The Lemon Bar

Fireworks crackled somewhere near us. It was close to the 4th of July. It’s my least favorite holiday, with all the noise and chaos it brings. “Some idiot’s going to blow a finger off” I thought. “They might say it’s the land of the free and home of the brave, but there’s no mention of above average intelligence, especially with regards to “Independence Day”. I was having dinner with Fiona and some friends. The popping continued in the distance. Had to be fireworks, I thought. Not sharp enough to be the crack of a rifle, and different from the report of a shotgun. I’d lived close to a gun range for years, and figured I knew the difference. Still this was the United States, and it’s good to be able to identify if someone has gone off the deep end nearby.

“You interested in a day hike on Saturday?” I coaxed. “Its going to be quick out and back.”

She eyed me suspiciously. I was frequently wrong and underestimated mileage.

” Madison and Adams” I said. “Well go up on Friday night so we can be fresh for an early am hike. About six to eight hours, home on Saturday night.”

I was able to convince Fiona, and we planned to meet up in New Hampshire at the Appalachia Trailhead. Weather reports for the weekend were excellent. I would knock off Mount Madison and Mount Adams, leaving only Mount Jefferson to complete my New Hampshire 48.

The Plan

We would hike up the Airline Trail to a junction between Madison and Adams. After hiking to the top of Adams, we’d scoot down to the AMC’s Madison Spring Hut for a break, then collect Madison and make our way out via Valley Way. I estimated less than 10 miles, with an 8 hour time frame.

The Donut Guy

I stopped for some quick calories at the local gas station/ convenience store. Tossing a box of a dozen sugary calorie laden donuts on the counter, Fiona looked at them and grimaced. The clerk smiled and said “yeah, you’re a donut guy!” I shrugged but didn’t reply while Fiona let out a chuckle. I’m not really a donut guy as much as a calorie guy. I’d need the glucose and carbs. The Airline Trail gains elevation very quickly. We would be burning calories.

A Detour of Consequence

From the Appalachia trailhead, we began hiking and gaining elevation. A half mile in, I would make a crucial mistake. I forked right off of the Airline, on to the Short Line Trail.

The mistake would present itself at another mile and a half into the hike. Instead of hiking along the ridgeline (red) we were hiking in the ravine (blue). The King’s Ravine Trail is one of the more difficult trails in the Whites. Later I would mention to Fiona that it was on another list, “The Terrifying 25” but at this point it was not a good idea. We scrambled over boulders, squeezed in between rocks and roasted in the July sun as we crawled up the headwall to the ridge. It easily took an extra hour to get there. Fiona was unhappy.

“I’ve parachuted out of airplanes, and that was much worse.”

Her back was to Adams. It was a monsterous pile of rocks, and it’s summit looked so far away. I pointed to the peak.

“We still have to go there”

She viewed the ugly cone of rough black rocks. Soon we were slogging up to the summit in the blazing sun. At the top, we were too tired to stay, we wearily descended to Madison Spring Hut.

Paying the Price

Madison was so close, but I didn’t want to push it.

” If you want to stay here will I go up, then come back for you.” I said.

“No”, she grumbled.”I’ll go, but you’re going to buy me a lemon bar.”

There were a big stack of the sweets on a platter near the door. “Of course” I said. “When life gives you lemons, you make lemon bars.”

Mount Madison

Madison was quicker and less painful. The mountain was an obstacle to getting home, and with a marginal refuel of lemony goodness under our belts, we hiked it, took in the view, and descended to the Valley Way trail to make our way out. Once in the cover of trees, it was delightfully cooler. Getting to the car was a joy, and in air conditioned comfort we began the long trip home. The hike had lasted more than 10 hours and we were both worn to a frazzle. I told myself I would never come back to Adams again, but I would be wrong.

I have a lovely patch to show for my troubles. It’s not the patch from the AMC. I have that of course. Fiona gave me one as well.