Hello! This post will take you through the past two and a half months. It will then end with
thought, something I have not included in a blog post in a French minute, reflecting on today, July 12 2012, the fourth year anniversary of my mother's death.
Vacation in Boston, 23.04-10.06:
Vacation kicked off with slow but chill days at home, preparing for the hiking trip with my dad, running into Nick Fountain at REI (wonderful highlight), trying to clean up my room. Things like that. Very homey things. Very nice, very weird. There are things that still click like home in Boston, and things that don't. My first couple days I sloshed around in many non-clicking things.
My dad and I then spent a day automobile-scurrying around New Hampshire trying to see family. We saw Jack and Becky at camp. That was sunny. We saw Leo and Margie, Bri and Grammy at Margie and Leo's new place. That was exciting. They have a big, big house built in 1848. The house has wrinkles and makes noises but seems to be very playful. It will be exciting to see what becomes of it in its new relationship with two grown persons from 2012. I wish I had pictures from this visit but I don't. Someone does. Perhaps you could send them too me?
On a rainy Monday Morning my dad and I set off for Crawford Notch, where we would start our 4-5 day hike of the Presidential Range, White Mountains, New Hampshire. Lots, Lots, and Lots of mountains and trees. Very, Very tiny dot on a map nonetheless. Cars and planes make the world seem pretty small. They also make the world seem kind of weak. Feet make the world seem vast and strong, a real, breathing planet offering so much to ants and humans without being able to tell the difference. (Trains make the world seem fantastical! Fawns and Hippogryphs live through train windows. Trains are how you get to Narnia and Hogwarts.
I don't know much about boats.)
On our first morning we reached the Mizpah Hut. I do not have a picture of this hut because I am silly. In the hut there was a dining room, a kitchen, bunk rooms, and six people. The people were summer volunteers, setting up for the new season. Officially the hut was not open. Dad and I enjoyed a nice meal that we cooked on a camping stove from 1971 (approximation) that I would never again trust to bring on a backpacking trip. We then decided to hike on, despite rainy and rumbly weather, in hopes of finding a camping spot closer to Mount Washington. I only have one picture of this hike. It is just above treeline and it is foreshadowing. It is this one:
The wet gray rocks are wet gray rocks. The vertical wet gray rock is my father.
Shortly after this photo lightening and rain descended on the mountains and my father and I descended back into the trees. We stood there and waited for a short hour. We were
in the storm(s). Normally when we say, we were in the storm, we mean, we were directly under the storm. This time I mean we were
in the storm. It was scary. i did not like it.
As to avoid elevation and petrification, we scrambled back to Mizpah Hut, made a deal with the six people there, and spent the night. We cooked wonderful food and ate it. We enjoyed being dry. We slept in bunks.
The next morning we worked off our stay by scrubbing things. Then we were off to Mount Washington, this time with better weather. Here are some pictures from day two (Mixpah Hut to Lake of the Clouds, to Washington, to the Perch).
This is in fact
exactly where we stood the day before for an hour trying to seek coverage from the storm. The tree had already been struck in a previous storm but we didn't notice it for the first twenty minutes of residence. Then we thought... well, lightening never strikes the same place twice right? That must be true.
Approach to Mount Washington.
Lake of the Clouds Hut. Lunch spot.
"Stop. The area ahead has the worst weather in America. Many have died there from exposure even in the summer. Turn back
now if the weather is bad. White Mountain National Forest."
Top of Mount Washington!
The Perch. Day Three: climbing down the other side of Mr. Washington
Tent! Last Day: the last day consisted of
a bridge
and waterfalls. Then a hitched ride back to Crawford Notch and a car ride back to Boston. The trip was beautiful and fun. It was challenging, anstrengend. Physical challenges provide such a sense of satisfaction. I recommend them.
My preamble to this blog post was
presumptuous. I would be a good politician. I'm half way through my vacation in Boston and I'm going to bed. To think I would catch up to mid July! I would like to relate other happenings, I shall try and do that in succeeding posts. For now though, a couple words on July 12th.
I don't have too many memories of my mother. This saddens me sometimes, but that's just the way it is. People forget things. That's okay. Memories serve great functions as historical reminders and anchors in stability, but they don't do too much more than that. The strongest way for me to revive my mother's presence is to remember who she was as a person, to realize that she has shared and given her traits to those around her, myself included of course, and to try and embody these characteristics. My mother was loving and caring. She always took others into consideration, and tried to walk in everyone's shoes. She was a giver of love and a light-hearted warm-hearted caretaker for those around her. Trying to act on those traits is what keeps my mother present, and I'm happy with that.
Now! What can Faith do for you?
Have a wonderful day!
Until soon, I hope,
Ben.
