By Kevin Koczwara
It was still dark when Emily Sotelo set out. (cilck here)
At 4:30 a.m. on November 20, Sotelo’s mother dropped her at the head of the Falling Waters Trail — named for its fairy-tale cascades. She was heading toward the Franconia Ridge Trail and the summit of Mount Lafayette, a 5,249-foot peak in the White Mountains with an alpine zone where only dwarf vegetation can survive.
But Sotelo, a trained EMT and a relatively experienced hiker for age 19, was on a mission that Sunday. She had climbed 40 of the 48 peaks that are over 4,000 feet in the White Mountains. She planned to finish Lafayette that day, and finish all of them by Wednesday, when she’d celebrate her accomplishment and her 20th birthday over dinner with her mother at the Omni Mount Washington Resort....
At 4:30 a.m. on November 20, Sotelo’s mother dropped her at the head of the Falling Waters Trail — named for its fairy-tale cascades. She was heading toward the Franconia Ridge Trail and the summit of Mount Lafayette, a 5,249-foot peak in the White Mountains with an alpine zone where only dwarf vegetation can survive.
But Sotelo, a trained EMT and a relatively experienced hiker for age 19, was on a mission that Sunday. She had climbed 40 of the 48 peaks that are over 4,000 feet in the White Mountains. She planned to finish Lafayette that day, and finish all of them by Wednesday, when she’d celebrate her accomplishment and her 20th birthday over dinner with her mother at the Omni Mount Washington Resort....
The greatest danger to even experienced hikers and climbers is the rapidly changing weather. Hiking alone is dangerous by the simple nature of it. It is impossible to ask every person interested in hiking or climbing this region to do so in pairs at the very least, that won't happen.
But, the government has a role in this in the deaths and injuries that have occurred among some of the most young citizens of adult age. Climbs should be planned. In that if hikers and climbers were required to file a plan ahead of the activity it would include potential challenges by weather.
None of these folks are interested in challenging the weather conditions, they are interested in challenging the mountain. There is nothing wrong with preparedness, including filing a plan and allowing society to know there may be a need for help. In that, society has an interest in knowing the call for help will not come because their citizens and visitors are well prepared and equally cautious.
The infrastructure already exists. There is nothing wrong with demanding safety standards. There will be people that will ignore any demands by society to control the sorrowful outcomes, but, that is a matter of enforcing the standards set with violations fines if necessary. That means anyone found to be on the trails or climbing paths without a location tracker is going to be fined whether there is a tragedy or not.
Wall Street is not welcome here. No one needs sales people with insurance plans.
Spreading the word about severe weather in the White Mountains (click here) has become an increasingly high priority for groups aiming to improve hiker decision-making.
Rescue missions continue at a consistent annual pace, according to New Hampshire Fish and Game, and recent fatalities of under-prepared hikers who ventured alone into the mountains elevate the importance of safe hiking practices and public awareness about higher-elevation weather conditions.
On the prevention side of search and rescue, work by several organizations is yielding measurable results in the region’s growing backcountry community.
In 2022, one group of volunteers spoke with over 27,000 hikers at popular trailheads leading to the mountain range’s unique alpine tundra, which produces extreme cold, wind, and precipitation....
These mountains have been celebrated for a long time.
July 18, 2013
By Stephen Jermanok
Like most of the trails in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, (click here) the Gale River Trail begins with forgiving dirt and mud but quickly changes to unforgiving rock. For most of the 4.6-mile climb up the trail, my wife, Lisa, and I were serenaded by the sound of rapids rushing down the nearby river and the ominous rumble of thunderstorms in the distance.
We crossed over the waterway countless times on rock and log bridges, smelling the fragrant pine, before we reached the last leg — a steep ascent on awkward slabs of rock. Exhausted, we made it to our oasis for the night: the Galehead Hut, where a sign outside the door read, “Built 1932, Elevation 3800 feet.”
We plopped down on the long bench outside the lodge, too tired to move, and admired the panorama of peaks before us. Ridge after ridge, a carpet of green tumbled down the flanks to the valley below. It was like peering at a Japanese silkscreen in Technicolor....
