This weekend my roommate Theresa and I joined 4 friends from Rochester to backpack in the white mountains of NH.
We couldnt have picked better weather if we’d tried–after a rocky start (trying to find a place to put a tent on the side of the road at midnight), we got up, ate the world’s greatest trail mix (including Swedish fish) and started up the supposedly more gorgeous than the others trail–boot strapp (on Mount Washington).
I guess we figured it was a “go big or go home” decision and forgot that our packs were ridiculously heavy. We struggled, but made it up the mountain, down into a valley, up another mountain and into a valley to sleep in the hermit lake shelters. To pay for 60 dollars of accommodation in a lean to (dont ask), we picked up trash for 30 minutes. stefan and theresa made us chicken, rice and mashed potatoes, and it was beautiful fellowship. Then there was weird snoring at 2AM, people hitting their heads, extreme dehydration, and coffee flavored oatmeal.
Today we climbed to the summit of washington, minus our packs. It was amazing to see how obvious the trail looks from far away (like a huge rock river up the side of the mountain) but once on the trail, how confusing it is.
I hated coming down–so much–i can’t even describe it to you. i really didnt expect to make it down ok (no lie) cause i tripped and rocks slid so many times. i’ve never hiked up anything like that in my life, and down was 100 times harder (all rocks for miles). it was scary and i’ll never do it again, but i wouldnt trade this weekend for any other weekend. strange, right?