Stats
Mountains: North (4,180) and Middle Tripyramid (4,140)
Date: November 8, 2009
Time: 8.5 hours
Miles: 9.6
Steps: 38,567
Elevation Gain: 3,450
Weather: Warm, blue skies, windy where exposed
Trails: Pine Bend Brook Trail, Tripyramid Loop and back
“I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better.” ~George Bird Evans
"In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesn't merely try to train him to be semi-human. The point of it is to open oneself to the possibility of becoming partly a dog." ~ Edward Hoagland
This is a very special hike, and there’s lots of evidence. The most obvious is that Dejah, my daughter’s 4-year-old yellow lab, is wearing a bright orange vest with a white computer-generated sign pinned to it that says, “#48 today”. Now, before you shake your head, I NEVER dress dogs. But today feels like she has bragging rights and I’m just helping. In my backpack, I have a hand-made blue ribbon with a gold “48” in the button’s center, for the special moment when she actually stands on her 48th peak, having climbed all the 4,000-foot mountains in New Hampshire. I also have two marrowbones for Dejah to celebrate with Pinta, Pat’s trail dog, and two Lindt White Chocolate Truffles that are melt-in-your-mouth marvels for Pat and I to commemorate the long-anticipated moment.
We are hiking up the Pine Bend Brook Trail, our second attempt at the Tripyramids. Pat and I climbed this trail in the winter and it will be interesting to see what it is like in November, before snow…maybe.
We arrive at the trailhead at 8:15 AM and open the back door of the Peakbagger mobile and the dogs explode out of the car, more than eager to begin the hike. The trail is generous in giving us time to warm up our legs. The woods seem to go on forever on either side of us, birches and hardwoods, bereft of leaves, letting us glimpse further into the inner world of wilderness. The trail is covered in foot-deep dried leaves that hide the rocks and mud underneath, so I don’t know I’ve stepped in a mud hole until I sink in. I love the crunch of walking in the leaves as I shuffle through them. It reminds me of when I was a little kid and we used to pile the leaves up into a huge mound and I would run and jump in, screaming with glee, letting the leaves envelop me. I loved the feeling of being covered; pieces of the leaves would get down my shirt and my pants and in my hair and I would be so uncomfortably happy.
The Pine Bend Brook is on our right as we hike. “Huh,” I say to Pat, “I remember the brook being on the other side of us when we did this in winter.” She rolls her eyes and smiles at me. Uh oh…we’re going to have to cross the brook. In winter, the water crossings were frozen and covered with snow. This time of year they can be challenging if the water is high and the temps are low. It is not long before we reach our first of many water crossings and it is a breeze, boulders just where we need them to stay dry. The dogs splash across, slurping up some cool refreshment along the way. Now the brook is on the left and everything feels right.
I watch Dejah galloping up some stairs that trail workers back-breakingly built for us. I am always touched by the incredible work volunteers do to make it possible for hikers to reach these summits. The strength and energy it takes to build bridges over brooks and granite steps up mountains is hard to imagine. I am indebted to the trail workers. Pat and I clap and cheer for them whenever we are lucky enough to run into them on the trail.
Dejah turns around on the steps to look at me, checking to make sure her Grammy is with her. I look at her and instantly smile, my love bubbling up in a spontaneous response of joy. “Hey Dej” I say in my higher-pitched, softer, I-love-babies-and-animals voice. “How ya doin’?” She looks at me with her beautiful dark brown eyes and tilts her head, as if to say, “What are you saying, Grammy?” The second our eyes meet, her tail starts to wag, which then wiggles the entire back half of her body. That’s her love coming back to me.
******
I met Dejah when she was three weeks old, when I accompanied Jess to pick out her puppy from the lab litter. When Dejah was two, she and Jess moved home to live with Don and I while Sean, her fiancé, was sent to serve in Iraq. That was back when Pat and I were climbing the 48 4,000-footers in New Hampshire and we took Dejah with us. At the time I thought I was doing her a favor, getting her exercise.
We established a morning hiking ritual that continues today. I tiptoe upstairs and crack open Jess’ bedroom door at 4:45 AM. Dejah, who I am sure has heard me getting ready, has her nose to the door. As I crack it open she literally erupts out of the bedroom, slamming her tail on the walls of the hall, snorting and twisting and turning with uncontrollable exuberance. She runs down the stairs, jumps over the last half of the staircase, and turns around waiting for Grammy to catch up. As soon as Dejah sees Pat’s car coming up the driveway, she runs and gets one of her stuffed toys and stands nose to door, tail wagging furiously, anxious to greet Pat. She hops in the back of Pat’s car with Pinta and immediately lies down and starts sucking on her stuffed zebra, like a child sucking her thumb, quieting herself down for the long drive she knows is ahead.
For a year and a half we enjoyed Dejah’s company on the mountains, hiking through all four seasons. Then Sean came home from Iraq, and reclaimed his loved ones and they all moved to Texas. I lost my daughter and my trail dog. I was happy for them, devastated for me. Pat and I finished up our 48 in New Hampshire and moved on to completing the 67 4,000-footers in New England.
About a year after moving to Texas, Jess called Don and I and told us the terrible news that Sean would be sent back to Iraq for another year. She didn’t want to live alone in El Paso, so she and Dejah came home and we welcomed them with open arms.
I’ll never forget Dejah’s greeting. She burst into the house and Jess says, “Say hi to Grammy!” Dejah is almost on top of me, wagging her tail with unbridled elation as it bangs on the coffee table and knocks over my water, her whole body wiggling with anticipation, circling continuously around under my hands, snorting with excitement while holding a stuffed dog in her mouth. It’s a special Grammy greeting. She remembers me!
Dejah is back…but not to stay. Sean will come home in the spring; he and Jess will get married and they will move to wherever he is stationed. So I have Dejah for one year…huh…I wonder…I run to my computer. I could feel the tingling thrill of a goal materializing. How many mountains did she climb with us, I ask myself, as I start going through pictures and hike reports? Twenty. She had climbed 20 out of the 48. Could Pat and I get her up the remaining 28 mountains before she has to leave us again? Get her 4,000-footer patch this coming spring? Yes – I think we can!
(continued)
Mountains: North (4,180) and Middle Tripyramid (4,140)
Date: November 8, 2009
Time: 8.5 hours
Miles: 9.6
Steps: 38,567
Elevation Gain: 3,450
Weather: Warm, blue skies, windy where exposed
Trails: Pine Bend Brook Trail, Tripyramid Loop and back
“I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better.” ~George Bird Evans
"In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesn't merely try to train him to be semi-human. The point of it is to open oneself to the possibility of becoming partly a dog." ~ Edward Hoagland
This is a very special hike, and there’s lots of evidence. The most obvious is that Dejah, my daughter’s 4-year-old yellow lab, is wearing a bright orange vest with a white computer-generated sign pinned to it that says, “#48 today”. Now, before you shake your head, I NEVER dress dogs. But today feels like she has bragging rights and I’m just helping. In my backpack, I have a hand-made blue ribbon with a gold “48” in the button’s center, for the special moment when she actually stands on her 48th peak, having climbed all the 4,000-foot mountains in New Hampshire. I also have two marrowbones for Dejah to celebrate with Pinta, Pat’s trail dog, and two Lindt White Chocolate Truffles that are melt-in-your-mouth marvels for Pat and I to commemorate the long-anticipated moment.
We are hiking up the Pine Bend Brook Trail, our second attempt at the Tripyramids. Pat and I climbed this trail in the winter and it will be interesting to see what it is like in November, before snow…maybe.
We arrive at the trailhead at 8:15 AM and open the back door of the Peakbagger mobile and the dogs explode out of the car, more than eager to begin the hike. The trail is generous in giving us time to warm up our legs. The woods seem to go on forever on either side of us, birches and hardwoods, bereft of leaves, letting us glimpse further into the inner world of wilderness. The trail is covered in foot-deep dried leaves that hide the rocks and mud underneath, so I don’t know I’ve stepped in a mud hole until I sink in. I love the crunch of walking in the leaves as I shuffle through them. It reminds me of when I was a little kid and we used to pile the leaves up into a huge mound and I would run and jump in, screaming with glee, letting the leaves envelop me. I loved the feeling of being covered; pieces of the leaves would get down my shirt and my pants and in my hair and I would be so uncomfortably happy.
The Pine Bend Brook is on our right as we hike. “Huh,” I say to Pat, “I remember the brook being on the other side of us when we did this in winter.” She rolls her eyes and smiles at me. Uh oh…we’re going to have to cross the brook. In winter, the water crossings were frozen and covered with snow. This time of year they can be challenging if the water is high and the temps are low. It is not long before we reach our first of many water crossings and it is a breeze, boulders just where we need them to stay dry. The dogs splash across, slurping up some cool refreshment along the way. Now the brook is on the left and everything feels right.
I watch Dejah galloping up some stairs that trail workers back-breakingly built for us. I am always touched by the incredible work volunteers do to make it possible for hikers to reach these summits. The strength and energy it takes to build bridges over brooks and granite steps up mountains is hard to imagine. I am indebted to the trail workers. Pat and I clap and cheer for them whenever we are lucky enough to run into them on the trail.
Dejah turns around on the steps to look at me, checking to make sure her Grammy is with her. I look at her and instantly smile, my love bubbling up in a spontaneous response of joy. “Hey Dej” I say in my higher-pitched, softer, I-love-babies-and-animals voice. “How ya doin’?” She looks at me with her beautiful dark brown eyes and tilts her head, as if to say, “What are you saying, Grammy?” The second our eyes meet, her tail starts to wag, which then wiggles the entire back half of her body. That’s her love coming back to me.
******
I met Dejah when she was three weeks old, when I accompanied Jess to pick out her puppy from the lab litter. When Dejah was two, she and Jess moved home to live with Don and I while Sean, her fiancé, was sent to serve in Iraq. That was back when Pat and I were climbing the 48 4,000-footers in New Hampshire and we took Dejah with us. At the time I thought I was doing her a favor, getting her exercise.
We established a morning hiking ritual that continues today. I tiptoe upstairs and crack open Jess’ bedroom door at 4:45 AM. Dejah, who I am sure has heard me getting ready, has her nose to the door. As I crack it open she literally erupts out of the bedroom, slamming her tail on the walls of the hall, snorting and twisting and turning with uncontrollable exuberance. She runs down the stairs, jumps over the last half of the staircase, and turns around waiting for Grammy to catch up. As soon as Dejah sees Pat’s car coming up the driveway, she runs and gets one of her stuffed toys and stands nose to door, tail wagging furiously, anxious to greet Pat. She hops in the back of Pat’s car with Pinta and immediately lies down and starts sucking on her stuffed zebra, like a child sucking her thumb, quieting herself down for the long drive she knows is ahead.
For a year and a half we enjoyed Dejah’s company on the mountains, hiking through all four seasons. Then Sean came home from Iraq, and reclaimed his loved ones and they all moved to Texas. I lost my daughter and my trail dog. I was happy for them, devastated for me. Pat and I finished up our 48 in New Hampshire and moved on to completing the 67 4,000-footers in New England.
About a year after moving to Texas, Jess called Don and I and told us the terrible news that Sean would be sent back to Iraq for another year. She didn’t want to live alone in El Paso, so she and Dejah came home and we welcomed them with open arms.
I’ll never forget Dejah’s greeting. She burst into the house and Jess says, “Say hi to Grammy!” Dejah is almost on top of me, wagging her tail with unbridled elation as it bangs on the coffee table and knocks over my water, her whole body wiggling with anticipation, circling continuously around under my hands, snorting with excitement while holding a stuffed dog in her mouth. It’s a special Grammy greeting. She remembers me!
Dejah is back…but not to stay. Sean will come home in the spring; he and Jess will get married and they will move to wherever he is stationed. So I have Dejah for one year…huh…I wonder…I run to my computer. I could feel the tingling thrill of a goal materializing. How many mountains did she climb with us, I ask myself, as I start going through pictures and hike reports? Twenty. She had climbed 20 out of the 48. Could Pat and I get her up the remaining 28 mountains before she has to leave us again? Get her 4,000-footer patch this coming spring? Yes – I think we can!
(continued)
