Nicole's Journey of Self - Part 2 - by: Rob Paquin February 2012
With the break at an end and lunch now finished, it was once again time to hike. Nicole once again struck out at the fore. Hikingman of course stepped lively to avoid being left behind. The breezes were picking up, but still couldn't be called a wind just yet. That would be later on. But we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves when telling this tale of triumph. We should go on in order. Progressing in our revelations in the same manner the adventurers progressed in their travels. Which is to say, we should go slow and steady until we reach the apex of this story's climax.
Cresting the final knoll of Lion's Head the world seemed to change, and shift. The light breezes opened a small swath in the prevailing cloud cover at that moment. Revealing to Nicole's eyes a world quite foreign to that which most people are accustomed. A world of granite, ice, and snow. A world of ominous quiet filled with the nothing sounds of a breeze that bent no twig, nor moved even the slightest grain of snow. A world that these 2 steadfast hikers had grown very fond of over the course of their times together in such places. The diffused light of mid-day made it possible to see almost a mile into their future. As the small frame of Nicole hiked forward the anticipation inside her grew to a fitful feeling of wanderlust and pent up emotions. So many miles had gone into getting her to this point. All of the trips to this mountain in the past..., all of the years of hiking with her father..., all of those time spent above treeline in some of the worst weather and conditions a person might ever see..., all rolled and roiled inside the sea of her mind. Fusing together for an instant, and giving purpose to what she was now about.
It was plainly evident to Hikingman at that point that there could be no doubt that she would make it. She was still hiking strong, and the tune she hummed told of her undaunted desire. It was a Tom Petty song that she had heard by chance on their drive to the mountains the previous evening. She adopted it as her theme song for this hike and it fit her well. The soft murmur of her voice brought to life that song, and Hikingman sang in his head to the tune she sent forth. I Won't Back Down..., No I Won't Back Down. You can stand me up at the gates of hell..., but I won't back down. She showed no signs of slowing the pace she had set since early that morning, and the remaining two adventurers that were just now preparing to leave the break area, would be sorely pressed to keep up with her. Despite the differences in stride lengths and muscular toning, Nicole would prove to be the most driven and prepared for this particular climb. She had already outlasted 2 of the fully grown men in their party, she was now outpacing 2 more. Hikingman being such a hiking man would not be left behind however, and he languished behind her the rest of the way by a pace and a half. Amazed that she sought no quarter or rest breaks for the remainder of the climb.
They steadily worked their way across the Alpine Garden's snowfields. A flatter than expected point for this high up on a mountain. Bearing of to the left, making their way toward the hard right turn that would take them up the summit cone. It was not long before they were once again off the flatter section of the Gardens and climbing a 45+ degree slope upwards to the pinnacle Mt. Washington. This last section was as much of a test as the great Lion's Head ever would be. After 4 miles of climbing, this last mile was nothing short of a massive physical challenge for any person so bold to attempt this climb. True enough that many, many people have overcome and passed this test in the past, as they will in the future, just as many have been turned around by the pure difficulty in placing one foot in front of the other at this stage of the climb. Fully encased inside of winter hiking gear and windproof clothing, Nicole not only passed this test..., she aced it ! She would not back down, she would not turn around, and standing there in that frozen hell she just wouldn't back down.
They trudged forward one behind the other. The other 2 hikers left from the group now a good half mile behind them. Those 2 would not catch them up either. The leader had decided that there would be no delaying the attainment of their predestined goal. They got to the turn and began rest stepping the last mile up that steep slope of snow and ice. Digging in with their crampons to insure good footing. For those that don't know what a "rest step" is..., it is exactly what it sounds like. One step and a pause, followed by another step and a pause. This repetition continued over and over for the next half hour or more. The breezes now started to combine their forces and sought to become a true wind. Slowly gathering together what strength they had to blow upon the backs of the hikers as they made their way up this last stretch of mountainous terrain. It would not be long now before they would stand next to a rickety wooden sign that proclaimed both the name and height of this mighty mountain in NewHampshire. The peak of Washington awaited them, much as it had for four years now. Much the same as it would forever more, until the end of time came for all and everything.
The snow and ice crunched audibly underfoot as they plodded upwards on that final slope. The temperatures lower than even just below at Lion's Head. The steadier breezes up this high adding to that feeling and subtracting from the actual temperature. Sending the thermometer down to just below zero. The pair seemed not to notice, still working up a sweat as they worked furiously with the effort of making that very next step. Clad in armor like clothing designed to keep those temperatures at bay. Mentally focused on naught but their foot placement.
Sparing only momentary glances in front of them to assure themselves of the trail's direction. Barely visible to an untrained eye the small depression in an otherwise unremarkable landscape of gray and white. A scattered pathway of old footprints, partially covered with the day's snow. Marked purposefully by huge stacks of well placed boulders, called cairns. Clouds began to thicken once again and the snows intensified by an immeasurable margin. Left foot, right foot..., left foot, right. The progressed, one slow step at a time. Like astronauts walking upon the moon, this space of time seemed much like one would picture that. Minus the bounding you'd see in those now famous video clips.
Finally a building began to materialize from out of the gloom ahead of them. A huge tower like structure stood proudly to the left. They turned right instead and headed to the relative safety of Mt. Washington Observatory's main building's overhang. They found themselves alone there with a small wooden bench nearby. They sat in silence for a minute before hugging each other deeply. Hikingman and his daughter, side by side in happiness and triumph. The smiles of yesterday paled in comparison to the ones they wore now. They removed their headgear and dove into their food stores with a ravenous hunger, barely an hour and a half removed from their lunch break, and the place where they last saw their counterparts from this expedition. The rested once more, steadying the deeper breaths they were taking on the forced march of that last mile. Sitting there proudly, they joked and laughed, and hugged once more.
Behind the bench they sat upon there was a pane of thick glass, frozen oven and caked in ice. Nicole noticing asked Hikingman, "What's over there ?"
"The true summit and the sign." he replied quietly.
"You mean we've been here for a half hour and we still haven't made the top ?" Nicole whined, incredulously.
"I guess not." Hikingman spoke. "Are you ready for your picture, now ?" he continued, unfazed by her maniacal stare.
"Dad !" was all she said, in a semi-sarcastic tone. Pulling her hood up around her head and turning to leave, "Well, are you coming ?" more of a demand than a question he thought. The wry smile was hard to hide as he fumbled through his pockets searching for the phone he'd use for the picture. Two minutes later a picture that will take the place of the next thousand words of this tale, was taken. Now posted inside of Hikingman's album on this website for your perusal. A picture that matched perfectly a dream he had had the night before. He smiled as he took that picture. Content.
As they celebrated once again underneath the overhang, almost 40 full minutes after they had left them at Lion's Head, the other 2 climbers from the group emerged from ever growing grayness of the failing day. They too wore smiles. Smiles that widened considerably once they saw Nicole's. For they too knew of her attempts, and they were almost as proud of the group's youngest member as her father. A few more pictures later and they all descended together. Four friends, close as any family group, filled with mutual pride, love, and understanding of each other. Closer even now, than they had ever been before. Their relationship strengthened by this common experience.
The hike back to the shelter was not without it's dangers. All of the obstacles they had overcome to get there needed to be scaled in reverse now. No easy feat as tired as they all were. Still they arrived safely, none the less. Tired, battered, and close to spent, they came to Shelter #6 once more, a scant 3 hours later. Finding the stoves they took to making dinners of freeze dried spaghetti. Meals fit for hiking kings and queens. Every last bite consumed. They all took to the merry making that goes hand in hand with a successful climb like this one. Snacks and laughter, talks and high fives, and rounds and rounds of congratulations all around.
It was a weekend worth remembering and one that shall be remembered. Through this story of adventure, and the thoughts and feelings of those that had shared it together. And while this story comes to an end with Hikingman and Nicole gliding effortlessly down the lower slopes of Mt. Washington upon a sled laden with every piece of gear they owned in the time span of an instantaneous flash, the memories shall last forever.
I thank you profusely for taking some of your time to read these last 2 inter-connected blogs, and accompanying our adventurers vicariously through them, up and down the prize of The White Mountains; Mt. Washington. A 6,288 ft. mountain. One that is known the world wide, as home to the world's worst recorded weather. It was their pleasure to have you along, and my pleasure to take you with them with these paltry words which can only partly describe the thoughts, emotions, and deeds, that go into such an advent of personal glory.
