Time. Make it count.
What to do? How about hike? How about hike the 48 tallest mountains in New Hampshire? That’s a goal I could get behind. Something to focus my energy and efforts … and time. Something defined, with a fixed end point. Something achievable, yet challenging both physically and mentally. Something I can be proud of. Something …
If only every goal was so simple.
Between June and September I’ve knocked off 23 of them – Wiley, Field, Tom, Whiteface, Passaconway, Cardigan, Jackson, Canon, the Tri-pyramids, the Osceolas, the Hancocks, Eisenhower, etc … Some more memorable than others.
“When are you going hiking again?” My brother wants in. We hiked together a few times, but these occasions were always a mixed bag. Over the summer I grew used to being on my own, moving at my own pace and not being beholden to the others.
My goal for this Columbus Day weekend is Madison, Adams, and Jefferson – the second, third and fifth tallest mountains in New England. The weather will be perfect. What could possibly go wrong?
So I agree. We’ll meet at Pinkham Notch Saturday morning, 7:15 sharp. “You’re gonna be late.” Don’t count on it.
The drive north on empty highways is uneventful. Coffee, GPS and a book on CD help me stay focused. The 150 miles feels insignificant, a barrier barely worth mentioning when you really want something.
By 6:30 I’m in North Conway making a pitstop at McDonalds to pick up breakfast to eat on the trail. A man hitchhiking to his job at a restaurant blesses me as I drop him off “You have good karma.” Do I really?
The first rays of the rising sun peak over the mountains as I pull into the parking lot of Pinkham Notch. I’m early a few minutes early. I roam around the Lodge looking for my brother amongst the dozens of hikers shoveling down food and packing gear. No sign of him. No matter, he wouldn’t keep me waiting. The sun begins its ascent and shadows grow shorter.
He pulls into the parking lot 90 minutes later.”Looks like you tried to call me” he laughs waving his flip phone at me. “Terrible service out here.” Actually I’ve called about half a dozen time wondering where he was, wondering if he’s even coming, wondering if I should start without him. Wondering what I’m doing with my life.
After a lifetime we’ve learned to economize our anger and frustrations. “Fuck you, I overslept. Not my fault, yours.” The exchange is brief and bitter. I walk away for a few minutes and swallow my fire. Not here, not now. I offer him a breakfast sandwich. “I’m not gonna eat that shit” I aim for his head, but the bundle rifles past him into the woods. “What the fuck is your fucking problem dude?!” It’s almost 9 a.m.
About two hours into the hike, the trail begins to ascend steeply. He huffs and puffs and insists on frequent breaks. “Oh man, I shouldn’t have drank so many beers last night.” I continue hiking without him. He’ll catch up, or maybe he won’t.
Just before treeline, I find a grassy clearing among the twisted, scrubby pines. Its a little after noon; hours behind schedule. I can see the summit of Mt. Madison still in the distance. I stretch out and wait.
We finally make it to the rocky summit a few hours later. I hand my phone to a Canadian man squinting in the bright sun. He takes a few photos.
We make it to the Madison hut by 3:45. I mentally cross Mt. Jefferson off my list. We’ve been moving too slow. There’s still time to get to the top of Adams though. The guide at the hut tells us we’d have to move really fast to the top of Adams. I can do it. My brother throws in the towel. “I just want to go home.”
I can only briefly ponder the crossroads – one path leading to the summit of Mt. Adams looming so close, the other down into the valley called the Great Gulf Wilderness. If we had only started at 7:15. If only I was alone I could have done this easily. If only …
The trail down is steep and rocky. Several times we lose it and need to double back and find it again. All the while the sun descends towards a horizon surrounded by tall mountains and cliffs. It’s well into twilight when we finally meet fellow hikers – a trio of elderly people camping next to a house sized boulder. “Where are you trying to get to?” they ask. We show them the map and they advise us to take a a different, more direct trail.
My brother frantically bounds down the trail in the gloom. Very soon the darkness becomes absolute. He didn’t pack a flashlight. “How was I supposed to know we’d still be out here in the dark?!” I’m prepared.
By the light of my headlamp our pace slows to a brisk walk. And we walk for hours not knowing if we are even on the right trail. “When is this ever going to end?!” Eventually we stumble into a campground and convince a group of engineering students from New Jersey to give us a ride back to Pinkham Notch.
My phone rings, its his wife telling me she’s going to call the police and report us missing. He snatches it away and talks to her “Yes babe. No babe. I know I said it was going to be back early, but I’m heading home right now babe.”
The night sky is filled with so many stars. The awesome Milky Way stretches from one horizon the other. He peels out of the parking lot. Read tail lights disappear in the darkness. Adios hermanito.
I put the backseats down and curl up in my sleeping bag next to my backpack. I’m chilly and my body aches. My daughter texts me “daddy, where are you?.” In the mountains, staring at the stars. Thinking.
Today was an adventure and a welcome distraction from the daily grinds of life, feelings of loneliness and loss, lingering memories, and the ever present question “what if …”.