Three Days in the Mountains 



D. C. Stebbins, Hiking Counselor 

 Camp Wildwood, Bridgton, Me. 



Very much the same feeling comes over me each year as we are 

 preparing for the Mt. Washington trip. We had watched the 

 mountain for days from the Lodge porch. We had lived in an 

 atmosphere of excited anticipation. At last the morning arrives. 

 And at four- thirty sun time, fifteen sleepy maidens are just be- 

 ginning to feel that it's going to be a cool, bracing day. A couple 

 of hotirs after we are rolling away from camp in the "Reo" toward 

 the land of the mountains — through the quaint old town of 

 Fryeburg which is just rousing to its m^oming activities as we 

 pass through, to the blue mountains all about North Conway, — 

 then on and on, and always more m.ountains till we are almost at 

 home among them. By the time Jackson is reached we have had 

 our first view of Mt. Washington. The long up grade from Jack- 

 son to the Pinkham Notch is to me one of the most thrilling parts 

 of the ride, especially as one looks up at the Summit House on the 

 brow of the mountain, so clear and cold and high. We stopped at 

 the falls of the ElHs River, climbed down the Glen and looked up 

 at the pure white stream which timibled sixty feet froiS its rocky 

 channel into an Emerald pool at our feet, and then in a series of 

 lesser cascades passes out of sight down the valley. Then, on to 

 the Glen House, where we stopped to look up at the solemn array 

 of peaks, Washington, Jefferson, Adams and Madison. This is 

 the spot to get one's bearings. At one-twenty we had finished 

 our luncheons, and had begun the ascent of Madison by the Valley 

 Way. The heat and hardship of a mountain climb is forgotten 

 when one comes to a rushing stream. Twice we crossed Snyder 

 Brook, and drank and cooled ourselves in its waters. All the way 

 up to. the Madison huts we were never far from its course. The 

 huts were reached about six o'clock, and here we found the source 

 of the mountain brook, great clear springs in the soHd rock, sending 

 out little purling rivulets which ran mysteriously under the low 

 scrubby growth and finally gathered together into the rushing 

 stream which had refreshed us earlier in the day. After a pleasant ' 

 supper and a quiet night's sleep in the huts we were ready for our 

 climb the next day over the Peaks. The trail, six miles, is entirely 

 above the timber line, and marked by cairns. We all took turns 

 following the trail, which is most interesting as one has to look 

 sharply all the time. We stopped frequently as we wound up over 



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