email me at bachmanjohn at gmail
This handy guide on NEIce.com has all the information you need to do the climb.
This climb surprised us.
Though all the pictures we'd seen had climbers soloing the crux pitch, this being our first trip of the season and a route we'd never done before, we decided to bring a rope. Worst case it's just more training weight, right? For a rack, at first I thought six screws, then I decided to throw in two more for good measure. I'll bring that extra fleece, but I really won't need it, right? And I've been on Lafayette enough times to know to bring goggles, but I doubt I'll actually use them.
Well, we ended up using the ropes for the crux pitch without shame, I placed all eight screws, and I ended up on the ridge wearing all my layers, and my goggles.
We started the day driving up to Franconia Notch; we saw virtually no snow in the mountains on the drive up the through the Whites, all the roadcut ice had fallen down, and the temperature was a balmy 28 degrees....and so our main concern at the start of the day was that the route would mostly consist of hiking a dirt trail with a lot of unnecessary gear, or worse, a sloppy stream with minimal snow. In anticipation of minimal snow, we decided to leave our gaiters behind.
We headed up on the Old Bridle Path trail, which to our pleasant surprise was snow-covered and well packed. We saw a set of tracks leading down to the river just after the Forest Protection Area boundary, but we decided to head a little further along the trail before bushwhacking down to Walker Brook.
The approach up the lower gully was messy and occasionally strenuous, as we would posthole into the streambed beneath the snow, and at other times would climb up and down the bank to avoid poorly covered sections. With the falling snow, the relatively warm conditions, and the strenuous nature of the approach, it was impossible to stay dry despite being stripped to our minimal layers. As we ascended it grew colder, and when we finally stopped to put on our crampons we all quickly became alarmingly chilled.
After layering up we reached the upper gully and the crux pitch came into view. After tiptoeing around the suspicious snow slope below the start of the ice I put in two screws for the belay, Matt and Steve flaked out the ropes, and we were off. The climbing itself was not difficult; a couple of moves up a steep corner to a bulge, and then after pulling the bulge the climbing immediately angled off to a snow slope with another short bulge or two. The ice was mostly thin and brittle but took screws and tools where needed. What mainly caught the attention was how every move up increased the intensity of the alpine conditions: wind and spindrift were blowing down on us and visibility was poor. Near the end of the ropes I set a screw belay at a bulge and belayed Steve and Matt up.
Matt and Steve ran up the ice--we were all cold and we wanted to get up and off the mountain as quickly as possible. Matt ran the rope up the last bit of snow slope to a stance, and then hip-belayed me up. I belayed Steve up, and we packed up the rack and ropes as quickly as we could.
At this point we were following what was left of previous climbers' tracks up the unconsolidated snow among stubby spruce trees. This is where the postholing became horrendous. Matt did a heroic job of breaking a semblance of a trail as we wallowed in seemingly bottomless snow. Though I was working hard physically, I still was not warm. This was the point in the day where I had a few moments of fear. We couldn't see the top of the ridge---what if we still had a long way to go? It was already 2:30, and we didn't have the daylight or the energy left to wallow in snow like this for very long. My mind unwillingly revisited all the trip reports I'd read with phrases like "postholing in deep snow, we quickly became exhausted and hypothermic." I pushed those thoughts aside and told myself to relax and keep moving at a steady pace. After perhaps a hundred yards of struggling through the snow, we very suddenly found ourselves on the ridge. After sharing some brief congratulations we turned right along the ridge, wanting to get below treeline as quickly as possible. Visibility was poor and we estimated that winds were gusting from 50-75 miles per hour.
After some ups and downs we reached the summit of Little Haystack, which is hard to miss as the trail runs directly into a large sign marking the trail junction. Soon we were below treeline, where we could finally relax. The descent from Little Haystack along the Falling Waters trail took a little more than an hour and we were back at the car just as it was nearly dark, around 4:45pm, for a round trip of a bit more than seven hours.
In the end, Lincoln's Throat was an aesthetic and fun alpine route to add to the arsenal. It was a great first day out, and though we were surprised by conditions, we were not unprepared. We were pleased to not epic despite the epic conditions.
Bushwhacking down to the brook through the spruce
View of the brook below the Old Bridle Path Trail. The trail to Lincoln's Throat leads off to the right (not straight ahead).
The flat lower gully. We postholed into the stream numerous times.
Scrambling up and down the banks of the gully to avoid the water and unconsolidated snow
As you get higher, you'll see this gully branch off to the right. You don't want this gully, you want the next one on the right, at the larger junction.
Starting up the upper gully
Matt and Steve
Me leading the short bit of WI 3 ice in intensifying conditions, with Steve belaying
Taking a short break at a sheltered spot on Franconia Ridge
Full conditions on the ridge!