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Mt. Lafayette has much in common with its better-known neighbor to the east, Mt. Washington. Both peaks are the highest of prominent north/south ranges in the White Mountains. Both have AMC huts that only seem quite close to the summit, and both see heavy foot traffic. Both had hotels on the summit in the 19th century; both hotels were summarily demolished by winter winds. Both peaks have strenuous paths to the summit, both exact a lot of misery to reach those summits.
The biggest difference between the two peaks is that while Mt. Washington has two mechanized approaches to its summit, Mt. Lafayette has none. It also has none of the sprawling summit trappings of Mt. Washington: No weather station, TV antennae, post office or visitor's center.
The once sensational tourist traffic to Lafayette died out long ago. For all but the hiking community, Lafayette has faded into relative obscurity. Unfortunately, the hikers make up for the lack of tourist traffic, and the average climbing experience on Mt. Lafayette is more like that of a crowded city sidewalk than a pristine mountain path.
The most popular trailhead to the summit, the Old Bridle Path is located about two miles south of the Old Man of the Mountains viewing area. Another popular route follows the Falling Waters Trail from the Flume area, and humps over Little Haystack and Mt. Lincoln before reaching Lafayette. Both of these are scenic, crowded, long, and steep enough to pop most kneecaps. The certifiably insane do a loop hike using both trails.
A more appropriate -- and much less crowded -- trail for the average slackpacker begins alongside the exit ramps for the Cannon Mt. Aerial Tramway, the old Greenleaf Trail. This trail begins as a pleasant, rolling amble through mixed north country forest, angling steadily upward and heading south alongside I-93. It eventually switches back a few times and makes a direct assault on the gap between Eagle Cliff and the lower shoulder of Lafayette.
As you approach the gap at Eagle Cliff, a look back reveals that the Greenleaf Trail has made a significant gain in altitude without taking a significant toll on your body. Don't worry; it will. The occasional narrow viewpoints place you high above the interstate and virtually even with the Cannon Cliff. The trail then lulls you even further into a sense of well being, launching into an easy up-and-down section at the crest of the cliff.
This point of the trail warrants further exploration on a future hike. A massive glacial boulder dump at the edge of Eagle Cliff has created an inviting series of "caves" and passageways. On the way up, full of pep and strolling easily along this undulating section, I made a mental note to do a little exploring on the way down.
After skirting around an interesting mountain marshy area created by drainage from the massive peaks still above, the trail climbs back into the forest. It does so with vengeance. Greenleaf has few switchbacks -- it is mostly just climb, climb, climb, onward and upward over the brutal broken granite.
At times the upward haul seems like it will never end. Mixed pine and hardwoods tower above, giving the trail much the same feeling as alongside the highway, not at all like a forest at 3500' should feel.
Just as the mind and muscles begin to go completely numb, the trail traverses one of the massive flanks of Mt. Lafayette and the canopy is noticeably lower. On the day we hiked, a sunny and pleasant Labor Day weekend, we began hearing strange swooshing bursts of wind as the forest thinned out. The very low canopy was still too thick to see through; later we would discover that the sounds came from a large number of gliders that ply the updrafts.
Eventually the trees grow smaller still, and the typical "fragile alpine zone" sign gives cause for hope. But the trail just slugs on and on. Finally, a fork (keep left); the trail flattens and in another 80 yards the Greenleaf Hut appears. Nestled beneath Mt. Lincoln, "Little" Haystack, and biggest and baddest of all, Mt. Lafayette, the scene is incredible.
The hut provides an outstanding, close-up panorama of the Franconia Range. Since there are no objects to lend scale to the view, the summit of Lafayette seems deceptively close. It is not. Photo shows the gang resting at the Greenleaf Hut...Tony, Tony, Paula, Marisa, Sandy, Brynna, Rick, Allison; Labor Day 2001.
Hut-to-summit looks like 15 minutes, but it takes about an hour for the average hiker. The trail is harrowing, because you have to dodge huge numbers of annoying fellow hikers flailing about with those crazy ski poles that are now in vogue. Being among the last climbers in the afternoon to make an assault on the summit, we faced a barrage of hikers clawing and poking their way down the narrow trail. The only benefit to this is that I was so disturbed about the dangers posed by the pole-wielding idiots, I paid no attention to how tired, sore, and out-of-breath I really was.
In all seriousness, the AMC or some other authority ought to take action soon. The overuse of hiking poles has forever scarred the great trails of the White Mountains. Since it has had so much impact on granite, I can only imagine the nasty gouges on the soft sandstone slickrock of the Southwest. Like everything else in this country, nobody will bother to lock the barn door until the horse is gone; the sticks won't be banned until the visual evidence is horrifying.
But I digress. Like Mt. Washington, the final trail to the summit of Mt. Lafayette is a lot harder and a lot longer than it looks from the hut. When you finally do reach the summit, you'll find none of the negative tourist trappings of Mt. Washington; then again, you'll find none of the positive ones either. No ice cream and juice in the comfortable cafeteria; no cold water fountains to refill the canteens.
Photo: Sandy stands in front of the remains of a summit hotel/hut destroyed over a century ago. The ski slopes on Cannon Mt. are dwarfed in the distance. In this photo, the top of Eagle Cliff is visible to the left of Sandy's head, but is so small it is barely discernable. The village of Franconia is off in the valley beyond.
What Lafayette lacks in comparison to Washington, it more than makes up for in the quality of the 360º view. On a clear day, Mt. Mansfield, Camel's Hump and perhaps the Adirondacks are visible to the west. Mountains in Quebec and Maine are even more visible, as well as an eagle-eye view of the Pemigewasset Wilderness.
The most stirring view is looking down -- way down -- at Franconia Notch. Cannon Mountain becomes little more than a small rolling hill; the ski trails look like a distant golf course. The awesome palisades of Eagle Cliff look like a minor rock outcropping. All of this is enhanced by gliders zipping about like tiny gnats.
The sense of height -- and how high you've just climbed -- is well defined on top of Mt. Lafayette; much more so than on Washington. I-93 looks to be a long way down.
Photo: Summit view to the west. Cannon Cliff and ski trails are 1500 - 2000 feet below. The green area just below the summit rockpile is the western rampart; the AMC Greenleaf Hut is the small whitish blob in line with Cannon Cliff. Incidentally, your view is directly at the face of the famous Old Man of the Mountains profile, which is just a tiny, indecipherable portion of the cliff from this angle.
The succession of peaks to the south appear to be an easy stroll from the top. The ridge between Lafayette and Lincoln couldn't be more than 20 minutes away! Nothing provides perspective...until you strain your eyes and realize that the tiny, imperceptible dots halfway across the trail are actually hikers. All I could do was gesture vaguely at the trail, with a half-hearted "someday," then turn around and face the reality of the arduous hike down.
Photo: Summit view to the south. Mt. Lincoln is the next major peak to the south; beyond are Little Haystack, then Mt. Liberty and Mt. Flume. The trail over this range is well known and well traveled...and extremely dangerous in inclement weather. When this photo was taken, Labor Day Weekend 2001, conditions were as good as they ever get in the White Mountains.
Back at the Greenleaf Hut, we took another well deserved break. By now it was late in the afternoon, and the Hut was beginning to clog with hikers holding overnight reservations. It looked as if the early bird gets the best bunk, or something like that. At $125./person/night (2001 rates), the pit toilets and cramped conditions might be tough to take, but the camaraderie and experience probably make it worth trying.
One climber, decked out in every piece of gear imaginable, with a massive backpack, the ubiquitous clawing poles, cel phone, GPS unit and microwave for all I could tell, commented on how crowded the scene was. "This place is like Grand Central Station anymore," she muttered. Considering her advanced age of, perhaps 27 or 28, the "good old days" must seem so long ago. At that moment I decided that my next hike on this popular trail network would be at a different time of year.
The only difference between the hike up and the hike down is that going down leaves you less winded, but is very jarring to legs, knees, ankles, feet, muscles, toes...you name it, it will hurt. On the descent, between the Hut and Eagle Cliff, the Greenleaf Trail is steeper and more dangerous than it appears. Rocks give way and roots act as snares, conspiring to upend the unsuspecting and easily distracted, which is to say, me.
Descending back through the boulder dump, the dwindling daylight and complete lack of energy put the side exploration on hold. Someday, with a few more hours, exploring this area would be a lot more appealling than a return to the summit.
By the time we reached the switchbacks down Eagle Cliff, I was in my usual position in line (last) and in the occasional moments of lucidity, admitted that I was falling apart. The rolling forest near the trailhead mocked me. When I eventually emerged from the woods, the trek under the interstate and across the parking lot seemed an eternity. This was not helped at all by my wife and children beeping the horn and hollering for me to hurry up because they were anxious to visit the Lancaster Fair that evening.
Whooo-ha! The Lancaster Fair! Like Little Haystack and the boulder field, all I could do was gesture weakly north toward Lancaster and say, "next time." We opted for a swim and dinner at Fabyan's instead.
More White Mountains? Please click here for a Labor Day 2000 climb on Mount Webster
More climbing? Please click here for a short climb on the side of Mount Rainier
More New Hampshire? Please click here for a visit to "America's Stonehenge."
My take on Perce Rock, a massive stone sea arch off Quebec's Gaspe Peninsula.
