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Getting
down the vertical ledge was a little trickier than climbing up
it. I took off my backpack, lowered it using a length of rope,
then scrambled about halfway down to a small niche. I reached
up to grab Muffin and lowered her to another small niche, then
descended the rest of the way and retrieved Muffin from above
my head.
It
was a long hot weary trek back. I ran out of water about halfway
down, and was too lazy to stop and fill my water bottles when
we first reached Black Brook. I kept thinking that we were almost
back to the Wilderness Trail. Finally, right near our previous
night's campsite, I staggered wearily to the brook, pulled out
my filter and filled two Nalgene bottles, and thirstily drank
one. Muffin, who had been lapping a little water from every miniscule
trickle we crossed, was just happy to collapse in the shade and
nap. Somewhat invigorated after ten or fifteen minutes, and not
really ready to return to civilization just yet, I decided to
relocate our former campsite and stay another night. We were both
hot and tired and there was no real reason to rush back.
I wanted to see the old, and controversial, railroad bridge that
spanned Black Brook near the junction of the Bondcliff and Wilderness
Trails. The bridge is supposed to be torn down because it's a
manmade structure in a wilderness area. However, it's also an
historical site, which is protected. So after supper, we made
the short journey down to take a couple of photos. Once again,
after developing the film, the pictures revealed the strange white
orbs. One of them was especially inexplicable. The flash was off,
the sun was setting behind some trees to the right, and the picture
is dark except for two of these bright circles of light.
I
checked the negatives, and the spots were on those too. Also,
the first two pictures with the orbs (the tent and Muffin on the
rock) were near the end of my second roll of film. The pictures
of the railroad bridge were on the middle of the third roll. All
other pictures on all three rolls were normal. So who knows? Maybe
the area is haunted.
Day
3
After
another refreshing night's sleep and a slightly more leisurely
breakfast, I dismantled camp for the final time, and we started
back down the trail. Things were pretty quiet until we reached
the wilderness boundary and crossed the suspension bridge over
Franconia Brook. Then we began to run into all manner of hikers
and mountain bikers, many of whom seemed totally unprepared for
another hot day several miles from a water source that doesn't
require filtering, boiling, or chemical treatment.
Granted,
this trail is well-traveled and the danger is minimal, but heat
exhaustion can strike you no matter where you are. And who wants
to risk giardiasis by drinking untreated water? This kind of thing
always amazes me.
After
crossing the final suspension bridge and returning to our car,
Muffin and I drove to town for some fish and chips and a couple
of cold Diet Dr Peppers (for me anyway), stopped in to talk to
Steve Smith at the
Mountain
Wanderer bookstore, then reluctantly began the long drive
home.
As
I said, Bondcliff was my final 4000-footer. It was nice to complete
the list, but also a bit sad, like finishing a good book. Of course,
you can reread the book just as you can re-climb any of the peaks,
but there's something special and magic that first time around. |
Old
railroad bridge over Black Brook, near the junction of the Wilderness
and Bondcliff Trails. Note the white spot similar to the ones
in the photos taken at our campsite the day before. |
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