White Mountains, 2020
Seven miles didn’t sound like a long hike for a healthy and strong family of four, when planning a trip from a comfy, air-conditioned living room. But it was seven New Hampshire miles; I had forgotten those miles are different.
To hike the White Mountains in New Hampshire is to willingly choose to experience pain. Before my family and I started on the hike, I may have conveniently forgotten some of this truth, but my toes remembered all of it. Throughout the 3.8-mile descent down the jarring irregular ground, they painfully throbbed against the end of my worn out shoes. But there was no benefit to complaining; all there was to do was to focus on each step. One step after the other. And occasionally look up to notice the beauty of my companions, my surroundings and the magic of simply being here.
The White Mountains are named for the granite that refuses to decompose and remains in chiseled peaks against the bright blue sky. Here the earth feels more raw than in other places in the Appalachian range. In the thin, fibrous soil you can witness creation. As the lichen and moss grind against the stubborn stone, and as the irrepressible pine roots and branches carve out thin ribbons of green against the white stone, you see the ancient story of these earth makers.
Eight years ago here in the White Mountains I was completely humbled both physically and emotionally on a three day, two night hiking trip across the presidential traverse with good friends. I had strode into the experience confident in my strength as tested by running on flat roads and lifting weights in air conditioned gyms. I had come to support and celebrate my friendship with an amazing group of women, and all of our life changes and challenges. That was all eclipsed by the grueling nature of the hike, the down hills more taxing then the strenuous rock scrambles up hill. I learned quickly that a New Hampshire mile was longer than any Maryland mile I had experienced before. But the only way for us to get through the physical pain, terrifying weather and mental exhaustion was to take a deep breath and walk together one step after the other.
Within only a few days after returning home I had pledged to take my family to the Whites someday when the kids were older and stronger. Because in my seemingly inexhaustible, glass is half-full optimism, I had quickly forgotten the pain. I only remembered that the White Mountains of New Hampshire held beautiful challenges and breathtaking rewards.
So this year my family and I finally made it up a New Hampshire mountain. All of us needed time to be anywhere different than our house where we had been quarantined with each other for months and now are looking at month’s more of the same. These months have been at times both humbling and grueling. As we hiked up and down the mountain together we ran the gamut of joy, defeat, pain, fear and wonder. It was exactly as I remembered, only better.
The year 2020 will be remembered for a lot of things. One of them is that everyone and everything has been challenged, including our values, our perceptions, our future, our history and our neighbors. The indiscriminate swing of a virus has laid bare and exposed the raw faults and cracks of a country not fully ready to respond to the challenges. We are exhausted; this year is longer than any year we have experienced before.
But the lessons of the White Mountains remain the same. Carefully consider your path and companions. Avoid injury to self and others. Forward is the only option. Complaining is useless. You will remember and feel each step on this raw earth, so choose them wisely.
