The Climb

                                     by J. Francis Rougeau

    "It's going to be a clear day." he said to himself as he looked out
from his bedroom window.  The September's sun was just peeking over the
horizon, through the pine trees, and the sky was a deep ocean blue.  "It
looks like a good day for a climb." thought Dave, as he made his way to
the closet.  "A little cool maybe."  As he reached for his thermal T-shirt
and faded Levi's he could sense the adventure and excitement that awaited
him.  A sudden rush of adrenaline surged through his body as he bent to
pick up the hiking boots which he had laid out the night before.  The boots
smelled of old leather with the lingering aroma of the oil-based preserver
that Dave had treated them with.  Dave was about fully grown at sixteen
years of age.  His 6'1" frame carried an athletic 175 pounds.  He had fine
brown hair and hazel eyes.  He loved sports and he enjoyed the outdoors.
He could hardly be found home on a weekend or a vacation.  Often, he would
go hiking in the woods or backpacking with some friends.
    Dave only had a short time to eat breakfast before they arrived.  The
knock on the door was followed by a reply, "It's open, c'mon in."  The door
opened and in the doorway stood a dark-complected youth of about the same
age as Dave, but a few inches shorter in height.
    "Mornin'." said Karl, as he stepped just inside the door.  "You all
ready?  My dad's got the dog and the gear all put in the car.  Your stuff's
all out there too."  Dave could sense the eagerness and restlessness in his
friend's voice as he placed his cup and plate in the sink.  He did not want
to waste any time so he reached for his hat and jacket and started for the
door.  He grabbed an orange as he walked by the fruit basket that lay on
the table.
    "Want one?" he asked Karl.
    "Thanks, no." replied Karl, as he walked out the door.  Dave followed
and closed the door behind him.
    The trip to the mountains was a fairly long one, about five hours.
They stopped to stretch their legs a few times and to let the dog sniff
around the trees.  Karl's father drove the whole distance.  He was a
distinguished looking man in his late forties with silver-gray hair and
sparkling blue eyes.  "Bud", as was his nickname, spoke in a stern but
gentle voice.  He sometimes sounded off like that of a ship's captain.
Especially before climbs when they would be plotting which trail that
they would hike up.  His Husky dog would pay heed to his commands much
more than Karl or Dave ever did.
    By the time they got to their destination and had unpacked the car,
the day had grown considerably warmer.  Mount Washington stood majestically
in the distance against the clear blue sky.  Being the highest mountain
in New Hampshire made it an attraction for tourists and adadventurers alike.
On that particular weekend there were quite a few cars in the parking lot
and people were walking about the lodge and picnic areas.  After securing
the car in a safe spot, Bud joined Dave and Karl just outside the lodge.
They had taken their jackets off and had them tied around their wastes.
The dog sat patiently beside them.  Having previously chosen a trail,
Bud started putting the pack on the dog.  The pack resembled that of a
mule's pack.  The bulk of the load was carried on both sides of the dog.
It had shoulder straps, a chest strap, and a strap went around the haunches
of the dog for support and stability.  "Ringo", as the dog was called,
stood patiently throughout the packing ordeal.  He was named Ringo because
of the rings of gray fur that went around his neck and tail.  He was very
well tempered and very well trained to voice commands.  He played the part
of a sled dog during the winter months.  He would always stay close by so
a leash was not necessary for him when hiking.  As the dog was being taken
care of, Karl and Dave helped each other on with their packs.  They were
adjusting their straps when Bud hoisted his pack up on his back as he had
done many times before.  They were ready to go in no time and, after check-
ing their belts and buckles, marched off in the direction of the mountain.
Almost immediately as they started walking they fell into single file and
the dog trotted up front beside Bud.
    The first part of the climb went well.  The terrain was not very steep
and the foot path was well trampled by years of adventurers' feet.  On the
sides of the trail, among the trees, stood some large rocks.  Dave and the
other two found appropriate sized ones on which they could lean back against
to support their packs while resting themselves.  Karl took a sip of water
from his canteen and spat it out, to rinse the trail dust from his mouth
before he drank.  He then passed it over to Dave.  Dave nodded in acceptance.
The water soothed Dave's dry throat.
    "Don't drink too much." reminded Karl.  "We don't need any stomach
cramps now."  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Dave handed the
canteen to Bud.  Bud leaned down and poured water into his hand so that
the dog could drink as he poured.  He petted the dog then sat upright and
raised the canteen to his lips.  Having drunk enough Bud glanced skyward,
then up in the direction of the trail.
    "We're making fairly good time." he said.  He pulled a map from his
back pocket and glanced at it for a moment or two. "According to the map
there's a shorter trail up ahead.  It's called Huntington's Ravine.  We
may make even better time if we took it.  What do you guys think?" Dave
and Karl looked at each other and nodded.
    "Yeah, why not?" replied Karl.
    "We veer right at the next fork in the trail.  It's another mile or
so." said Bud, as he put the map back in his pocket.  The three of them
wiggled back into their straps and packs and started up the trail.  The
dog, Ringo, had a head start on them.  Bud called out so that the dog
would wait up for them.
    A short time after they were on the "Huntington" trail, Dave glanced
off to his left and called the attention of his two traveling companions.
He pointed out the slope of a distant ravine.  The splintered timber on
the side of the ravine looked like a pile of toothpicks.  That was all
there was left of an avalanche that had occurred maybe a year or so before.
Their attention returned back to the trail on which they were traveling.
The terrain was getting rockier and the incline was increasing.  Dave
thanked himself for softening his boots with the leather preserver.  If
his boot leather was stiff it may have caused difficulty in his footing,
not to forget getting blisters on his feet.
    The trail grew consistently worse as they advanced up the winding
slope.  The trees thinned out to scrub pines.  Eventually, it seemed that
they were walking in the open.  The area was virtually void of vegetation
and the path was hard to follow.  Up ahead was a wide, smooth ledge of
rock which had a slope pitch of about 60 degrees.  The dog scampered up
without a lot of trouble.  He lost his footing and sprawled out a few times
near the top of the ledge.  The others traversed the ledge.  They went up
on hands and feet, feeling for finger and toe holds to insure their footing.
When they were near the top of the ledge they continued to traverse towards
the right where the terrain leveled off a bit.  There were some large gray
stone boulders there.  They did not stop for long.  For them, it was just
a bad spot in the trail.  They wound in and around the boulders.  Dave did
not think much of the incident.  It was just a different type of climb for
him.  Slipping around the boulders did not seem like much of a problem for
any of them.  They all stopped for a minute while Bud checked out the area.
The gaps between the boulders narrowed.
    "This looks like the only way that we can get through this bloody mess."
remarked Bud.  He peeled off his backpack and asked Karl and Dave to do the
same.  "After I get between those two boulders I want you guys to hand me
the packs." said Bud.  The two removed their packs and Dave reached around
the corner handing Bud the three packs, one at a time.  Ringo crawled on
by the boulders.  The gap was wider at the bottom.  After Dave handed the
packs through he slid through sideways, as Bud had done, and Karl came
through last.  They repeated this procedure a few more times before they
had cleared the more congested boulders.  With their packs on they continued
up the winding trail.
    After attempting another ledge, as the one before but a longer one, they
paused for a minute.  Suddenly, from behind them came the sound of some-
thing scratching the rock.  The three turned in time to see Ringo sliding
down the side the ledge.  The dog let out a whining yelp.  He was out of
reach for anyone to do anything to help him.  Bud, Dave, and Karl help-
lessly watched the dog roll and bounce down the rocky ledge.  The dog even-
tually broke into a slide and a patch of sand stopped him from going much
further.  As the dust cleared, the three stood and watched in astonishment.
Ringo stood up and shook himself off.  After staggering a bit, he started
to scramble back up the ledge.  A sigh of relief came from the hikers as
they stood anxiously, waiting. Once Ringo had reached the top of the ledge
Bud checked him over.  Amazingly, there were no broken bones.  It's a fine
thing that Ringo's okay." remarked Bud.  "We wouldn't be able to carry him
up with us and, at this point, there's no turning back.  Dave and Karl knew
what the alternatives were before Bud said it.  He more or less said it
aloud to himself.  "We would've had to destroy him." he murmured.  Bud was
right and Dave and Karl knew it.  There was no way to carry Ringo.  What
had saved him from injury was his pack.  Every time that he bounced against
the rock he was cushioned on the sides by his pack.  This saved his ribs
as well as some other bones.  Bud walked over to Karl and opened the top
flap of his pack.  He reached inside and pulled out a small rope which was
like that of a clothes line.  Upon closing the pack, he bent down and tied
the rope to the dog's collar.  They used the rope as a safety line for
themselves as well as Ringo for the rest of the climb.
    Huntington's Ravine continued to be steep and rocky.  There were no
more boulders on the rest of the trail.  It was one hour to sunset as they
reached the top of the ravine.  This area, called Alpine Gardens, was fairly
flat.  It resembled an arctic tundra.  The green-brown grass and moss made
it a good place to pitch a tent, though the soil was not very deep.  Before
they had found a place to pitch camp they came upon a couple of hikers
approaching from the other direction.  "Hello." greeted the first hiker.
"Where did you hike up from?" he asked eagerly.
    "Huntington's Ravine." replied Bud. The two hikers looked at each
other, then they gave a puzzled look at the older man standing there with
the two teenagers and a dog, all carrying full packs.
    "Where's your rope and climbing gear?" asked the second hiker.
    "We didn't bring any." replied Bud.  "I checked the trail on the map
and it didn't look to be as difficult as it was."
    "How much trouble was the climb?" asked the first hiker. 
    "We almost lost the dog on the way up but we're alright.  We just took
our time and used caution." continued Bud.  The two hikers listened intensely
as Bud explained the situation.
    "We sure are glad that you made it okay." said the first hiker.  The
second hiker shook his head in agreement.  After a short conversation of
small talk the second hiker broke into the conversation.  "Well, it's
getting late and we have a bit of a ways to go yet." he said.  "We hope
that you have a safe journey back."
    "Thanks." replied Bud, "Good luck to you both."  The two parties dep-
arted on there own separate ways.  The weary trio pitched their tent on
the open tundra.  They prepared their supper on a miniature stove that
was with their hiking gear.  Karl fed the dog before they retired for the
night.
    Morning came early for the group.  When they emerged from the tent they
had a look around.  The cool stillness of the mornings' air was refreshing
for the hikers.  The mountain's summit was clearly visible in the early
light.  It was about another half days travel so the group decided that
they would descend the mountain.  They would travel by way of Tuckerman's
Ravine.  It was the easier and the most traveled ravine on the mountain.
Dave had traveled it with Bud and Karl before.  The hike down was relatively
easy.  They had stopped a few times to rest.  The packs felt just as heavy
as ever to the hikers.  Still, the hike down seemed like a walk in the woods
compared to the climb up Huntington's Ravine.  When they returned to the
base lodge it was about late afternoon.  As they were loading up the car
Dave could not keep from looking at the mountain.  He had many thoughts
going through his head.  He kept thinking about their adventure.  He thought
about the possibility of having to destroy Ringo after he had fallen down
the ledge.  He recalled the two hikers that they met and their reaction
to Bud's tale of the climb up.  Dave's attention was snapped back to the
present by a voice.  He cast a glance back towards the car.  Bud and Karl
had finished packing the car and Bud was standing near the driver's door.
He grinned and said, "If you don't want to leave now we will be back this
way in a year or so."  Dave smiled back and feeling slightly embarrassed
replied,
     "No thanks.  I've done enough for this year already."  He slipped in
the back seat of the car, beside the half-sleeping dog, and they sped off
towards home.
    The next day as Dave was eating his breakfast, he started flipping
through the pages of the daily newspaper that was laying there on the table.
His body, sore from the two day adventure, left him with little ambition.
As he flipped the last page of the newspaper over, an article caught his
eye:  "Weekend Accident Leaves One Dead, One Injured."  As Dave read on,
it told how two hikers were climbing on Mt. Washington.  They were on the
Huntington Ravine Trail.  Evidently, they both lost their footing on a
ledge.  One of them plunged to his death and the other one was found in a
state of shock.  They were climbing the same trail that Dave and his friends
had climbed the day before.


  *              *               *                *                 *
    Strangely enough, Dave's weariness seemed to drain from his body as he
read the article.  He rose from the table and, looking at the clock, saw
that he would still be able to make it to school on time.  He hurried and
placed his cup and plate in the sink.  As he started towards the door he
grabbed an orange from the fruit basket that lay on the table.  He walked
out of the house and closed the door behind him.