The Call of the White Mountains: Billy Creek Connector #107A

It’s Saturday night. My wife and I are watching How to Marry a Millionaire starring Monroe, Garland, and Bacall. Ah, how we love the older classics. At some point, I pause the movie to complain about the throbbing pain in my right arm, which had started since I began these hiking adventures. Now, being a typical man, I escalate this from mere nerve pain to an ailment that could kill me at any moment.

My wife, with the patience of a saint, rolls her eyes and explains how women experience similar pain when they first start carrying a purse. She suggests I switch shoulders when carrying my camera on these hikes. I, being a typical man, dismiss her advice, explaining that I carry two cameras and switching shoulders would be of no use.

Why am I sharing this? Well, because my wife is almost always right, and I should listen to her more often. But how was she right? You’ll have to read on to find out.

Now, let’s delve into our next adventure.

The Billy Creek Connector, a trail so nice I did it twice. Okay, so I won’t be adding poetry to my resume. But I did traverse the trail twice, for reasons both similar and different. Because of this, I’m splitting the adventure into two days as I experienced it differently on both days.

How so? Read on, if you dare.

Day 1 On The Billy Creek Connector: Saturday

My journey to the Billy Creek Connector began unintentionally. Early Saturday morning, I set out to photograph the White Mountain Balloon Festival. But Mother Nature, with her usual disdain for human plans, had other ideas. The wind was too strong, and storms were brewing. So, I looked at my client’s list of trails he wanted me to document and found one just five minutes away. I packed up my gear and set off.

Parking at the trailhead is almost non-existent. It’s the first trail I’ve encountered that’s nestled in a residential neighborhood. But don’t worry, parking on the street is allowed, and I did so about 100 yards away. However, as soon as I got out of my truck, the slamming of the door set off a chain reaction of barking dogs. It was 6 a.m., and I felt a pang of guilt thinking I might have woken someone up. So, I quickly slung my camera and bag over my shoulder and hurried off.

When I first hit the trail, I saw no sign for “Billy Creek Connector,” just a sign for “Billy Creek.” I double-checked my map to ensure I was in the right place and, sure enough, I was. I shrugged it off and continued. More on that later.

My first time through the trail felt quite different from Sunday’s. The forest had an eerie, almost sinister feel to it that morning. For those who follow my adventures, it should come as no surprise when I say it reminded me of the Wandering Oak Forest, a fictional, creepy forest from my children’s fantasy adventure series A Tale of Hope and Adventure. In it, much like the Billy Creek Connector, trees and branches loom over the path like spindly arms beckoning you in. Not at first, of course, as its lush beauty draws you in—and that’s how it traps you. But don’t worry, there are no dragons in the Billy Creek Connector.

If you read my last adventure, you’d know I have a tendency to overpack. This day, however, I did the opposite. I brought just my camera and nothing else. No water, which was foolish given the unusual humidity that morning. In a previous adventure, I advised coming prepared with water. I have been known to not follow my own advice—typical guy, remember. I also didn’t pack any extra batteries. Why would I? It’s a .75-mile hike one way. Well, it turns out I hadn’t charged my camera’s battery as I thought I had, and it started out at 12%.

Yikes!

I chose my shots carefully as it seemed every photo drained the battery by a percentage point. By the end of the hike, I was down to 1%. That doesn’t mean I took 11 photos. For some reason, when the camera got down to that last drop of energy, it clung to it with all its might and lasted quite a while.

Despite my dwindling battery, I couldn’t resist photographing a fallen tree that looked like a giant dinosaur leg—nearly pure white and bone-like. It wasn’t on the path but close enough that I wandered safely away to a lush green meadow.

Back on the path, the trail meandered around gentle curves and ascended a few feet here and there. For the most part, this connector trail is flat but rocky, so watch your footing. It probably isn’t suitable for dog carriages—I mention this because our little dachshund Auggie has aged to the point where he can no longer hike but still enjoys the outdoors, so we bought an off-road carriage for him. Even those have their limitations. But I digress and apologize.

By the end of the connector, I still hadn’t found the sign for it—just a sign for “Billy Creek.” I mention this again because at the time, I didn’t think much of it. Not until I got home, looked up photos from other hikers, and saw the connector sign. I thought to myself, “Where?!?” and was determined to find it. One day. Just not that day.

Heading back to my truck, I was feeling the full brunt of my poor planning. The thick humidity clung to me like an unwelcome blanket, and the lack of water made every step feel like a marathon. My right side throbbed. The mere thought of carrying my camera made me wince. I limped back to the truck, vowing to never again underestimate the necessity of proper preparation for these adventures.

Day 2 On The Billy Creek Connector: Sunday

This day was much like the day before. I headed out early to photograph the balloon festival and, sure enough, the launch was canceled again. I found this out as I was almost there, so I drove past the turn and headed back to the Billy Creek Connector, determined to find that elusive sign!

I parked in the same spot, brought my camera with extra batteries and a bottle of water, and this time didn’t set off a chain reaction of barking dogs.

I eased into the forest with a different feeling that morning. Perhaps my dopamine levels were different from the day before. I had been watching videos about how dopamine affects our perception of experiences. As I walked into the forest, I no longer saw the creepy arms of the trees beckoning me in. Instead, I saw lush beauty everywhere. I felt a sense of calm. It had rained in the wee hours of the morning. Droplets of water still clung to the leaves.

Everything was vibrant, as if Mother Nature had turned up the saturation levels.

I began to notice little things. Even a rock cairn, often referred to as a “Zen rock stack.” I paused, found a smaller rock, and placed it on top, adding my own touch of “zen-ness” to the forest.

I continued on with an extra lift in my step. Everything was so full of beauty. Even the cloudy skies began to break, with shades of blue and yellow peeking through.

But not everything was perfect. My arm and back were hurting just like I mentioned at the start of this adventure. It hurt to carry the tiny Sony camera in my hand. I couldn’t help thinking about my wife’s explanation about carrying a purse. I smiled at the thought and soon realized my camera bag is a purse of sorts. So I switched it to my left shoulder, which I never do, and what do you know? My pain began to ease. Thank you, dear. I’m not completely healed, of course. I’ve done something to it that will require time to heal, but this was a start.

I reached the end of the Billy Creek Connector. If you recall, I was determined to find that sign so many other hikers had captured with their cameras. Rather than turn around and head back to my truck, I went left and up the path on the larger Billy Creek trail. And what did I see a hundred feet up? Yes, that elusive connector sign. I took several photos and felt a sense of satisfaction. As if I had completed my task.

I set off back to my truck, reflecting on how the second time on the trail felt different from the first. From unexpected canine alarms to elusive signs to a Zen rock stack, the Billy Creek Connector had certainly kept me on my toes. Though my initial hike was shrouded in eerie vibes and dwindling battery life, the second day’s serene and vibrant atmosphere provided a perfect contrast, reminding me that every journey, no matter how familiar, holds new surprises.

And so, as you set off on your own trails, remember this: listen to the wisdom of those around you (especially if they’re your spouse), pack a little extra for the unexpected, and embrace the changing nature of each adventure. For it’s in these small, unexpected moments that the true beauty of exploration lies.

Now, let’s delve into the nitty-gritty details for the data enthusiasts.