Mike and I went for a quick hike on Sunday. Getting there wasn't quick though. We drove all the way up to route 302 in the White mountains. It took about three and a half hours and then we had to search for a place to hike because we didn't plan very well. Mike thought he knew where he wanted to go because he's been going up on a few day long hikes with his buddies the past few weekends. But he wasn't driving and he has a really bad sense of direction. So we ended up driving around for a bit before we picked a place. I haven't been to the white mountain area since I was a teenager, so I was no help, it all looked the same to me.
We ended up on the same trail Mike had been on a couple weeks earlier. Only a mile or so up the trail, though, we hit a river that was totally uncrossable with the dogs. Because, of course, we had all seven chihuahuas with us. How practical. Anyhow, Mike still wanted to cross after several failed attempts. I was up to my knees in white, rushing water. Standing upon slimy rocks in my bare feet and clasping to the harnesses of my dogs. They could make about half to one third of the way across before they encountered water that was rushing so furiously there was no way they could make it across.
So, basically, I refused to go any farther. If it was this hard to get across the first time, while we still had plenty of energy, what would it be like on the way back when we were exhausted and the sun was going down? The water was totally freezing as it was, and the dogs were already soaking, having fallen in and caught themselves on rocks, thankfully, several times by now. Mike thought I was being a picky bitch by making us drive to a different trail. But it's instances just such as that, where you know it's not the best idea, but it would be a pain in the ass to switch courses at such a late date, so you go ahead regardless of the possibly disastrous consequences. I didn't want to end up the late spring version of the people who freeze to death trying to climb Mount Washington in early March. I finally convinced him that I was turning back, with, or without him. So we trekked back to the car, loaded the dogs back up, and went in search of an alternate trail.
We finally found one nearby and I couldn't say much about it since this was already the second pick. There were no white water rapids crossing the trail at least. It was, however, straight up about two thousand feet. Maybe it wouldn't have seemed so strenuous if we hadn't had to race the sun to the top and back down again. Because we got there so late (bad planning, again) we had to hurry not to get stuck in the dark. Mike was super intent on getting to the summit. He's recently obsesses with hiking all the four thousand foot peaks in New Hampshire. One of his ole friends who lives around here is really into hiking. He hiked the whole Appalachian trail, like, twelve years ago. And Mike really respects him and is therefore adopting his tendencies after spending quite a bit of time together. And don't get me wrong, that's awesome, I just wish I didn't have to adopt those tendencies as well. I thought we were just simply going on a nice, leisurely hike. Nothing too crazy. Boy, was I mistaken. It was totally breathtaking. But not without working for it.
I shit you not, this is snow that was on the trail. It was getting towards the top, and it was pretty high up, and only late May, but it proves how high we must have been. There were places with even more. And Mount Washington, that could be seen across the way, was still covered with it.
This is a sign post for the trail we took. It was called mount Hale. It was two miles up and two miles back. But there was hardly more than ten feet of semi level ground at any one point. My legs felt like noodles.
There wasn't much of a view from the top unless you stood on that pile of rocks. Even then it could have been better after that crazy-ass hike up there. There should have been a golden unicorn at the top that flew you down to your car upon its back. But all there was was a big pile of rocks.
The best thing was that my dogs were so freakin tired from hauling up this mountain that they slept all the way back and all the next day. They were too tired to even bark at my brothers sitting on the couch when we got home. I wish I could devise some sort of pulley system to drag them up a mountain once a day. They would be so much better behaved. I don't think I could deal with that much of an incline on a daily basis. It really takes a toll on the knees.
Anyhow, I'm done with this post. I've been coming back to it for days. It's haunting me. So that's it, hiking pictures.
