If you’re going take off on a whim for a weekend in the White Mountains, you’re going to need a guide book and a bit of luck.

Advance planning has never been my forte, but Ev and I had a blast last weekend, despite minimal preparation, with the aids of experience and a newly published guidebook to the 4,000 footers.

Being lucky was crucial, too. Fortune favored us with a campsite despite my lack of a reservation, and we managed to set up both tent and fly before the rain got serious.

We revisited the Sugarloaf campgrounds on Zealand Road in Twin Mountain, a site that my folks had picked out a few years back for its proximity to water falls. We left Nashua mid-afternoon Friday, and made the 125 mile drive just in time to get the very last of 72 sites in the three campgrounds (Zealand and Sugerloaf I and II) along the road.

I had no Plan B.

With our campsite staked down, the rest of the weekend was ours to seize. I’d just received a copy of the newly published second edition of “The 4000-Footers Of The White Mountains,” a guidebook by Steven D. Smith and Mike Dickerman. I’m a big fan of guidebooks (and maps), but I sometimes wonder what might be missing. If I were writing a guide book, I know I’d be tempted to keep secrets – there’s nothing like popularity to ruin a good spot –  and in a region as vast and wonder filled as the White Mountains, any “best of” collection is going to leave out a lot of good stuff.

4K peak bagging has long been a popular pastime for hikers in the White Mountains, and this book keeps a logical focus: it covers all 48 peaks in the White Mountains that stand 4,000 feet and higher. Lesser lumps need not apply. There’s a preamble covering the history of the 4,000 Footers Club, a section on various speed and other records, and the obligatory advice on weather and how to pack.

The mountains are grouped by region, with a section for each mountain. Each section describes the geography of the peak and its surroundings, lists historical highlights and explains who named what and when (and sometimes why). It covers all major approaches to each peak, and gives precise and concise directions for each trail, and also to the trailheads. These directions still assume the use of a good map, and unlike the trail tips, driving directions cite compass points rather than such potentially misleading hints as “left” and “right.” My one quibble with the book is its use of capital letter abbreviations for compass points (N, S, E, W, rather than spelling out the word).  Though Telegraph copy editors, I’m sure, will be startled to learn that I have any such inclinations, my inner copy editor found it jarring.

After a cursory skim, I consulted the book looking for a suitable hike from our Zealand Road base camp, and soon found the perfect fit: the Ridge of the Caps trail up Mount Jefferson. Having never used the guide, I double checked the directions with another source, and found they matched (it’s a short drive East on Route 302 to Base Road, then 4.5 miles to Jefferson Notch Road, and the trailhead is 3.4 miles north up that road; if you go, know that there’s a $3 parking fee for that and other National Forest trailheads). At 3008 feet above sea level, Caps Ridge is the highest trailhead in the Whites, and the 2.5 mile trip to the summit (with 2,700 elevation gain, most of it after the first mile) is about the shortest, for one of the bigger peaks.

I haven’t nearly as much hiking up there as I’d like, and Ev had yet to tackle a 4K peak, so starting with an easier Presidential struck us both as a capital idea.

The first mile of hiking through forest brought us up 800 feet to a large granite ledge with spectacular views of Mount Washington, the Bretton Woods Valley, Adams, Madison and the Caps. The summit of Jefferson, however, was shrouded in clouds. Here’s Ev on the rock:

The trail gets steeper beyond that point, and then downright “sporty,” the guidebook cautions, as it crosses the Caps, three big rocky knobs on a ridge up to the summit. Going up is easy enough so long as you use both your hands as well as your feet, but going down can be tricky when it’s wet… all the more so with thunder and lightening lashing down.

The rain began as we reached the first Cap, and the lightening intensified as we neared the second. We hunkered down a while, then turned back down to the first for shelter (there’s a bit of an outcropping beside the trail), to wait some more. The skies seemed to settle down after 20 minutes, so we started up again. When we got to the top of the third Cap, though (about 4,800 feet), it was booming and rumbling all about, and an armada of charcoal gray clouds was sailing in from the West. We opted to retreat. It wasn’t going to be a good time to become the tallest spot on Mount Jefferson’s summit. We look forward to taking another crack at it, though.

Here we hunkered:

The sun shone on Sunday, and we stuck to our plan to revisit Zealand Falls. They are well worth the 2.7 mile (each way) hike from the end of Zealand Road. The beauty of the Falls and the convenience of the adjacent AMC hut make it a popular, even crowded destination, and we were far from the only ones to bring a dog along for the stroll.

The falls made a wonderful swimming hole the last time we visited, but this year the water remained bone-quaking cold. Even intrepid little tykes in bathing suits were only splashing their toes.

Clover came along for this hike (it seemed a popular trail for dogs and their humans), and we enjoyed rock hopping up the falls, taking in the views and devouring our PBJ sandwiches.

I don’t expect I will ever feel obliged to “bag” all 48 4K peaks, but I’m glad to have directions and descriptions, as I hope to visit many more for years to come.