Just past halfway up Mt. Whiteface, when Little Boy was sweaty and bonking badly and no reasonable amount of jelly beans could revive his flagging spirits, we caught a view of the stoney facade of Mt. Whiteface and I revealed to him the name of the mountain.
“Whiteface?” he repeated, laughing for the first time in many hours.
It was hard. It was brutal. And then we reached the really technical, steep parts… and it was a breeze. Little Boy was all smiles!
Summiting Whiteface
Little Boy particularly enjoyed the truly dangerous parts… (meanwhile Mommy fell behind, immobilized by her fear of the void).
Big Rocks going up to Whiteface
I remember the first time Mr. P and I climbed Whiteface, over 5 years ago. I swore “never again!” But alas, I forgot that promise. After a little complaining (me) and great enthusiasm (Little Boy and Mr. P), we reached the difficult summit of Mt. Whiteface.
Summit of Whiteface
What a relief when it was over. We had about 2.5 miles of relatively easy trail along the ridge to go until we reached our objective: Camp Rich campground! (Did I mention we were backpacking and I had about 20 pounds of gear and food on my poor aching back?)
Backpacking paradise
Mr. P compensated for my lack of enthusiasm (ie, exhaustion). Little Boy called it “the best camping ever” and cited the presence of a radio (my idea… we tuned into a retro 80s station to groove on the likes of Billy Idol and Janet Jackson) as well as instant camping cuisine (pasta with meat sauce). We were all happy.
Backpacking
We slept… kinda. It’s amazing how hard ground really kills old bones. We woke around 7am, fixed a small breakfast and lots of coffee, and then ascended the .5 mile trail to Mt. Passaconway (Little Boy’s 4th 4000-footer).
The lovely trail to Mt. Passaconway
Wooded Summit of Passaconway
With Little Boy’s 4th 4000-footer in the bag, we descended back to the campground and grabbed our backpacks. It was 9:30 and we were all eager to get back to the car. It was all downhill, but it still took a fair amount of coaxing to beseech Little Boy to keep moving. One moment he’d be running downhill with the speed of a deer… the next moment, stationary as a sloth, staring at a stick. We reaching the car at 11:30, jubilant to go get cheeseburgers!
