I wanted to spend this long, bright spring day in the bare, snowless woods, and made a familiar trail-and-bushwhack loop over the lower of the two Black Mountains on the SW ridge of Sandwich Dome. This trek offered tremendous variety: cascades, beaver wetlands, ledges with views for miles, gorgeous hardwood glades, conifer woods thick and thin, and a little misadventure at the end navigating obscure mountain bike paths.
I started out on the easygoing Smarts Brook Trail.
The Smarts Brook Cascade was in full spring flow.
A waterslide above the cascade.
A sled runner from the 1920s vintage Smarts Brook logging camp.
More artifacts. These are protected by law and it is illegal to remove them.
In recent years the Smarts Brook beaver pond has become a meadow.
Abandoned beaver dam.
View across the meadow to the lower Black Mountain.
Open hemlock whacking up the drainage of a nameless brook.
In the spring a series of cascades provides ample entertainment during the ascent.
The tallest of the cascades has no name. Black Mountain Falls?
View from above.
Above 1800 ft. the valley is cloaked in a beautiful mature hardwood forest that likely has not been logged in a hundred years. This part of the valley is protected as a 2001 Roadless Rule area.
A fine specimen of white ash.
Fallen sugar maple giant.
Yellow violets are always the first flowers of the season in the hardwoods.
Blue skies in hardwood heaven.
There's a story here, seen from the other side.
Lightning strike?
Chaga tree standing tall.
On the valley headwall.
Magnificent maples.
Old and shaggy.
Boulder jumble at the base of Black Mountain.
A huge yellow birch at 2400 ft.
Framed view of Stinson Mountain from a mini mountain meadow.
An inviting hardwood draw that might make a nice ski run.
A steep and prickly whack to a large ledge on the south face of Black Mountain.
Wide views from the ledge, here looking SE to the distant Belknap Range through Sandwich Notch.
South to the Squam Range (L) and East Weetamoo/Mt. Weetamoo (R). Mt. Kearsarge is in the distance to the L of East Weetamoo.
Full view of the Campton Range. Upper Hall Pond nestles at the base of East Weetamoo. Mt. Cardigan is in the distance on the R. An hour was well spent on this sun-drenched ledge.
A stout, prickly old spruce bars the way on the whack up to the 2732-ft. summit of Black Mountain.
An old cairn at the high point.
An airy ledge perch on the SE side of the summit.
The upper Black Mountain looms close at hand. The rugged Algonquin Trail scales that imposing slope, offering stellar views as reward for the effort.
Wild country rolls out towards Mt. Israel and Dinsmore Mountain. The sprawling forest in the foreground and middle ground is all within the Sandwich Range Wilderness.
A different angle looking at the Squam Range and East Weetamoo.
A big snow patch in the col between the two Black Mountain. I joined the Algonquin Trail here after whacking down from the summit of the lower Black.
A peek at the cliffs of Sachem Peak.
Looking back at a gnarly section of the southbound Algonquin Trail, which I descnded for a half-mile..
The trail levels on a lovely spruce-wooded plateau. I left the trail here to whack down a SW spur ridge of the lower Black Mountain.
Wandering through a wonderfully open spruce forest.
Farther down, little mountain meadows dot the ridgecrest.
A natural trail marker, except there's no trail.
I took a break at this ledgy meadow.
A fine hardwood glade in the little valley below the spur ridge.
It wasn't all cushy open hardwoods.
Approaching along the inlet of an abandoned beaver pond.
Losing the sun.
Still some water left in the pond.
The top of a long, steep waterslide on the brook flowing down from the beaver pond.
After a steep descent I reached a lower beaver pond that is now a mostly dry meadow.
Looking back from the outlet of the meadow. From here I made a short climb to Sandwich Notch Road.
The next segment of the trek was a pleasant 1.3 mile stroll along Sandwich Notch Road. In places the roadbed was very soft and not ready for motor vehicle traffic.
I made the side trip to the ledge on the shore of Atwood Pond. All was quiet here, no spring peepers calling.
Evening reflections.
With dusk drawing on, the final mile and a half of the hike was spent trying to follow the many twists and turns of obscure, unmarked and unofficial mountain bike paths. Near the end I missed a key turn and ended up making a short bushwhack down to Rt. 49 by headlamp. I had achieved my objective of spending a full day in the spring woods.
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