The mountain and the six hiking ladies waited patiently, though it was before the appointed time.
They were early, as adventurers often are. Three of the ladies are over 60, two over 70, and one over 80 years old. A chemist, journalist, therapist, doctor were among the hikers. It was comfortable being the youngest. New meat, they called me.
The most adrenaline-producing moment was crossing an icy birch to get to the luncheon spot halfway up Passaconaway. The ladies were wearing their waterproof winter boots, and rock-hopped even though the rocks were partly under water. I wore leaky summer boots (sooo last season and out of date!) and did not want to walk in wet feet.
But the birch crossing was successful, and two miles later we bare booted to the tree-shrouded summit marked with an X.
No cairns here. Jean, the 80 year old, brought some sweet chocolate bar concoction for everyone at the top. 3.5 hours up, 3 hours down, no headlamps, no fractures.
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