This photo of Joe Dodge Lodge is courtesy of TripAdvisor
Our room was a cozy affair with double bed and gorgeous wood paneling, lit modestly with a small incandescent lamp on bedside stand. The single draped window to one side of our bed looked out to the rear of the lodge, and we could see the beginning of the winding Tuckerman Trail that will take the adventurer to Tuckerman Ravine a little more than four miles up into the lower approach to Mt. Washington. The Ravine is the real deal for back country exploration and can be quite dangerous because of the fickle weather conditions to be found around Mount Washington. It’s something of a rite of passage for advanced skiers and riders to get up into “Tucks” or “The Bowl” and test their skills on the natural run outs that lace down from various points on a 270 degree arc along the rim of the bowl. The gradient steepens as one climbs from the floor to the top, with the vertical pitch reaching nearly 60 degrees in some places near the rim. This writer will attest from personal experience that 60 degrees feels and looks like 90….and one gets up to the rim by crawling on splayed out hands and feet like a bug to keep from falling backward and tumbling to the bottom. Once up onto the rim of the bowl, the adventurer can look around at the spectacular vista of a natural glacial cirque, and the (often) snow capped top of Mt. Washington looming up from behind. Then the adventurer has to overcome his/her brain that is screaming fear at the thought of descending what looks like 600 feet of dead vertical wall. Any attempt to ski down from just under the rim means taking one’s skis off from shoulder strap to gingerly step into bindings one boot at a time in knee-high cascading snow and ice chunks, while balancing against gravity's intent to pull the body backward off the wall. The experience defies further description.
But this was not our destination for Saturday, as we had plans to bike the Great Glen trails near Jackson. It wasn’t until we were checking in that we received the disappointing news: Great Glen trails were closed for the season the weekend before. With that we drove down into North Conway to inquire about other possible biking trails in the area. We stopped at a local bike shop and learned that just a couple miles down the road was what we were looking for in the valley: a network of double and single track lines called Sticks And Stones. We bought a map and drove out to the trail network to take the lay of the land.
Given the fact Sticks And Stones is just outside the main drag of North Conway's center, there was a surprising feeling of solitude and remoteness to the relatively compact trail system. We hoofed our way over a part of the network called the “Pudding Pond Loop” named after a small body of water and marsh in the center of the loop. We were pleasantly surprised to see the lush trees still hung on to their mantles of yellow, fluttering in the gentle breeze like celebratory banners under glimmering rays lancing through the boughs. The coloration about us as we tramped along a leafy path in silence was sublime magic. We didn’t stay long though because the sun was already low on the horizon and we did not want to have to find our way out in the chill twilight of a mid autumn evening.
Once back at the lodge we were content to simply relax in our room and wait for the family style diner to be served in the dining hall across the small esplanade separating it from the lodge. Dinner was hearty, as all meals are at AMC lodges. The high carb fare consisted of ravioli, homemade bread, salad, and some really great homemade pies. All of it quite delicious, but the Spanish rice served in a goulash of tomato sauce, Parmesan cheese, and spinach was fantastic. We washed it all down with a local brew (for him) and white wine (for her) from a funky little “packy” down the highway. After dinner and an in-house movie about an expedition to Everest we retired to the gentle ambiance of our little room. The bed could have been made of down piling; luxurious and comfy. It was so comforting that sleep didn’t take long to arrive.
This photo of Joe Dodge Lodge is courtesy of TripAdvisor
We woke to a pink tinted sunrise, and dressed as quickly as we could when we realized we slept until 8:00. Breakfast in the dining hall would end at 8:30! No better way to power up than with a stack of hefty pancakes. The conditions were brisk so we knew we would have to dress in layered gear, but the gathering of dark gray clouds on the southwestern horizon gave us some concern. Back at the equipment shop adjacent to the dining hall we learned that the forecast was calling for heavy snow to roll in by late afternoon. We knew we were going to have to get our ride in early, but were uncertain if we should leave for home ahead of schedule or stick it out until late Sunday. Circumstances would soon dictate the course of action.
The quality of Pudding Pond Loop is packed dirt with a covering of leaves that makes for a relatively soft ride. Due to recent flooding some parts were inaccessible, but the locals made a bypass route that turned out to be a very interesting and challenging single track obstacle course. In more than a few places we had to cross gang planks over water or wend our way over tight switch backs lumped up with rocks and tree roots. It’s a funny thing about riding over a 10 inch wide plank. If it were placed directly on the ground, and an average rider were asked to ride over it without steering off, it could be done with little trouble or hesitation. But elevate that plank 1 foot above the ground and the whole mentality changes. And so it is with crossing a plank over water. The prospect of falling off becomes so overriding that that is exactly what will happen unless the rider stays absolutely focused. This was not lesson time for Evangeline so we walked our bikes over each water pass.
After completing the Pudding Pond Loop and finding ourselves near our start point we saw another trail off to one side that we were sure led off into the Sticks And Stones network. Sitting right in the middle of the entrance way like a sentinel was a good size boulder with a rectangular stone leaning up against it. The boulder was no doubt a natural part of the topography, but the ramp was definitely placed there to make a “booter” as we call it: a way to get a little air time. And the decision of this writer to take advantage of that opportunity turned out to be unwise. The trail was wet from rain and dew, as was the stone ramp and boulder. The approach was slower than required to get enough momentum to carry up and over the ramp, so it turned out to be a climb. The climb stalled near its apex when the rear wheel spun on wet rock, leading to both wheels slipping off the side of the ramp and boulder. The rider pitched to the side, and upon planting his left foot on the ground with the falling momentum of a four foot drop, promptly dislocated the knee to the inside with a symphony of popping, cracking, and crunching. The leg very nearly folded under butt in the course of the fall, but the strength of a panicked effort managed to yank the leg out before completely pancaking into the shape of a paper clip. This was supposed to be a photo opportunity so Evangeline took a sequence of rapid fire photos…God bless her…right down to, and including, the rider writhing on the ground clutching his knee and screaming like a banshee.
Once light and the surroundings came back into the field of vision the first decision was to get the hell out of there. So we hobbled as best as we could by leaning on bike. Occasional screams punctuated the air every time the bad leg stubbed on the uneven surface. The F-bombs surely dispersed the fauna far and wide. And then a funny thing happened. We got lost. One is reminded of the spoof rockumentary “This Is Spinal Tap” where the band is down in the catacombs of some old music hall in Cleveland and they try to get on stage to begin their concert, only to repeatedly find their course wending back to the boiler room. That was us. Over an hour later we crawled out the half mile distance back to our car. The whole ordeal was further compounded by the unfortunate circumstance of our vehicle being a standard with a clutch. Evangeline does not know how to drive a standard. Anyway, we got back to the lodge and she packed up our stuff and threw it in the car. We sped off and into the snow storm on our way home.
Back in Lowell, we wait on the eventual clearing up of a blood clot in the bad leg, healing of a ruptured medial collateral ligament and cracked tibia. Other possible issues are not yet known, but we remain positive. We look forward to a great bike season next year, and no more jumps.
