The Green Tunnel

The Fat Man and I decided that it might be in our best interest to pick a hike with minimal elevation.  We wanted a conditioning hike to shore up our thighs and quads, which were still burning from our Sugarloaf Trail expedition.

The Lincoln Woods Trail to Franconia Falls sounded like just the ticket.  Our guidebook said it was an easy but relatively long trail (6.6 miles round trip).  We would also get to see part of the Pemigewassett Wilderness, which in addition to being a fun name to pronounce, is a 45,000-acre federally designated Wilderness area that is part of White Mountain National Forest.  It was saved from being totally denuded (the Fat Man’s fancy word for stripped or made bare) of trees during the logging era of the late 19 ^th and early 20^th centuries. 

I should mention that the ladies room near the parking lot was pristine even by my high standards.  Real flushing toilets and a light pine scent, but go easy on the toilet paper, please.

The hike starts out with a really cool suspension bridge that crosses over to the west bank of the East Branch of the Pemigewassett River.  If more than two people are crossing at the same time, it’s a little bit like an amusement park ride. 

Suspension bridge

Pemigewassett River

For the next 3.6 miles, imagine yourself in a long green tunnel that never seems to end.  You also need to watch out for old railroad ties that are like nature’s speed bumps.  A few mountain bikers whizzed by us, but we did not see them on our return.  Perhaps they hit one of the ties and were hurtled off their bikes into the woods, never to be seen again?

The Fat Man was feeling particularly chipper and barreled ahead of me like a bunny rabbit in heat until he was as small as an eye of a needle in my sight.  I was tempted to blow my whistle, just to see if he could hear me if I had a heart attack or a stroke, but I knew he would be angry at me for sounding a false alarm (by the way, you should always carry a whistle when you hike.  You can blow a lot longer than you can scream). 

We finally met up by a stone bridge and ascended up a narrow, windy trail that ran next to the beginning of what we thought were the falls.  It was 0.4 miles to our final destination and a delightful lunch of turkey breast and Swiss cheese with honey mustard on a whole-wheat tortilla.

Pemigewassett River

We were abruptly met with a sign that read “trail end.”  "What the f***!  Where's the f***ing waterfall!" cried the Fat Man.  "How can you just end a trail?"  Where were the promised falls?  Yes, there was a river of water cascading over some large rocks, but no majestic waterfall. 

If we had consulted dictionary.com that morning, we would have known that the word “falls” means to drop or descend under the force of gravity.  It does not constitute a high, rushing waterfall (at least not in New Hampshire). 

 Our bad for having such an expectation.

We ate our lunch and proceeded back through the long, green tunnel.  The Fat Man was walking with a little less pep in his step.  By the end of the trail, I was never so happy to see Horace the Honda, our car.

Heidi’s rating: ★ because of the monotony of the trail and the anticlimactic finale, but another ★ for the extended workout.

The Fat Man’s rating: a 4-fart trail.