Back to the Whites: The Pemi Loop
When I hiked through New Hampshire on my 2023 NOBO Appalachian Trail thru-hike, the White Mountains tested me in every way they could. I left thinking, Someday I’d like to come back. Last September I did, and this time I didn’t come alone. Bruce laced up his boots, shouldered a pack, and joined me on the Pemi Loop, a roughly 30-mile circuit around the Pemigewasset Wilderness that strings together some of the most spectacular ridgelines in the Whites. A good chunk of it follows the Appalachian Trail.
I got to show my husband a piece of my trail. He got to see, one rock scramble at a time, what I’d been talking about for the past few years.
PHOTO: Bruce and me at the Lincoln Woods Pemi Loop trailhead
Day 1: Lincoln Woods to Guyot Shelter (10.4 miles)
We parked at the Lincoln Woods Visitor Center and set off counterclockwise. The first miles are the gentle part: a wide, flat trail along the river. It’s a warm-up, and it doesn’t last long. Once the Bondcliff Trail starts climbing, it means business.
The sun was out and a steady breeze kept us cool. Then we broke above treeline onto Bondcliff, and I simply stopped. The ridge dropped away on one side like the edge of the world, and the wilderness spread out in every direction, mountain after mountain, green fading to blue.
PHOTO: Standing on Bondcliff
PHOTO: Bruce standing on Bondcliff
There’s a reason Bondcliff shows up on so many hikers’ favorite lists. Standing on that rocky ledge with Bruce beside me, wind tugging at our jackets, I thought, This. This is why we came.
We pushed on and reached Guyot Shelter for the night. There were plenty of others hiking the Pemi, and as all the tent platforms were taken, we happily found space in the shelter. After dinner, I hit the sack and was asleep by 7 p.m.
PHOTO: Guyot Shelter
Sunrise at Guyot
Up before the sun, we had breakfast as the sun rose. Today would be a shorter day, so we took our time getting packed up and back on trail.
The sunrise was worth it. The sky lightened from gray to pink to gold, and the mountains came up out of the shadows one ridge at a time.
PHOTO: Sunrise from Guyot
Day 2: Guyot to Garfield (5.9 miles)
On day two we joined the Appalachian Trail at South Twin Mountain, and the fun began.
In 2023 I hiked this section northbound, which means I climbed up South Twin. This time we were going down it. It is a steep, rocky drop, the kind where you put your trekking poles away and use your hands, your feet, and occasionally the seat of your pants.
Partway down, Bruce stopped, looked back up at what we’d just descended, and said, “You went up this? Holy cow! You’re amazing!”
I’d like to say I was humble about it. I was not.
PHOTO: Me, at the top of South Twin
At the bottom sits Galehead Hut, and Galehead Hut had leftovers. Any hiker who has come off a long, hard descent knows that hut leftovers are one of the great joys of the Whites. Cold pancakes, juice, and lukewarm coffee really hit the spot.
PHOTO: Galehead Hut
Around midday a light rain rolled in, just as we started the climb up Garfield. It’s a relentless, rocky ascent, and I’d done it northbound in the rain two years earlier, scooting and sliding down the trail that was actually a waterfall. Bruce took it all in, huffing and scrambling, and finally said, “This is insane. I’m in awe that you did this in the rain.”
I can’t tell you how much that meant. For six months in 2023, Bruce supported me from home. He heard the stories, saw the photos, and answered the phone calls. On Garfield Ridge he was finally walking the story with me.
We reached Garfield Shelter slightly damp from the rain, but happy. The weather had cleared and we had lovely views from the sitting area.
PHOTO: Bruce climbing Mount Garfield on our way to the shelter
PHOTO: Garfield Shelter
Day 3: Franconia Ridge to Lincoln Woods (14.2 miles)
On my thru-hike, I crossed Franconia Ridge in sideways rain with zero visibility. I remember gripping my hood and watching the cairns appear one at a time out of the clouds. The ridge is famous for its views, and I saw nothing but gray.
This time the sky was clear, the sun was shining, and the whole ridge unrolled in front of us: Lafayette, Lincoln, Little Haystack, and the knife-edge trail between them, with the valley far below on both sides. It felt like the mountains were making it up to me.
PHOTO: Franconia Ridge in the sunshine
PHOTO: Bruce and me on Mount Lincoln
We reached Mount Liberty as the sun began to set. We sat on the summit and watched the light turn the peaks gold, then orange, then soft purple. It was one of those moments you don’t want to end, even knowing you still have miles to go.
PHOTO: The trail stretching south
PHOTO: Sunset from Mount Liberty
Headlamps and Staircases
We still had miles to go. After Mount Flume, we started down the Osseo Trail as darkness settled in. The Osseo is known for its wooden staircases built into the mountainside, and we went down them by headlamp, our two small circles of light bobbing over the steps and roots.
The woods were quiet except for our footsteps. The only sound for miles was our own footsteps and the occasional song from the loopy and exhausted hiker. We began to see our breath. Bugs swarmed the light from our headlamps. There’s something intimate about hiking in the dark with someone you love. The world shrinks to the few feet in front of you and the person beside you.
It’s worth mentioning that we are in our late 50s, so taking three days to do the Pemi worked out perfectly for us.
At last, we were hiking along the East Branch of the Pemigewasset River again, its gurgling cheering us on in the darkness. We walked out to the Lincoln Woods parking lot at 9:45 p.m. tired, sore, and completely content.
PHOTO: Headlamp shot on the Osseo staircases
Sharing the Trail
My thru-hike was a solo journey, and it changed me. But the Pemi Loop gave me something the AT couldn’t: the chance to share a piece of that trail with the person who held down the fort while I walked. Watching Bruce’s face as he tackled South Twin and Garfield, and hearing him say again and again that he couldn’t believe I’d done it, was a gift I didn’t know I needed.
And the weather cooperated, for the most part. After what the Whites put me through in 2023, I’ll take it.
Planning Your Own Pemi Loop: Campsites and Fees
If you’re thinking about hiking the Pemi Loop, here’s what you need to know about the AMC backcountry campsites along the route. The information is current for 2026.
Fees. The AMC-maintained sites on or near the loop are Liberty Springs Tentsite, Garfield Ridge Campsite, 13 Falls Tentsite, and Guyot Campsite. Each charges $15 per person, per night, collected by the caretaker in season.
No reservations. All AMC backcountry campsites are first-come, first-served. Groups of six or more are asked to notify the AMC at least two weeks in advance through its Group Notification System.
What you’ll find:
• Guyot Campsite has a shelter, four small tent platforms, and two group platforms, with water from a spring.
• Garfield Ridge Campsite has a shelter, two small platforms, and five group platforms, also with a spring.
• 13 Falls Tentsite has nine tent pads and no shelter, with water from Franconia Brook.
• Liberty Springs Tentsite has platforms only, no shelter.
All four have composting privies. Always treat your water.
New in 2026: bear canisters are required. As of May 1, 2026, everyone camping overnight in the Pemigewasset Wilderness must store all food and scented items in a hard-sided, IGBC-certified bear-resistant canister. Food hangs are no longer allowed. The one exception is 13 Falls Tentsite, which still has bear boxes. If you hiked the Pemi before 2026, plan for the extra weight this time.
Thru-hikers: Ask the caretaker about the AMC Thru-Hiker Pass. Your first night costs $10, and each night after that is $5 per person for the next 14 days.
Dogs are welcome on the tent platforms if leashed or under voice command, but they aren’t allowed in the shelters.
For the latest details, check the Backcountry Campsites page on the AMC website (outdoors.org) before you go.
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