Hiking the Hight of the Whites

At long last I was able to return to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Unlike last February, Thursday morning greeted me with crisp, clear blue skies. Having watched the weather reports the previous few days, I knew that Thursday would be my best chance for long views, so I set out at the crack of dawn to climb Mount Hight and Carter Dome. My hike would take me 10.2 miles and up and over 3,600 vertical feet.

I was at the trailhead by 7:00am in the five degree heat. The Nineteen Mile Brook Trail climbs gently at first up the western slope of the range, keeping me in the shadows most of the way to the summit. As I turned northeasterly on the Carter Done Trail, the Northern Presidential range gleamed in the morning light behind me.

The climb was fairly easy, as the trail was well packed out. Crampons stayed in the backpack, even on the exposed summit, and snowshoes were not donned until the deep snows in the col between Hight and Carter Dome.

On my way to the top of Mount Hight I didn't see another soul. At the summit, I took in the long views into Maine, and back towards Mount Washington. As I snapped pictures that can do no justice, two other hikers arrived at the summit.

The snow between Hight and Carter on the Carter-Moriah Trail was deep. To make matters worse, some unfortunate snowshoeless person and a wayward moose had both punched holes into the deep snow along the pathway, making the hiking a bit tedious.

But the bright, warm sun and the incredible alpine scene took my mind off of the hard work.

At the summit of Carter Dome I ran into Wes who had hiked up from the AMC hut at Carter Notch. We traded a few snapshots and shared our amazement at the strong warming power of the sun and the complete lack of wind.

From there, I descended the steep trail into Carter Notch, explored the frozen lakes, and checked in at the hut. The hut was filled with a dozen high schoolers. I wondered about why they ate lunch in the cold, dark hut while there was such a bright, beautiful, dramatic landscape outside. I guess years of eating lunch inside at the table had prompted them to be creatures of habit rather than patrons of the outdoor aesthetic.

From the hut, I climbed a steep pitch, then descended down the Nineteen Mile Brook Trail back to my car. It felt good to be walking downhill for a change.