A Rainy First Adventure of 2025
by Kay Nutter
Last weekend, we took our first trip of the 2025 season. It had been a bit of a rainy pattern, and the forecast called for a possible storm in the White Mountains Saturday night. But, we were both itching to get on the road and already had a sitter lined up (if you know, you know), so after T-Ball, we kissed the kids goodbye and headed north under increasingly darkening skies.
The clouds hung low in the Notch. It was a bit disappointing not to be able to see the cascading view of the Presidential Range. Still, there is also something magical about being socked in, riding through the peaks just knowing the magnitude of what lies behind the fog. Besides, we were on a mission to find a trail we had not driven before… if we didn’t run out of gas first.
Dave and I see eye-to-eye on most things when it comes to adventure, but the right time to stop and fuel up is not one of them. I stop for gas religiously when I hit half a tank. Dave has rolled up to the pump with the “miles to empty” reading zero.
As we drove past a gas station leaving North Conway, the gauge reading about a quarter of a tank, I suggested we fill up. But Dave said we would “stop at the next one.” This, my friends, is why one of the golden rules of vehicle adventures is never to pass up an opportunity for fuel. Because we didn’t see another gas station for 23 miles. Which doesn’t sound far, but when you’re me, you start panicking a little as the gauge feels like it's suddenly in free fall toward empty. All the while, the clouds were darkening, and I had visions of being stranded on the side of the mountain road with no cell service, and the skies opening up. Dave remained unflappable. Until the first gas station we found… was closed. We drove on, both of us nervous-laughing at what a ridiculous situation we were in (knowing I would be writing this later). We’re not that green when it comes to short trips like this, but we let the excitement of the first trip cloud our judgment.
Thankfully, the panic was to be short-lived as we found another gas station – that was open – just a few miles later. As we filled our tank, the thunder rolled in and bright white lightning streaked across the sky. Breathing a sigh of relief (and feeling pretty stupid), we navigated to the trailhead as the heavy sky finally released a torrent of rain.
It was a winding, bumpy, quintessential New Hampshire mountain road as we twisted our way up Cherry Mountain in 4WD. And we were rewarded for our efforts as we encountered a young moose on the trail, and shortly after, an owl swooped down overhead. There was a pond at the top with wisps of fog floating gently above the water. It was held back from the road by a natural beaver damn. We felt extraordinarily lucky to witness so many instances of elusive wildlife in one trip. Though abundant in the area, as the season drags on, more and more people will visit, and wildlife sightings like moose and owls become less frequent. This trail, however, was one of the many in New Hampshire that closed for the winter and had just reopened the day before.
We arrived at camp for the night in a downpour, grateful for our rooftop tent. (Though the 270 awning we’re planning for our Tacoma build would have been a welcome addition!) We stayed dry enough as we popped up the tent and quickly fell inside for the night. The last rumbles of thunder rolled out of the mountains as we fell asleep to the softening rain.
To our surprise, we woke to sunshine and blue skies. As I looked out the window of the tent into the woods behind our site, I noticed a stream I hadn’t been able to see the night before. I thought about how this is one of the amazing things about overlanding: We pulled into camp in a deluge, surrounded by dark, dense woods lit only by scattered streaks of lightning, and awoke in a new world of clear skies and birdsong. And I would take them both, any day of the week, over being stuck in a cubicle.
We were able to enjoy a cup of coffee and a leisurely breakfast in front of our new Ignik Firecan before breaking down and heading for the next leg of our trip. Plus, with small streams come mosquitoes, and they were getting nasty!
I wanted to get in a quick hike around Lonesome Lake before we had to head home. We started our hike in the sun, but unfortunately, it didn’t last. As can happen in the mountains, the weather turned faster than expected. The forecast had been promising, indicating the rain would hold off until later in the day. Less than an hour into our hike, the skies opened and soaked us as we ripped our raincoats out of our bags. I did feel better that we weren’t the only hikers caught off guard. We made it to the AMC hut and huddled inside with other hikers who got caught in the surge. Everyone was trying to dry out, keeping an eye to the sky, hoping the rain would dissipate.
It didn’t.
Eventually, we decided to just rip off the band-aid and continued our soggy trip around the lake. We still enjoyed the hike and the views of Cannon and the Kinsmans, even though the weather hadn’t exactly cooperated. And of course, it stopped raining by the time we got back to the car.
And just like that, our first quick adventure of the 2025 season came to an end. Even though we’ve been doing this for a while, there are always lessons to be learned each time we venture out. This time, I think we both (finally?) learned not to pass up an opportunity to fuel up, you can’t always trust the forecast, and even in the rain, I’d rather be out in nature than in the office.