Monadnock in the clouds
We really tried to get an early start to head up Monadnock, we really did, but we were tired and we overslept just a tad.
We were only an hour behind schedule, but we were aware of Monadnock’s insane popularity and wanted to be sure we got a parking spot and headed up with as few folks as possible. The drive into New Hampshire from Brattleboro was beautiful and my stomach was full of knots. I told Kevin it felt like the day of Lonesome Lake and I wondered if as I continue to climb more mountains, and eventually even greater elevations, my nerves will chill out. My guess is that they won’t. I’ll always be challenging myself and even if I’m embarking on a mission I’m fairly certain I can accomplish, I think a mountain looming over my head and my desire to summit it will always fill me with butterflies.
You know, we sail and we climb mountains but I'm scared of the depths of the oceans and the heights of the mountains.
I think a healthy respect that hints at fear is a good thing though. Preparedness in sailing and hiking is key. Good footwear is essential, hiking poles for something with an elevation like Monadnock are advisable, a good pack that won’t hurt your back is a must, clothing that wicks and wool socks are also a good idea. I’m not getting on a high horse, merely putting out the word in the name of safety.
We saw a lot of people heading up in jeans and sneakers. Above the tree line was incredibly slick and we watched people sliding back down the mountain on their bottoms, literally, because they couldn't get a grip on the rock with their sneakers.
Their cotton leggings and jeans were soaked from the endeavor. But I’m getting ahead of myself. All of this is to say, we stood at the trailhead filled with excitement, hope, and some nerves, but as far as our preparedness was concerned, we were ready.
The hike started off a bit muddy but easy enough. We had chosen to head up on the White Dot.
It is a fast route, but that means it is steep and there is a lot of rock scrambling. I mean, it was almost entirely rock scrambling. The plan was to head back down White Cross, which was going to be longer, but not as steep.
We quickly reached the intersection of White Cross and White Dot and headed up White Dot after a short snack break. Yes, already.
We already needed a snack break. Let me tell you how many times my kids request snacks on a hike. I don’t ever deny them a snack break because sometimes their little legs need a rest, and when they’re putting out so much energy I want them to be replacing lost calories.
After the intersection the rock scrambling really began. There were stretches that were very steep, some with great slabs of rock that we had to locate the cracks to climb, some with huge boulders and a scattering of rubble. We were grateful for the occasional “stairs.” Rock scrambling is my favorite kind of hiking. I don’t know if it is because it keeps my interest with the variation of my foot movements or if the actual physical activity causes my lungs less distress, but I far prefer it over gradual slopes. I found myself feeling proud, even saying out loud to Kevin that I was a boss at one point, a beast at another. I felt strong and invigorated. I loved watching the people around me taking breaks, sometimes more often than I was. I loved seeing that I was a part of humanity in a way I didn’t used to be.
The trail was often crowded and we would sometimes pull over and let folks pass us. But we were keeping up with a lot of those heading up. I was by far the largest person on the trail, but I wasn’t struggling the most, and that felt incredible. Eleanor started to get the hang of finding the cracks for her footing. At the halfway point we stuck Desmond in the pack for Kevin to carry. This was a good thing because we quickly came into the clouds at that point.
The rocks became slick, our hair beaded with moisture, and it continued to worsen as we broke beyond the tree line. There were a couple of spots that leveled off and other hikers would look at each other and ask if it was the summit. But we weren’t even 3/4 of the way there. We did gain a view at one point. The clouds dispersed momentarily and allowed us to look back at what we had already accomplished. That was barely past the halfway point and it was staggering to consider what still lay ahead and what the view would be had we not been in the clouds.
There was one point that required some tricky footing and Eleanor became scared. I reassured her that it was just me and her, that we’d wedge our feet in the cracks, and she could lean on my poles. I helped her through that section and we were both proud. As we gained elevation the slabs of rock became trickier, no thanks to the excessive moisture. Finding cracks wasn’t always good enough. I often had to hold my poles steady in a spot so that Eleanor could use them as well. This back and forth between us became a fluid and consistent process in our ascent. I became discouraged as we hit some particularly challenging areas. People started to warn us that it was very slick and there was no view. We were discouraged by three different groups from continuing on. It blew my mind! Since when do people discourage others from summiting when they’ve gone so far?
I could see the peak in the distance and was incredulous that it still looked so impossibly far away.
Surely we had passed the halfway point long enough ago that the summit should be within reach. But it wasn’t. I had a moment there where I considered going back down, but it was Eleanor who said, “Okay, let’s keep going.” So we kept going. After we had continued on scrambling up slippery rocks, wedging our feet into cracks and edges, the cloud coverage intensified. I began to feel scared about the descent as I watched people literally slide down the mountain. Kevin pointed out that we were well equipped, that we would be okay. But I was worried about Eleanor, I was worried about how tired I was becoming, I was worried about my legs already feeling like jelly. He told me it would be okay to turn around.
I looked up and said I had to continue. Somewhere in there I took a fall that busted my knee up a bit and ripped open my brand new pants. Looking back it is kind of hilarious how upset this made me. But we forged onwards. As the climb became more intense there was an area I kept slipping on. I managed to gain my footing and I lifted Eleanor over the most difficult patch, but I still had to get myself to where she was.
I ended up slipping with my pole caught in a crack and fell onto it, bending it in the process. I held it together, looking at this spire of rock in the clouds, focusing on how it stood apart from the mountain from which it sprang. Everything was so gray. I called for Kevin and said quietly, “Fix this. You have to fix this.” And I began to cry. I knew I couldn’t reach the summit without that pole. That bent pole looked like defeat to me, and I had long been holding things together and everything came tumbling out at the sight of the unnatural curvature of that staff. He reassured me, we tucked the pole into my pack, and he handed me one of his. He asked again if I wanted to turn back.
I looked up into the clouds and man, I couldn't see anything, but I just knew it had to be there, right there. "I'm summiting this mountain," I told Kevin with determination.
I looked at Eleanor and she said, “Come on,” again, encouraging me. We continued onwards. There were other spots that were equally or even more difficult, but we were in fact incredibly close in that moment of desperation because soon afterwards we reached the summit. I looked about, the other people lost in the clouds, you couldn’t even see across the entire summit. Then I looked at Eleanor and my eyes welled up with pride. I took her smiling summit picture and we told her how proud of her we were. We sat and ate lunch at the top of Monadnock and rested on wet rocks. Eleanor found two “summit frogs,” wee little things, and I touched the summit plaque and smiled. It turns out Eleanor had brought a book up 3,166 feet so she had a read at lunchtime.
When we started down it became clear, very quickly, that the process would be for me to explain every single step to Eleanor. I would do a stretch then tell her where I wanted her to put her feet. I would show her which cracks to use, where to put her hands, and I was constantly turning to place my poles for extra support for her. We only had to slide on our bottoms once. It was difficult, but not as challenging as I had feared. Then when the most challenging parts were over I began to feel my jelly legs and anxiously awaited the trailhead for White Cross.
At some point we met up with two other women who we had passed back and forth on the way up. One of them was a little heavy, though not as heavy as me. She was struggling and liked pacing herself with us. We ended up hiking down with them and their company was very enjoyable. White Cross had some rocky areas but it was nothing like White Dot. Still, it was a slog with my jelly legs and then it began to rain. I became discouraged and felt like I wasn’t going to make it down.
At times I became frustrated or even angry, surely we should be back to the White Dot by now, I would say in desperation. Kevin would remind me we were where we were and the trail was where it was and the only thing we could change was our positioning.
So we kept going. And Eleanor kept going. At some point Desmond fell asleep. The rain got heavier and I started to need to take some rests. I would pull Eleanor up onto my leg and encourage her to rest too. She would moments later tell me we should keep going. So we would.
When we finally hit the White Dot my spirits soared. The trail was easier and knowing the end was so in sight bolstered my spirits. I quickened my pace so much that Kevin asked me to slow down, but I was feeling like a robot putting one foot in front of the other, forcing myself to move with some sort of mental calculation or animal drive. I felt like if I slowed down I’d never make it. I practically began to run down that trail. And then we were there. We were done.
We did it and we did it together. We did it as a family. I summited the highest mountain I had ever climbed, and I did it with my daughter at my side, my husband behind me carrying our youngest. We were proud of Desmond for making it halfway up, and nothing can describe our pride for Eleanor for climbing all the way up and all the way back down. She told us how much she enjoyed it and we could see the pride all over her face. Monadnock was this goal of mine, something I had talked about before the train even came into the station and I started this lifestyle change. It was some sort of foreign, off in the distance thing, a mountain that seemed possible if maybe I lost 100 or 150 pounds. I’m down 80 pounds and I climbed Monadnock. We did it. I did it.
