Matt got to the house on Friday and by 8pm we were looking at websites for the right mountain to climb. Thankfully, Matt is not all that picky and we found ourselves looking at a topographical map with a bunch of those squiggly lines really close to each other ... which means steep ascents.
Kathy said that she thought the dump would open at 6 am so we could get our crappy couch to the dump and then be on our way to the mountains. Matt has a way sometimes ... "Mom, 6 am is when we plan to be having breakfast up at Tilton Diner!"
Now, I know that if I had said that we'd have been going to the dump on Saturday morning but like I said, Matt has a way sometimes and sure enough ... we had coffee and breakfast in front of us at 6:05am on Saturday at Tilton Diner. The dump would have to wait!
We got to the trail head and the temps were steady around 30 at the base, we were cold and both having second thoughts about climbing. We checked our gear and checked it again and soon realized that we were both employing delaying tactics. One of our sayings is, "This mountain is not going to climb itself" and somebody said it so we started up through the woods.
It's funny how the mind plays its tricks. My hamstring, which I refer to as "my hammy" is usually the first thing to complain. Then my right knee sends a message to my brain, "Hey! Hello?? What were you thinking? No one told me we'd be doing this!" and along with that message is pain ... and my mind talks to me and tells me that I'm too old to be doing this and that I'm slowing Matt down and that he'd be better off hiking without me ... nasty that old mind of mine that tries to trick me into being less than I can be. I ignore all that and attempt to keep up with Matt who is being extremely nice and keeping a pace that is more suited to me than for him but I used to the same for him ... when he was 5 years old.
We came across a pretty waterfall and each take pictures. I've got my rugged camera (aka, not my good camera) and I know that the picture will not be very good or represent the beauty of the moment. Even with my good camera, the beauty of the moment can not be found ... because the camera cannot record my breathing, my heart pounding, the smell and the look in Matt's eyes as he surveys the scene. Look at the picture below ... it is just a picture of water pouring over a rock ... not even close to capturing the moment. The only satisfaction I can claim is that I remember the moment because the picture brings me back there.
We continued up and the air got brisker. Let me correct that and be plain ... it got colder. The stream that was our path became a thick pad of ice with snow flakes covering it. The snow made the ice even more slippery. We stepped carefully.
I love this stuff. We're there hopping from rock to rock and jumping from side to side talking about work, friends, and family without missing a beat until one of us slips and almost falls.
We climbed some more and it got colder and then much more windy. For those of you wondering, yes, there were other crazy people up there. It was an equal mix of women and men and all were equally crazy as us.
As we neared the top, the wind picked up and we elected to put on our outer coats. For me, I had my new/old jacket to put on. You see, Matt and I looked in the closet on Saturday morning around 5:15am and he pointed at a jacket, "Why don't you wear that, Dad?" he said. I looked at it, "Is it mine?" I asked and Matt answered, "Sure, I gave it to you last Christmas!"
Well, I'm an idiot because I can never remember who gave me what on Christmas and now we know, I can't even remember that I got something!
So, I grabbed that nice new/old jacket and put it on and watched Matt whip out a nylon shell ... "uh oh. That's not going to cut the brutally cold wind at the top," I thought. Being a good father, I should have offered him my new/old coat, but being a better father, I realized that the lesson learned from the bitter cold would serve him well for years to come. Contemplating the lesson of the day and giving him my coat so he could be warm (and I would be cold) vs. giving him a lesson of a life time (and I would be warm), I determined that he should learn a lesson of a life time and I kept my coat. At least he had gloves.
While on the top, I started taking pictures of the trees covered in rime snow, the mountains in the distance, the shrubbery attempting to live in that brutal climate ... and heard, "C'mon Dad, we've got to keep going so I don't freeze up here!" Ah yes, the youthful method of keeping warm is to keep moving. It is not a bad idea and we trotted/slipped/slid across the mountain top to get our bodies producing heat again. The top of Mt Pierce is not all that prominent. It isn't all that special and rather mundane. I wonder if they thought of that when they named it after President Franklin Pierce. Wikipedia has a line about him potentially being the worst president of the United States ... hmmmm.
We made our way off the top and down toward Mizpah hut. We were starting to get hungry and I realized that my lips were swollen from dehydration so I drank more water. Our subway sandwiches were calling our names and we found a spot near the hut that was free from wind and the cold was finally ebbing away due to our exertions.
It has become a bit of a tradition that we eat a subway sandwich at the top. Matt suggested that we stop by a restaurant on the drive back as they had a great variety of beer. I agreed. Suddenly, we ate only half our sandwiches and our pace picked up dramatically ... ice be damned!
A few more miles into the downward trip, I needed to stop and take a break. By this time, my right knee had to decided to be more vocal in its insistent concern for my welfare and my left knee didn't want to be left out of the "let's produce pain" competition. My ankles and my hips argued about 2nd place in that pain competition. I noticed some Canadian Jays buzzing about and took out some trail mix and held it in my hand. We were visited by about 15 Jays zipping in to land on my hand and grab a bite to eat. Funny how those painful joints were suddenly silenced when something as wonderful as having a wild bird land in your hand, look you in the eye and trusts you enough to eat out of your hand.
Our quick pace returned but it wasn't too fast that we couldn't talk. "Y'know Dad, when we started, I was thinking that we should just skip the hike and get lunch and a beer at a restaurant."
"Funny," I said, "I was thinking the same thing."
He looked at me with a smile, "I'm glad we pushed ourselves into doing this hike. It's been fantastic."
I nodded and we hustled further down the side of the mountain. We wound our way around and ran the last part of the hike. The car warmed up quickly and we soon found ourselves enjoying an ice cold beer and some pretty good pub food discussing the trip that neither of initially wanted to do.
It's funny how these things work out. Neither of us really wanted to go hiking but we did it anyway. At the end of this undesired journey, we found that we truly enjoyed the trip mostly because of who we were with.
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