Mt. Tremont
Submitted by Pat
Stats
Mountain: Mt. Tremont (3,371)
Date: July 29, 2017
Time: 6 hours
Miles: 5.6
Elevation Gain: 2,550
Trail: Mt. Tremont Trail
We meet in the MacDonald’s parking lot in Ossipee at 6:50 am and head to Conway in my car. We eat breakfast at the Sweet Maple Café in Conway Village – best coffee I’ve had in a while. Good food and best of all we are the only ones there. It’s also a great place to buy a sandwich for our trail lunch – lots of gluten free options too.
The trailhead for Mt. Tremont is on the south side of Rte. 302 about a half mile west of Sawyer Rock picnic area in Bartlett, NH. We are gearing up when a woman in the parking lot comes up to us and says a sweet hello. She says she has seen the presentation and read Nancy’s book. These moments are so amazing. We feel the blessings of the moment. Yes!
As soon as we start hiking, I feel a little off – stomach and intestines are not happy. I’ve already had two bowel movements before hitting the trail, so I think I’m cleaned out. Well, I’m not. I try to ignore it.
The trail runs beside Stony Brook for a mile or so. Beautiful slabs of rock create pools and small waterfalls as well as large open rock faces to walk on. We stop often to take pictures. The area is as beautiful as Diana’s Baths without any people! Not a heavily used trail, the first mile is a steady climb with good footing, but I start breathing hard right away.
I refuse to mire myself in self-pity, so I talk to Nancy about how hard it is to haul my body with its extra 25 pounds up a mountain, especially when I am so out of shape. I have been frustrated and unable, or better said, unwilling to develop a cardio and strengthening program that will help me hike without struggling so hard. I run in the woods for 30-40 minutes two or three times a week – no abs and no strengthening. I don’t really know why I don’t make the time, make a plan and stick to it. Part of it is feeling like I shouldn’t be taking a 2-hour lunch every day. Work responsibility has always weighed heavily on me and now it has me hogtied. This needs to change.
After a mile and a half of hiking, I work up a good sweat. I reach for my bandana and it’s not there. What? Dang! I knew I had forgotten something. I take a long-sleeved shirt out of my pack and wipe the sweat off my face, arms and legs. Back on the trail, I feel my bowels stirring and have to stop and use the forest facilities for my 3rd bowel movement of the day. I expect to feel better afterward but feel only partly relieved. My stomach isn’t right and I feel a general, low-grade malaise when I start hiking again.
The trail turns away from Stony Brook and begins to climb more steeply. The erosion of the trail bed creates tricky footing so my focus, besides on breathing and pacing myself, is on where to put my feet. We reach a section where the steepness levels out a bit, then we start climbing in earnest. This last section is a series of switchbacks along the side of the mountain and is very steep. I put my head down and concentrate on pacing myself so I don’t have to stop and rest as often. I plod along, feeling my legs losing power and my breathing becoming harsher until it simply doesn’t feel fun anymore.
For the last few years, has hiking been fun? I see it as fun after the hike, type 2 fun, when I am finally stopped and resting, but it’s not fun working that hard when I am in the moment. One problem is that hiking once a week is not increasing my fitness. Every hike presents me with a new mystery – which of Pat’s many bodies will show up today? What painful, emotional issue will rear its dreadful head and drag me down? Will I be able to keep up with Nancy?
We reach the summit at 11:30 am, sit on a rock, just the two of us, looking out over Sawyer Pond and Green Ledge toward the Osceolas, Tripyramids and other southern mountains. It feels wonderful to sit and rest. I don’t have much of an appetite so don’t eat all of my salad. I am still feeling an upset stomach and unhappy bowels. I love being on the summit alone where we can’t hear any extraneous sounds – no motorcycles, people yelling or talking, jets flying overhead. All we hear is the sound of our soft voices and songbirds calling out.
We rest for 45 minutes before packing up our gear and starting the trek back down the mountain. I feel rested so I take the lead and move quickly for a while. While we are descending the switchbacks, I feel my body become cold and clammy and I know another spate of diarrhea is on its way. I hike into the woods, well away from the trail, and squat, trembling and sweating like I’ve been climbing a mountain. When I finish, I don’t feel finished, but we need to keep moving so I button and zip, put everything away and start down the trail again.
Nancy is very supportive and caring. I know this situation isn’t what I would call fun or how we would like to spend our time together. My focus becomes even more narrow: keep moving, watch your step, keep drinking, and get off this mountain safely.
As we finish the switchback section, I suffer another bout of diarrhea. Cold and clammy and in the end, not much relief. Button, zip and fall in behind Nancy. We hike quietly, not much to say under the circumstances. I draw inward and my focus becomes so tight I barely notice that we are next to Stony Brook again. Seeing the end of the trail is a relief. It feels great to wash my body with a cool cloth and change into dry clothes. It’s hard not to wonder what this stuff keeps happening to me: diarrhea, no legs, breathlessness. I will figure out how to get through this. I must.