Take nothing for granted. Not one blessed, cool mountain day or one hellish, desert day or one sweaty, stinky, hiking companion. It is all a gift.
— Cindy Ross
Highpointing is just part of it. I have gathered oodles of stories during my experiences hiking, backpacking and as a trip leader. These stories come not just during boots-to-the-ground trekking but also while all the other tasks related to hiking must get done. Countless hours of researching trails in books and on line, visiting the outdoors stores, procuring clothing, equipment and supplies, talking to park rangers, experts and other hikers, adapting recipes for the trail, attending workshops and seminars, gathering information. Find anecdotes about my training hikes, shopping excursions for gear and food, my pursuit of maps, guides and information, and descriptions of some of the characters who are clearly made of different stuff than I am. These stories are my Moosilauke Letters. Were it not for hiking, none of these stories would have happened.
Mount Moosilauke is a gentle giant in New Hampshire. I have climbed it a couple of times. Moosilauke is an Abenaki word that translates to, “Place that is bald on top.” Look at me in the photo. Any questions?
Now, my love of hiking, the thrill of exploring, the anxiety that I get on exposed ridges, the serenity and challenge of the wilderness, goofy Americans, the magnificence of the mountains, plus the excellent hiking and traveling companion I have in Lisa… Well, all this just has to be written down.
Lisa and I walk a lot. Thousands of miles, in fact, on wilderness trails, sidewalks, running paths and rails-to-trails, deep mud, in the parks and preserves, slick ice and snow, on hard, shiny granite, on even harder solid lava, through hunting grounds and marshes, soft sandy beaches, city streets and rhododendron-choked wooded animal paths. Imagine all the things that can happen during those thousands of miles. But you don’t have to imagine. I’ll tell you.