After gazing down at the frozen surface of tiny, remote Harrington Pond from the snow-crusted ledges of South Kinsman last week, a desire was rekindled to go there in winter. On my previous stop there on a south to north traverse of the Kinsmans with three friends in the winter of 1992, it was so foggy we could barely see the cliffs that overlook the pond on its north side.
To get there by trail entails a 5.9 mile one-way hike in winter. But by bushwhacking from the Reel Brook Trail up the broad valley drained by the pond's outlet brook, the trek could be cut to 3.5 to 4 miles one-way. If time permitted, a battle through dense scrub to the ledges/cliffs on the N side of the pond would reveal a unique vista. When I proposed this journey to bushwhacking buddy John Compton, he enthusiastically signed on.

It was another in a string of gorgeous, sunny late winter days. We parked on the shoulder of Route 116 in Easton and walked 0.6 mile up a plowed, rather icy road to the unplowed trailhead parking area.
It had gotten fairly cold overnight and we had hoped for well-consolidated snow conditions. But it had not gotten cold enough, and as we set off on the Reel Brook Trail, where there was no evidence of any previous human-made track, the snow was giving way under our snowshoes and we knew we were in for a long day of trail-breaking.
The going got thicker on a plateau at 3000 feet. After crossing this flat area, we swung to the right (SE) for more open going. This was a confusing area to navigate in -there are three mini-notches leading to the ridgecrest, the middle one leading to the pond. When we started climbing again, we could see that our parallel ridge to the north was too far away. We had strayed to the south and needed to cut back to the north to reach the pond.
John forged a fine route traversing across to the NNE, passing over the southernmost mini-notch and the flank of the knob just S of the pond. The woods were pretty thick through here, with lots of potential eye-pokers.Wild, ragged cliffs rise on the N side of the pond.
A closeup on South Kinsman, from where we had gazed down here four days earlier. To see Harrington Pond, you have to descend about 100 yards south from the summit on the Kinsman Ridge Trail to the next set of ledges.
We headed down to the east end of the pond; the upper end of the great SE ridge of South Kinsman in the background.
Looking west down the pond, into the sun.
Back near the west end, we crossed to the north side for a closeup of the cliffs.
It was 3:20 and we wouldn't have time to go too far along the cliffs above the pond. But we figured we could struggle up to the lowest outlook, the snowy spot on the far left of this photo.
In a few minutes of pushing through thick scrub we crossed a lower ledge with a view back to Mt. Moosilauke.
The conifer scrub was quite dense. We engaged in a short but intense wrestling match with the close-growing trees to ascend to our objective.
isolated pocket on the crest of Kinsman Ridge. The pond was named for Karl Harrington, one of the great AMC trail-builders of the 1910s and 1920s, who "discovered" it while laying out the route for the Kinsman Ridge Trail: "It was to this little Harrington Pond that a frog piping his nightly serenade guided the writer through the dense darkness, when first a trail was roughly blazed along this hitherto inaccessible ridge." (From Walks & Climbs in the White Mountains, by Karl Harrington, 1926.)
A zoom on (L to R) Mts. Chocorua, Kancamagus, and Passaconaway, the Osceolas, and Scar Ridge.
A closeup of the pond, our tracks visible along the far shore.
A trail-like corridor in open woods.
We close this account with an example of an impromptu gaiter system. John had left his gaiters at home and at the start of the trek was already getting snow in his boots. He dug two small bungee cords out of his pack, wrapped them around his pant legs, and had no further problems.

Steve, thank you for coming up with this fantastic idea for a truly unique way to get to Harrington Pond. It was an adventure that I never would've thought of on my own. And, even if I should visit this pond on some future hike, I'll always fondly remember this particular trek.
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