sp1936
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The 4000-Footer Committee requests that an account of the ascent of the final peak be included with the application. Here's mine:
September 3, 2005
The pilgrimage ended on a perfect September day with my family on scenic Mt. Carrigain. We toasted the beauty of the natural world and our privilege to enjoy it with champagne in paper cups.
After years of being disdainful of lists, I reversed my position in the autumn of 2003 and decided to complete the 4000-footers. Why? Two reasons come to mind. First, I just wanted to prove that I could do it. The second is closer to the original philosophy of the 4000 Footer Club, which seeks “to encourage hikers who were addicted to the Presidentials and Franconias to strike out into less familiar areas.”
I was dismayed to discover that I had only climbed 14 of the 48 4000-footers. This was going to be a bigger job than I had anticipated. The first thing I did was visit Steve Smith’s bookstore in Lincoln and buy the book that he wrote with Mike Dickerman, “The 4000-Footers of the White Mountains.” He suggested that I begin my quest with Mt. Moriah, which I did on September 13, 2003.
For the next couple of years, I worked the list as often as I could. Five more in 2003. Fifteen in 2004. Thirteen this year. I’ll return to many of them; some not.
My wife Winnie and my son Bryan wanted to accompany me on this final hike. They are hikers, but not peakbaggers, and I did most of the 4000-footers solo. I warned them that this would be a challenge. They insisted, and I am glad they did. It’s good to share a personal achievement with people you love.
September is a wonderful month in the mountains, and the day we chose was perfect: warm, clear, and dry, with a brilliant blue sky and puffy white clouds pushed along by a stiff breeze.
The Signal Ridge Trail starts easily, warming our legs up for the climb to come. Near the junction with the Carrigain Notch Trail, we encountered a group of campers and their two grumpy dogs. We marveled at the amount of stuff these people had packed in. It looked like a campsite in a roadside campground.
The easy stroll soon ended, and the trail steepened considerably. My son was doing fine, but my wife seemed to be struggling a little. I asked how she was doing a couple of times, making it clear that I would have no problem with turning around. She made it just as clear that she was determined to complete the climb. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
Everybody’s spirits lifted when we emerged from the trees on the ridge and enjoyed the superb views, including our objective. In no time we were at the summit, where the wind was howling and a large group of young backpackers was enjoying the view.
Congratulations were given and accepted, toasts were drunk, pictures were taken, and the quiet magic of the mountains was enjoyed for a few moments. This accomplishment was trivial in comparison to the catastrophic destruction of the city of New Orleans and the surrounding area less than a week earlier. It’s good to keep things in perspective, and not make more of a guy walking up a bunch of hills than it really is.
The descent was tough on the feet but easy on the lungs, as they always are. We passed many people ascending the mountain that day, including a seemingly endless procession of polite French-Canadians, always giving way on the trail with a friendly “Bonjour.”
I’m glad I did it, but I’m glad it’s over. It was a challenge and an adventure. I saw a lot of good stuff and I met a lot of good people. The mountains are special and we all need to work for their preservation.
As a result of this experience, I am a stronger and better hiker; hopefully I am also a stronger and better person. We’ll see.
September 3, 2005
The pilgrimage ended on a perfect September day with my family on scenic Mt. Carrigain. We toasted the beauty of the natural world and our privilege to enjoy it with champagne in paper cups.
After years of being disdainful of lists, I reversed my position in the autumn of 2003 and decided to complete the 4000-footers. Why? Two reasons come to mind. First, I just wanted to prove that I could do it. The second is closer to the original philosophy of the 4000 Footer Club, which seeks “to encourage hikers who were addicted to the Presidentials and Franconias to strike out into less familiar areas.”
I was dismayed to discover that I had only climbed 14 of the 48 4000-footers. This was going to be a bigger job than I had anticipated. The first thing I did was visit Steve Smith’s bookstore in Lincoln and buy the book that he wrote with Mike Dickerman, “The 4000-Footers of the White Mountains.” He suggested that I begin my quest with Mt. Moriah, which I did on September 13, 2003.
For the next couple of years, I worked the list as often as I could. Five more in 2003. Fifteen in 2004. Thirteen this year. I’ll return to many of them; some not.
My wife Winnie and my son Bryan wanted to accompany me on this final hike. They are hikers, but not peakbaggers, and I did most of the 4000-footers solo. I warned them that this would be a challenge. They insisted, and I am glad they did. It’s good to share a personal achievement with people you love.
September is a wonderful month in the mountains, and the day we chose was perfect: warm, clear, and dry, with a brilliant blue sky and puffy white clouds pushed along by a stiff breeze.
The Signal Ridge Trail starts easily, warming our legs up for the climb to come. Near the junction with the Carrigain Notch Trail, we encountered a group of campers and their two grumpy dogs. We marveled at the amount of stuff these people had packed in. It looked like a campsite in a roadside campground.
The easy stroll soon ended, and the trail steepened considerably. My son was doing fine, but my wife seemed to be struggling a little. I asked how she was doing a couple of times, making it clear that I would have no problem with turning around. She made it just as clear that she was determined to complete the climb. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
Everybody’s spirits lifted when we emerged from the trees on the ridge and enjoyed the superb views, including our objective. In no time we were at the summit, where the wind was howling and a large group of young backpackers was enjoying the view.
Congratulations were given and accepted, toasts were drunk, pictures were taken, and the quiet magic of the mountains was enjoyed for a few moments. This accomplishment was trivial in comparison to the catastrophic destruction of the city of New Orleans and the surrounding area less than a week earlier. It’s good to keep things in perspective, and not make more of a guy walking up a bunch of hills than it really is.
The descent was tough on the feet but easy on the lungs, as they always are. We passed many people ascending the mountain that day, including a seemingly endless procession of polite French-Canadians, always giving way on the trail with a friendly “Bonjour.”
I’m glad I did it, but I’m glad it’s over. It was a challenge and an adventure. I saw a lot of good stuff and I met a lot of good people. The mountains are special and we all need to work for their preservation.
As a result of this experience, I am a stronger and better hiker; hopefully I am also a stronger and better person. We’ll see.
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