Welp, yay!

   Weighed my pack in at 35 lbs, not too bad.  I think I could easily get a couple pounds less than that for a short trip like this, but not sure how to go below 30.  After some packing issues, Dad and I stuck our bags in the back of his truck, wrapped them in a tarp, and headed toward the White Mountains in the morning rain.  The rain cleared up once into New Hampshire, where my eyes finally had the relief of seeing topography. There’s some horrible pun in there if you want to try to make it work.  I hadn’t seen mountains since last summer(!).  
    We parked at the Lincoln Woods Visitor Center and were greeted by the east branch of the Pemigewasset River.  A decently rushing river with dry, rounded granite boulders balanced on submerged rocks.  Following the river north, the first few miles of trail were along an old logging railroad.  Dad was super excited by the many abandoned pieces of rusted metal, one of which was a “dinger”?  He joked in what appeared to be half-seriousness that he’d carry it out if we hiked this way on the way back.  All 70 lbs of it.
    I have a fondness for beech groves, and we walked through a bunch.  It was still cloudy, so the young leaves made their own green glow against the gray sky.  And the trunks were all different shades of darker gray.  We crossed a few streams that led into, I presume, the Pemigewasset, and then stopped at the bank of a more intimidating stream.  We dilly-dallied and mumbled and tested out a couple logs as makeshift bridges.  The logs would have been fine, it’s just hard to guarantee that you won’t get nervous and lose your balance 2/3 of the way through.  Also, the heavy pack makes falling less graceful than you’d wish.  Anyway, we decided to cross on some widely spaced rocks that looked more appealing after standing shakily on the rotting logs.  
    Later, hoping to make camp before we encountered the steep slope up to Bond Mountain, I plowed through an unpromising collection of dense evergreens with low, dead branches and jutting roots.  We found two, 1-person tent-sized semi-horizontal, semi-rootless areas (woah lots of dashes), and plopped our bags down.  I reallllly wanted to eat dinner and had very low standards as far as sleeping conditions.  So, we made a delicious wonderful supper of cheddar and broccoli pasta, which Dad and I used to eat every time we went backpacking as I was growing up.  It smelled like being 12 years old.