48-3-6

It's not a padlock combination, nor a mathematics puzzler, nor a stat line from any sport I know. Rather, these three numbers each anchor a set of memories, insights, and pursuits that comprised an adventurous Memorial Day weekend in good company.

48: The Appalachian Mountain Club recognizes four dozen peaks in New Hampshire's White Mountains that exceed 4,000 feet in elevation, and in 1957 established a club comprised of those who have successfully summited each of these peaks. Some incredibly ambitious, experienced, and mildly fanatical hikers have done them all in the course of a single season (even winter). Others take their time. As summer unofficially opened last Saturday, I joined a group assembled by one of my friends to celebrate her completion of this effort, which began in her youth when she accompanied her father for his last round of peaks on the list. On a splendid day– mild, sunny, with gentle breezes and a few passing clouds– father, daughter, and friends not only climbed two peaks, but celebrated and shared the successful pursuit of a goal situated in the context of family and a love of the natural world. Inspired by the event whose significance we honored with our presence, a number of us spoke of setting the same goal for ourselves, though without a firm deadline.

Guess who bagged her 47th and 48th peaks?

Claude makes it official: the USGS marker at Osceola (4,340').

Footloose, blister free, and beyond content.

3: By my reckoning, I can credit myself with three of the 48 peaks on the 4,000-footer list: Oscoela and East Osceola (above) and Washington (last summer). Over the course of the three-day weekend, I roamed through three states, reached three peaks, and spent about three hours on each ascent and descent. Along with a good Jesuit friend and hiking buddy (who gladly allowed me to bring him on a mountainous expedition for the third consecutive year), in strolling around Burlington for roughly three hours, I've decided that it's my favorite little city in New England... a small yet vibrant downtown, fabulous views of Lake Champlain, a charming state university campus, and a good feel that transcends words. If it weren't more than 200 miles from Worcester, I'd probably go there more often.

Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks from Burlington VT

Church Street Marketplace, Burlington VT

6: On Memorial Day itself, I completed a hiking goal of my own– reaching all six state high points in New England during my regency assignment in Worcester. Reaching back to a May Day summiting of Massachusetts' Mount Greylock with a dear friend in 2010, and attaining the three highest (and two most challenging) peaks in the company of the same Jesuit companion, it's been a good two-year journey. This quest has taken me to some lovely and isolated corners of New England, and also provoked no small degree of concerned inquiry from elder Jesuits in my community in the weeks before each trip. "What sort of equipment will you need?" (Just hiking boots, comfortable clothing, adequate food and water, modest first aid gear, and a good sense of humor.) "What about wild animals?" (Toads are common but hard to spot; bears lurked unseen; a juvenile bull moose was more than happy to make our acquaintance.) "What if you slip and fall?" (Depends on where you are. You might land on the very rock you're trying to traverse, or you could skitter down the steep pitches of a knife-edge summit ridge and plummet all the way to the hereafter.)

Mount Mansfield VT: Summit Ridge view

Mount Mansfield VT summit (4,393')

Impending doom: rain above treeline.
Advice to hikers: If you can tell that the rain is coming,
it's time to head downstairs!

In any case, checking off my 6th high point– Vermont's Mount Mansfield– occurred without the fanfare and triumph of a grueling ascent like Katahdin or Washington, but far exceeded the simplicity of tree-bounded strolls in Rhode Island and Connecticut. The mile-long summit ridge that we walked from treeline to summit, through fragile alpine vegetation vulnerable to footsteps yet nearly impervious to frigid temperatures and howling winds, induced a humbled, contemplative silence as I beheld a full circle of 50-mile visibility. The majestic progress of a rain shower– the only one I encountered all weekend– across the Adirondacks and Lake Champlain became a literally ridiculous and short-lived menace as its path carried it to the summit from which we beheld its approach for a little too long. "What happens when it rains up in the mountains?" I could hear my brothers asking back home. (Well, if you're above treeline, the rain doesn't quite fall... it hurtles freely.)

Greeley Pond Trail, White Mountain National Forest NH

There's plenty to tackle between now and Labor Day: a workshop in New Orleans, a conference in Baltimore, two conferences at Holy Cross (one I'm helping to organize, another for which I've submitted a session proposal), my annual 8-day retreat, sustenance of life-giving friendships and fraternal bonds, and no shortage of mountains in this lovely corner of the country. Having kicked a big item off my bucket list, I'm grateful for this strong and memorable start to the "academic summer," and eager to keep hiking the trails that lie before me.