Nov 9

 Paid some dues on Moosilauke.

I had hoped that the snow beyond the first mountain was not the one I was climbing.

The trail was moderate with views to the south and east on the way up.

It was 3.6 miles up with the last mile through slush and snow and being careful with each step. And the summit was the very one I'd hoped not to climb. Snow covered, but doable.

- "Make every step count" -

Then at the summit, I looked up and waved at two people already at the top.  And promptly lost my footing, even with trekking poles.  I landed on a round rock just waiting for my back.  It was like Pujols' bat swung and hit.  The man and woman rushed over and made me sit awhile before getting up.
"No broken bones," I said, panting through clenched teeth.

And after a bit, I stiffly climbed to the sign where the man cut off my feet. In the photo. The show must go on.  No pictures on the way down.  Just thoughts of getting home.

Today I'm not so sure about the declaration of no broken bones. Agony to cough or sneeze. A click in the back at the top of a deep painful breath. Maybe a posterior rib?

The good thing is no blood in the urine. Is there a good thing about falling?  Only that I'm not lifting weights, jogging or hiking while recovering.