Sep 24 2012

An Afternoon In The Rain

The day began as a drive in the soft fall rain, cruising to the Eagle Summit trailhead was the goal for the day. We weren’t really expecting much with the light wind and drizzly rain that seemingly followed our every move, but to make something out of a day off from work was all that mattered. Windshield wipers set the tone of the drive with their constant back and forth, even the music was subdued by the less than pleasurable mood of the weather today.

We shared a light-hearted banter, laughing about the silly realization that every time we’ve travelled together down this road the weather has been less than ideal. The river flows by seamlessly moving along its own timeline, as does the rest of the world passing by in a blur. The idea was to drive up the Eagle Summit trailhead and hike the Mastodon Dome route if the weather permitted. Well we could tell rather quickly that the weather was going to be less than cooperative.

As we approached the mile 57 marker I realized that  right at that point there is a turn off for the Nome Creek camp ground at the border of the White Mountains State Recreation area, and  I thought that this would definitely be a great replacement to hitting the Mastodon Trail. After a fine outhouse break and short a conversation we headed up the dirt road and over the pass to Nome Creek. It, the short seven mile drive to Nome Creek is always wonderful and spectacular. There was fresh snow on the nearby mountains, reminding me that winter wasn’t too far off and it made my blood boil. I couldn’t wait to set my ski’s down and glide off on the trails.

At the Nome Creek camp ground we wandered about looking at the creeks water level and viewing the incredible hillsides. Turning back to the road we headed out towards Beaver Creek and thought to enjoy the scenery. After passing a point where I last visited and turned around, I had passed into a world where every turn introduced me to something new, fresh. There was a scenic sign just after a corner and I decided to stop to see what it what about. Turned out it was the trailhead for the Table Top Mountain trail, a trail I had read about but really paid no mind to due to its short three mile distance, but considering the weather and the hour of the day being nearly 3:30 in the afternoon I thought it might make for a fun hike.

While we headed out the rain was gentle, with its soft taps on our shells. The trail was a gradual climb that led up the hillside through a burnt out forest of black spruce trees. Tall grass seemed to overgrow the trail during the first mile, there are areas where the fire didn’t touch, islands of beauty and subtlety. A slight stream saturates a well vegetated strip of land that evaporates down below the fields of grasses. Walking around the water I could see the sensitive nature of the world I was invading so I walked softly and left the area as well as I could. The trail meandered up along the hillside, never difficult but a little slippery at times as the rain continued to soak into our shells. Coming over a ridgeline we came out above the protection of the hillside and we were introduced to a driving wind, so it was to be our day.

Stepping on to the saddle of Table Top Mountain the wind sent the light rain directly into our right sides. The trail faded quickly, and we picked our way to the base of the short scree covered slope of the summit, if that’s what it could be called. Table Top Mountain seems less a mountain than a great hill but the views tell me different, rain subsided we look into the distance and the snow capped peaks of the White Mountains knowing that this is a special place and a place to be appreciated.

Retracing our steps down the summit we travelled back across the saddle and descended the slope back down the trail to access the intersection where the trail loops around and returns to the trailhead. Funny as it is for me, that hiking and running have any things that are so similar. Time to think is something both activities allow for you, time to reflect on life and consider the world you exist in. The rain had let up and being below the ridge line the wind was all but gone. We descended the grassy slopes and meandered the burnt out trunks of decaying black spruce trees, but the new growth of life made everything seem reborn.

A mile or so had passed, light humor and conversation has been endless and the rain begins its light serenade on the landscape. The trail is more manicured with rock walls at little turns and miniature streams running down the side of the trail. With the car looming in the distance and the last half mile to go I dreaded returning to the car, this is the world I love and stepping out of this world and into the car will return me to responsibility and the day-to-day grind. With a mind full of thought, I pointed the car towards home and reflected on the trail and the afternoon’s experiences, remembering that returning to home is a merely a moments pause before I head back out to fulfill the next journey.

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