I remember the first time I saw the White Mountains. It was on a Boy Scout hiking trip—probably in 1970. We hiked up Tuckerman’s from Pinkham Notch, and from there my memory of the rest of the route is a bit hazy. But that trip was the start of a long love affair with backpacking through NH, Maine, the Appalachian Trail in CT and MA, the Adirondacks in upstate NY, and the Sierra National Forest in Calif. In every season. Through rain, snow, and summer heat. But now, 50 years later, I don’t think I have the cardio and the leg muscles for the Whites. Yesterday’s 4.4 mile on the Dickey-Welch Trail near Thornton just about wore me out. I had trouble walking down the stairs this morning. I may be stiff for days. I guess hiking is one more thing I’m going to have to surrender to time.
