5 Feb
A few weeks ago, in my typical ungraceful manner, I took a slip while heading down a steep section of the Square Ledge trail. The fall resulted in a rather nasty snag on one of my beloved black fleeces. Rather depressed about the incident, I hid the top away and tried my best not to think about it. That is, until I found this utterly fabulous pink princess patch.
I’d have never thought that repairing my own gear could be so much fun.
25 Jan
Fellow hikers sometimes ask me why I’m working on the White Mountain 4,000 Footer Grid. Why do I choose to (perhaps obstinately) remain focused on New Hampshire peaks, when there are other lists to chase and beautiful ranges to explore? To be quite honest, I have a difficult time justifying this focus myself. The Maine mountains in particular hold tremendous appeal, but not to the extent that I’m willing to undergo a half-day drive to visit them.
As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, there’s something about the Whites that just resonates with me. Even in the pouring rain, or whilst breaking through foot upon foot of fresh snow, I feel inexplicably drawn to these peaks. Some say that I’ll tire of them eventually, and perhaps I will. Yet at this point in my life, I honestly cannot imagine ever losing interest in a place I hold so dearly.
This past weekend only served to reinforce that notion. Bluebird skies, endless views, and fantastic snow conditions made for what may very well have been two of the best days we’ve had this winter. On Saturday I traversed Zealand and the Bonds. At 23.2 miles in distance, it marked the longest continuous hike that I’ve done since my injury back in August 2009. Waking on Sunday, I was feeling terribly sluggish. Nevertheless, I still managed to muster up the energy to take a quick hike up Jackson the day after… and am I glad that I did…
There are a handful of mountains – one of which happens to be Jackson – that I am not particularly fond of. Hiking them in each month (to go against my previous chain of thought) becomes something of a chore. However, the beauty of the Grid is that you’re given the opportunity to experience New Hampshire’s highest peaks in a huge variety of conditions – good and bad. And in some instances, this can serve to foster appreciation for peaks and trails that you may once have held in disdain.
Breaking above treeline on Sunday, I finally realized why so many people love that little mountain on the eastern side of Crawford Notch. The summit cone was a blanket of white, each of the tiny krummholz encased by snow. The sky was so deeply blue at times that it appeared almost unreal, altered beyond the boundaries of nature. It was a day to be savored, and no longer will I hold that mountain in such low regard!
A few pictures from the weekend:
20 Jan
It’s official – I have an addiction to carrot cake. Vegan carrot cake made by the delightful folks at Cafe Indigo, to be precise. At $5.97 a pop, it’s certainly not the cheapest of indulgences… but luckily for me, my good hiking friend Cath shares my obsession with the stuff. To celebrate the first day of calendar winter back in December, we decided to carry a little baby carrot cake with us to the summit of Cabot. Save for the slight frostnip that sprung up on my pinky finger (note to self: licking icing off one’s fingers in -10F temperatures is not the most brilliant of ideas), it proved to be the perfect hiking treat. Thus, a new tradition was born…
Carrot cake on Carrigain. The phrase has a pleasant ring to it, does it not? Perhaps a carrot cake x 48 is in order, as I’m now three peaks into the list (7 if you count post-hike indulgences).
Osceolas.
Carrigain.
Moriah.
Black tights (as the January thaw was in full force).
Carrot cake.
Throw in some absolutely phenomenal – and wholly unexpected – views, a welcome encounter with a new friend, and some good old trail breaking… who could ask for a more perfect few days of hiking!
14 Jan
Sometimes I let myself get a little too focused on the peakbagging aspect of hiking mountains. Every trip up north becomes a mission of sorts, a challenge defined not by the journey, but the numbers.
How far can I go?
How fast?
How many 4,000 foot peaks can I squeeze into the timeframe?
While I do think it’s healthy to set goals, I’ve noticed that my current peakbagging aspirations have started to (ever so slightly) detract from my enjoyment of the mountains. Consequently, last weekend I decided to take things easy for once. A leisurely 11:30am start time on the Hancocks, followed by a stellar visit to Whiteface/Passaconaway and the Sandwich Range Wilderness, made for a spectacular two days of hiking.
Distance: 9.8 miles
Elevation Gain: 2,650 feet
Trails Used: Hancock Notch, Cedar Brook, Hancock Loop
11 Jan
Today I accomplished something that, four months ago, seemed far beyond my reach. I broke through a barrier of sorts – reaching and surpassing a little number that has toyed with me for weeks now.
I ran for over 10 consecutive miles. And not only that. I ran 100% pain free.
When diagnosed with a hip labral tear back in September, I established the “10 mile, pain free” standard as a benchmark. How (and why) I settled upon that number I do not know. Yet in my mind I equated running 10 miles with full and total recovery.
After talking things through with a specialist down in Boston, I knew that there was a slight (but very real) possibility that I’d never run long distances again without surgery. Nevertheless, I pressed on, building up my mileage in baby steps.
Who’d have known that today was to be the day?
Not even the most devious of ice patches on the mean (and terribly plowed, I might add) streets of Manchester could have dampened my spirits.
Dare I start setting running goals for the year?
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