It was gone. Just like that. On May 3, 2003, New Hampshire woke up to a gap in the granite that felt like a death in the family. For centuries, the Old Man on the Mountain NH had watched over Franconia Notch, a 40-foot-tall profile of a face carved by glaciers and gravity. Then, a messy mix of freezing water and old age finally pulled it down. People cried. Seriously. They left flowers at the viewing lake like it was a funeral for a relative.
If you head up I-93 today, you won’t see the face, but you’ll see the obsession. New Hampshire refuses to let go. You’ll find that jagged profile on every license plate, every highway sign, and probably half the souvenir mugs in the state. It’s a weird kind of ghost story. We are obsessed with a pile of rocks that isn't there anymore, and honestly, the story of how we tried to save it is way more interesting than the geological fluke that created it.
The Night the Profile Plummeted
Nobody actually heard it fall. That’s the craziest part. You’d think 7,000 tons of Conway granite crashing down a cliffside would sound like a bomb, but a heavy fog muffled everything that night. When a park ranger looked up the next morning, the "Great Stone Face" was just a pile of scree at the bottom of a 1,200-foot drop.
Geologically, it was always a miracle it stayed up so long. The profile was made of five different layers of granite. It wasn't one solid piece of rock. It was a precarious stack. Imagine trying to balance five uneven bricks on the edge of a slanted roof during a thunderstorm. That’s basically what nature was doing for thousands of years.
👉 See also: Why Cartoon Network Hotel Rooms Are Actually Worth the Hype
Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote a short story about it. Daniel Webster gave a famous quote about how God hangs out a sign in New Hampshire to show He makes men. But by the 1920s, the "sign" was literally cracking apart.
A Century of Desperate Repairs
We didn't just sit back and watch it crumble. For almost 100 years, New Hampshire engaged in a high-stakes, vertigo-inducing battle against erosion.
In 1916, Edward Geddes, a state engineer, noticed the forehead was slipping. He didn't have high-tech drones or epoxy. He had turnbuckles and guts. He climbed out onto the "brow" and anchored the rock to the cliff with iron rods. It was a temporary fix that lasted decades.
Later on, the task fell to Niels Nielsen, and eventually his son, David Nielsen. They became the "Keepers of the Old Man." Every summer, they’d scramble up Cannon Mountain, dangle over the edge, and use epoxy resin and wire mesh to seal the cracks. They treated it like a patient. They used "band-aids" of copper flashing to keep water from seeping into the fissures.
The enemy was the freeze-thaw cycle.
Water gets into a crack. It freezes and expands. The crack gets bigger. Repeat this for ten thousand winters, and you get a collapse. The Nielsens were basically trying to outrun thermodynamics. They knew it wouldn't last forever. David Nielsen once mentioned that he felt the mountain "shudder" during his maintenance trips. He knew the structural integrity was a polite fiction.
Why the Old Man on the Mountain NH Still Matters Today
You might wonder why we care about a rock. It’s because the Old Man on the Mountain NH became the literal face of "Live Free or Die" ruggedness.
When the face fell, there was an immediate, frantic push to "rebuild" it. People suggested fiberglass replicas. Some wanted to use lasers to project the image onto the cliff. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed. The state decided that a fake face would be an insult to the original. Instead, they built the Profilers.
How to Actually "See" the Face Now
If you visit the Old Man of the Mountain Profile Plaza today, you’ll see these weird, skinny steel poles. They look like minimalist art. But if you stand at a specific spot—depending on your height—and look past the "teeth" on the side of the pole toward the cliff, the profile magically aligns with the mountain.
It’s a clever trick of perspective. It allows you to see the phantom of what used to be there without cluttering the wilderness with plastic.
Exploring Franconia Notch Beyond the Ghost
Even without the face, Franconia Notch State Park is arguably the best part of the White Mountains.
- The Flume Gorge: A natural chasm with 90-foot walls. It's spectacular but crowded.
- Cannon Mountain Aerial Tramway: This takes you to the summit where the Old Man used to hang out. On a clear day, you can see into Canada.
- Echo Lake: Right at the base of the cliff. This is where the "viewing trackers" are located. It’s also a great spot for a swim, though the water is usually freezing.
- The Basin: A giant potholes carved by melting glaciers that looks like a natural whirlpool.
The Myth of the "New" Face
Every few years, someone posts a photo on social media claiming a "new" Old Man has been discovered on a different cliff. Or they say the rock formation is growing back. It’s all nonsense. The specific alignment of those five granite ledges was a one-time deal.
There are other "faces" in the whites—like the Indian Head further south—but they don't have the same regal, grumpy dignity. The Old Man looked like he was judging you. He looked like he’d survived a thousand winters and didn't think much of your North Face jacket.
Practical Steps for Your Visit
If you're planning a trip to see the site of the Old Man on the Mountain NH, don't just pull over at the highway viewing area for five minutes.
✨ Don't miss: Monsters Inc Mike & Sulley to the Rescue: Why This Dark Ride Still Rules California Adventure
First, check the weather. The Notch creates its own microclimate. It can be 70 degrees in Lincoln and 50 degrees with sideways rain at the Profile Plaza.
Second, walk the paved bike path. It runs through the heart of the Notch and gives you the best angles of the cliffs. You can see the actual "scar" where the rocks broke away. It’s a lighter shade of grey than the surrounding stone.
Third, visit the museum at the base of the Tramway. It houses the original turnbuckles and tools used by the Nielsens. Seeing the physical rust and heavy iron makes you realize how insane the preservation efforts actually were. Men risked their lives to bolt a mountain together.
The Old Man is gone, but the story is permanent. It’s a reminder that even the "permanent" mountains are constantly moving, breaking, and changing.
Plan your route via the Kancamagus Highway if you want the full White Mountain experience, but hit the Notch early. By 10:00 AM, the parking lots at the Profile Plaza and the Flume are usually packed. If you want a quiet moment with the ghost of the mountain, sunrise is your best bet. Stand at the edge of Echo Lake, look up at the empty ledge, and imagine those 7,000 tons of granite floating in the air. It still feels like something is missing.
Next Steps for Your Trip:
- Download the offline maps for Franconia Notch; cell service is notoriously spotty between the peaks.
- Park at the Lafayette Place Campground if the main Profile Plaza lot is full—it’s a short, beautiful hike to the viewing area.
- Visit the New Hampshire Historical Society website to view the 19th-century daguerreotypes of the profile before the 20th-century reinforcements changed its "look."