Only Scaries Left

I’ve been waiting months for this month.

Stalled since last March in trying to finish off a New Hampshire Grid – all 48 4,000′ peaks in every calendar month – I couldn’t wait for December to come, to start checking off the last 22 of 576 summits.

The list has hung on my fridge for the last nine months, alternately inspiring and scaring me right down to my core. Having finished April, May, June, July, August, September, October, and November – months when weather is fairer and hikes are more agreeable than not – I was eager to be out the door on December 1 to tackle Isolation.

A query I posted on a hiking forum looking for company elicited only laughing emojis – recent snowfall and single digit predicted windchill on a Sunday was not as alluring as I had hoped, even for fellow “Gridiots.”

Isolation is one of those peaks people either love or hate: remote (as its name suggests) with either multiple water crossings or off-trail bushwhacks, depending on how you approach it. Long stretches of the established trail run over active water flow, making for soggy feet no matter how you slice it.

The problem with the mountains I have left is that they are ALL, in some way, as tricky as Iso. The Bond traverse is a 22-mile out-back. Due to winter forest road closures, Carrigain requires a 3-mile road walk just to get to the trail head. Even following herd paths, one can’t avoid three major water crossings on Owls Head, and the Madison/Adams combo is steep and often ridiculously icy. As for Monroe, Jefferson, and Washington – who in New England doesn’t know about the “worst weather in the world,” which pummels these three presidents with triple-digit wind gusts and frequent avalanche warnings?

As much as I want to finish, I also don’t want to die. Or worse, call SAR.

So I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that my Iso bid the first day back Gridding took me 10.5 hours to cover 11.5 miles. Six inches of new powder covered the established trail, every other tree was a blow-down (okay, I’m exaggerating – let’s just agree there were a lot), and it was COLD. So cold.

Other things happened.

Two water bottles were lost navigating downed trees in-over-and-through, and when I finished the dregs of #3, I was forced to choose between dry hours of hiking or taking a chance on a swift-running stream. The stream won, but so did giardia, which hit like a vengeance some days later. Let’s just say this parasite is not user friendly.

Help. Me.

There was bruising. My phone drops in the snow as I lose the trail and try to find my way back. I go through two sets of mittens, hats, and down hoodies. I don’t want to expose my hands for too long, so I barely eat, which makes me, fuel-less, even slower to finish the last miles in the dark.

All to check off one peak.

Where was the wonder, the joy I felt, in the months previous, walking where and when I wanted? Turning around before a summit if the conditions were not to my liking?

The problem with lists is that, well, they’re a list. Restrictive. Confining. Vexatious.

December has me spooked, and it’s not even officially “winter” yet.

I am writing this now having decided not to hike today.

I had packed for the Bonds and was watching the weather, but new snow and 70 mph winds had me cancelling the early alarm. I want to be prepared, to minimize the risk, to always carry more than I need, but even all that was not enough. And it seems the more I sit, the more fitness I lose, and the less I want to go out there again.

Two good days. That’s all I need to Grid out December.

One word. It’s been everywhere, every morning, as I sit at my desk and watch the clouds pink over the school that I love, reading and journaling and praying needs.

Trust.

I cannot control the weather or my schedule or even how I will feel on any given day. This week, I will turn 62, and that is a long time for legs to live. I’m grateful for every single one (years, not legs, though I am grateful for those, as well).

At his last meal, Jesus told His disciples that in this world they would have trouble, but to be of good cheer (John 16:33).

Be of good cheer, child.

You may finish Gridding December – and January, February, March – you may not.

Sort out the scaries one by one.

You trust Him, don’t you?