My Mountain (Day 152) (1820 Miles Hiked)

The White Mountains of New Hampshire are challenging enough even in the best weather conditions and on that particular morning, the local weatherman said it was going to be awful.

I started the day in Lincoln, NH with two sensible hikers named Coyote and Lady Sherpa. They urged me to take the day off, dodge the rain, and eat chocolate chip pancakes with them in town. I'm not sure why exactly, but I declined. Stubbornly, I hitched a ride to the trail head alone and began hiking.

Around 1:30 PM, I was approaching the peak of Kinsman Mountain when I decided that I had made a mistake. What was I thinking being out here today? Not only was I soaked and climbing a steep incline, I hadn't seen another hiker in 4 hours. I don't mind being alone, but usually, when I'm attempting to climb a waterfall during a torrential downpour, I prefer a little company. (You know, just in case I slip off a rock ledge and need someone to remove two words from the title of my blog.)

I was thinking about maple syrup and warm chocolate chip pancakes when I finally reached the so-called "scenic overlook" on the summit. It was obviously a nice spot. On clear day, I would have seen valleys thousands of feet below and miles of towering mountains fading off into the distance. Of course, on that particular day, I couldn't see a damn thing.

I was wet, cold, alone, and annoyed as I stared out into a sea of white. I couldn't visually tell if I was 200, 4,000, or 50,000 feet above sea level.

I was ready to turn around and begin the arduous journey down, when out of nowhere, a pleasantly ridiculous thought came to mind: There is no one within five miles of me. The rain has kept all the sane people inside. Thousands of tourists will climb this mountain within the next few months, but today, at this very moment, this is MY mountain.

And standing there, gazing out into the infinite abyss, I smiled. And then, for reasons I can't explain, I felt the urge to yell.

I yelled as as loud as I could. I yelled until I ran out of breath and my lungs were sore. And when I couldn't yell anymore, I took one last look at the nothingness below and chuckled a little. Then, I turned around and began the long climb down my mountain with a goofy smile on my face.

The weatherman was wrong when he made his prediction that morning--it was a nice day. And I was alive.