Ron K. and I make plans to go to the White Mountains, AKA the Presidential Range (Mount Washington, Jefferson, etc.). There's a traverse where you do them all in 20 miles and 8,500'. We rule that out. There are huts, which I rule out because I can't sleep in huts. In the end we decide to stay in a motel and do 2 days hikes.

Leading in to the trip, I have a nagging cold which I picked up in France. The night before my flight, I cough convulsively and get zero sleep.

Tues 25 Aug

Maryse picks me up at 8 AM and drives me to Ashby BART. I take JetBlue to Logan in Boston. At SFO I'm forced to check my carry-on (though in fact there is room in the bins). On arrival the telescoping handle is broken. Sweet.

The guy next to me, Kai, is a physicist from LLL, interested in pretty much everything, including mathematical logic. We talk for about 3 out of the 5 hours and swap emails.

Ron picks me up and we drive to Gorham, stopping at a big grocery store to get food, beer, and a bottle of NyQuil for me. We check into the Top-Notch Inn (clever reference to nearby Pinkham Notch), which is fine except our rooms are adjacent to the road. In spite of that I sleep well.

Wed 26 Aug

We go across the street to the White Mountain Cafe & Bookstore. They also have an excellent hiker-oriented gift shop, and a book store that focuses on local nature, fantasy/sci-fi, and children's books. Strongly analogous to Le Kairn in France. They make various breakfast sandwiches; I get egg, bacon and cheese on a croissant, with maple syrup!

We decide to climb Mt. Jefferson, starting from a trailhead that's partway up the mountain so the vertical is 2600' rather than 4000'.

The trail is very charming for a while. Dense birch/fir forest, mossy rocks, mushrooms in a staggering range of colors: snow white, cream, tan, scarlet, shocking pink, purple.

But the trail is covered with large round rocks. You can try to walk on top of them, or walk around them, but both are awkward and require constant focus. You can never just take normal steps. It's tedious and tiring.

Also, the trail is steep; it goes more or less straight up, gaining about 1000' per mile. That's just a bit less than 20% grade, i.e. the steepest part of Marin St., though it doesn't seem that steep.

I'm laboring a bit; we go slow and lots of unfit looking people pass us. It's mid-70s, humid, overcast. I wisely most my T-shirt to my back so sweat can evaporate on my chest, stomach, and shoulders. Ron has graciously bought a pair of hiking poles for me.

I tell Ron about Kai's idea for 'quantum logic' where truth values are like wave functions, and a set can both be and not be a member of itself. We're skeptical about this, because a theory that proves a contradiction proves everything and has no value. We try unsuccessfully to remember how to prove that.

The trail reaches the treeline; the firs shrink down to shrubs.

The clouds gradually clear a little; you can sometimes see nearby ridges and patches of blue sky.

The trail becomes steeper, and goes up a couple of large rock outcrops with 3rd class scrambling (i.e. hands and feet) for a bit. In these parts the trail is a bit hard to follow; it's marked by cairns and occasional paint marks.

We can see a ridge through the clouds, and it takes a while to reach it. But the actual summit is another hour beyond that.

A couple of guys with big backpacks pass us. Ron asks them if they're going to camp; turns out they have parasails. We see them at the summit, but I don't think they flew because there was absolutely no wind.

The descent is also somewhat tedious. We each have a couple of slip-and-falls; I skin my knee a bit. We leapfrog a family with 2 pre-teen girls, who gleefully play a number game which we can't figure out.

See the Strava page.

We return to the motel and go nextdoor to J's Corner Restaurant and Lounge, where I get an IPA and the fried calamari (mediocre).

We do a short walk around the charming town. The motel has a big lawn in front, with an LED-lit tree, Adirondack chairs, and a big fire pit. Three middle-aged couples are sitting around the latter; we sit nearby and evesdrop. They look like RVers but in fact ride Harleys, which they most from place to place in a trailer towed by a pickup truck. The solicitous motel proprietor chats with them about where they can park things.

Ron shows me a bit of the Precision Movement video about hamstring tightness; I'll definitely look into this.

Thu 27 Aug

We check out and go to the groovy bakery again. We both feel fine but slightly stiff. We talk about the cog railroad, but end up deciding to drive to the top of Mt. Washington and hiking along the ridge from there.

We drive to the summit road, but a) it costs $36 per person (no senior discount), and b) it's not open yet (at 8:30 AM - WTF?). So we change plans, drive to nearby Pinkham Notch visitor center, and hike up the Tuckerman Ravine Trail, toward the summit but with no intention of getting there.

Like yesterday, the trail is rocky and steep, but less tedious than yesterday: the rocks are flatter, and sometimes arranged into steps, so there's less feeling of battling the trail.

We check out Crystal Cascade.

The trail continues up along the Cutler River, close enough that you can always hear it, but the vegetation is so dense that you can almost never see it.

We pass the Hermit Lake Caretaker's Cabin. Not much of a lake. There's a hand-powered water pump; I discard the faintly foul-tasting water from the motel and fill my bottle with wonderful spring water.

The trail continues up, toward the headwall of the ravine, which is very steep; I don't know how the trail makes it up to the top.

We're hoping for a big lake at the base of the cirque but it becomes clear that there is none. We stop at a point with a bit of a view, eat and rest, and turn around.

We're passed by a couple of trail runners, coming down from the summit. They prance down the steep and complex rocks like mountain goats. Ron and I are dumbfounded.

See the Strava page.

We make it back to the visitor's center. They have showers (coin-op, $1). Ron takes one; I take a Polish shower using my T-shirt.

We drive through New Hampshire on the E side of the White Mountains, through a lot of tourist-oriented towns, and then to Durham, where Ron lived until age 8; his Dad taught Chemistry at the University there. We drive around, seeing his old house and school. The funky swimming pool has been replaced by a fancy modern complex, but a lot of stuff is the same.

We get into I-95 South, which skirts Boston and goes to Providence, where Ron and Bobbi are moving after he retires in 2028. They've bought 2 lofts in an old industrial building; they made mass-produced jewelry there. Brown University has build a medical research building nearby. The area has some urban grit but is on the ascent.

Bobbi is there; she tells me about her plan to learn one new skill every year. She's 10 years into this and has done various things, including learning guitar and singing, doing some kind of knitting with steel wires, doing a book group, etc. The current project involves improving her memory. Speaking of which, Ron and I are in a similar situation: we can remember pretty much everything, but the recall time can be minutes instead of seconds. Ron is thinking of using 'Memory Palace' techniques to shore up parts of his knowledge.

We go to a Korean restaurant. I tell them the story of the Piano Steps.

Fri 28 Aug

I sleep well.

Ron and I walk to a nice bakery. We sit outside. There are birds and trees. I notice something drop into my coffee. It's not a twig, it's bird poop. I consider exchanging it, but there's a line. So I decant it into another cap and back, and call it good. Hopefully you can't get avian flu that way.

We do a little walking tour of an area that used to be an interstate highway and is now some groovy parks along the river.

Bobbi is dealing with a nightmare involving trying to get a cashier's check for real estate payment; BofA's system is down. She goes to the bank, is thwarted, but stays calm.

Ron and I watch the Driving 4 Answers videos about the Toyota constant-RPM transmission and the Mazda Miata.

Ron and I go to a climbing gym about 15 min away. The staff guy patiently teaches us the autobelay and gives us the belay test. We do a bunch of climbs. There's a wonderful 5.10+ chimney climb. Run does the 5.6-5.8 range. Considering he hasn't climbed in years he does well. He's at least thinking about this feet, though he doesn't always make good choices. though there's a certain tension in his movement.

We're on the road at 4 PM, heading up I-95 and then on the Turnpike (I-90) through Boston and out to Logan. Traffic is heavy up we arrive on schedule, about 5:45. Security is fast. Because the handle on my roller-bag is broken I have to carry it, which is a pain.

Mostly empty plane. Airbus A321, probably 25 years old. The ancient in-flight entertainment system is dysfunctional.

I take BART to Ashby, with the usual faint nausea. Maryse picks me up.

Summary

Great trip; it's always good to spend time with Ron, catch up, and reminisce. The hikes were hard but not too hard. I had no physical problems except some pain from my arthritic right big toe.