First Four Thousand Footer

This past weekend, S and I climbed Mt. Cabot in NH, about 1 or 2 hours from the Canadian border. There were some excrutiating scrambles -- including a relentlessly steep incline that did not quit for a mile -- but overall I felt pretty capable. Most of the panic I used to feel on past trips was gone. 

The forest was one of the most beautiful I've ever been in. The leaves were past peak, so the white bark of the birch trees really stood out against the pines and the bright blue sky. At the top of Roger's Ledge, I looked out over the forest and saw the gentle russet-brown of the ground and the soft, dark pinegreen fur punctuated by colonies of birch trees. I could see nature's sense of pattern: birches in the lower places, soaking up the wet with their dark roots; pines climbing into the hills -- and then the beautiful places where the trees mixed. It looked like the mountains were wearing brushed silk scarves. 

Along the trail, half a dozen different varieties of moss coated rocks and trees and blended into the carpets of bright green ferns (note to self: hike here in spring; forage and gorge on fiddleheads). There had been snow the day before; it didn't take long to get up to areas of patchy snow and then, more substantial snowcover. Despite the cold and the snow, our sleeping bags are suited for very cold conditions and were toasty warm both nights. Our camp had a gorgeous view of the Presidentials, especially a snow-covered Mt. Washington. 

The second night a rainstorm moved in with gale force winds. We spent the night sleeping fitfully and worrying that the tent would leak. It didn't, miraculously. When we opened the tent in the morning, we were greeted by a two-inch pond around the tent. We were pretty lucky that the tent didn't leak.

The climb up the mountain was fun and almost too fast. It was a tree-lined summit, so the views were obstructed, but considering the wind, it was better to have the buffer of trees around us. We were done earlier than we intended, so I actually had time to go back to my down sleeping bad and take a nap . . . a nap!

Saw lots of moose poop but no moose. Saw some kind of tracks (sort of like a dog, but bigger . . . coyote?), but never met the creature that made them. Did see a motley-colored toad crossing the trail. Had to cross a stream (or pond?) that was flooded from a beaver dam and because of the snow-then-rain, was too flooded to cross on the boards provided by park management . . . so we ended up crossing over the beaver dam itself and whispered thanks to the beavers, asking them ever so kindly not to come out and bite us. No interactions there either.

And we once again ate like kings: salmon and eggs one morning, falafel one evening,  wild rice and sausage with mushrooms and peppers the next, snacks of cheese, summer sausage and cranberries. Have I ever told you how much I love beef jerky? It gives me such a boost on the trail -- totally unlike trail mix or energy bars that just seem to take the hunger away but do nothing else. We found some naturally raised Vermont beef jerky that makes me salivate just thinking about it.  I could get downright Gollum-like about my beef jerky -- I found myself tricking S out of his share. So greedy!

At the end of the weekend, we were both pretty dirty and stinky. I forgot my change of clothes for the car and had to face a four hour drive home in my own stench and sweat-drenched disgustingness. When we got back to the car, S decided to "bathe" in the large swimming pond at the rec site near the head of the trail. People, it's October. Some of the local radio stations are in French because they are from Quebec. The air temp was about 50. 

I did it, too. STripped down naked in broad daylight beside the pond (some dog walkers arrived just minutes after we put our clothes back on) and very hurriedly splashed water on the parts that needed it most. It was COLD, but it felt really good. 

As soon as S puts the pics on the computer, I'll update this post with some.