Mountain Wandering: Downes Brook Slide: 2/20/24

Over the past few years one of my favorite winter outings has been a snowshoe climb of the Downes Brook Slide on the north side of Mount Passaconaway. This slide came crashing down around 1892, baring long swaths of granite bedrock. Many of the ledges remain open today. With the right conditions, the ledges of the slide are suitable for experienced snowshoe bushwhackers. It is an entertaining and in places challenging snowshoe, with a variety of terrain and scenery. The approach is on the Downes Brook Trail, which receives little use in winter after its first half-mile. The major consideration is whether Downes Brook has snow bridges for the quartet of crossings en route to the slide.

On this morning the trail was a mess of various ski tracks and old postholes between the Mt. Potash Trail junction and the upper X-C trail junction. Beyond there, I was pleased to find a partly broken, if uneven, snowshoe track. This made the approach hike easier and more pleasant.

The crossings were mostly snow-bridged, but they were lumpy and in places a little sketchy.

This spot won't last long.

Crossings done. Into the Wilderness.

A long straight section that follows an old logging road.

I wondered if the snowshoe tracks would lead up onto the slide. They did not, and they continued up the valley, perhaps making the long trek to East Sleeper?

Looking up the brook that drains the slide, with the northern spur of Mount Passaconaway in the distance. Around 1900 a trail was cut from the top of the slide to the summit of Passaconaway, and for many years, this was the primary hiking route to that peak from the Albany Intervale. The trail was discontinued by the Forest Service in 1957 due to its at times hazardous footing on the ledges. About 1990 unknown parties attempted to unofficially reopen the trail, painting blazes on the ledges of the slide and posting signs at both ends. Subsequently the USFS, in cooperation with the Wonalancet Out Door Club, obscured the unauthorized blazes and posted signs noting that while public use of the area was welcome, unauthorized maintenance of this closed trail was illegal and subject to fines. In summer the old trail is obscure in many places, and in winter there is very little evidence of it at all.

Weaving up the brookbed, avoiding thin ice and waterholes.

After a short bushwhack through the woods, I emerged on the expansive, low-angle (17 to 20 degrees) lower ledges of the slide.

This slide has more white pine trees - including some good-sized ones - than I've seen on any other slide, perhaps due to its age (130 years) and relatively low elevation.

Just snowshoeing these ledges is, by itself, worth the price of admission. Potash Mountain presides in the distance.

One of several frozen cascades on the slide.

One of two larger cascades that must be bypassed via a steep bushwhack through spruce woods.

There are more large open slabs above. Here the dark cone of "South Potash" can be seen on the left.

One of the steep little pitches along the way.

A clean slate ahead - a smooth blanket of snow for first tracks.

What a delight to snowshoe up these long white corridors.

Pretty good snowpack for a below average snowfall season.

Weaving up around another cascade.

The craggy northern spur of Passaconaway looms above. Up there is the spectacular north outlook reached via a spur path from the summit.

Heading back into the woods to bypass a canyon-like section that has not filled in with enough snow and ice this winter to permit passage.

Emerging atop a big snowy slab, peering down into the canyon.

Cutting a track across the top of the slab.

Here, at ~2600 ft., is a neat flat area at what is called "the turn of the slide." At this point the 1892 slide (the west fork) came rumbling down from the steep slope up to the right. Ahead, the main brookbed leads to a longer and more recent slide (the east fork) that may have fallen during the 1938 hurricane.

Looking back.

Looking ahead up the east fork, which didn't appear filled in enough for reasonable passage, although I didn't have time to investigate. A few years ago, late in a deep snow winter, I was able to snowshoe most of the way up this fork.

Looking up the west fork from the turn of the slide.

The west fork consists of two big, steep snowy slabs that, combined, rise 200 ft. in elevation. The lower slab, seen here, is a little shorter and less steep, with a maximum slope of ~36 degrees.

I worked my way up along the edge of the slab.

Side view of the lower slab.

At the top of this slab is a flat shelf with a view out to the north.

A few snowshoe steps behind the shelf is the base of the bigger and steeper upper slab. At one point its slope is ~45 degrees.

I made a steep climb through the woods to the right of the slab. It was slow going in sugary snow atop a slippery crust.

Well worth the effort for the northern view from the uppermost ledge slab, at ~2800 ft.

I carefully worked my way down to a favorite perch at the brink of the big dropoff.

From here the view was truly expansive, even with the distant Presidentials smothered in cloud.

Even up here, there are several large white pines.

Looking across the uppermost slab of the slide.

After a careful descent, I was back down at the turn of the slide. My tracks highlight a sloping ledge that is a sliding cascade in summer, with a pool below.