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| Articles: Mountaintops and January Rainstorms |
Posted by
Schizo on Tuesday, January 09, 2007 - 12:14 AM PST
Today is a day that is likely to break temperature records... it is 63 degrees in January in New Hampshire... a day that seems incredibly warm, even by this strangely warm winter's standards. I suddenly felt the urge to take this day and do something special with it. I live next to Mt. Monadnock - and I have not climbed it in about ten years. Since there has been almost no snowfall this year, and since it is so warm, I decided to climb it today before it decides to remember that it is winter and make the trail essentially impassible.
I got up this morning, and for a moment my heart sank. It was pouring rain. At first, I felt a surge of disappointment... I really wanted to climb the mountain... I have been on a quest to regain old parts of myself that I shed by the wayside and forgot about... I had a feeling that being on the mountain again would help... then I remembered another old part of myself - I love nothing more than to walk in the rain - I have not done that in a long time... why not kill two birds with one stone and hike the mountain in the rain? So I packed my daughter up and took her to her father's and set out towards the trail.
It was raining the proverbial cats and dogs as I started up the rocky woodland path. I had a warm fleece on with a waterproof jacket over it, but my jeans and bare head were quickly soaked. Parts of the path resembled a stream or lake more than something that was meant for walking, so I stepped from stone to stone, or pushed my way through the woods by the side of the trail to avoid soaking my boots too much. The rain was a little chilly, and smelt sweet like wood... I opened my mouth to it, and drank the drops from the sky... I felt very primal - very much at one with my surroundings. My legs, used to more sedentary activities, began to burn from the effort of the ascent, and my lungs tightened and started to wheeze a little as I exceeded their capacity (damn you, asthma!)
After maybe a half an hour of rain-soaked climbing, the downpour slowed and stopped... wearing two jackets in this unseasonable warmth had me a little overheated, so I shed the raincoat and tied it around my waist. But I was still too warm... the trail was getting seriously steep, and was starting to turn more into rock-climbing than just hiking... luckily, I was wearing a tanktop under the fleece, so I shed that as well and tied both jackets around my waist again. My tanktop was lowcut and tight. My skin was flushed with exertion, and my drenched hair lay on my shoulders and shed water down my arms and chest. I kept climbing.
The downpour had turned my trail into a rushing mountain stream. I picked my way carefully upwards, climbing slick and eroded rock formations that had been transformed into cascades. I grabbed at tree trunks and branches to aid my ascent, shaking the trees and causing them to rain on me... the cool water felt refreshing on my bare skin. I got my wind back as I cooled, and began to climb more vigorously, almost running up the mountain. The terrain got rockier and the trees grew more and more stunted. Things started to open out into clear areas that should have afforded a spectacular view, but all that could be seen was greyness, and wisps of cloud whipped about by the increasing wind. My skin grew cold, but the exercise had raised a fire at my core, so that even though my surface was numb, I was perfectly comfortable. I met a pair of men coming down the mountain... they grinned to see me there on the mountainside in January - soaked to the bone and wearing so little... "What month is it?" we joked. They warned me of the wind at the summit... "It's like the Arctic," they said... "I guess I'll have to put my jacket on then, huh?" I replied. I was starting to find patches of ice on the rocks... it pleased me to be there with my bare arms near the frozen patches. I put my hand on one and melted a groove in it.
Soon I broke free from the tree line. The ground was soaked and muddy... portions of the trail were completely flooded, and had to be circumnavigated. The mist was thick, so that I could hardly see the trail markers, and the wind was rough and brutal. Eventually, I put my fleece back on, sad to separate myself from the elements, but the fire inside me was starting to lose its edge in the savagery of the elements near the summit.
The further I climbed the rocky face of the mountain, the rougher the wind got. It was beyond brutal... there was something about the force of the air at that height that made me feel that I was not supposed to be there. I stood on the edge of a huge boulder in an open place, and leaned out into the gale... it held me at an unnatural angle, gusting to the point that I was rocked back on my heels. While climbing, I could not count on landing on my marks as I jumped - the wind would catch me and move me a little off course. Visibility was getting seriously limited - the trail was always hard to find near the summit, and was nearly impossible under these conditions. I heard voices in the wind... I was not sure for a while if it was the wind itself or someone nearby - I looked around me, and saw dark outlines of figures in the mist. They were shouting to each other... but the wind caught the voices and distorted them and made them terrible like itself - made them its own voice...
I got to a point where there was absolutely nothing protecting me from the full force of that terrible wind... I was so near the top, but I suddenly felt that I had no business going any further. I have experienced strong wind before - been outside in a hurricane... I love a strong wind... and I have experienced winds equally as strong as the one there on the mountaintop. But there was something in that wind... it is different at that height. I was an interloper... and incredibly insignificant... I had a feeling that this wind had the power to rip the life straight out of me without noticing or caring... I grew afraid - no, not afraid. There was no fight-or-flight instinct - no nervous jumpiness - no panic... I just felt, very strongly, that I was in the presence of something that was way too big for me... I recognized it as a force that could destroy me... and I knew that I needed to turn back and head down the mountain. I waited in the shelter of a low boulder for a break in the gale... I hunched down and felt the raw power sweep over my back, whipping my raincoat like a flag. When the wind lessened a little, I headed back down.
When I was younger, on this mountain, I would descend the slope at a run - outstripping even most of the boys. I was a kamikaze, as surefooted as a mountain goat, leaping from stone to stone, flying headlong down the path, not caring if I fell or not. I usually gained the bottom with bloodied knees and muddy hands. This time I was more cautious - the rain-drenched stones were slick, and rivers were still tumbling down the steep parts of the path. And, I was starting to feel the extra ten years of age I had gained... my joints were not as resiliant as they once were, and my knees protested the strain of carrying my body down the rocky mountainside. And the wind had taken some starch out of me - I started to realize how very tired I was.
As I reached the tree line, the sun started to brighten through the mist, and as I descended, it broke out altogether. Unfortunately, I was too low to get a good view of the surrounding countryside, but I was not climbing for the view, so I didn't mind. I picked my way downwards, sliding down rocks and grasping trees and branches. My legs were shaky with exhaustion, and I knew I would probably feel this hike tomorrow - after all, I am a 30 year old mom who lives a mainly sedentary lifestyle - a hike like this is a bit much for me, but I find myself pushing myself like this every so often... sometimes I just refuse to accept my natural limitations.
I am back now (obviously) and I am very tired. But I am very glad I decided to do this... I don't think I will ever forget this day - the gale wind, the cascading stream/path, the drenching rain, the juxtaposition of my bare skin and the ice - it was an epic day...
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