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Each, At Our Own Pace

© Lisa Marie Pane

I'd been defeated by a mountain -- a mountain of guilt.

I'd been badgered all these months by family and friends who didn't understand my drive to climb all 48 4,000 footers of New Hampshire -- let alone going solo. So I finally caved.

I invited a new friend who had regaled me with stories of various hiking adventures, and I agreed to hook up with another guy who had posted a message on Backpacker magazine's Trail Talk forum looking for hiking partners. (See http://www.backpacker.com)

The plan was for Wilson and I to head up the Garfield Trail to the Garfield Ridge Campsite, where we would track down Bill by the description he gave us: 5-foot-5, blue Kelty pack, small solo tent.

We got a relatively late start, hitting the trailhead at noon.

Wilson allowed me to lead. I like to start out slow -- actually, some folks might say that I like to hike slow the whole time -- and get into a hypnotic rhythm, find my pace.

But after a few minutes, I felt as though I was on the MassPike being tailgated by a dang flat-lander. Since my backpack doesn't come with brake lights to slam on, I finally pulled over and let Wilson take the lead.

He went like gang-busters, and I was struggling to keep up. But I couldn't -- and, frankly, I didn't really have the desire to go that fast and miss the beauty of the woods.

After about a half hour of exhausting myself trying to go at Wilson's pace, I backed off and waved him ahead. "Go ahead," I said, sweat pouring down my back, my heart pumping furiously. "I'll catch up with you."

This wasn't any fun, and I was getting a foul mood.

Despite my comparatively slow pace, I still made it to the Garfield Ridge Campsite right at "book" time. The AMC White Mountain Guide -- the Bible for N.H. peakbaggers -- suggests it'll take 3 hours and 50 minutes, and I hit it on the nose. The Garfield Trail itself is beautiful: relatively wide, not at all technical. The worst part is the spur that takes you to the shelter and tent platforms, a narrow and steep rocky trail that can be tough on the knees.

We spotted Bill the last few feet of the spur trail leading to the camping area. It was like a blind date.

"Lisa?" he asked tentatively.

"Uh, Bill?" I asked.

Phew! That wasn't so awkward.

Fresh as a Daisy	Mt. Garfield --4,500 feet	Pemigewasset Wilderness	Mt. Galehead -- 4,024 feet	Near Franconia Brook Trail
Leaving Garfield

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