Finishing the NH48
“Someone once told me the definition of hell; on your last day on earth, the person you could have become will meet the person you became.” - Anonymous
On October 15th, 2022 I completed the NH 48 4000s footer list! With a lot of dedication and support, I was able to tackle this challenge in 13 months. I thought this was going to be a challenge I’d be chasing for a few years, and I was not expecting to finish so soon. It’s amazing what we can accomplish when we start to focus whole heatedly on what we set our mind to. This journey was not just about climbing 48 of New Hampshire's highest peaks, and checking off boxes on a list- this was a journey of hopelessness, healing, survival, and a tribute to lives lost way too soon.
My journey of hiking the NH48 began because I needed an outlet after a very traumatic experience in 2021. In September I was on a school bus with elementary and middle school children when the driver suffered a medical emergency and the bus crashed. Despite mine and other bystanders' best efforts, the driver did not survive. The experience of seeing life and death happen in an instant before my eyes completely changed the way I viewed life. I was shaken awake… life is happening now- there is no time to waste, there are no tomorrows.
(The staircase on Tecumseh : my first 48)
In the months following, I dealt with severe PTSD and dissociation that left me feeling , alone, crazy, and drained. I began to detach from the World around me on a daily basis. I could feel when the dissociation was starting to happen, my vision would start to feel like a fuzzy tv screen, static would buzz in my ears, and everything around me felt like a dream state. I didn’t know how to make it stop. I began feeling like the shell of a human, and a visitor in my own body; neither felt as though they belonged to me anymore. I spent a lot of time alone, often wondering if I’d ever be “normal” again. That’s the thing with mental illness, most of the time other people can’t see it, and although I wore a smile on my face, behind closed doors I was battling an endless nightmare.
The day after the accident I ran directly to the White Mountains. It was a place the bus driver loved, and often talked to me about during our rides together. I spent much of that day finding some sort of peace and calm around Beaver Pond. No one understood what I was going through in those moments…no one but the mountains. A few days after I was given the advice to keep seeking out nature, and keep moving my body. My body was an ocean, and the trauma I had endured was the debris. The more I moved, the less likely the debris would be able to settle into the ocean (i.e. my body and nervous system). This advice became a life vest in the dark, stormy waters that the sea of grief would pull me through. This advice saved my life.
(North Tripyramid Slide)
As a new all season hiker, I started to knock off a few 4000 footer peaks, and then it quickly became something I was doing every weekend. I was spending more and more time in the mountains; the more time I spent there, the better I felt. Some people told me I was hiking too much, but it’s hard for people to understand the need for me to hike. The constant struggle, and push to reach the summit is alluring in a way only other hikers understand. One hike turned into two, then three, and four…before I knew it I was hitting my 30th peak on Moriah. Sitting on that summit it started to become clear that I was capable of finishing in a little over a year and decided in that moment I would.
After completing a 2 day Pemi-Loop two weeks prior I decided to end with a bang… a single-day Presidential Traverse. This is not an easy feat or one to take lightly. The Northern Presidential Range is home to the 5 highest peaks on the NH48 list. In total the traverse is 20.83 miles long with an elevation gain of over 9,000 feet. Not only are these peaks high in elevation, they also experience some of the worst weather in the World. To say I was not nervous to take this on would be a blatant lie. Waiting and hoping for a good weather window during the middle of October can be tricky, but with luck on my side a good window presented itself leading Erik and I to jump on it.
(Celebrating #30 on Moriah)
We started that morning bright and early; my nerves felt like I was waiting in line for a roller coaster that I just met the height requirement for. Those old nagging thoughts of self doubt kept trying to push themselves to the forefront of my consciousness. I knew better now, at this point, then to trust their rhetoric. “I can do hard things”, the mantra we teach our students was echoing in the back of my mind. I reminded myself again of why and who I was doing this for, and opened the car door…
With our cars spotted, we slipped into our big packs, flicked on our headlamps, and we were on our way. Departing from the Appalachia trailhead, we took the Valley Way trail up towards Madison Springs Hut. The crisp morning air felt good on my bare legs as we climbed, and climbed, and climbed. “Hey you’re doing it and it isn’t so bad"“, I remember thinking to myself in the twilight as we made our way up the first mountain.
As we reached the Madison Hut, a sherbet colored sunrise greeted us, as did the wind. Wearing our shorts and mitten combo, one that only a few truly understand, we stared at the enormous rock pile in front of us, dropped our packs and began our climb to the summit. Madison was a mountain that I longed to climb, but also one that terrified me. I think reading about Kate Matrosova in Where You’ll Find Me would make anyone fearful of this range, yet there I stood atop its rocky summit. With the wind blowing my hair, I stared out into the cloud blanket that was still hugging the valleys below, and in that moment I felt that sense of freedom…one that only comes to me in the mountains.
(Sunrise from Mount Madison)
From Madison we made our way back to our packs, grabbed a quick bite to eat, trying our best to not stand idle for too long. We started heading towards Adams on the Airline Trail, which wraps itself tightly around the northern slope of Quincy Adams before shooting directly for the summit. The sun was starting to rise, as we trekked in and out of the shadow Madison was casting from behind us.
As we approached the summit of Adams, I saw something reddish/orange run into my peripheral vision. At first I thought it was a dog, but it was so far off trail , and there was no one hiking behind us. A few moments later it showed itself again… peeking out from behind a boulder, then making itself fully seen- a red fox stood 100 ft above us. Its fur was whirling in the wind, and its eyes were closed for a moment of presence. Erik and I stood in awe of this majestic creature, and even more amazed that we were given this trail companion at over 5,000 feet above sea level. Shortly after our furry friend bid us adieu, and we all continued on our paths. Neither of us had our cameras ready, and we often talk about how that was a moment for just us three.
Adams came and went, we had to keep moving if we wanted to make good time. From Adams we kept focus ahead, and up next was Mount Jefferson. The day was starting to really warm up at this point, and the energy was moving through me. The trek over to Jefferson was unique because we dipped down a bit in elevation and the trail flattened out. This was a nice reprieve from the endless rocks we had been climbing on all morning, and would continue to climb the rest of our trek. We meandered the trail with a few friends we’d met along the way, and chatted a bit about our journeys so far.
The summit of Jefferson was a lot busier than the previous two mountains, with people dotting along the summit, taking photographs and much needed food breaks. We dropped our packs again ( any time you can drop your pack you will fully take advantage) and made our way up the “small” rock pile summit. Jefferson is the third highest summit in New Hampshire standing at 5,712 ft.
(Looking at Mount Adams from shadow of Mount Madison)
Again we grabbed a handful of food down at our packs and continued our journey. This would become the theme for the day: food and move, food and move. When doing single day traverses you really have to keep moving in order to reach your destination in a reasonable amount of time. We knew we still had our highest peak ahead, and we needed to keep our energy levels up in order to take on the biggest rock pile of all… Mount Washington.
As we made our way towards Mount Clay, a “little” bump between Jefferson and Washington, we crossed an alpine lawn that made it look as though we were standing in the desert. This place is known as Monticello Lawn. It's hard to fathom that we were so high in elevation and yet, it looked as though we were standing in a valley. Washington rose up in the backdrop of this flat landscape like a sleeping giant. “Oh shit, here we go!”, I thought to myself as we took the trail south east to bypass Clay. While I would have loved to truck through this, I knew I needed to save my legs for Washington and the remainder of the day. Part of becoming a good hiker is knowing when to back off, when to push yourself, and when to turn around. This is something that took me some time to understand and of course something I am still working on, but it is crucial to being efficient and surviving out here.
(Erik walking through Monticello Lawn)
The bypass to Clay seemed to go by quickly and before I knew it the Mt. Washington Observatory was a stone's throw away…or at least that's how it seemed. It was not a stone's throw away. In fact the next mile was endless, pointy fucking rocks. By this point in the journey the bottoms of my feet were feeling it. Those nagging voices become incredibly loud when I start to feel discomfort in my body. Could I do this? Was I going to be able to climb the highest peak in the North East? In these moments when I’m feeling fatigued, I start to question the whys. Why do I do this? Why do I subject myself to this kind of pain? What is it about the mountains that keep me coming back? Do I actually enjoy this? And every time I start to hear those voices I remember how much I’ve been through. How far I’ve come in my life from who I was 5 years ago, 6 months ago, one peak ago. I remind myself of all the people I know who lost their lives way too soon, and my purpose becomes crystal clear again. I do this shit because I can. Because years ago I couldn’t. I do this for the people in my life who never got to see what they were truly capable of, and the people who are still struggling to find their way. I do this to prove to myself that I am still here, and I matter. My story matters, my struggles matter, my comeback matters, and my pain matters. I do it to prove MYSELF WRONG. This is more than just about bagging peaks, this is about survival.
The mile seemed to drag on, and ironically the closer we got to the summit of Mount Washington the further it seemed. When you take the Gulf Side Trail you look directly at the summit for a bit before swinging Southeast again, and coming up the West side. The last .3 miles were such a struggle for me. The rocks were relentless, even with the summit in view. We finally made it to the top..I had just climbed the highest mountain in New England (WAHOO!) and yet, it was hard for me to focus on that accomplishment.
The summit of Mount Washington is a cluster fuck of tourist, and while I have immense respect for that mountain, what humans have done to it is an atrocity. It’s no wonder hikers are known to moon the cog, and you can often hear chants of “Fuck the cog!” from the hiker choir in the hills. After seeing only a few souls for hours, being flung into an overcrowded summit made it really hard to enjoy this accomplishment, which is so heartbreaking as a hiker. One would think that standing at 6,288 ft they would experience silence, and it wouldn’t smell like pizza but, this comes with the territory of Mt. Washington, unfortunately.
(Said Cluster Fuck)
Erik and I found a little corner inside the building, so we could stay out of the wind, eat and refill our water. It's interesting how many people will stare at hikers as if they are the misfits on top of that mountain. “How did you get up here?” , “Where are you going with the big pack?”, “I can’t believe you’re wearing shorts!” were common questions and comments. We smiled, answered their questions -thoroughly enjoying the bewildered look on their faces when we pointed to where we came from, and where we were going. And with that the march continued…
Hitting Washington essentially means hitting the middle point of the Presidential Traverse. From here you leave the Northern Presi’s behind and begin the trek into the Southern Presi range. This section is “all downhill from here” but, these are the White Mountains and to think anything would be smooth sailing is laughable. That’s one thing I learned hiking in The Whites, the mountains are different each time you hike them. Some that I thought would be easy, completely annihilate me (Owl’s Head), and others hurt in the best way possible ( Willey and the Wildcats). No mountain or trail is ever the same twice, and no mountain or trail should ever be taken lightly. Each mountain will surprise you, and never in the way you think it will. Sometimes it’s better to have no intentions at all, this way you can just enjoy the ride for what it is.
(Looking back at the Northern Presi’s)
We dropped elevation fairly quickly, and before I knew it we were approaching Lakes of the Clouds Hut. Washington was in the rear view mirror, and it looked so far away even though we had only traveled 1.5 miles. The thing about the Presidential Range is that from far away the trail looks flat, almost like sand, but it’s not. It’s a path of rocks of all sizes, with points that dig into the bottoms of your feet. Walking 1.5 miles takes way longer than it normally would on flatter terrain.
Lakes of the Clouds Hut is more beautiful in person than any photograph will ever be able to capture. Clear alpine lakes, connecting to an alpine lawn, nestled between Mount Washington and Monroe. I could have stayed here for the rest of the day. This hut is the most famous in the White Mountains, drawing people from all over the World to come visit. The shelter was built in 1901 and the year after two hikers died while trying to reach the summit of Mount Washington. Lakes of the Clouds hut is the highest and largest hut in the AMC system. At first its use was a shelter for hikers who need a reprieve from the elements. Now it functions as a hut, where people can pay to stay and enjoy meals. Unfortunately, the hut was closed at this point in the season so I didn’t get to see inside, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the beauty of it.
(Lakes of the Clouds- 5,032 ft)
From the Lakes of the Clouds Hut we continued onto Monroe. Two more mountains to climb and I would reach my 48 peaks. There was so much emotion inside of me during this whole trek, but the thing that was present the most at this point was how tired I was. “Just keep walking” was a phrase I was constantly telling myself. It hurts, there’s no doubt about that or way to ignore it but, you learn to go somewhere else in your head during those moments.
The sun was past its midday point, but it was still oddly warm out for October, and we were enjoying every moment of it. We hit Monroe and I stood on a rock ledge just off the summit admiring the vast wilderness that surrounded me. I looked back at where I came from, the miles and rock piles, and mountains I had climbed and I couldn’t believe it. I was doing it. I was doing the Presidential Traverse, and I was one mountain away from completing the 48. While the thought of that was exhilarating, there were also some other emotions I was feeling underneath it all. One part of me was happy, and excited knowing I was actively achieving my dream, another part felt sad that my journey of the 48 was ending, and another part felt as though it wasn’t real, and I didn’t climb all of these mountains. It’s amazing how as humans we can have dual experiences, feeling multiple different things at one time, all pertaining to one single subject. I’ve learned to allow myself that space, to feel them all and not judge them. Feelings are important messengers, letting them come and go is an important part of being human.
(Mount Monroe)
We only spent a few moments on top of Monroe before we continued on the Crawford Path. We passed Franklin, and I could see Eisenhower, standing tall in the distance..My eyes welled up, and I tried my best to keep my composure. My body ached, my hunger fierce, every rocky step felt like it took more effort than the one before it. But there it was, my goal, staring me in my face. There was the last mountain to climb. There was the end.
The sun was starting to make its way downward, and with that came a chill in the air. It seemed as if reaching Eisenhower was taking longer and longer, trodding along, step- by- step. Suddenly Erik yelled from ahead- “We’re almost there!”. The excitement in his voice made me lift my head and I could see the shadow of the giant carin ahead. We blazed forward and finally, in the late evening sunlight, I reached it, my 48th summit.
(Eisenhower for 48!)
Some people have big celebrations on the top of their last summits. Noise makers, champagne, or many other hikers accompanying them. Mine was simple, it was sweet, and exactly how I wanted it. I celebrated my finish with Erik, and 4 other hikers, two of which had been trailing behind us since Washington. One hiker was celebrating her first 48 and it was so special to witness- to see the zest in her eyes, and to watch her begin to fall in love with the challenge of the 48s. It was like A Christmas Carol mountain edition. I was simultaneously looking back at myself on Tecumseh through her, while living in the present of being a 48 finisher. It was a whirlwind of emotions, and a moment I will cherish for this lifetime.
But the ride isn’t done at the last peak you hit…Ooooh no! Every hiker knows that no adventure truly counts until you make it back to your car. In order for the mountains to count towards a 48 finish the hiker must ascend and descend the mountain by their own power. So my journey of finishing wasn’t over just yet.
As we rode the last mile of the ridge line for the day, the sun started to set, again leaving a trail of sherbert colors in between the large mountain peaks that surrounded us. It’s hard to not feel small, and yet so complete in those moments. The final walk to Pierce went by quickly, and before we knew it we were making a left to reach its true summit.
(Sunset hiking to Pierce)
We grabbed one last handful of food, quickly changed our clothes, adding more layers to keep warm on the descent, and topped off of our attire with headlamps. We flicked our lights on one more time and began making the trek down the Crawford Path and off of Pierce.
Hiking down Pierce after a Presidential Traverse is a lot easier and more gentle then Flume was after the Pemi-loop. Time seemed to move fast as the darkness set in. All that lie ahead was the dotting of our headlamps ahead of us, trying out best to not make any errors on the slippery, leaf covered rocks.
Before long we came hurling out of the trees and onto Route 302. No cars, no people, just stars endlessly dotting the dark night sky. Without warning tears began flowing effortlessly from my face. Erik held me under those stars for awhile as I let out my emotions. In that moment, I had officially done it…I completed the NH48.
When people ask how I did the Pemi-Loop, Presidential Traverse, or hiked all 48 mountains in 13 months, I simply tell them there’s nowhere else to go but forward. In the mountains easy exits do not exist. Once you’re up, you’re up and the only way back down is to walk. It truly becomes a game of mental strength, your body will keep going if you tell it too. That's what the mountains have taught me through this journey and that same mentality has become applied to my life; when it gets hard just keep walking, stopping or trying to avoid it will only prolong the pain. There is nowhere else to go but forward both in the mountains and in life.
The biggest lesson however that I acquired from hiking the NH48 is this: I was handed some really hard situations in my life and I can sit at the bottom and stare up at my mountain of grief and hope it moves, or I can decide to walk its path, every edge, curve, and switch back - even when it sucks, even when it hurts, even when I want to quit. . But I have learned there’s something on the top of my mountain of grief waiting for me. Maybe it’s my peace, maybe it’s my freedom, maybe it’s a new life and a new me.
(Madison Springs Hut with Madison in the background)
