Into the Night and Out Again: Breaking Barriers in the White Mountains

We walk up. There is no light other than the sliver of a moon casting lattice-like shadows on the snow from the branches that stretch overhead. At first I am a little nervous, but then I remember, this is just a walk, and I have been doing that for most of my 52 years.

So we walk up. Away from the safety of the parking lot, away from our cozy beds, away from the warmth of homes, inns and towns. The air is fresh and cool like a mountain stream and its currents caress our sweaty brows as they blow by. My limbs loosen and I begin to feel an uncoiling.

We keep walking up. The stars glitter, the snow sparkles, and our breaths create halos around our heads. There are eight of us, marching like a brigade of gnomes, chortling, whispering and at times traveling in silence up 4,000-foot Mt. Tecumseh in the dark of night to meet spring, in the middle of the night.

Before this year, I had never climbed the White Mountains of New Hampshire in winter. Who would do that? It sounded cold and dangerous. When the snow fell, I had always turned to skiing and skating and other civilized sports with lodges and tasty comestibles involved. But something had brought me out here this year, and I have learned that the mountains do not go away in winter. Rather they become a playground, filled with slides and jungle gyms, silence and wonder, beauty and peace.What secrets they have been hiding!

Now, I want to know what secrets the night holds, here, deep in winter, deep in the snow. Luckily for Oakley and me, we have a great group of friends alongside of us, who are just as eager to explore what these mountains hold.

So we walk up. The snow beneath our feet crunches, our hearts pound, and a flood of well-being comes like it always does when we get to adventure outside. The path becomes a tunnel of moonlight. All we can see is the star-filled sky above us and the snow beneath our feet. Everywhere else is darkness — and silence.

In a few hours’ time we make it to the top. We are surrounded by a bowl of other mountains, and there is not a light to be seen on any of them. Below glows the small town of Waterville Valley. It feels like we are looking down at the peaceful Who’s in Whoville, all snug in their beds, dreaming their dreams. Then I think, maybe I am dreaming my dream, and this is it. This dark, this peace, this moment separated from all others. All chaos and worry. All agendas and appointments. Just us. Healthy and strong in this beautiful world. Oakley grinning in the quiet dark. What a beautiful dream.