Outdoors – Page 49

Owl’s Head Mountain

Roundtrip distance: 18 miles. Elevation gain: 2900 feet. View: none. Why does anyone hike to the summit of Owl’s Head, deep inside the Pemigewasset Wilderness of the White Mountain National Forest? Perhaps, as Sir Edmund Hillary once said, “Because it is there.” More likely, however, because it has resisted millenia of weathering to keep a little piece of itself above 4000′. Shave off 26′ and nobody would visit this peak. As it is, everyone hoping to “bag” the list of 4000-footers must climb this knob that is encircled by far grander peaks in the Franconia, Twin, and Bond ranges.

Near the summit of Owl's Head — Near the summit of Owl’s Head

Seventeen years ago I set out to climb Owl’s Head in the summer. Daunted by an 18-mile hike, I made it an overnight, which turned out to be a wonderful adventure (with a mysterious ending, but that’s another story). As I walked the long 8-mile approach trail, which is largely flat by White Mountain standards, I imagined that it would be far better to do this mountain in the winter when one could ski.

So when my friend Lelia suggested that we attempt Owl’s Head this winter, I recalled those thoughts, considered the recent deep cold that would have frozen up nicely all those the brook-crossings, and the deep snow we’ve had in recent weeks (check out my photos from a ski tour on Moosilauke last week, where we found 4 to 6 feet of base). Sure, let’s do Owl’s Head. Continue reading “Owl’s Head Mountain”

Happy New Year

To welcome in the new year, as we have done so often before, I headed off with a group of friends to a cabin on the side of Mount Moosilauke in the core of New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Great Bear Cabin is a cozy log structure nestled along the Appalachian Trail as it heads northward up the slopes of Moosilauke, and has become somewhat of a traditional winter outing for me and my kids. Although my kids were unable to attend this time, our party included three children and eight adults – friends for over thirty years – including one of the original builders of the cabin. With the woodstove roaring, and the woods frosted from a recent snowfall that glazed the trees and blanketed the nearby meadow with 10″ of fresh powder, we were cozy indeed.

Continue reading “Happy New Year”

So long, 2013

Andy, David, John, Mara Kotz, and Pam Jenkins

Last year was a busy and exciting year for us. Mara graduated from Crossroads and began 9th grade at Hanover High School (HHS), while Andy entered 7th grade at Crossroads and John entered 11th grade at HHS. David continued as Associate Dean at Dartmouth and Pam took a year off from medicine. We traveled quite a bit: we began the year in Bangalore, India, spent a February week along the continental divide in Costa Rica (photo above), and spent lots of time outdoors in both New Hampshire and South Carolina. I hope you enjoy the year-end slideshow of highlights, including some of my favorite photos from 2013.

Regards and best wishes for the new year,
David Kotz

Eagle photos

No sign of “my” bald eagle on this morning’s row upriver. Tonight I hopped in my kayak at sunset, armed with a tripod and my camera, and paddled downstream toward the site of last week’s amazing moonrise encounter with the eagle. Within a few moments I could tell I was in luck: the eagle was clearly visible on the same tree. The eagle watched me as I paddled around, seeking the best angle, shooting a hundred photos. Gosh, this bird is big. When I came close, apparently too close, he became nervous and took off for a different roost. In the photos (Smugmug gallery) I can tell that he (she?) is wearing a metal band on the right ankle. I’ll try again in a few days, before sunset, when there is more light.

Sunrise: the eagle has landed

I rowed upriver in the chilly morning air, the river calm and sprinkled with the first fallen leaves of autumn. As I neared the Grant Brook confluence, where I usually turn around, the Vermont shore began to glow. After my long sweeping turn to point myself homeward, the sun completed its climb over Smarts Mountain in New Hampshire, momentarily blinding me. As I began to row, a solitary figure flapped its way in from the sunrise, following those first sunbeams as they reached the river. My friendly neighborhood bald eagle was back, swooping low over the water, skimming the spot where I had been thirty seconds earlier. He landed powerfully but only momentarily on shore; perhaps he caught his breakfast, as he immediately climbed again, circling over the river and landing in a solitary tree, soaking up the morning sun.

See you again soon, I hope.

Twilight on the river

Some of my favorite photographs are those shots that I missed.

Earlier this week I walked down to the river just as the sun was setting over the Vermont hills. (In September, early mornings bring dense fog and chilly conditions to the river valley, so it’s better to row at sunset rather than sunrise.) Ahead of me the river was glassy calm, and behind me the last rays of sunlight were turning the New Hampshire hillside golden orange.

On a whim, I pointed my shell downriver, instead of my customary upriver trip. As I began rowing, I could hear the Canada Geese settling into the nearby wetlands for the evening. A large flock had settled in the silty delta of Hewes Brook, to my right. Their noisy efforts to congregate there drew my attention to the east, where the nearly-full moon was rising over the golden hills whence the brook flows. I paused to soak in this scene, while a few late-arriving geese honked their way past the moon and circled down to join their relatives in the marsh. Drifting slowly downriver, a tall snag came into view. Teetering on the leading edge of a tiny islet where the kids once hoped to find buried pirate treasure, this dead pine tree leaned over the geese and the marsh and the moon, hoping to hang on for another year until ice or floodwaters or beavers finally brings it down.

It was then I saw it, shortly after the rosy sunshine had left the snag to join the shadows of the evening. Perched high in the snag, clearly visible and recognizable against the golden backlight of the hills, was the bald eagle – probably the same eagle I had seen across the river a few weeks earlier. Here was an incredible photo, with the majestic eagle boldly visible in the snag that itself framed the rising moon, against a background of golden hills and a foreground of still water with geese and late-summer marsh grasses. If I had only been there 10 minutes earlier, with a camera and a tripod and the sun still on the eagle … but I was not. So my mental camera snapped this shot and I reluctantly rowed onward.

I returned 15 minutes later, heading home, and the eagle was still there, monitoring me and everything else in the growing darkness. I didn’t see my eagle friend during my row last night, where I paused again to watch the full moon rising over the same spot. I’ll hold tight to my mental photograph until I see him again.

Rowing the Connecticut

Summer is a wonderful time on the river, in part because the lengthy days allow me ample time to get out rowing. I like to row well before breakfast, because the river is as still as glass and there are rarely any other boats. Today, three days after returning from our canoe trip on the upper reaches of the river, I was treated to an unusual abundance of bird life.

Continue reading “Rowing the Connecticut”

Back to Moosilauke

I can think of few times when I’ve been on the summit of Moosilauke with such deep blue skies and warm sunny temperatures.

Although the days are getting longer and the weather is getting warmer – well, actually, it’s been warm all winter – I am not quite ready to let go of winter. A surprise snowfall of 4” of powder early on Saturday morning, plus a forecast for a warm sunny day today, instigated a repeat visit to Moosilauke via the Glenncliff trail. I rallied David and Kathy Hooke – recalling our visit of last February. On that trip, we were lucky to encounter several feet of fresh powder. Today, a few inches of fresh snow made a well-packed (and icy) trail a joy to climb.

David on the Moosilauke summit, with the Franconia Range beyond.

We saw perhaps two dozen other people on the trail or on the summit. Clearly we weren’t the only folks with the good sense to hit the trail today. The sun was warm, the snow fluffy, and the hills windless. We did hit some wind on the summit, but the temp was 26˚F and quite comfortable. On the trip down the snow started to get mushy, then slushy, then running water, and finally mud. At the parking lot it was 46˚F. Warm day!

Check out the photos (and movies).

Backpacking 2011

Two brief backpacking trips.

Somehow we never got around to our annual late-August family backpacking trip. I was determined to get out, anyway, so we took two short trips. On September 30, Andy and John and I headed directly from school to a trailhead on the west side of Moose Mountain. We hiked up to reach the A.T. where it crosses a col between north and south peak, then pulled into the shelter just as it got dark and began to rain. We poked around in the dark looking for the water supply, and settled in just as a huge thunderstorm struck. Nothing like being in an open shelter, on a ridgeline, in a thunderstorm! We had to leave the next morning, skipping our second night out, because John was feeling ill.

Andy and John backpacking on Moose Mountain.

Two weeks later, Andy and Mara and I headed for Holts Ledge, hiking up to Trapper John shelter late on Saturday afternoon, with just enough daylight to explore a bit and then settle in. It rained overnight, but the next morning we were able to climb up to Holts Ledge for a view of the fall colors.

Mara and Andy can’t wait for ski season, as we visit the top of Holt’s Ledge during the peak of foliage season.

I had only my iPhone, and limited light, but took some photos.

This post was transferred from MobileMe to WordPress in 2021, with an effort to retain the content as close to the original as possible; I recognize that some comments may now seem dated or some links may now be broken.

Autumn colors

A selection of the best photos of the season.

This trip is not far from home – just into the interior of Lyme, our own hometown. Every week during the fall the kids went to riding class; on this particular day, I think we hit peak fall colors. While the kids did their riding, I took a few hundred photos. See a small selection of my favorites in a photo gallery.