A week after the harrowing sun stroked day on Whiteface, I returned to the trails in a far different setting…..cold and drizzly with no chance of grizzlies. My car joined the two others in the parking lot as I realized this would not be a crowded hike.

I soon entered a jungle like atmosphere as I started to question whether I was still in NH or had somehow been transported to some prehistoric rain forest.  Instead of my usual lookout for bears, I started to glance around nervously half expecting a dinosaur or wooly mammoth to come crashing around the corner.  The completely uprooted tree did little to alleviate my fears either..

I was jolted back to reality as I passed a couple small groups of hikers who were soggily making their way back to their lonely cars.  The hiking wasn’t hard besides the rain and I was making good time. It wasn’t long before I made it to the most disgusting spring I’ve seen this side of the Mississippi.

I quickly moved on before I could catch malaria and the evergreen trees started to make more and more of an appearance as I started climbing higher and higher into the mist.   After a slow grind up the muddy trail, I reached an oven and I started to regret that I hadn’t planned ahead and packed a roast.

I wasn’t entirely sure where I was at this point, so I whipped out my trusty white mountain hiking guide(ding ding) and saw I still had a bit of a ways to go before reaching the summit but that the hiking would be mainly flat from here on out.

I moved on and passed the last person I would see on the trails that day as I gave a wistful look back to the giant oven that was begging me to cook us a nice dinner.  I settled for a sip of water and made quick strides through the winding trail that was left before me until I finally came out on top at my destination…the summit.

I took my traditional photos at the summit before heading back down to the dry confines of my car and sped off in a trail of mud.  13 down, 35 to go!!