A counted down the final seconds of 2010 on the Quay, a view point on the slopes of Mt. Adams that looks down into the valley below. The lights from town shinning below, sporadic fireworks barely noticeable from so high above. We passed around a bottle of Southern Comfort, snapped photos and counted down using my $30, very unofficial Timex Watch, standing in the snow, wearing slippers and down booties. We had sprinted and slid to the Quay from the Gray Knob Cabin minutes before midnight. A spontaneous idea that needed no debate.
"Happy New Year!" It couldn't have been any better. Me, the mountains and a group of my best friends that I'd only met three hours before. I didn't even know their names. The Mountains have a way of making friends out of strangers. As does SoCo apparently.
I had hiked up to Gray Knob that night. Setting out from Lowe's store at 7:30 and reaching Gray Knob by 9:30. This fall I heard a few people mention heading up to the RMC Hut for New Years and when I arrived I recognized two faces. Benzo and Garret. Benzo is a regular member of the RMC trail crew and a member of the AMC trail crew this fall. He was a familiar face from Huton, the AMC dorms where I had spent a few nights. On a small-world note, he's a North Yarmouth native. His parent's house is less than a quarter mile from where I live. Garret is one of the two Gray Knob caretakers this winter and a shelters caretaker for the AMC this passed two summers. I had only met him once, sitting on the steps of Stearns Lodge after a shift-ending hike down from Madison.
The crowd at Gray Knob was eclectic. A small group of French Canadians, the RMC crew Benzo had brought up, and a few older gentlemen who were staying a 1/2 mile away at Crag camp, another RMC hut. In all, about 15 people, but only half a dozen or so lasted until the countdown at the Quay.
I rung in the New Year with a lighthearted debate with some girl named Jenny over the constellation Orion. We both agreed he wore a skirt of sorts, however, I pictured him as the Mel Gibson in Braveheart type with a plaid kilt. She had her own fantasy, with him in a skirt made of leather strips, adorned with metal spikes along the bottom. It seemed important at the time.
I slept outside that night. In my bivy sack on the flat snow covered rock just outside the door to the hut. It rained a bit and my bed sank into the wet snow as the night went on, but I was warm and dry. I even slept in a bit, waiting until 8:30 to crawl out of my cocoon for the New Year.
My bed New Years Eve
The crowd at Gray Knob cleared quickly New Years morning, with each little group cooking their own breakfast and cleaning up the evidence from the night before. Those of us who lasted until midnight tried to tell out stories, but apparently everyone who had gone to bed somehow knew everything that had happened. Sound travels well in Gray Knob apparently.
A group enjoying New Years Day breakfast at Gray Knob
I hiked a loop in the Northern Presidentials New Years Day. Breaking trail in snowshoes from Gray Knob to Edmonds Col below the summit of Mt. Jefferson. I had aspirations to summit Jefferson, but soloing a 5000' peak in low visibility and high winds, despite the unseasonable warmth, seemed like a bad idea. Instead, I hiked North on the ridge along the Gulfside trail. Eventually, the clouds broke and the sun came up, offering views of Mt. Washington, and the summits of both Jefferson and Adams.
My snowshoe tracks
I eventually headed back to Gray Knob. I sat and chatted with Garret for a bit, packed my gear and headed back down Lowe's path as the sun set, finishing my trip by headlamp.
The rest of the pictures are
here.
