He’s still everywhere. You see him on the back of the state quarter, on every green highway sign from Nashua to Pittsburg, and plastered on the license plates of cars idling in Friday afternoon traffic on I-93. It’s a bit weird if you think about it. New Hampshire is essentially obsessed with a rock formation that hasn't actually existed for over two decades. On May 3, 2003, the Old Man of the Mountain New Hampshire finally let go of the cliffs in Franconia Notch and tumbled into a heap of granite rubble.
It wasn't just a rock slide. For locals, it felt like a death in the family.
I remember the morning it happened. The clouds were thick, typical for the White Mountains in May, and when the mist cleared, the profile was just… gone. People literally pulled over to the side of the road and cried. It sounds dramatic to an outsider, but that face was the state’s identity. It was a 40-foot-tall profile of a stern, craggy face that seemed to be watching over the Notch. If you’ve never stood at the base of Cannon Mountain, it’s hard to describe the scale. We’re talking about five separate ledges of Conway granite that, by some fluke of erosion and perspective, looked exactly like a human profile from one specific angle.
The Engineering War Against Gravity
The Old Man didn't go down without a fight. Honestly, it's a miracle he stayed up as long as he did. Geologists knew for a century that the "chin" was slipping. The whole thing was a geological nightmare.
Back in the 1920s, a guy named Edward Geddes noticed a massive crack opening up. He used turnbuckles and iron rods to basically stitch the face back onto the mountain. It was primitive, but it worked. Later, the task of keeping the Old Man alive fell to the Nielsen family. David Nielsen, and eventually his son, became the "caretakers" of the profile. They would climb out onto that terrifying ledge every summer to patch cracks with epoxy and clear out debris.
They used everything from sealing compounds to heavy-duty turnbuckles. They were trying to stop water from getting into the cracks, freezing, and expanding—the classic "frost wedging" that kills every mountain in New England eventually. But nature is patient. You can't outrun the freeze-thaw cycle of a New Hampshire winter forever. The Old Man was basically a 1,300-ton jigsaw puzzle held together by rust and sheer willpower.
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Why the Old Man of the Mountain New Hampshire Still Matters
The question I get a lot is why we don't just "rebuild" it. There have been dozens of proposals. Some people wanted to hang fiberglass shells over the cliff. Others suggested laser holograms or concrete replicas.
State officials eventually said no. There’s something dignified about letting a natural wonder stay natural, even in its demise. If you go to Profile Plaza today, they have these cool "profilers." They are steel poles with little pegs on them. If you stand at the right height and look past the peg toward the cliffside, the silhouette of the Old Man is recreated in your line of sight. It’s a clever way to show people what was there without turning the wilderness into a theme park.
The Great Stone Face and the Legend
Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote a short story called The Great Stone Face in 1850. He talked about a prophecy where a local child would grow up to resemble the noble features of the mountain. That story did more for New Hampshire tourism than any modern marketing campaign ever could.
The Old Man became a symbol of "The Granite State" character: rugged, stoic, and unmoving.
- Discovery: First recorded by a surveying team in 1805.
- Dimensions: Roughly 40 feet high and 25 feet wide.
- Location: 1,200 feet above Profile Lake.
Daniel Webster, the famous orator, once said that God hangs out a sign in New Hampshire to show that He makes men. That quote is carved into plaques all over the state. It’s part of the DNA here. When the face fell, it felt like the "sign" had been taken down.
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What Visitors Get Wrong About the Site Today
Most tourists drive through Franconia Notch, see the signs, and expect to see a massive monument. They get confused when they realize they’re looking at a jagged cliff.
If you want to actually "see" the history, you have to stop at the Old Man of the Mountain Legacy Fund’s memorial. It’s located at the north end of Profile Lake. It’s quiet there. You can see the actual rocks that fell—they’re still sitting in the talus slope at the bottom of the cliff. Geologists estimate the rocks fell sometime between midnight and 2:00 AM. No one heard it. The Old Man just slipped away in the dark.
It’s worth noting that the cliff itself, Cannon Mountain, is still a world-class destination. The tramway is right there. The hiking is brutal but rewarding. Just don't go looking for a face in the clouds; look for the history in the granite beneath your feet.
The collapse actually taught us a lot about the fragility of these landmarks. We often think of mountains as eternal. They aren't. They are living, changing things. The "Man" was only about 12,000 years old—a mere blink in geological time, formed when the glaciers retreated and carved out the Notch. He was always a temporary guest.
Modern-Day Tips for Franconia Notch Travelers
If you’re heading up to see where the Old Man of the Mountain New Hampshire used to live, don't just look at the empty cliff.
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- Visit the Museum: The Franconia Notch State Park headquarters has a fantastic exhibit with the original turnbuckles and historical photos. It’s better than any textbook.
- The Flume Gorge: It’s just down the road. If you want to see what water can do to granite over thousands of years, this is the spot. It’s a 2-mile walk that’s worth every second.
- Echo Lake: Go for a swim or rent a boat. The view of Cannon Mountain from the water is arguably the best in the state, even without the profile.
- The Cannon Mountain Tramway: You can ride to the summit. On a clear day, you can see all the way to Montreal and the Green Mountains of Vermont.
The Legacy of the Fallen
We’ve moved on, but we haven't forgotten. In 2023, for the 20th anniversary of the fall, hundreds of people gathered at the Notch just to share stories. There are people who still have "Old Man" tattoos. There are kids born long after 2003 who recognize the profile instantly.
It’s a lesson in impermanence.
Nothing stays forever, not even a mountain. But the identity it gave New Hampshire remains. The state didn't change its motto or its branding when the rocks fell. We just leaned harder into the idea of being "granite-strong."
If you're planning a trip, check the weather. The Notch has its own microclimate. It can be 70 degrees in Lincoln and 45 degrees and raining at the Profile Lake parking lot. Pack layers. Bring a camera. And when you stand at the Profiler Plaza, take a second to look at the empty space on the cliff. There's a certain beauty in what's missing.
Actionable Next Steps for History Buffs
To truly appreciate the site, start your journey at the Old Man of the Mountain Profile Plaza. Use the viewing "profilers" to align your sight with the cliffside—it's the only way to truly understand the scale of what was lost. Afterward, hike the Bald Mountain and Artist’s Bluff trail for an elevated view of the Notch that puts the entire geological history of the area into perspective. For those who want the technical details, visit the New Hampshire Historical Society archives online to see the original engineering blueprints used during the 20th-century preservation efforts.