#milesformatt New Hampshire Edition: Cannon and the Kinsmans

There were heavy rains on Tuesday night. I woke up to overcast skies, which were predicted to clear as the day progressed...that, combined with the fact that I had all day for this hike (which started just steps away from my campsite) had me in no rush to get started. I made my way up the hi-cannon trail in what felt like a rainforest. The trees were wet, the trail was muddy and the air was heavy...then came the fog. It was a miserable way to start the day, but the purpose of these miles kept me going. Thoughts began swirling through my head and then I smiled...”you fucker” I said out loud. The first hike my brother and I did together was Siyeh Pass in Glacier National Park. We were completely fogged in when we got to the cairns. 

I stood on Cannon, completely fogged in and smiled, recalling our hike and the memories of that trip. From Cannon I made my way across the Kinsman ridge. It was possibly the most miserable trek I’ve made in the Whites. The trail conditions sucked (slick and muddy) and the “cannon balls” kicked my ass. The skies had cleared by the time I reached the summit of North Kinsman. I made a quick stop then pushed on to South Kinsman, where I was rewarded with a 360 degree, a dry pair of socks and a peanut butter sandwich. 

It was a slow descent on the Fishin’ Jimmy trail to my next stop, Lonesome Lake Hut for a delicious baked good! There was plenty of time until dinner so I spent some extra time at the hut chatting with hikers and gathering information about the best local pizza place...which I promptly made my way to at the end of the hike.

the day my brother died

On the day my brother died I was working at the gym. I had a few minutes between clients to make a quick call to my mom. I was in touch with her several times a day to get status updates. The one I received the previous night indicated that his vitals were good and there was no need to change my Friday flight to Texas. That was not the case on Wednesday morning. She told me that if I wanted to see him that I had better come right away. 

I hung up the phone and booked a flight for that evening. I made arrangements for Hazel to be picked up and boarded. I got changed, packed my bag and pedaled home to pack. 

The next several hours were a blur…and then I was on the ground in Austin, TX. My parents picked me up and we made a quick stop at the grocery store before heading to the house. We were half way home when my mom’s phone rang. It was Mart (Matt’s father in law). Everyone had been taking turns staying over night at the hospice. Wednesday was Mart’s night. I answered the phone...Matt’s dying you had better come right away...

I will never forget those words. 

He was already gone by the time we arrived. My mom said she had a feeling that Mart was going to be the one there with him. I had a feeling that he waited until he knew I was there with my parents. 

In many ways August 17, 2017 is more difficult than August 17, 2016. A full year of holidays, birthdays, anniversaries and memories have passed without him...365 sunsets. 

I still keep his final text on my phone...just wish we had more time...

what's inside

I’ve been taking the long way to work in the morning. It’s only a few miles longer, but it’s safer and a more scenic.

I pass the man who walks the old, one eyed yellow lab...the runner whose left shoulder is three inches lower than his right...the lady who jog walks while talking on her phone. It’s predictable and it often feels like deja vu.

Last week a couple of strong storms rolled through the area. My morning commute along Newton Lake was littered with tree branches, which forced me to ride with a bit more caution. Glancing down, I noticed a folded dollar bill on the grass by the curb. I passed it, then circled back (because hey, a dollar buys me a donut at Randolph’s) and picked it up. There were two bills...on the outside was a dollar, on the inside was a twenty dollar bill.

And the moral of the story is...

another round of four thousand footers

Last June I borrowed a book from a friend. It was a small miracle that I finished it (I am not a reader). 

The title of the book was “Following Atticus.” It was about a miniature schnauzer who climbed all forty-eight of New Hampshire’s four thousand foot peaks. As I worked my way through the book I started to realize that I had completed a good portion of the forty-eight. I joined a group on Facebook called “The four thousand footer club-climbing and hiking in New Hampshire” and decided to complete the list.

In July I completed the Wildcat Carter Moriah Traverse. Last weekend I made my way north for two days of hiking (Tom, Field, Willey, Osceola and East Osceola) and added another five to the list.

On Friday night I stayed at the AMC Highland Center, which provided me with an excellent dinner (as well as a to go container, ninja style). Saturday morning I was up early and had breakfast with an AMC volunteer, who completely understood that I was traveling on a budget and applauded my “forward thinking” when I once again pulled out some tupperware to store pancakes, oatmeal and peanut butter sandwiches.

The trailhead was located by the parking lot at the Highland Center. I spent most of the morning alone, which was nice (no one in NH seems to hike before 9am) and made really good time up to Avalon (which had a fantastic view) then on to Field, Willey and Tom. I only had to backtrack about a mile on this ten mile “semi loop” of a hike. I was off the trail in four and a half hours, well under the book time of six hours and forty five minutes. This allowed me the rest of the afternoon to explore the area and drink beer.

Seven hours of driving, six hours of sleep, ten miles of hiking and a few beers...the recipe for an EARLY BEDTIME! I checkin into the Lafayette Place Campground shortly before 4pm, set up my tent, ate pancakes, chicken, sweet potatoes and a peanut butter sandwich, then passed out only to wake up three hours later, starving. I sat in the car and ate a bowl of oatmeal with peanut butter while studying the map, then went back to bed. 

It was an early morning. I was on the trail by 6am to ensure I’d get home at a decent hour. Mount Osceola was an afterthought. I originally planned on Cannon and the Kinsmans, but that was a longer, more strenuous hike and I wanted to enjoy it. 


The rocky terrain made it difficult to get into a rhythm. This was the first time I’ve been on a trail in New Hampshire with switchbacks. Usually, the trail goes straight up. I was thankful for this, even if it made the hike a little longer. An hour and twenty minutes later, I was on top of Mount Osceola all by myself. The view was amazing!


After indulging in a cold brew and biscotti, I made my way toward East Osceola. It was a short mile between the peaks, which included a technical section called “the chimney” which was basically vertical rock climbing.

The descent to the parking lot seemed much easier than the ascent (which is atypical for me). In the last mile I saw several groups just starting their hike, which made me happy that I got an early start. After a quick change of clothes I was in the car and headed south. 

Only 18 more to go!