Mount Washington is 6,288 feet above sea level and 4,280 feet above the trail head at Pinkham notch.
Matt and I talked about climbing it last summer. We talked about it last fall. I read books about failed attempts and the unfortunate demise of many who attempted without proper planning and proper gear. We were within 1.4 miles of the peak when we climbed to the Lake of the Clouds hut a few weeks ago. It was so close, I could almost touch it.
I thought it would require weeks of planning and preparation. I figured I'd have to get a checklist of things to bring and ensure that I had the right emergency equipment on hand, things like those emergency blankets that fold up into a 4 inch square and perhaps some orange tang or something.
Instead I got a call from Matt
Matt: "What are you doing Sunday?"
Me: "I dunno. Hiking?
Matt: "Sounds good!"
Me: "Where do you want to go?"
Matt: "I dunno. Mount Washington?"
Me: "Sounds good!"
A simple conversation and I was on my way. Out the window went planning and preparation!!
We left the house at 5:15 am and enjoyed our breakfast at Tilton Diner in Tilton, NH. Eating there has become a bit of a standard for us and we didn't want to break with tradition. With our bellies full, we drove another couple of hours to Pinkham Notch at the base of Mount Washington. I was surprised at the number of cars in the parking lot. Were so many people climbing the great and powerful Mount Washington?
Yes, there were. We met Canadians and more Canadians all speaking French. It seemed to be French Canadian week or something!!
Matt and I examined a map of the mountain and the trails seemed straight forward enough: Tuckerman's Ravine Trail, Lion Head Trail to the top. The maps said it was about 4.5 miles to the top.
Our hike started at 9am with a fast paced climb on a dirt path winding upwards and along a roaring river. It was a chilly start but I was sweating inside of 10 minutes. We'd established a pattern with me following Matt by about 5 yards. Pretty soon we were climbing up couch sized boulders and I was 10 yards behind Matt. With about 2 miles left, everyone was slowing down. We took more breaks and I found excuses to chat with people ... chatting meant stopping and stopping meant resting.
We met more French Canadians who were kind enough to speak excellent English. We passed them when they rested and when we rested they passed us. The boulders became sharper and the trees became shorter or nonexistent. We could see the crazy people climbing and then skiing down Tuckerman's Ravine. Having them there made me feel less crazy. The temperatures got colder and the wind picked up. Matt and I were both very warm with the workout we were getting from climbing!
There were several sections where we had to do a bit more "rock climbing." That was followed by more rocks with jagged edges followed by more snow and ice. With about 1 mile to go, I hit what felt like a wall. My legs shook from exhaustion. I'd hydrated well but it felt like we were climbing on the stair master from hell.
We took another break and chatted with a few more French Canadians - no, I am not exaggerating. One fellow was 77 years old and had vowed to his son that he would get to the top this year. We passed each other several times and enjoyed our repartee ... and yes, that is a French word.
With only 1/2 a mile to go, the top seemed so close but the steep climb was painful to my feet and knees. Everyone on the climb seemed to be going in slow motion. I seemed to get a second wind and passed several folks who'd run out of gas ... but of course, Matt was still ahead of me.
Reaching the peak surprised me. I'd been focused on the antenna for so long and it just seemed to never get closer but all of a sudden, we stepped over a few rocks and there was pavement, cars, a cog railway, a cafe and gift shop! One second you are in the extreme wilderness and the next, you're back in "civilization."
We ate in the cafe. I had a chicken Caesar sandwich, a hot dog, chili, and half a Klondike bar. I guess I was hungry.
There was a small rubble of rock that represents the peak or the top. It was anti-climactic after all we'd been through to be standing with people who drove up to stand on this rubble of rock. We did it anyway.
At first, the trip down was much easier than the trip up. I got to the snow field, slipped and slid about 20 yards on my ass ... laughing. We passed some more French Canadians. Life was good for about 2 1/2 miles and then I ran out of gas again and the pain in my knees, back, and ankles really assaulted me. With each step, pain shot through me so I went slower. That worked for a little while but then it didn't matter. Every step just hurt. I became driven to get my feet out my boots and into my flip-flops (slippers in Hawaii)!
When we got to the car, those flip-flops were a welcome relief. It felt good to unload the boots and my sweaty gear. My light-weight backpack felt like it contained bricks.
Addendum: It is Thursday after the hike and my muscles have returned to normal. My ankles are fine and my feet are no longer swollen. My knees feel better but they will need some more help over the next few weeks. The trip up Mount Washington was a great accomplishment and a grueling adventure. I cannot imagine doing it at the age of 77 as I barely made it at 54. As always, the best part is spending time with Matt.
Pictures:
Matt and I with our matching shades starting out on our hike.
Raging torrent of a river ...
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