ALONG THE OUTING CLUB TRAIL ON SKIS

The party was composed of a postgrad, an undergrad, and an alumnus. We left Hanover late Friday afternoon. A slight drizzle was falling which froze as it fell and this made the going difficult. It seemed a stiff climb" over Balch Hill with the packs cutting in a bit and the level stretch beyond was a relief. Darkness soon shut down. The two red rings of the Outing Club trail blaze, so noticeable in the day. time, faded away, but the white ring was easily distinguishable in the rain and the haze, and we plodded on. After six or seven miles of this going, the sight of the Moose Mt. Cabin was indeed welcome and we soon had a fire going and supper started.

The next morning, we awoke to find it still pouring but, with a comfortable cabin at our service, this didn't bother us a bit. I can never remember spending a happier day. After the hurry and worry of the outside world, it seemed a great luxury to sit around the fireplace and to enjoy the restfulness of a quiet day in camp. It was very cozy that day in the Moose Mountain camp, and the day passed quickly. We brought in all the firewood and piled it up or tucked it away under the bunks. I suppose every Outing Club problem was solved during- the talk that day. Toward the end of the afternoon, we walked over to Guyer's farmhouse to get some more provisions and after chatting with the owner, we returned with a good appetite for some cream of tartar biscuits. The day's rest put us all in better shape to start out on the hike next day.

The next morning we left Moose at 9.45 for what proved to be the hardest day's hike of the trip. It was a little bit "sticky" at first but it "grew colder later and from then on, the skiing was really good. We crossed the old Wolfboro road and slipped along for several miles. Then I noticed that I had lost my camera and this necessitated my returning for a mile and a half to find it. It was a beautifully clear day and the Green Mountains showed up with a wonderful blue coloring to the west. Some of the views were magnificent.

I had been on top of Holt's Ledge before, but I was glad of the chance see it from below. It was very impressive towering above for several hundred feet with Winslow's Ledge facing it from the east. About half way to Cube Mountain we stopped and cooked a steak over an open fire in the snow and, as" the day was warm, we were very comfortable.

Pushing on, we pulled up by Smart's Mountain late in the afternoon. One of our party was having trouble by then and the other two had to carry his pack. Soon it was dark and we had a good distance to travel still. It was beautiful up there on the slope of Smart's Mountain. The moon came up through the trees and black clouds scurried by above, lending to that wild, desolate stretch of country a fascination in keeping with the scene. I said to one member of the party, "See the moon there and that view through the trees," and he answered, "I am beyond the point where scenery appeals to me in the slightest." It was a hard pull for him from there on and he came through on sheer nerve. We finally slid down into Quinttown. The last mile and a half was up hill and it was a hard stretch. All of us were glad to reach the Cube Mountain cabin which seemed indeed a haven of rest and comfort, especially to one of our party. The stove in the kitchen heated up that room in short order. We had several cups of tea apiece and' nothing ever tasted better.

We awoke next morning to find a clear, cold day. The postgrad went to Marsh's for some eggs and I got some milk and butter at Finney's, after which we had a fine breakfast of buckwheat cakes and coffee. We made a rather late start (11 a. m.) for Moosilauke, leaving the postgrad behind, as he had decided to go to Wentworth, take the train from there to Glencliffe, and meet us at the Moosilauke cabin. Passing the Cube Mountain House we noticed the tracks of two deer. They had come leisurely down to a brook to drink and had passed on without crossing the brook. Passing the end of Upper Baker Pond we stopped at 12.30 to rest in the lee of an old barn and took off the packs for a few minutes. When we came around under the shadow of Cube, Piermont Mountain loomed up on the left and the shoulder of Moosilauke could be discerned in the distance.

Just before reaching Armington Pond we stopped . (2 p. m.) at Mrs. Leonard's and ate our lunch inside. A cold, penetrating wind with no protection in sight made the interior of the farmhouse seem cozy indeed. We warmed up a can of salmon on the stove and this with some wonderful blueberry sauce and some squash pie given us by Mrs. Leonard was a feast and nothing less. After washing all the dishes, (the accumulated breakfast dishes, as well as those we had used ourselves), and with some of Mrs. Leonard's new cookies, still hot, in our pockets, we pushed on at 3 p. m.

We passed the new cabin site on Armington Pond, and if one can judge in winter, this will be one of the prettiest of all the cabin locations. It lies on a pretty little lake with Piermont Mountain rising on the west side. The cabin site is on the east shore where it will receive all the prevalent summer breezes from the west. Before leaving the lake we were taking a few pictures when we heard the tick! tick! of what sounded like ski poles on the ice. Just then we heard a "Hello!" and who should burst in sight but the postgrad. He had changed his mind and had decided to come along alone over the longer route.

The undergrad by this time was seting a fast pace and at 4.25 we came under the face of Webster Slide which we had seen from a distance hours before. A steep run followed below Webster Slide over rough ground and suddenly we burst in sight of Watchapaqua Lake. To come thus suddenly on a lake never seen before gives a thrill of real pleasure. We skated on our skis over the frozen surface of the lake and leaving, we had to ski over the tops of brush so thick that it held us in the air several feet above the ice. We penetrated into the woods again and found the trail. A tremendously fast and interesting slide followed below the lake. It led down an old wood road and tempted one to risk a speed that was perhaps unwise seeing that we did not know just what was in front of us. A fallen tree across the path necessitated an abrupt stop and from here down to the railroad track, constant braking was necessary. It made one wish, along the slides just mentioned, to take axe in hand and clear out the bad places so that they could be taken at full speed and doubtless, as the trails become worn and beaten, they will be improved all along the line, so that considerably faster time can be made on skis.

We arrived at the Glencliffe store at 5.15 where we drank some moxie and packed a supply of beans, soup, buckwheat flour, corn syrup, steak and bread into our knapsacks. The lights of the Sanatorium gleamed brightly as we made the last ascent to the cabin on Moosilauke. At 6.55 p. m. the shape of the cabin could be discerned on the bluff above the old road and soon a lire was burning cheerfully in the fireplace. All around the orchard near the cabin, there were deer tracks galore. It seemed as if there must have been a whole herd in there.

The next morning a magnificent sight greeted us on waking. Mt. Moosilauke towered at the rear of the cabin. It's evergreen covered slopes were white with frost. Rising thousands of feet above us, it was indeed impressive. A thrill of awe and wonder struck us. We wanted to spend the day here but lack of time made us decide to move on. Far in the distance, we could see the Green Moun- tains and nearer at hand we could see Webster Slide, Piermont Mountain, Mt. Mist, Spire Mountain, and Cube Moun- tain, and still farther to the left Smart's Mountain, Blueberry Mountain, Owl's Head and Cardigan were visible. The air was crisp and cold and the sun shone brightly; it was a day when it seemed great just to be alive.

We left the cabin and with a rush we were back on the road again. Then followed one of the best hikes we had on any day. We were fortunate to have a great deal of sliding. We ascended by the Tunnel Brook road up a steep hill perhaps a couple miles long. They were logging down this road and it was a picturesque sight to see a team come down the mountain. Only one sled was used and the logs dragged on the ground behind. We came around under the west shoulder of Moosilauke and obtained some wonderful views, arriving at Mud Pond at half past ten. The logging tracks petered out on top and. there was only one sleigh track ahead. More snow had fallen on top of the divide and on the north side and it lay light and fluffy, affording ideal skiing. We slipped down for several miles. It was not exceptionally speedy but the scenery kept sliding by with almost no effort on our parts. We passed two old logging camps, deserted and desolate, but with the association of a vast amount of hard labor still surrounding them.

A partridge ran part way across the road and then flew, leaving a clear imprint of his wings in the soft snow. Even if we had not seen him, the story could have been easily read. Here his tracks at equal intervals, then, a single deep gouge in the snow where his feet tried to get a purchase for his spring-another short interval and then the place where his wings hit the snow until he was launched in flight. A story complete in one issue, the paper being snow. Rabbit tracks could be seen everywhere; in fact, all along our trip, tracks of our bunny friends were seen every little while.

Another old logging camp came into view and quickly faded out of sight. It was a delight to coast down and down with so little effort. Our skis carried us on this slide clear to "Parker's" where the Benton Trail starts up Mt. Moosilauke. We were then about seven miles from Glencliffe. We had a short rise and then we coasted almost into Wildwood, a place in keeping with its name. Here we cooked our dinner at McAlpin's farmhouse, the owner kindly giving us the use of his stove and in addition, gave us some bread, coffee and doughnuts.

We left at 1 p. m. after an hour's halt. Big flakes of snow were falling and the mountains were obscured. In the distance, blue sky could be seen over Kinsman. The patch of blue with the clouds lying low above made a splendid picture through the haze of snow. We passed the Lost River House at 1.35 p. m. Our path was along the new Federal Road put through last summer from Wildwood to Lost River. Not a soul had been through since the last snow. The grade was easy and the distance to the height of land seemed short. Here we noticed fresh deer tracks, only slightly filled by the sifting snow. As we came around the next bend, we saw a big doe just emerging from the bushes into the road. As she saw us, she jumped into the road, ran down it for a few rods and then jumped into the brush on the other side and disappeared up the mountain. It was a barren place and not very thick but we did not catch another glimpse. This incident added a touch of wild life to a wild scene and made our day seem not uneventful. Why is it that the sight of a fox, a partridge, or a deer always gives a thrill of pleasure and lifts that hour or day out of the commonplace!

Soon we came to Lost River, so justly famous. A cold wind was sucking down through Kinsman Notch and we did not stop. It seemed as if the notch was being used as a gigantic chimney. If the fireplaces of the Outing Club cabins had half as good a draught, it is sure that the wood would burn with a roar. We had looked forward all day to the slide down from the height of land but the gale had swept the road bare of snow in places, leaving stretches of exposed gravel and our hopes for a fast, long slide were dashed. The road was all glare ice in places and we had to proceed with caution. There was less and less snow as we approached North Woodstock. The notch looked a desolate place that cloudy, windy afternoon. On one side, the mountains had been ravaged by fire; on the other side they had been equally ravaged by what Mr. Johnson is pleased to call the "White Mountain Boa Constrictor." The entire scene was one of desolation. The picture was completed when we came across the ruins of a huge lumber camp, with its charred timbers and wrecked machinery strewn around. We hurried by and soon came to more interesting country and shortly afterward reached the cabin located in the Agassiz Basin. We arrived earlier in the afternoon than we had at any other cabin and spent the time before dark in getting wood. The fireplace smoked us out so we were content to stay outside and split wood until the smoke cleared somewhat. After our supper, we walked down to North Woodstock to get some more provisions. There was a beautiful moon and we came back slowly, enjoying the night. We arrived at the cabin tired but happy. The next morning the postgrad, who had been elected to the position the night before made the fire. The undergrad got the water and made the coffee. The alumnus cooked scrambled eggs and the postgrad made buckwheat cakes on which we had real maple syrup and the pan cream for our coffee was so thick it would not pour.

It was a bright, clear day when we started on. The ground was almost bare coming out of North Woodstock but the going grew gradually better. On reaching the Flume House we spent an hour visiting the Flume. Beautiful as it is in summer, it is even more beautiful in winter with the wonderful ice columns hanging over the perpendicular walls. It was a fairyland of ice and snow. The huge icicles were fifty to sixty feet long and over a foot through. Other visitors had been there the day before. This little side trip was most enjoyable. Coming out, we had good fun shooting down the board walks on skiis.

We left the Flume House at 1.45 and arrived at the Profile House at 3.25. The climb up was a very gradual and easy one. Of course we stopped to look at the Old Man of the Mountain. We had had nothing to eat except a few crackers since morning, so our lunch in the Profile House, supplemented by some doughnuts and coffee kindly furnished us by the keeper's wife, tasted simply great.

The snow was much deeper in the Notch and the skiing there and to the North was ideal. We passed ice-bound Echo Lake and soon came to the top of Three Mile Hill. The trip down this was a wild, rollicking slide, too soon over. The undergrad made the entire three miles in nine minutes which was fast work through the gathering darkness. This slide refreshed us and we pushed on rapidly to Franconia and then a mile up to Peckett's-on-Sugar Hill, where we were very hospitably entertained by Mr. Peckett who is a firm believer in the Outing Club and its ideals.

Our party broke up the next morning as rain had put us one day behind our schedule and different engagements had to be kept.

A splendid time for alumni to take the trip would be just before Commencement. When you think of a vacation in the country, remember that the Outing Club trail offers you an enjoyable trip through some of the best country in New England at a minimum of expense. A party could go to Skyters there for a few days and then, after getting hardened up a bit, could start over the long trail. It would be best to allow plenty of time and take the trip leisurely. There are trout brooks which should not be passed in a hurry. On our trip, we travelled twenty miles or over each day but this with the making of camp and the cooking of meals, leaves little time for anything else and I think it would be more enjoyable to hike but ten miles each day and have the afternoons free for other things, or to hike twenty miles one day and spend the next day around camp. Do not attempt the long hike unless you are feeling fairly husky because it is no undertaking for invalids. You will pass through a variety of country. Some of the time you will go through the deep woods, then for awhile you will follow-some old back road. Now you will be going over level meadow lands and soon after you will find yourself climbing up over a mountain. The scene constantly changes. You will pass by so many old deserted farmhouses that you will wonder what has taken place to change the viewpoint of those to whom these places used to mean home. Some of them were evidently large prosperous farms at one time. The buildings are often large and comfortable looking. Sometimes you will find a whole section deserted, farm after farm being empty and desolate. Why is this so ? Men have evidently put in a great deal of work on these places. Some of the houses are even pretentious and the barns large. They are in all stages of disrepair. Some could easily be made habitable and some are beyond redemption: Many are in the last stages and only need a few more winter storms to level the last timbers to the ground.

I have tried to show some of the things that will be of interest when following the trail, but the best of all is to be out of doors, and to feel new pleasure in life and new strength creeping into one's, being. Around Commencement time one can sleep in between cabins under the stars, fish, take pictures, sleep and do a thousand other things. One can time his trip to return to Hanover at reunion time with the memory of a splendid outing and in shape to enjoy all the more the pleasures of Commencement time, and I am sure all will enjoy, as did we three, the wonderful experience of the trip over the Outing Club Trail.

ON THE OUTING CLUB TRAIL. BETWEEN MOOSE MOUNTAIN AND CUBE

THE CABIN AT AGASSIZ BASIN