Zealand AMC Hut Overnight
(The Wife Hike)

October 26, 2003

PhD Guys & Gals

Chronicle by Bob;

There was much discussion surrounding this event per usual. We had talked about doing a Zealand hut overnight for some time. This is one of the few huts open after mid-September and in fact through the winter on a self-service basis. Winter would require skis or snowshoes. Self-service requires the packing of food for the group in addition to other overnight essentials. A fall hike might be better to try this. Additionally, Charlie’s knees were failing and the trail to Zealand Falls is relatively mild with only a small elevation gain at the end.

Should we invite wives? Barbara, Marlene & Rosanne had come along on a previous full-service hut excursion at Mitzpah in warm weather. Mitzpah included dinner, breakfast, blankets, sheets for some, and even a tour of the facilities. This would be more severe weather-wise (little did we know how severe) and would require a full pack with sleeping bags. We knew that it would change the group dynamics as well. A guy hike is all about joking around and who gets up the hill first. With wives, other subtleties arise. Since my wife was not about to come along and I was not about to carry her, this allows me to get up the hill first, no small detail.

We started the day with wives in tow and stopped at Mary Ann’s in Derry for a hearty breakfast.   From there it was up Rt 93 and through Franconia Notch where we encountered a small snow squall.   Hmmm!   should we turn back?

The question was answered upon leaving the notch. The sun was shining.

Shortly, we reached the Zealand parking lot. There was brief discussion about the legalities of parking permits but this was quickly dismissed. This is New Hampshire after all! Live free or die. Everyone saddled up their packs (in some cases shiny & new), smiled for photos, and then gleefully rambled up the trail 2.8 miles toward Zealand Falls.

This was a relatively mild day. There was snow cover and a number of crossings of the Zealand River with its tributaries. Fording streams by hopping from one dry exposed rock to another with a full pack was a new experience for some of the wives. The inevitable happened; Barbara fell in and landed squarely on her sleeping bag.

Now this is where the guy vs. wife hike becomes apparent. If Matt for instance fell in there would be uproar of laughter, followed by a struggle to get out with some dignity, then a night of sleeping in a damp sleeping bag probably with a few more digs.

Not so this day, all looked on in horror. Matt’s mind raced with options; I am in trouble. Should I help her? That means getting wet. I had better do something.
After a few seconds, he did the chivalrous thing, stepped in the water and helped her out. One thing did not change; he slept in the damp sleeping bag and received a few more digs.

Upon arrival at Zealand Pond we could see icing and a relatively calm cascade of water coming down from the mountain. The hut was high up beside the falls, really a very picturesque setting. Charlie & I were first to the hut. The rest lumbered up the steep hill one by one. After a short respite, Tom, Dave and Matt decided to use the remaining light to hike up to the summit for a better view of the summit and valley. Charlie rested his knees, the rest enjoyed the beauty of Zealand Falls and the valley below from the porch. (Note the women's faces; suggests that this is not to their liking) We reviewed the surroundings including the falls and curious water supply.

Dinner was very elegant, Shrimp Risotto served by Matt with the appropriate wine and fanfare. After dinner was filled with the usual curiosities associated with hut life. Boy building pyramids with cards, much ado about new headlamps, etc. The wives were mightily impressed. We soon tucked in for the night. But wait, what was that gradually increasing rumble outside? Was it rain? Was it a thunderous torrent?

The next morning we arose to a delightful breakfast of pancakes, Canadian bacon, and home fries served up by Tom. It was still wet outside and the falls were boiling with water thundering to the valley below. Everyone prepared for the trek out, donning ponchos for cover as best we could. Some like Tom wore no poncho, preferring instead to get wet from the outside rather than from the inside of a poncho.

We immediately ran into overflowing streams heading out. The dry rocks offering a bridge the day before were now covered by the torrent. We made our way precariously along the raging Zealand river. It was cold and wet. The ponchos offered little respite.

We arrived at the largest tributary. It became apparent that there was no dry crossing. We scoured the banks looking for some other way. What the hell, I decided to put my boots directly in the stream and walk across. It was cold and unstable from the river flow and rocky bottom but all followed and no one fell in. There was no other way. Everyone’s boots and lower pants were soaked. We slogged along back to the parking lot in glum spirits. There was slipping, sliding and grumbling all the way.

The rain slowed and we finally arrived at the parking lot glad to see a friendly New Hampshire ranger waiting for us. Maybe he would offer some sympathy for our travails.(171) This was not to be the case, again this was to be the case. It seems he took his job very seriously. We were parking without a permit. We didn’t appreciate the importance of this permit and he explained its importance to us for 10 minutes.

Idiot! Live free or die.

The return included the usual Concord stop at New York pizza but was otherwise uneventful.