Notches and Peaks

As promised, here are some further vignettes and reflections from my recent hiking trip.

• While northern New Hampshire may be best known for mountains and forests, it has some incredible valleys as well. The two most famous such "notches"– Franconia and Crawford– are characterized by spectacular ridgelines, sinuous floors, and flowing streams that are mere remnants of the massive glaciers that sculpted this wondrous terrain ages ago. I spent a fair amount of time thinking about both the speed of flowing water and the glacial pace (an inescapable pun) of the natural forces on display, and seeing this as a reminder to be patient with my own growth and formation as a Jesuit, especially when I find myself eager to be further along the course than I am.

Claude visits The Basin

Franconia Notch NH

Ledge on Mount Willard

Crawford Notch NH

• With my love of exercise and exploration, I enjoy various forms of movement and mobility. Yet, amid these hikes, I found myself fascinated by images of stability– trees and flowers rooted in a range of landscapes, massive boulders haphazardly piled above the treeline, the neighboring mountains visible from the summit. I found something comforting about the reliability of tree roots as handholds, rocks as ledges, and ancient mountains as testaments to the longevity of subtly compelling beauty. Knowing that people return to these landscapes continuously, whether to climb mountains or marvel at them from below, urged me to identify the sources of stability in my own life, and to make sure that I maintain sure footing there.

Mount Willard Trail

Crawford Notch NH

Lion's Head

Mount Washington NH

• Completely by accident, we managed to time our expedition to coincide with Laconia Bike Week, an annual event in which thousands of motorcyclists gather from near and far to ride around New Hampshire for a week. The day we climbed Mount Washington was the same day that the auto road was hosting a biker-only "Ride to the Sky." Thus our five-hour, four-thousand-foot vertical ascent ended in the company of hundreds of Harley-Davidsons and their riders. Many of them were quite friendly, especially the fierce-looking man from Quebec who graciously took our picture, marveled at our accomplishment, and admitted to being quite scared during the steep, twisting, windy 7-mile ride up the mountain that leaves little to the imagination. It wasn't quite an experience of culture shock; if anything, the other hikers we met on the trail all shared a similar opinion– hikers and bikers each have a relatively healthy degree of obsession with a particular pursuit that rounds out our lives. And all of us agreed that the folks who ski in Tuckerman's Ravine– hiking up a snow-covered bowl prone to avalanches, making their own trails down slopes that can be almost vertical– are truly crazy.

"Ride to the Top"– A popular Laconia Bike Week event

Mount Washington NH

Bill, Claude, and I at the summit (6,288 feet)

Mount Washington NH

Above Tuckerman's Ravine

Mount Washington NH

Although swarms of bloodthirsty black flies added a significant degree of pain to the trip– my ankles were mercilessly nibbled upon all day– and the fatigue growing in legs, ankles, and feet wearied by some steep and challenging terrain gradually overtook the exhilaration of navigating the highest terrain in New England, the trip is one that Bill and I both appreciated deeply, and one in which the bragging rights (though important) are duly outdone by the friendship, patience, and perseverance manifested and shared during a full day on the mountain. As I continue to recover– whether from some sunburn, muscle soreness, or blackfly bites– I look forward to more opportunities to go walking in the woods with friends, and to continue reaching new peaks along some remarkable trails.