A Brief Sojourn Into the Wilderness

LOCATION

Where is Cardigan Mountain? There are two ways to answer this question. The absolute location of Cardigan Mountain is 43.649755 degrees N, -71.914899 degrees W. If you were to plug these numbers into Google Earth, you would be plopped on top of the peak of Cardigan Mountain, in Orange, NH. However, the relative location, though not as accurate, can give you a general idea of where Cardigan Mountain is. Relative location is the location of something in terms of other things. Cardigan Mountain is west of Newfound Lake, and southwest from Oregon Mountain. The eastern half of the mountain resides in Alexandria, while the western half - and the peak, as designated by Google Earth, resides in the town of Orange. Cardigan Mountain is southeast of the Pinnacle, another nearby rock formation. That is the 'relative location' of Cardigan Mountain. Assuming you knew where Orange was, and where Alexandria was, you could drive to the eastern border of Orange or the western border of Alexandria and there you would find Cardigan Mountain. While the absolute location brings you directly to Cardigan Mountain, the relative location can help you find Cardigan through a series of relations to other things, such as the town of Orange or Alexandria, or Newfound Lake.

PLACE

Cardigan Mountain isn't just a blip on the map. It isn't just a part of the skyline. Cardigan Mountain is special. There are streams, and rivers, all flowing from the peak of the mountain down to the sea, many miles away. Dry river beds populate the area, dormant until the spring, when the snow melts and the water finds every pathway down the mountain. On the sheer rock face of the top of Cardigan, glacial erratics are evident against the New Hampshire granite. Glacial striations strafe the rocks, and streaks of pure white quartz are visible even through the dankest murk. There is history here. Some years ago, a wildfire swept across the summit of Firescrew, Cardigan's neighbor. Indeed, the wind whisked the fire into the air and swirled it in a burning corkscrew of flame, earning Firescrew its name. Here, an abundance of trees grow, including eastern hemlock, yellow birch, and mountain ash, their red berries evident in the undergrowth. As you near the 3156 foot summit, the trees shrink and gnarl, their ancient roots clinging to the rock, struggling for purchase in the thinning soil. This is the boreal zone. All traces of the hardwoods - birch, maple, oak, elm - that once populated the forest are gone. Now, only the stunted trees remain, the spruces and the pines, facing the wind and the weather, fastened by venerable roots that have found a way to survive in an exceedingly harsh environment. At the base of the mountains lies a pond, where tadpoles bask in the light of the sun, floating centimeters above the sandy soil. Bluejays take flight, flashing out of bushes, their wings gleaming blue in the sun, then disappearing into the brush once more, leaving us to wonder at the magnificence of these creatures. In the depths of the woods where the ground is still flat, are massive fields of sphagnum moss, their seemingly hairy tips glistening with moisture. Pine trees strain for the skies, their trunks iron solid and unyielding, straight as an arrow shaft, the trunks branching out only when the sunlight seems attainable.

At the base of the mountain squats a large but inoffensive building, the gray wooden shingles washed out and bleached in the sun. Solar panels, dozens of them, sit in dark blue rows, the steel and glass very much out of place at the wilderness retreat. Though these things do much good. The whole building, all four stories, run on solar power. Not a watt of external power here. The first floor of Cardigan Lodge sports a modest library and an entry way. The second floor is where the good stuff is. The kitchen, and a hulking fireplace surrounded by benches and rocking chairs. The dining area shows off several wooden tables. From the kitchen flows all manners of good things: tacos, cookies, brownies, lasagna, hot chocolate, bacon, hashbrowns, eggs, fruit, lemon cake - the list goes on and on. Each and every one is perfect and delicious - though after a day of hiking nearly anything tastes good. Upstairs are the bunk rooms and the bathrooms. Showers, toilets, sinks, all that jazz. Bunk beds that bring you back to your childhood days, back to the pettiness of thumping your feet on the bed above you. The HVAC system that slinks through the building is a useful means of communication - until you remember that the chaperones can hear it, too.

Trails of all lengths and difficulties criss-cross the area, hiking and skiing trails alike. Duke's Pasture is home to an old car, parked resolutely in the grass. If you take the right trail, you can find an ancient cellar hole, the foundation built of rocks heaved from the land around your feet. Marking each and every trail are blazes, fire-engine red or daffodil yellow or sky blue , leading the way into the distance, showing the path twining between the trees. At the top of the mountain, where the trees give way to rock, cairns show the way, piles of rocks within viewing distance of each other. A beacon of quartz sits atop each pile, meant to gleam through fog and mist. If you take the trail to Welton Falls, you pass through a campsite, flat and level, platforms and latrines built as simply as possible. At the summit of Cardigan, a fire tower reigns supreme, an ultimate perspective over the surrounding lands. A lookout cabin perches of the side of the shears, its sides pockmarked and graffitied, a shadow of its former glory. A mysterious high cabin lurks through the trees - though none of us know what it looks like, a sign pointing through the trees simply states 'high cabin' leaving us to wonder yet again of the mysteries of Cardigan. If you choose to take the trail to the summit, you happen upon a spot called PJ's Ledge, though who named and who it is named after still evades us. In the distance, white windmills spin, their blades minute from such a distance. If you turn and look back, you can see the metal roof of the lodge winking between the blanket of trees. If you choose to travel the Nature Trail, you tromp over a bridge, spanning a slow-moving river. Follow the trail just a bit further, and you can spy a concrete dam, the water sluicing through it. Through the trees past it, you can see the graying asphalt, cracked from years of being the lifeline to the human inhabitants of the Cardigan Lodge. Many vehicles have passed here, from fancy Teslas to SUVS to school buses packed to the seams full of hollering 7th graders. Each and every one of them has brought something back with them, whether it be a covertly tucked away fungi, or memories of a wilderness that is rapidly fading away. This place isn't ordinary. Perhaps the forest stretches its likeness across a great expanse, but this is different. This is special. This is Cardigan.

We were there for three days, those of which are Sunday, (Day 1) Monday, (Day 2) and Tuesday. (Day 3)

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