Four years ago, my kids were just getting to a point where the guilt of leaving for a day to go hike a mountain was less than the desire to hike a mountain, and a friend and I scarpered our ways up Osceola East and I pushed past the chimney to the summit of Osceola. I wasn’t aware of it then, but I had just bagged my first two of the 4000 ft mountains on “the list” for the AMC badge for hiking all 48 of the 4000 ft+ mountains in New Hampshire.
A climb up Mt Waumbek in buggy weather last weekend has me with 8 left to go, and a steely determination NOT to end my quest on Mt. Cabot. (For those who care, I have the whole Bond Traverse: so Bond, Bondcliff, Zealand and West Bond, plus Cabot (ugh), Isolation (ugh), Jefferson and Madison.)
It’s been heavy going lately. I’ve done all the easy and close mountains – the ones where you hike for longer than you drive. This winter I did something to my knee which an orthopedic surgeon and MRI showed to be akin to “getting old” which took me 6 months and a Peloton to come back from. (To quote my surgeon, “Yeah, you’re no longer a runner.”) So I WAS going to knock off Isolation, Waumbek and Cabot at a minimum in the snow but nooooooo. (Isolation is a lot easier in the snow. Go figure.) Then I could day hike the Presidentials and have a glorious Bond Traverse overnight backpacking on Juneteenth. The best laid plans went aft agley, though. The Bond Traverse was still ON, the prep hikes had been done, and the discussion about exactly what summit foods we could make to inspire jealousy in our fellow campers was in full flight when the forecast got grim and grimmer. Look, I have hiked in rain. I have hiked in cold (-17 at the trailhead!). But hiking in rain AND cold is somewhere between dumb and dangerous – and definitely not fun. And theoretically this is a hobby I do for fun. So there was a deeply reluctant cancellation and rescheduling for fall.
The entire working/hiking community in New Hampshire has had a deeply frustrating season of it. Every weekend seems to be clocking in rainy, buggy, cold or an amazing mixture of all three. Or the forecast will be “appalling” and the day will be great and we’re left at home gnashing regretful teeth. Or the forecast seems doable, but the bugs “Biblical”. Or everything looks amazing – but it’s Wednesday and we all have two many meetings.
My hiking buddy and I can tell you in brutal detail about every mountain we’ve hiked (and will, as anyone who’s ever locked themselves in with us for the 14 hours of driving and hiking can attest – in fact we cannot be stopped). Every mountain has the litany of remembrance. Hancocks, amazing when you can glissade (aka butt sled) down them! Owl’s Head is underrated, and the best shape we’ve been in! (Only time we’ve ever trail run out after 17 miles wearing a pack – come hike with me to hear the full story!) The time we BOTH brought two summit beers (after a hot and thirsty hike the time before) – and it was snowing so we didn’t want any of them. How many months of the year we’ve been snowed on while hiking! (11). The crazy people we’ve met on the trail! Our not-so-secret desire for AT trail names! On every hike, we remember every other hike, adding in the sun-dappled streams, spectacular vistas, exciting weather, and insufficiently grippy shoes to our tale. (Flume Slide led to the creation of our “high friction” line of clothing.)
Four years seems like a reasonable number to take in order to summit 48 specific mountain peaks, although of course I’ve hiked many more in that time. Not all the mountains I hike count for the list, either for lame rules reasons (looking at you Mt. Hight) or because they aren’t tall enough (like my beloved Chocorua). By this year, I’ll have hiked more of the mountains than I am years old. But here’s hoping my knee and the rest of me holds together long enough to mail in for that great badge of honor, and I’m not stuck at 40!
My Truant Pen 