Climbed Mount Washington today, 4.4 miles, 4250 elevation. The plan was to run as much as possible and then hike the rest. I would like to have run more of it, however the rain started coming down fairly early on, and my glasses fogged up real quick. So the rest of it was hiking.

We–Alex, Annie, and myself–started at Pinkham’s notch, and then to Tuckerman’s Ravine Trail. Before coming out here I was able to pick up some Black Diamond Z-poles, typically used for hiking. Pinkham Notch was on the same side of Mt Washington as the Auto Road.  The Auto Road takes visitors up a steep ascent and deposits them and their vehicles at the very top.  I’ve done that drive before–it’s not easy.

Getting to the first shelter was tough, but certainly not difficult. From there we went further and soon found ourselves above the tree-line. The first little bit above the tree-line was really beautiful. Then the conditions got very difficult, very quickly. I soon found myself hiking in the rain, just rain coming down soaking every bit of me. The two other women in my group had gone ahead of me, and I stuck close to two other hikers that were going up the mountain–strength in numbers.

The last little bit of the hike was the hardest bit of hiking I’ve ever done in my life. The cold cold wind was blowing so hard that sometimes I felt as if I would be blown off the mountain. At one point my hands had gotten so numb that I couldn’t hold onto the poles anymore. I decided to stow the poles and use my hands to scramble up the mountain. This proved to be a good idea as my hands warmed up by being forced to move and grip. The jagged rocks were covered in lichen and algae, making them very slick in certain areas. There was a few points where I really was not sure if I could find the proper way up, however there was no choice.  I knew my friends were ahead of me and I had to go find them. I had no way of contacting my friends if I had chosen to go back down the mountain.

On this hardest scurry up there was one point where the wind was so bitterly cold that I crouched down behind a large cairn to catch a break for a minute. By crouching down behind a cairn the wind stopped howling, the cold was whisked away. I sat in this little pocket of warmth. If there hadn’t been other hikers around, coming up the path, I probably would have taken quite long time to stand up again.  But I didn’t want to loose the pack of people I was traveling with, even if I didn’t know them.

All we could see ahead of us were the outlines of more and more Cairns going up, and up, and up. There were several points where you saw a cairn, and then an outline of another cairn, and then a ridge. In your mind you figured that ridge must be the end. But when approaching the ridge, there was another series of cairns going off into the mist.

That last bit that was so difficult was only half a mile, probably took me an hour. The hardest half-mile I’ve ever faced. In that half-mile I questioned my readiness to do this task. I knew I had it in me, but there was so much pushing against me that it was hard to see it through. I kept telling myself to stay in the moment, be in the moment, keep pushing forward, and focus on what you have to do to get to the next cairn. All to get to the next ridge, to get to the end, and to see civilization & my friends.

As I approached one of the vague outlines of a cairn in the mist I heard the sound of a motorcycle–the auto road was right there!  I was so happy to see asphalt again. I found my friends, and then I cried just a little bit–I was so cold, wet, and had no idea how to get back down. My friends helped me inside to get warm, and then we devised a plan to get back down.

We were able to hitch a ride with some very very kind folks down the auto road. They were even nice enough to drive the extra couple miles down to where our car was parked. We tried to offer them money to help pay for taking us down, but they were having none of that. All they said was to help somebody else in the future. I love that mentality and I love that sort of kindness. I strive to be that sort of person.

I would do this again, however in nicer weather.

As I’ve had the chance to look back on this day over the last few hours, I realize I feel like my mental facilities have been assaulted. That last half mile was so difficult and took so much energy out of me. But I look back on it knowing that I will grow from it!

On our way home we found this gem!

As I reflected over the next few days, these were some questions that popped into my head…

There were mile markers every 0.2 miles along the crown of the mountain.  Was it more or less helpful that mileage markers were given every .2 miles?

Probably more helpful because it gave you an understanding on how much farther you had to go. It was definitive, not a guess. Although seeing them did also tell you that you’ve only gone 0.2 miles when it feels like it should be at least a mile.

There were sections that took a lot of willpower to keep going, I wasn’t sure where that power would come from. Looking back I obviously found the willpower to keep going to the top, just not sure where it came from.

Where does willpower come from? Is it a place that you feel you can summon it from, or is it something that just emerges during a stressful situation?

I found myself with the need to be able to clear my mind of extraneous thoughts. I needed to focus on where the trail was, finding the proper stable footing, and will my legs to move.

My legs moved no matter what, they were not tired at any point until the last tiny bit, at that point I felt as if my right quad tightened up to a point when it didn’t want to move anymore. At several other points when my muscles cramped I knew I just needed water. Took some water, which was warm from my body heat and it tasted great!  That warmth gets inside your system, and fights off some of the cold.

I flushed extraneous thoughts from my mind by telling myself that I am the only person who is going to be able to get me off this mountain. I got myself here, and I need to be able to get myself back to civilization. While civilization was only the top of the mountain, it was a place where there were at least more people, and shelter. Not to mention my friends.

The flushing of thoughts needed to happen several times as I ascended. But each time I was successful.

I think a lot of the time was spent looking ahead to see the line of cairns, then finding the trail, then figuring out my footing and handholds. The legs moved themselves. After going to the 2 or 3 cairns that I saw, I started the process over and looked ahead to the next set of cairns. Endurance comes in all forms. To keep looking again and again to see cairns disappearing into the mist was a challenge to my endurance skills!