Hiked on February 10, 2024

Yes, I have been hiking.  Mostly, though, it has been in the form of long, flat, walks.  Life is chaotic sometimes. Our youngest is wrapping up high school.  The other boys are living their post-college lives. Al is reaching the final stretch of her doctorate and I am trying to spend time with everybody while doing my own work and studies.  It is hard to get away in circumstances like these.  Once you add in the puppy, things become even more difficult.  Allison says I need to have at least seven projects going on at one time or I will get depressed.  She probably isn't wrong.

We did get out with the dog to do Mount Watatic.  It is always the best.  I didn't write it up, though.  After all, I already have and the addition of Al and Carrigain--yes, we named her after a mountain--didn't add enough variety for yet another post.  This weekend, though, we climbed over South Sunapee to catch the views off White Cliff Overlook.  It was proof that there is plenty to do and see on a relatively short hike.

It is different now that the NH48 list is over for us.  In previous years during the Eliot Church Winter Retreat weekend, we would find something relatively famous.  We hiked the Hancocks one year.  Last year we went up Mount Kearsarge. This time, we just picked a trail.  Our criteria had to do with not having hiked recently ourselves along with concerns about how far we could big the pup.  In the end she was fine and we were OK.

The weather--while beautiful--was not ideal for winter hiking.  The sun was out and the temperature was in the low-50's.  During the 3.5 hours we were out, the snow developed the sort of "mashed potato" consistency that we usually try to avoid.  Maybe it is because we were out of practice, but we didn't quite gear up the way we should have in the slush.  Gaiters would have been nice snowshoes would have been better.  We left both in the car.

That said, the hike was worth it.  It was about 5 miles round trip and--like many New England trails--started steep and got steeper.  Total elevation for the route we chose was somewhere over 2,000 feet, so we certainly felt the incline! There were few places to stretch our legs so we put our heads down and soldiered on.  I will say, though, when we lifted our heads we were treated with lovely views of the forest and--through the trees--glimpses of the mountains around us.

The trail was well-blazed (orange on Newbury Trail mostly until the very end when it switched to white). With the dog leash attached to my belt, I helped Carrigain work out how to participate in our little team. She is not ready to go off-leash in a place like this and--honestly--I am comfortable following the rules, which frequently require leashes and poop-bags. The challenge is keeping her from wrapping herself--and me--around a tree.  This is easily done.  It just takes practice. She was a trooper.  It is different with a dog and I am not sure if we will be doing any big climbs together soon. Half-day walks with her are fine, though.  Al and I can do the big stuff on our own.

The view, itself was nice, too.  Of course it wasn't like the ones on the "lists".  It felt less grand and more domestic.  However, given the snow conditions and the company, I would say it was a success. I will take it.  In fact, I might do it again.

Hiked on April 15, 2023

It is fun to get to make a new post!  Through the late winter I was mostly revisiting old hikes that I had already written up.  Of course I made videos for most of them--which was different--but I just placed those vids with the older weblog entries.  This hike, however, was a new one.  Also...it was about a week late.  We tried it the week before and the water was high.  Instead of risking advanced wetness, we turned around and hit Hedgehog instead.  Hedgehog is always a winner.

We changed strategies for this attempt.  Instead of parking in the Hedgehog/Potash lot we pulled over next to an access road that avoids the stream.  We were not the only ones, either.  There weren't many of us on the trail, but those that were took this little detour.  It isn't "cheating" of course. It feels a bit strange to be off the regular route.  That said, when we have done this in the past--as with Carter Dome--it made the journey more interesting.  In this case--having hiked a bit of the other way--I think it was a lateral move.

There are a number of Potash Mountains in northern New England by the way.  The wood on this and other similarly named mountains (and lakes and streams) was used  to produce a variety of potassium salts that were--and still are--used in products we use today.  When I was in high school I was taught to pronounce this word with a long "o" sound.  Of course, since the word derives from one of the earliest methods of obtaining these salts--soaking then burning wood in a pot--the short "o" is fine.  My US History teacher Steve Morris would not approve of me going rogue like that. Therefore it's the o-sound of potassium in his memory for me.
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This video is one of the shortest I have done.  This is not a reflection of how I feel about the walk!  The hike was lovely and the view was excellent.  It is just that I didn't have much to say.  I didn't have any special insights.  Nor were the views all that different from what I had seen in other places.  Allison and I have hiked quite a few mountains now. I, in particular, have been exploring the Sandwich range and its environs.  Many of the peaks in the distance seem like old friends.  I could see Hedgehog, Chocorua, the Sisters, Passaconaway, and Whiteface, among others.  All of those were good memories.  Some new mountains appeared--like "the Captain" and Green Cliffs.  Both of those require bushwhacking to the summit.  So I think I will enjoy them from afar.

I would recommend the trip to Potash.  Just don't climb it right after Hedgehog.

In my previous post I wrote a bit about the "whys" of the process of making youtube videos.  You should probably check that out for more information.  That said, the reasons  are pretty basic.  One is that they provide a creative outlet for me. They are a way to generate a dialogue with nature and with others who might be interested in the experience.  Also, this experience is a bit of an experiment into the possibilities for spiritual communities, who will increasingly find themselves in need of creative ways to reach out beyond their doors.

In addition to the previous post, you might be interested in the reasoning behind the initial project or my attempt at a method for sabbath walking, which underlies a lot of this work.  

However, what I would like to do in this post is share some videos, talk about my motivation to make them, and discuss a little about what I have learned from them.  I will be going in reverse chronology--most recent to least recent--as it may help to set where I am now before talking about where I have been.

Mount Watatic in Winter:
​This video is fairly typical of what I have been trying to do.  The format is fairly well established at this point.  It opens with a description of why I am hiking the trail and what I--or we--hope to see.  I also talk about my relationship with the walk.  In this case I am climbing my favorite mountain. Earlier hikes up Mount Watatic helped me to refine my thoughts on mindful walking.

Technically there are still problems.  While the music has improved a bit, I am still not a great musician.  There are compression issues and sound issues, too.  These are all problems that could be fixed with money...which I do not have.  I am using my phone for all the elements of recording.  I am using a fairly basic editing platform (Filmora) which is probably best suited for end-of-year high school slideshows.  The musician is free.  Also, I was not terribly satisfied with much of the footage I recorded initially.  It took quite a bit of work to tell this story.

Mount Kearsarge (South) in Winter:

This video was fun to make because I had the company of my wife Allison!  She did some recording of me and I could also record her.  The addition of people--including an anonymous fellow traveler--gives the video more motion to carry the story.  Also, while Watatic is important to me, one could argue that Kearsarge has more general importance. There were a lot of human (historical and artistic) resources for this video, which helped.  The view from Kearsarge is also one of the best in New England.  

By the time I got to this video I felt I had hit a wall technically.  The music needed to be updated. You will hear some of these same cuts in every video as we go back in time.  Why bother with music?  It helps to move the story along.  There are walks-and-talks that need a little something sometimes. There are moments when the view is the story and some framing is necessary. That said, it went together fairly quickly, which was nice. 

Tecumseh in Winter

This was a fun one.  I recorded it just a couple days before the Kearsarge hike so many of the points in that video are relevant here.  I had a friend with me--Andy Linscott--and we knocked out one of our favorite 4,000 footers.  Here we had the challenge of too many people, which made recording awkward at times.  For some reason editing was a BEAST.  You will note a couple spots where the sound gets clipped a bit.  I will say that after this video I tried to develop a method for layering the various elements together; completing one layer before starting the next.  The system is imperfect but having one was probably the adjustment that made the Kearsarge and Watatic edits go more smoothly. 

Finally, this marks--I think--the ideal length for one of these videos.  Keeping it Between 8 and 9 minutes tells the story before tedium sets in.  I feel this way about sermons, too.  However, it seems easier to stay tight when you have another hiker with you.  My solo climbs are all a bit longer.

Poet's Seat, Deerfield, MA

I had the most fun making this video.  It is different from the others in that the hike, itself is relatively unremarkable.  Instead I spent time talking about the poet Frederick Tuckerman. He is relevant to the walk.  Things don't always work out that way so I took advantage of the opportunity  You will note there is no music in this.  My one assignment from my son was to record voice overs instead of leaving long stretches of relatively silent (or scored) walking. Thankfully Tuckerman had enough poems to fill things in.  

Also, this was the first time I used a tripod mount for my phone.  This enabled me to film myself sitting and walking. It feels ridiculous while you are doing it.  However, it does help to give motion to the narrative.  This is a worthwhile practice...if you can avoid other people.

Starting Seeds and Hiking High Ledges

Before these videos--and you are welcome to look--my channel was mostly either panoramic views of mountains I climbed, sermons I wanted to share, or music from our various music ministries.  I think one can also find some of the earliest pandemic worship services hosted here before we got the church youtube page updated.  That was fun too.  The services were even necessary. I do feel, though, that the two videos below mark the beginning of something new. 

Like the pandemic worship videos, they are self-contained and internally consistent.  The goal is not to record something and say "look what is going on out there." Instead they say "look what is happening right here."  That is an important distinction between, say, an edited youtube worship video and a recording of a live-streamed worship video. The first has an immediacy.  The second is a document of something that happened in the past.  With these nature vids I am looking for immediacy. They differ from the pandemic material in that while they may be spiritual or even worshipful in some ways, they are not beholden to the traditional ideas behind those concepts.  They are meant to have their own patterns and pacing because both the media and the context are different.

I am putting these two together because they show some of the same challenges.  They are both too long,  The planting video in particular drags in the middle and is saved by my cat.  There are too many musical interludes in the hiking video and there is a sort of "reflection" bit that goes on too long at the end of both of them.  I think that somewhere in my subconscious was the form of a traditional worship service.  I wanted a "sermon" of some kind. 

​Still, I like them.  They are watchable and they represent an effort to do something creative and new.

Hiked on February 14, 2023

This was a spontaneous hike.  Thursday's weather looked hideous as usual and I wanted to see the sun!  I decided, therefore, to hit Route 2 and head over to the High Ledges Audubon Wildlife Sanctuary on a Tuesday to catch the view.  I had been saving it for a perfect day...and this was pretty close.  The loop I chose was around 5 miles and featured an undulating landscape with a small mountain, a fire tower, a valley, and some hills.  The snow was fairly compact to start and then it got loose as the air warmed it up.  This made footing a bit of a challenge...and I brought out the micro spikes.

I could use the workout though.  There has been quite a bit going on.  The church is wrestling with some big questions.  Finally, I have a few weeks of sabbatical starting soon.  I will give thought to the church's questions then and add in a few of my own....

I say all this now because hikes like this are a series of small decisions.  This week on a Tuesday I decided to get up and get going.  I decided where to go.  There were all kinds of micro decisions that helped me to focus on the day. How would I get there? Would I do both the out-and-back to the tower or just the ledges themselves? Was this a good use of my time? How would I deal with the vagaries of weather?

Also, on this trip, I decided to do some more extensive filming.  It has been a while.  Many of you are aware of my interest in 21st century communication.  This weblog is part of that.  My podcasts are as well. For a long time I was into making youtube videos of sermons, church news, meditations, music and--during the plague--entire worship services.  Sometimes this meant collaboration.  At other times I worked on them by myself.  I got into it through a series of small decisions that brought me joy.  A series of small decisions may bring me back...or maybe they come to nothing.  It is too early to tell.

If we use the model of "Sabbath Walks" that I write and talk about here and elsewhere, all of these endeavors--these choices made and sometime pursued--fall into the category or "frame" of dialogue or creativity. On this hike, for example, the choice to film meant stopping and starting; recording sections of trail, talking to the camera while imagining future viewers, editing after getting home while re-living the excursion, and improvising a soundtrack.  I had to make decisions about equipment.  If I keep doing this there will be more decisions to make as some things may need replacing.

There are many little steps. After all to even get to the point of recording there was research. There were skills that could use some improvement through repetition.  That said, I am learning. While this decision may not lead to anything more, it just might...probably in surprising ways.  After all, nobody thought the skills I learned from my "hobby" would help hold online worship together during the early months of Covid.  Ultimately we found somebody more skilled. Of course, nobody thought that the skilled person we found would be a beloved former member of the D&D Club and the Snow Posse who had moved away.  Decisions keep on rippling out, don't they?

Anyway, I have included the video.  I think it is pretty good for a first attempt!  I also started a Sabbath Walks YouTube page that you can subscribe to to get notifications.  Just click on the video above and hit "subscribe." I may decide make more of these moving pictures.  We shall see.  Both I and the church are looking for ways to communicate.  Perhaps this is the way.

Here is to your decisions and dialogues.  I hope you have found something to bring the sabbath "walk" to life regardless of what it is or how you go about it.  Many blessings on your travels until next time.  I will see you out on the trail.

Hiked on February 2, 2023

Somewhere along the way of this project, it appears that at least a few people got the impression that I am particularly rugged or outdoorsy.  I am not of course. I am just a suburban dad transitioning to empty-nester with a bad back and sore knees.  I prefer a room and a bed--preferably my own--to a tent or sleeping platform. It is just that I find the Transcendent in nature, and that helps get me through the week.

I have been doing some workshops on Sabbath Walks.  I have been pitching them as "mindful walking" workshops because the word "sabbath" appears to make some folk uncomfortable.  Maybe it is because "sabbath" is a religion-word.  I like it better, though, "mindful" is way too broad.

Anyway, It is at these events--and the conversation around them--that I have noticed this disconnect.  People will come up me to say it is all very interesting...but they cannot go on a big hike.  Usually this is for physical reasons, which I totally get.  The only issue is that I am not talking about hiking.  I am talking about walking and even that has more to do with sitting.  The process is all about perspective and intention.  Are you paying attention to the world around you?  Are you letting your experience influence your understanding through reflecting on your context?  Then you are more than good.

Actually I haven't gone on many big hikes lately.  Work has gotten in the way.  So has the weather.  I do get out every week but all of my Sabbath Walks in 2023 have been in Massachusetts.  It is a good thing that we have so many great opportunities to get out in nature here!  Yes, it will be hard to cultivate "likes" in the same way when the views are less dramatic and the physical effort may also be.  That said, I have enjoyed immersing myself in the land close to home. 

Some of the best hikes lately have been repeats.  I trundled up Mount Watatic again and again.  The Graces and the Crow Hill Ledges still stand out.  One of the best walks I had was my usual four-mile round-trip stroll downtown...but at night.  This made all the difference. 

What I really want to talk to you about though, is the Assabet River Wildlife Refuge.

I have to say that ​I only recently really clued into its existence.  I went over there because the weather in New Hampshire was turning dangerous and I also had the need to find something more accessible for a group Sabbath Walk in the spring.  As I mentioned earlier, people think that these walks need to be challenging.  They do not.  I was--and am--searching for places where a person could walk a few feet to find a pretty place to sit. If they wished, they could move on for a more challenging workout...but they wouldn't have to.  When you are in a group you need both "easyish" and "hardish" options, so everybody gets what they want or need.

Now, on this hike  I had expected to see wildlife...and I did.  What was surprising, though, was the large amount of evidence of previous human habitation! Many of the trails were unusually wide and there were patches of old, cracked pavement in places.  Also, right where I parked was the foundation of an old tavern dating back to 1700.  However,  the most remarkable thing was the proliferation of immense concrete bunkers tucked away in the forest.  Each had a massive metal door that was barred and locked like some dystopian Hobbit hole.  Since my trip I heard from friends who had been in one.  The description seems to fit as they appear bigger on the inside. The one they visited was vast, cold, and oppressive.

Now, I later learned that there were 50 of these bunkers in the park.  Therein lies a story. First, of course, this land was wilderness. Then it was occupied by native Americans. Then, as Europeans came to this continent, it was a neighborhood for a long time.  That is where the old tavern came in. Later Henry David Thoreau would pass through to visit friends.  In fact, it stayed a agricultural community until 1942.

Then, as the Second World War heated up, the land was seized by eminent domain.  The people were moved. There were about 100 of them and they claim their compensation was 10 cents on the dollar. Their houses and the tavern were destroyed.  In their place were  those big bunkers, to store ammunition for Fort Devens.  After a while this annex was sealed off and abandoned. Finally, in 2005, it was opened to the public.  When I told this story in church and asked if anyone had been there only my eldest son raised his hand.  His high school cross-country team ran there.  Otherwise it is a new park to pretty much everyone I know.

As you walk along its trails today there is all this evidence of the past.  There are so many layers of humanity.  Some of those layers tell peaceful stories of life lived in the usual ways.  Others tell stories of fear, displacement, and violence. 

Now, the story of this refuge can be read as a parable. With any good parable we have choices to make about how we approach it and where we see ourselves in it. We can imagine ourselves in the position of The Native Americans, or the early colonists, or the neighborhood right before the war...all of them swept away.  Perhaps instead we could see with the eyes of those massive bunkers stubbornly demanding our place in the midst of the wilderness. They are solid, powerful, obnoxious even…but largely irrelevant to the world moving around them.

Or…we could see ourselves in the refuge, itself; adapting to our current context to serve current needs and connecting to the ecosystem that sustains us.  Whatever we choose--and at times we have probably felt ourselves in all these categories with more besides--this walk reminds us of the fullness of time and the power of creation to alter our understanding of what "truth" is. 

It is a thoughtful place for a walk, or a sit, or a stand. I spent a couple of hours there.  Then I went to a bar and wrote the beginnings of a sermon--here is the podcast version--with this story as its inspiration.  That is what is supposed to happen on a sabbath walk.  There should be a physical and mental challenge, then a new insight gained and a dialogue created.  We make sense of our reality through reflection, after all.

\My step counter says I walked 8.5 miles and there was much more to explore. I will definitely be back there soon.

Thoreau actually wrote a poem about travelling though this area.  The Old Marlborough Road exists as a road outside the preserve, but inside it continues as a perimeter road to the park.  I hiked it.  It was mostly quiet, with a few strollers and fat bikers.  Anyway...here is the poem. It isn't necessarily one of his best, but it helps to give life to the people who used to live there. Also the page describes the area a bit. In my sermon I said the refuge is in Sudbury and Wayland.  Of course it is actually in Sudbury and Maynard. After twenty years living here my geographical references are still those of a Mainer.  By way of reparation, the link is to a Maynard historical site.

Update: ​I finally got around to making a video of my most recent hike here.  So if you are interested...here it is!

Hiked On January 12, 2023

One of my mentors in ministry told us that on his sabbath days he would put his canoe on top of his truck and drive it through the middle of town. Sometimes he would take his canoe fishing, which is what everyone assumed he was doing. Sometimes he would just paddle around and go home. Sometimes, though, he would drive his canoe to Bangor for a bagel and a coffee with friends...and maybe a trip to the seminary library.

He told this story to convey four things. First, that the people of Maine are all pantheists at heart. As a Mainer born and raised I can confirm that this is true. Second, that people may not always respect your "off" time but will do their darndest to respect your sabbath time. Third--and this is where the canoe comes in--in a town of pantheists, a canoe on your truck means you are fishing...and fishing is sacred. Finally, the lesson was that you are best off leaving the parish come sabbath-time.  That way folks will not be able to get in touch with you as easily.  Also--more importantly--you will be away from the things that draw you back to your labors.

On Thursday I concluded that I could probably clear a few homiletical cobwebs as well as partially arrest my downward slide in health and fitness by taking a good walk. Maybe I could shock myself back into action! I put my heavy pack on and drove back out to the Leominster State Forest.  There I  continued the loop that I started a couple weeks earlier.  The total hike was about 3.8 miles and 600ish feet of total elevation.  So not a big climb.  However, I am out of practice. My knees hurt at the end.

The thing about this loop up the Crow Hill Ledges is that it features a short, steep  section at the very beginning. I guess it could be at the end instead if one takes the loop the other way. I like to climb up rather than climb down, though.  So I always choose the hard part first.

​After that things roll a bit along a long ledge.  There are obscured views through the tree trunks that wouldn't be there the rest of the year.  On this day, though, many of them were still socked in a bit by rain and fog.  The crisp, clean wintery air had been replaced by, well...shoulder season weather. It felt like early spring.
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​2) Climbing New Hampshire's 48 4,000 Footers by Eli Burakian.

Actually there are more that 48 4,000 foot mountains in New Hampshire so--while the 48'ers like to pretend at objectivity--this list is subjective, too. This is the basic book for the task of hiking all those mountains. It contains suggested routes and maps. Maps are a plus, by the way. MacGray's book assumes you have separate maps on you--and you should--but it is nice to have these as well. I have used the routes in the book when planning. Most of the time I have taken the exact route. At other times I have modified my route using another book--in the honorable mentions--and/or those maps. The text is brief and to the point, which I like.

4) In High Places with Henry David Thoreau by John Gibson

This is the history book I was telling you about. It also has routes and maps! I am a big fan of Thoreau's writing--he will appear on a different list--and when I have managed to walk in his footsteps I have found this book to be indispensable. However, this is not a general book. The mountains picked are rather niche, thanks to the subject matter. Thoreau--who walked a great deal--needed to have spent some time writing about them in order for them to be included here. However, my readers will note the Thoreau-heavy blog posts for Katahdin,  Washington, and Wachusett. I gotta get back out to Greylock, and when I do...this book is coming with me.

5) 50 Hikes in Massachusetts by Brian White and John Brady

Yes, there are hikes right here in the Commonwealth. When I feel like heading out but do not know where to go exactly, this is the book I take. I used it as recently as Thursday when I went to Leominster State Forest. Pretty much any hike in Massachusetts I have taken has been planned using this. It has maps but I often diverge a bit. This has nothing to do with their quality! It has more to do with my confidence with lower elevation hiking. I do, however, plan those alternate routes in advance as well...and I have detailed maps. Spontaneity isn't always a good idea in the wild.

​Another great thing about this book is that it has many easier hikes. This, alone makes it worth having. Hiking doesn't have to be a toxic race to the highest, most dangerous peak. That is not very sabbath, after all...

 6) Field Guide to North American Wildflowers: Eastern Region by the National Audubon Society

​I picked this up out of envy. My brother Dan--who features largely in many of my posts--is a wildlife biologist. Hiking with him is a hobbit-like excursion where I follow him around as he identifies birds by their song, animals by their poop, and plants by their leaves, needles, bark, and roots. I wanted to get in to the game myself. What a great way to enhance one's dialogue with nature!

Anyway, I love this book. It takes a while to figure it out because it relies on the reader knowing at least the basics off what they are looking at. That said, I have enjoyed it during my sabbath breaks on smaller mountains. If you know anything from my various posts, sermons, and so on, you know that it is that it is OK to enjoy something you aren't good at. Also, I think it is helping me get better....

Honorable Mentions:

Here are two more that are deserving of note. The first is The 4,000 Footers of the White Mountains: A Guide and History by Steven Smith and Mike Dickerman. This thing is the Bible of the 48'ers. My wife swears by it. When I go off the suggested trail in the Burakian book, I always consult this. It only gets an honorable mention because I don't seem to use it as much. It is dense. There are no helpful maps. However, it has one big advantage that the other book does not; there is a winter description for each mountain. Had I consulted it before hiking Mount Jackson, I might have been more prepared for the icy ledge and the high winds that greeted me.

Finally, I wanted to mention the thin book entitled "Guide to the Wapack Trail" by the Friends of the Wapack. I have mentioned this trail before. It begins on Mount Watatic and runs to the Pack Monadnocks straight through some of my favorite landscape in the world. It is a long day hike--21 miles--or can be done in pieces. I would love to take a day and do it this year...

Anyway, that is all for now.  You got me through my morning! I hope your Christmas is going well...  :-)

HIKED ON NOVEMBER 14, 2022

Yesterday was "Thanksgiving Sunday" which is the Sunday before Thanksgiving.  It was lovely and peaceful and--at least for me--quite moving.  Today, however, I am on screech.  Thursday is actual Thanksgiving, then Sunday is the beginning of Advent.  There is so much to do.  All I see is a long string of tasks stretched out until December 26.  This is not unusual for any of us, particularly for clergy, so I am putting my head down and getting on with it...

That said, I did hike Mount Jackson and Mount Webster a week ago in a freak snow situation.  The weather--which was unseasonably warm--had turned on a dime.  Al got sick. I had a reservation in New Hampshire. All this added up to a very beautiful, very cold, very slippery hike!

There are plenty of things that I would do differently.  I would have perhaps not gone.  I would have done better research (I was planning on a different I hike with Al).  However, I did go.  I do not love snow but I have done quite a few winter hikes at this point.  I knew it would be gorgeous at the top and that the trails themselves would have a lot to offer.  The only thing that gave me any pause was that I was by myself.  With that in mind, I double checked my pack, put on my microspikes, and went on up.

It turned out that--while I passed two people heading down Webster--I was the only one hitting Jackson on this particular day.  It is a popular mountain.  It is rare to have it to oneself. The sound of the high wind in the trees and the rush of water under (and over) the ice created the background music to my solo climb as I negotiated some deadfalls and, of course, the icy stream crossings.  I was careful and took lots of breaks, too.

Finally, I reached the tree line.  What followed was a brief period of complete chaos!  I was pushed around by the wind.  I later learned that the wind chill put the temperature at -2 degrees Fahrenheit.   My hat almost blew off.  I got turned around and--most exciting--I fell and slid on the ice while trying to avoid the worst spot.  It was dangerous but--thanks to the speed of falling and the need to figure out what to do so as not to freeze to death--I kept moving.  In fairly short order I found my way to the peak and then started down toward Webster.

Those few moments of free-fall, though, became my reflection for Sunday.  Every once in a while I have the experience of a sermon or prayer coming to me in its whole form.  This was one of those times.  Collecting myself before trying to stand, the first few ideas came to my head.  We humans are always grateful for the peace--in this case an extremely dramatic and windy peace--after a fall.  Time stopped while I sat there on the edge of the earth.  All I experienced was the smallness of me and the vastness of what was around me.  Nature doesn't really care about you.  Sometimes that is properly frightening.  Sometimes it is liberating.

There are a lot of different ways to fall. Each time we are saved we crave welcome and assurance.  We are grateful for how we made it through the crisis or the climb.  We give thanks and praise the acts of kindness and love--from ourselves and others--that we experienced in the darkness.

​After taking that moment where I fell, the rest of the hike unfolded before me.  What a blessing to be alive on this dynamic planet!  I slowly brushed myself off and continued on to Mount Webster.

In a way there isn't much to say, except that the ridge between peaks was spectacular.  So, too, was the view--from a much more secure perch--off Mount Webster.  On the way down I passed a few more people sensibly just doing the smaller mountain.  None of them were by themselves.

I also witnessed a beautiful waterfall on the way down.  Snow really does its job on the landscape, making it feel other-worldly. This is our world, though.  That is another thing to be grateful for.

Winter hiking, itself, is beautiful.  Solo hiking is special and dramatic.  However, I will keep my solo winter hikes to the 52 With a View list and look for companions on the big mountains going forward.