Return to Flume Slide and a Lost & Found Mission

On a perfect crisp, sunny October day I decided to pay a return visit to the lower ledges of the actual Flume Slides, which I had bushwhacked to in late October last year. While descending off the ledges on that trip, my iPhone SE had been pulled out of my pocket in some dense brush. It was mid-afternoon, and I had time only for a hasty search, which proved unsuccessful. Carol had ordered me an upgrade to an iPhone 17, scheduled to arrive that day, but I was sorry to lose the photos I had taken with the lost phone (which was in airplane mode, so no uploading to Google Photos). I did manage to get a few snapshots with an old point-and-shoot camera that was stashed in my pack. The main purpose of today's trek was to see the remarkable view from the lower slide during foliage season, with a secondary objective of looking for the lost phone.

 

This being a holiday weekend, Liberty Spring Trail was pretty busy up to the Flume Slide Trail junction.  

As expected, the Flume Slide Trail was much quieter. Along the 2.5 miles I hiked in on this trail, I saw only two solo hikers and one group of five.

 

 

Leading through hardwood forest on a south-facing slope, this is a glorious trail on a sunny fall day.

 

 

I always pause for a peek at this trough scoured by the 1883 slide that plunged off the SW side of Mount Liberty, sweeping down through The Flume and dislodging the famous suspended boulder.

The trail then crosses the brook that drains that slide.

 

 

 

The valley was awash in gold.

 

The first crossing of Flume Brook.

 

 

Getting deeper into the valley.

 

Can't get enough of this. 

 

 

 

 

Just before its third crossing of Flume Brook, the trail crosses a little plateau that I consider the inner sanctum of the valley.

Mossy rocks on Flume Brook.

 

 

 

Heading off-trail, with easy grades and open woods at first.

 

Birches mixing in. The slope to the west, on the south ridge of Mount Liberty, hosts an extensive paper birch stand that seeded in after a 1908 forest fire.

 

Soon enough the slope grew increasingly steep. 

 

 

 

 

One of several old slide tracks that spill down this slope.

 

The last several hundred feet of elevation approaching the base of the slide features some very steep and gnarly terrain, with a slope of 36 degrees.

 

The final approach was along a rocky track leading up to the lower ledges. I was now in the neighborhood of where I had lost my phone.

 

 

 

Oh my gosh - there it is! I lucked out. 

 

 

After retrieving the phone, with a smile I picked my way carefully up to the ledges.

 

Any wet ledges are a no-go! Note the white pine top center, at 3500 ft.

 

Closer look at the pine. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wide expanse of open ledge in sight above.

 

 

Heading up to a ledgy perch.

 

 A commanding view down the Flume Brook valley, with Mount Moosilauke on the horizon.

 

 

 

Looking up. When I came here last year, I was surprised at how dry these ledges were. The same was true this year.

 

Side perspective.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A neat angle on Mount Liberty.

Zoom on the summit. Every once in a while I could see a hiker standing on the east-viewing rock at the top.

 

A view of several crags and talus slopes that I've visited on the steep south ridge of Liberty. South Kinsman in the distance, and gold-spangled birch forest at the base of the ridge.

On this crystal-clear day I could see a long chain of peaks in the central Green Mountains, way out there beyond Mount Pemigewasset and Black Mountain. Far to the SW, Stratton Mountain and Mount Snow were visible.

Peering down at the bustling Flume Visitor Center, a world away.

 

 The recovered iPhone on display. We're letting it dry out for a few days, then will (carefully) see if it will accept a charge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ledges above looked comfortably climbable, and it was tempting to continue up a ways, but I learned a long time ago that coming down is trickier, and I did not have time to attempt a climb to the summit.

Better to just relax and hang out in the October sun for an hour.

 

Tawny grasses add a soft touch to the ledges.

 

 

Looking back at my perch as I headed down mid-afternoon.

Slow and careful on the steep upper part of the 900-ft. descent to the trail.

 

 

Better going on the lower descent.

 

A beautiful glade. 

 

 

 

 

Back through the inner sanctum. 

 

Along Flume Brook. 

 

 

 

Colors near dusk. 

 

 

Headlamp exit.

 

 

 

Lafayette West Buttress Slide

A short but strenuous late afternoon bushwhack to a fairly recent slide on the west buttress of Mount Lafayette, which looms above the Franconia Notch Parkway. This very steep slide came crashing down  presumably sometime during 2012. It is located just to the north of the huge 1948 and 1959 slide tracks that buried US Route 3. It is 1,000 ft. long, extending from 2,350 ft. to 3,110 ft. with an average slope of 37 degrees. One 100-ft. section on the upper part has a pitch of 50 degrees. Ice climbers have named this the “Summer Slide,” and designate its larger southern neighbor as the “Big Slide.” This view of the slide was taken from the Pemi Trail along the shore of Profile Lake.

I had a more restricted view of the slide as I set out from the parking area at the south end of Profile Lake.

After a brief stint on the bike path I headed up the steep slope, at first through a rock-strewn hardwood forest.

 

The woods soon transitioned to mainly spruce.

Lots of rocks.

 

Including some big ones.

There are multiple slide tracks on this slope, which has been frequently scarred over the years.

 

Climbing through an obstacle course.

Looking slide-y.

After a 500-ft. ascent the bottom of the open ledge swath is in sight ahead.

This slide has a steep footwall on both the south side...

...and the north side.

 

Looking up from the base of the footwall.

I used a little seam to get up onto the ledges above the footwall. The ledges above here looked dry and climbable as far as I could see, but I didn't have time to go higher, and it's always trickier to descend than ascend. If one were to climb this slide to its top, it would require a brutal 1100-ft. climb to reach Greelnleaf Hut.

Looking down the south side of the footwall.

My little perch provided a fine view of the Cannon Cliffs.

 

Descending via a different, less rocky route, reaching the parking lot with a half hour of daylight to spare.