Dan has climbed Mt. Washington a few times before, and wanted me to try it. There were boxes up there, y'know.
But that's not the injury!
Somewhere on the lower part I pulled a muscle or something in that nice tender area where your leg meets your nether region. You know, the kind that twinges all the way to your knee when you pull your leg up too far? But I didn't know that I was injured, really. I figured it was just one of those things that you can walk off. I had no idea just how hard it would be to lift that leg as we scaled the ravine. I slowly continued to climb while Dan searched for and retrieved the box, just to conserve energy for the rest of the climb. At the point that it seemed getting serious I had already gone so far that turning back and going down seemed the poorer choice. The biggest thing was to make sure we got either to the top or below the tree line before sunset. And then there were all those people coming down, assuring me that I was "almost there!" and out of the worst section.
I think most of them only did the ravine. After getting over the headwall, the rolling field of rocks and cairns doesn't look all that hard. You can see the top of the weather station peeking over the top. Dan had told me it was deceiving. This last half mile or so is like being on another planet. It's like a dream where once you start, the distance seems to lengthen ahead of you as you continue. It appears that you only have 5 cairns ahead of you, and after doing those, 5 more appear. The weather station disappears for a long time. I was concentrating on my every move so as to not hurt myself so badly that I'd put us in danger of getting stuck out there. Looking up to the crest can appear like those camera effects where the depth of field is lengthened in a tunnel-like motion.
Dan's gentle (but urgent) prodding to pick up the pace (HA!) helped as much as my own determination and sense of self-preservation. I've heard enough stories about that mountain to take it quite seriously. Most of the last third of the trip I used all fours. Sometimes you have to, anyway, but even in areas that Dan could hop rock to rock, I was very cautious and held the rocks with one hand while I hoisted my leg up with the other hand.
Finally finishing with a thud on the auto road, I was renewed. Down hill on the road would be a piece of cake. I walk relatively flat surfaces just fine, even with torn cartilage. (BTDT)
But Dan wanted to try to hitch a ride on a van, so while I cheerfully changed socks and put on my sneakers (cushioning) he found a van finishing up a "sunset tour" and he and the driver insisted that I take the ride. We had to wait a while, and being still in the cold air made me quite cold. I walked around the inside of the dark building just to keep moving. I must have looked uncomfortable in my stoic, stiff pacing, even though I was not grimacing or complaining at all. One of the men who attends the top of the mountain asked me if I was all right. I told him I was fine as long as I didn't have to lift my leg very high. So the guy interrupts with "Where's your gear?" Naturally, I say "What?" I do that when interrupted. The guy got testy and said, "WHERE IS ALL YOUR GEAR?!" He was being rather rude. I was dumbfounded. I didn't know why he was asking me this. I said, "My stuff is outside." Dan took over the 'splainin', but by then this guy was on a roll. He keeps asking, "Didn't you read the sign?" And he walks us over to the sign (in the dark) that tells the dangers of hiking unprepared. His tone was so condescending. What he didn't know was that Dan has hiked this mountain in different of weather conditions. I'd trust him with my life. We both had a complete set of dry clothes and extra footwear, hats, neck warmers, earmuffs, flashlights. Dan carried all the heavy stuff: coats, tent, first aid kit, etc. This guy was heaping insult on us, especially on Dan, with his attitude. He hands Dan a card with all the same stuff as his SIGN and struts off. I felt like he was blaming Dan for taking me up and getting me injured, and putting us both at risk. And, yah, I think I felt like he was disgusted with us and I was feeling all of my age.
I was taken aback with his attitude. All I can remember saying was, "Boy, that was helpful." I was already feeling kind of bad for Dan because I took so long to get up there. I was wishing we'd never stopped and that I was walking on the autoroad or one of the easier trails, heading back to my Jeep.
Dan read the card and then said, "Oh, yeah, like giving anyone this at the TOP does anything! I already know all this. We have our gear. And _professional athletes_ can pull a groin muscle. Don't feel bad. You did wonderful, whether you realize it or not. I don't know what his problem is."
But I did feel bad. I felt comfortable with myself and how I handled the challenge, but totally naive as to how strenuous the trip was going to be. And we only found one box. (But that's okay! It was stamped by our wonderful Wanda and there was a message from a skier who had found it by accident. Two people in two years before us, so only one had actually gone looking for it and found it.)
I was disappointed that the store was closed.
The ride down was relatively fast and interesting, but COLD. I was wishing I was walking, or that I had carried my dry clothes in and changed before getting in the van. I was feeling a little like a loser and too embarrassed to ask for a little heat. The people on tour (2) had the driver stop a few times for pictures of the fabulous sunset. There were two others in the van that had misjudged time and had nothing much with them and were getting a ride down.
The driver took us to our car, and we paid him well, enough for 3 people taking the whole tour. He told us lots of stories, and he has given free rides to people in trouble. It was fair, and he was a prince. He was not at all like the snot in the observatory.
I can't stand people who think they know so much and don't bother to find out the whole story. I can't stand people who revel in feeling better than others, or kick someone when they are down. I can't stand it when I let them get the better of me and I feel badly.
Screw him. On with the story...
I didn't start to feel like I had done okay until I was at work on Tuesday, and I told a few people about the climb. It took us somewhere between 7 and 7.5 hours, including the stop at the mid-point to look for a box, which was easily a half hour stop. Someone said, "Well, average time is six and a half hours, so you didn't do too shabby!!!" I looked up the info on the net, and the trip is rated to take 6.2 hours, with no extenuating circumstances.
Very cool. This was one of the best ever letterboxing hikes I've ever done. And after sleeping in a tent that night _like a stone_ my leg only really pulled uncomfortably while I climbed into the Jeep. It ached a little for a few days. Yes, it was hard and yes, I was injured. I remember now a seemingly innocent slip on the early trail that probably caused the strain. But I'm applying for the Purple Heart for perseverance, especially in regards to the insult to injury I received at the top.
So, what say you? And to whom shall I email my address? :_)
Mary (RI)
----- Original Message -----
From: HIkrgirlz
To: letterboxing
Sent: Friday, September 05, 2003 2:11 PM
Subject: [LbNA] Purple Heart box - Where are you?
Hello out there, Was wondering where the Purple Heart box is. Would like to get on the list to receive it. I already posted the injury (torn ligaments in ankle). There is someone that has emailed me wondering if I have it. Thanks, HIkrGrlz
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