My friends, you would have loved this one – a hike up Mt Jefferson (http://hikethewhites.com/jefferson.html) in New Hampshire – 5712 feet high (1741 m), in pretty dismal weather (no views whatsoever), scrambling up steep walls (http://www.naturalbornhikers.com/Mountjefferson/mtjeff%20yellow%20blaze.jpg), dinging your knees left and right, completely losing your mind, coming up with Petraisms (also left and right) and still keeping our spirits up – and to top it off along the way admiring botanical sensations – yes we do stop and smell the roses! There really were no roses, but we met some regulars from our staple of New England flora, and again, being affected by altitude sickness and my regular mountain craziness that does set in the minute I am allowed outdoors, I started to promptly butcher their names – the blue-beaded lily became the blue-balled lily, and kinick kinick (http://www.humeseeds.com/kinick1.jpg), a Native American name for the bearberry groundcover (no idea what it was doing up on Mt Jefferson) become the Nickity-Nack. There were some amazingly beautiful sections in the forest that reminded of Fangorn Forest in the Lord of the Rings, and made us feel as we had been transported to a distant land.
Wait until you see the pictures from this outing - up on the summit, the temperature was a balmy 43 degree Fahrenheit (between 5 and 0 degree Celsius - and that is without the wind chill factor) and gale-force winds of close to 60 mph (close to 100 km/h). It was tough to stay vertical and the freakin’ slippery rocks did not improve conditions, AT ALL. It was an adventure of the best kind, and we were actually rewarded on our way down the mountain when said staunch winds blew all the clouds away and provided us with absolutely stunning views of the White Mountains.
As usual I had an attack of silliness, and seemed to be delighted by just the most trifling of events, such as an unexpected and quite joyful reunion with a Tupperware that had been living up in Franconia for quite some time. I also tend to get a little cantankerous on these outdoor events, and a lively discussion ensued at lunch when I claimed that an almond was not a nut (which it isn’t and I was right).
Here we are – Rick, Steph and I, sitting slightly comatose on the couch, trying to figure out how we could possibly hike a 4000-footer tomorrow without putting up any effort whatsoever. (“It’s called an elevator”, Rick just said, and has given numerous hints as to the despicable shape we are in.) None of the hikes still left on the 4000-footer list are easy by any means, and unless we find a miracle recipe to get totally fit and pumped over night, there is NO WAY we are doing a 10-mile hike tomorrow (“We are fit and pumped” Stephanie just said; I have no idea what she is talking about). From the pathetic looks of us, I seriously question if I am even able to go upstairs to my bedroom, I may have to ask for assistance.
Of course, I have an excuse – I have an impediment that can explain my sub-par performance – a bone bruise in my right heel, which I of course, brought on myself by some stupid behavior, such as running 12 miles last Sunday along the Charles River in running shoes that should have been retired some time ago. I don’t know what possessed me to do that, but it was just one of those days when you feel you could tear out trees with your bare hands – which is always a bad sign. One minute you feel like Super Woman and the next you are limping through your living room.
There is not much more to report this week – my office was a revolving door for pharma and biotech companies (5 in three days) and after one more power day this coming Monday, I will be able to come up for air and take more than a couple of cleansing breaths. Summer tends to be a little on the lighter side of things, and I have a couple of great projects planned that I really look forward to.
There was a culinary highlight this week –a visit to the swanky Grill 23 in Boston’s Back Bay (http://www.grill23.com/#Main1) – fabulous New York Steak and some pretty scrumptious desert and ice wine – life was good.
I am now saying adios my friends; the foot massager is waiting, and maybe another glass of cold beer.
Stay tuned from more tales from the mountains.
Love,
PetJ
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