How Pagliuca made it back into the observatory without becoming a human kite is anyone’s guess.įrom the First Nations peoples who gave the waters and woodlands their earliest names to the contemporary alpine explorers and scientists who’ve documented the region’s extraordinary climates and weather events, visitors to the White Mountains have historically been awestruck by their power. Mount Washington Observatory employee Sal Pagliuca experienced the ripple effects of this convergence in 1934, when he tied a thick rope around his waist and ventured out of the building to register a summit wind speed of 231 miles per hour-the fastest surface wind ever recorded in the northern and western hemispheres. Since then, three major wind patterns that blow west to east have collided directly above New Hampshire’s craggy peaks and rustling valleys. Covering nearly a quarter of New Hampshire, the mountains were formed more than 100 million years ago, when the North American plate scraped across a volcanic hot spot in the North Atlantic. These sudden, thrilling weather changes happen all the time in the White Mountains. By the time I haul myself out of the trees and onto an exposed ledge running across the rockslide, the sky is clearing again, and a wispy rainbow has begun to form over the Pemigewasset woodlands. And then, it’s over as swiftly as it started, without a single clap of thunder. Rivulets of rain are running down the trail. Pea-size hail pellets bounce off my hood. I suit up and watch the treetops sway as the cloudburst blows through and drenches the forest. I have a rain jacket in my daypack, and there’s plenty of tree coverage-unlike the exposed Presidential Range ridge, where hikers ascending Mount Washington must keep an eye on the sky at all times. The sky darkens, and a hand of cool wind sweeps through the balmy woods. Previously alive with the buzzing of insects, chirping birds, and the tinny battle cries of red squirrels, the Ethan Pond Trail-my soggy, bog-bridge-festooned access route-suddenly goes completely silent. I’m in the heart of the White Mountains, huffing my way through birch trees and glacial boulders to reach Thoreau Falls, a thundering 80-foot gusher deep in the Pemigewasset Wilderness, when something strange shakes me from my blissful hiker’s trance. So stretch your legs, lace up your hiking boots, and grab your water bottle-this choose-your-adventure guide is guaranteed to lead you to an unforgettable fall.įranconia Notch Crawford Notch Pinkham Notch Evans Notch
But just because you know of the White Mountains doesn’t mean you know the White Mountains, especially what to eat, where to sleep, and what to do (other than drive around gawking at the foliage). You know the name like the back of your hand-it looms to the north of us, a giant sierra with winding trails, mirror-like lakes, and the highest peak in the northeast.
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