6Sept07

We're at the Welcome/Visitors Centre for our state permit to make use of the White Mountain recreational opportunities for visitors. A modest enough sum of $5. Free for senior citizens, but only if they're from the state, and we're not. I sit waiting in the car, with Button and Riley, while my husband enters the neat little building where he'll also pick up any number of pamphlets.

There's an orderly cluster of birds, starlings likely, sitting on an electric line, with the mountains as a persuasive backdrop. Lush green everywhere, punctuated by the web-grey diaphanous nests of web-worm. Week-day traffic on the nearby highway is sparse.

We took the dogs out at 7:00 a.m. to pee. The horses were already out in the pasture, roaming about. The green-tinctured apples fallen from a tree nearby the cottage inspired my husband to toss them, one after another, over to the horses. The treats were promptly accepted and, once devoured, the horses looked at him expectantly, but there were no more to be had that day.

A sudden burst of thunder heralded a cloudburst and it was all hands to the cottage and breakfast. Soon afterward we proceeded south on Interstate 93, along the Pemigawasset River, the mountains advancing alongside. Toward Campton, en route to our destination. Plenty of ferns along the highway have already packed it in for this season; sere and shrivelled. Sumac, pine, birch, oak and poplar. Here and there the granite rockface.

On the 175 to Holderness, the sky pewter, soon devolving to blue-white patches; clouded and clear. Past the genteel architecture of Plymouth State College; 17th century Georgian brick homes. Further on rude cabins for rent. Wood-frame ranch-style houses set deep into the verdant woods.

We pass a paintball range. White pine, blue spruce, maples and junipers. Trailer homes strung out along this quiet backcountry road. Hydrangeas and phlox out front and centre, and garden pots of blowsy petunias. There are boats bobbing at moor in Little Squam Lake. Motels, an art centre at Holderness. We turn off the side road beside the Natural Sciences Centre at Squam Lakes.

Private cottages, piers skirt the lake. Farms trundle up the low-grade mountain slopes. Horse ranches coast up the near slopes adjacent the mountains to the left; cottages and the lake to the right. Jewel weed and goldenrod, white asters brighten the understory with towering pines, maples providing the backdrop. Beside the road, hemlock, oak, pine, yellow and white birch. A small flock of juncos flits through the trees as we pass.

We're approaching the Rattlesnakes. No rain this time around. It's dry and bright. Noisy, however, as a roads crew is repairing the highway. Took no time at all for us to leave the heavy-machinery creaks, groans and air-thundering behind once we began our ascent at the trail head. Ascending steadily, calm and quite soon engulf us. The area is dominated by rockface, and a dry, yellow clay underfoot, along with gravel, rocks and interminable roots.

Regional interests have altered the naturally-endowed ascent by dint of hard work. No doubt much of it accomplished with the assistance of eager area volunteers. Rocks and gravel cleared away. Dirt levelled; an ongoing succession of broad "stairs" installed. Cleared-off logs set into the dirt at regular, ascending intervals. All this hard work dedicated to improving the quality of the climbing experience.

And so dreadfully ill-considered. The effect misplaced; unfortunately completely contrary to the intent. We do our best to ignore and bypass the carefully installed steps in favour of the narrow, natural terrain. far easier to negotiate rocks, roots, withal. Even our little dogs find it easier to bypass the painstakingly-groomed ascent.

Lots of ferns of various types, and striped maple, goldenrod and asters in the understory. Even white-flowered wild turtlehead; first time I've ever seen it growing wild. Oak and hemlock are predominant here, with white and yellow birch filling in on occasion. The ascent is gradual and kind, sunbeams making their way through the thick foliage.

Two elderly pairs of hikers come abreast of us on the descent. Each bearing a pair of hiking sticks. the women on this side of stout, the men lean, white-haired and pot-bellied. We stop, chat, enthuse about the trail, the weather, and move on. They descending, we on our way to the top ledges. We're glad there's no bugs, only a few sulphur butterflies flitting about.

Lots of fallen acorns. Some appear nibbled, but no sign of squirrels. We do see a pair of juncos, though; slate-backed and white-flashed wings.

At the top, several memorials raised to one-time denizens of the locality by members of a seniors hiking club. The views over Squam Lake and the many islands as tranquil and lovely as always. Water and doggy treats for the dogs. A brief rest for us. Just time enough for a few photographs. then we trek back down, satisfied with our day's adventure. Two hours of rewarding activity.

And on to other interests in the area.