After our performance in Dover, NH, Amanda Rogers, Mike Matta, and Mark Fortier and I rose with the dawn and journeyed to yonder White Mountains.
Concerned that our caravan remained ill-prepared for our skyward journey, we stopped in the village of Hanaford, where we procured additional rations of indigenous foods such as “granola bars” and “Recess Peanut Butter Cups.” These foods served merely as a supplement to our normal foodstuffs of “hummus,” gifted to us on an earlier occasion by the Tribe of Two Sheiks. Though satisfied with our new supplies, we also happened upon Mr. Dunkin, who, against our better judgement, seduced our morning appetites with sweet breads and desert pastries. I cannot deny they were delicious, but with time against us we had little time for pleasantries and, after an initial indulgence out of courtesy, we politely excused ourselves from his fragrant abode.
Finally satisfied, we proceeded to base camp and readied our gear for the assent. The landscape was tranquil and lush with autumn’s palate. Enchanted, we gave little heed to our casual suspicion that at higher altitudes a frostier environ may await us. Thankfully, some small voice of conscience compelled us to pack a few valuable items which saved us from harm. Indeed, as we climbed, soil gave way to snow, and golden leaf to alpine bough.
The path was steep, and the temperature dropped rapidly, yet we persevered, donning additional garments as needed. Finally, near exhaustion, our spirits were buoyed as the trees gave way to reveal a new terrain. Astonished, we found ourselves in a magical, skyward universe apart from natural world of forests and animals, nor any artifact of modern civilization. Our new world was one of cobbles, ice, and frosted stones.
Circumventing a scant nestle of shrubby pines, we even discovered a small, frozen pond. With exhaultation we careened across the ice, delighting in this unexpected encounter, while at the same time resting our legs from the climb.
Refreshed, we strode the remaining path to the summit. Thus seated on the treeless mountaintop, our eyes poured over the impossible ribbons of distant, curled Earth below. From this vantage I took a moment to send message back to civilization via a mechanism akin to carrier pigeons of old. Its “tweet” was duly received. This gave me pause, as I pondered the technological powers of humankind posited in ironic contrast to the wonders beheld in the absence of humanity’s reckless footprint.
After a quick meal on the crown of Mt. Eisenhower, we made our slow descent. It was a difficult journey to base camp, but the required levels of concentration to navigate the ice had the effect of contracting time, so that we quickly found ourselves back in the forests below. Upon completion of our journey, our bond as fellow spirits dedicated to exploring new frontiers and, indeed, the very boundaries of human endurance, was sealed, and we vowed to reconvene in the Spring of next year for another expedition into the heart of hither-to unknown countries.
