It was a Saturday. Specifically, May 3, 2003. When the sun came up over Franconia Notch, people realized the profile was gone. Just... gone. For centuries, the Old Man of the Mountain had been the literal face of New Hampshire, a jagged granite formation that looked remarkably like an elderly man staring out over the notch. It wasn’t just a rock; it was on the state quarter, the road signs, and the license plates. It was the state’s identity.
Geology is patient, but it’s also violent.
The Old Man was basically a collection of five granite ledges. If you stood in exactly the right spot—near Profile Lake—the alignment of those ledges created the silhouette. Move even a few feet to the left or right, and the illusion vanished into a jumble of stones. It’s kinda wild that something so iconic was essentially an optical illusion created by 12,000 years of glacial retreat and freezing water.
Why the Old Man of the Mountain Finally Fell
People often think it was a massive storm that took him down. Actually, it was probably just a very foggy, wet night. Moisture got into the cracks, the temperature fluctuated, and gravity did the rest. Honestly, the Old Man had been on life support for decades.
Beginning in the 1950s, engineers realized the "forehead" was slipping. They used turnbuckles, epoxy, and steel cables to literally bolt the face to the mountain. Niels Nielsen, a state bridge engineer who became the official "Caretaker of the Old Man," spent years climbing up there to patch cracks and tighten bolts. He treated that rock like a family member. His son, David Nielsen, eventually took over the duties. They weren’t just doing maintenance; they were fighting the inevitable force of erosion in a place where the weather is famously brutal.
The granite up there is Conway granite. It's beautiful, but it's full of feldspar, which breaks down when exposed to the acidic rain and harsh winters of the White Mountains. By the time the formation collapsed, the steel turnbuckles were the only thing holding thousands of tons of rock in place. On that May morning, the weight simply became too much for the anchors to bear.
The Science of the "Great Stone Face"
Nathaniel Hawthorne famously wrote a short story about it. Daniel Webster had a legendary quote about how God hangs out a sign in New Hampshire to show He makes men. But the science is a bit more grounded. The formation was roughly 40 feet tall and 25 feet wide.
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Scientists estimate the Old Man formed at the end of the last Ice Age. As the glaciers melted, they plucked away pieces of the mountain, leaving behind the jagged shelves.
The "nose" was the most precarious part.
When you look at old photos from the late 1800s versus the 1990s, you can see how much the profile changed. It was thinning out. There's a misconception that we could have saved it with more money or better tech. Most geologists, including those from the New Hampshire Geological Survey, agree that no amount of epoxy could have stopped the mountain from shedding its skin eventually. It’s what mountains do.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Site Today
If you drive through Franconia Notch State Park now, you'll see a massive memorial. Some tourists are disappointed because they expect to see a "rebuilt" face. There was a huge debate about whether to use fiberglass or new stone to recreate the profile.
The state wisely decided against it.
Instead, they built "profilers." These are steel poles with small irregular shapes attached to the top. If you stand at the base of the mountain and look through the profiler, aligning your height with the markers, the silhouette of the Old Man of the Mountain "reappears" against the cliffside. It’s a clever bit of engineering that honors the memory without being a tacky plastic replacement.
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- You can still hike to the top of Cannon Mountain.
- The view from the "Old Man's forehead" (where the cables used to be) is still one of the best in the Northeast.
- You can see the actual turnbuckles that failed in the museum nearby.
The Cultural Grief of a Rock
It sounds silly to outsiders. "It's just a rock," they say. But for New Englanders, the collapse felt like a death in the family. The day it fell, people left flowers at the base of the mountain. There were scrapbooks, vigils, and countless op-eds in the Union Leader and the Boston Globe.
The Old Man represented a certain ruggedness. He was "Live Free or Die" in geological form.
Interestingly, the collapse actually boosted tourism for a while. People wanted to see the empty space. It became a lesson in impermanence. We think of mountains as eternal, but on a geological timescale, they are constantly shifting, crumbling, and rebuilding. The Old Man was just a temporary visitor that happened to hang around for a few thousand years.
Visiting Franconia Notch: A Practical Checklist
If you're heading up to see where the Old Man of the Mountain once stood, don't just look at the empty cliff. The Notch is one of the most concentrated areas of natural beauty in the United States.
Start at the Old Man of the Mountain Profile Plaza. It’s located on the shores of Profile Lake. Use the profilers—they actually work, and it’s a weirdly emotional experience to see the face "click" into place.
Then, head to The Flume Gorge. It’s a natural chasm at the base of Mount Liberty. You’ll walk on boardwalks between 90-foot granite walls. It gives you a sense of the power of water—the same power that eventually took down the Old Man.
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Don't skip the Cannon Mountain Aerial Tramway. It takes you to the summit in under ten minutes. From the observation deck, you can see into Maine, Vermont, and even Canada on a clear day.
- Timing: Go in early October for the foliage, but be ready for crowds.
- Cost: The Profile Plaza is free; the Tramway and Flume require tickets.
- Gear: Even in summer, the wind at the top of the Notch is biting. Bring a shell.
Legacy of the Ledges
We often forget that the Old Man wasn't the only "face" in the woods. There's the Indian Head further south, and various other formations across the country. But none captured the imagination quite like this one.
Today, the site is a study in how we preserve history when the physical object no longer exists. The museum at the base of the tramway houses the original plans for the stabilization efforts and the "scabs" of rock that fell. It’s a reminder that even the most permanent things are fragile.
If you want to truly appreciate the history, look up the work of the Old Man of the Mountain Legacy Fund. They’ve done an incredible job ensuring the story isn't lost to time. They manage the memorial and provide educational resources about the geology of the area.
When you stand at the edge of Profile Lake, look at the "scar" on the cliff. It's a lighter shade of grey than the surrounding rock. Eventually, that scar will weather and darken, blending back into the mountain. That's the cycle. It's beautiful, kinda sad, and perfectly natural.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
- Check the Webcam: Cannon Mountain operates a webcam. Check it before you drive three hours; the Notch is notorious for "socking in" with clouds while the rest of the state is sunny.
- Hike the Hi-Cannon Trail: If you're fit, skip the tram. This trail gives you a bird's-eye view of the debris field where the Old Man’s "face" now rests. It's a steep, rocky scramble but worth every drop of sweat.
- Visit the Museum: Most people skip the small building near the tram entrance. Don't. Seeing the size of the steel bolts they used to try and save the formation puts the scale of the collapse into perspective.
- Photography Tip: For the best shot of the "empty" profile, get to the lake at sunrise. The light hits the cliff face directly, highlighting the jagged edges where the ledges broke away.
The Old Man is gone, but the mountain remains. The Notch is still there, carved by ice and waiting for the next geological wonder to take shape over the next few millennia.