NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 5): Hiking Paths and Moments of Transfiguration

What follows is part five of a five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here, part two here, part three here and part four here.

From Zeacliff in early morning fog, August 2012.

It's good to be almost done with this thing... it took me over eight years to hike all of New Hampshire's forty-eight four thousand foot mountains, and at a number of points, it felt like it might take nearly as long to write this essay.  But here am I, sitting in Queens nursing a coffee and looking at a blank screen nearly six months after summitting Mount Carrigain, trying to figure out how to conclude... how to write part five of five.  My general thesis when I started this whole thing, as stated in part one was: "the paths we trod in life simply serve as vehicles through which we realize the growth (or potential for growth) already stirring within and around us," an idea I still agree with.  Another key point I made in part one concerned the presence of God in the mountains: "Unfortunately, while I often marveled at Her handiwork during my mountaintop experiences, God Herself didn't seem to really want to show up... or at least it felt that way."

The path up Bondcliff, August 2012.

While I did find God over my many hikes in the Whites, although as typical, She didn't show up where I expected.  And actually, it shouldn't be all that surprising that God was around in the mountains... think about how much Jesus liked hanging out on them.  The Sermon on the Mount was well, preached from a mount.  On the night of his betrayal, shortly before his death and resurrection, Jesus visits the Mount of Olives.  Perhaps the most amazing story of Christ on the mountaintop however is the The Transfiguration.  Referenced in three of the four canonical gospels (and perhaps referenced in the other), the transfiguration is the story of Jesus taking Peter, James and John up an unnamed mountain and becoming ablaze in a bright light, shining with all the glory of God.  Elijah and Moses then decide to show up as well.  From one perspective, its the moment where God most revels Herself in Christ to humankind.  Predictably humankind however can't handle God in all Her glory... Peter tries to control the situation and asks to make three tents for Elijah, Moses and Jesus so the moment can last longer.  Before Peter really even finishes making his proposition, God proclaims, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”  The disciples fall to the ground, and when they get up, the moment is over... Elijah and Moses are gone and Jesus is back to normal.

What I've realized, is that in a more limited sense, moments of transfiguration happen all the time in the mountains.  They're fleeting and impossible to seek out yes, but they're there, and for me at least, these moments of transfiguration don't come from gazing at the beauty of the forest or far reaching vistas... they take place in momentary and miraculous connection with the Other.  Said in less theological student language, I experience the glory of God in the mountains in moments of deep connection with another human being.  Christ is not only the intermediary between humankind and God, but also between us all... the brief moments when we see Christ in others are the only times when we can truly connect, when we can truly know what another person is all about.  And for me, these moments of transfiguration, these moments when the glory of God even in a limited way shows up in the face of another human being, are most likely to take place while atop the high places of creation.

Atop Bondcliff, August 2012.

Working with Calumet campers at the Mizpah Springs Hut, hiking the Southern Presidentials with a loved one and summiting Mount Isolation with a best friend... there were transfiguration moments on those paths.  Taking a short stroll to the top of Cannon Mountain after my first week of seminary with another close friend, essentially climbing up a waterfall with three folks to bag Moosilauke during one of the best months of my life, conquering the horseshoe of the Northern Presidentials with my brother... there were transfiguration moments on those paths.  And while hiking alone but also while waiting out a late summer storm in the Guyot Shelter with two middle-aged women who couldn't have been more in love and while speaking with an eighty year old man near the summit of Owl's Head who had just bagged his last 4000 footer with his adult son... there were transfiguration moments on those paths.

I had many moments of transfiguration while hiking the many paths and summits of New Hampshire's White Mountains, moments where I saw the glory of God in the face of the Other.  And all these moments of transfiguration helped me realize the growth that was taking place within and all around me.  And because of all these moments of transfiguration, I am truly blessed.

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 4) Mount Zealand, Mount Bond and Mount Twin

Given the tragic shootings that took place in Newtown, Connecticut yesterday, it's hard to think about much else.  After a day of shared tears and prayers though, I needed a bit of escape, so I decided to write...  What follows is part four of a five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here, part two here and part three here.

As I awoke to a fading blanket of stars in the early morning hours of August 25th, 2012, I was definitely ready for a bit of a walk...  With only a few days left of what had seemed a nearly endless summer, it was time to finish my list of the New Hampshire's big mountains, but in order to do so, I needed to put in at least twenty-two miles to bag Mount Zealand and the three peaks of Mount Bond before heading back to my car.  An optional exit route over Mount Twin's two peaks beckoned in the distance as well, if I felt confident enough that a friend could pick me up at the trailhead and give me a lift back to my car.  Back in the real world away from familiar landscape of the White Mountains, things had certainly changed from a year earlier when I last set off on a very long hike, that time to conquer the northern presidentials with my brother (see part three).  Having a new serious love in my life and after finishing a second year of seminary, I suppose I was year older, a year wiser and certainly less lonely, but also less happy.

A beaver pond off Zealand Trail, 2012.

My previous summer, life had new, a blank canvas sort of feel as I finally broke out of the darkness following my mother's death.  This summer, as I prepared to set off for my internship year in NYC, the walls were closing in.  It felt like young adulthood and the freedom associated with that period of life was coming to end, something I wasn't quite yet ready to accept... the beginning of a lifelong career as a pastor, marriage, kids maybe... I spent much of the summer seeing these things approaching in the distance and thus cramming in as much adventure as possible.  After an amazing month spent hiking the Colorado Rockies and a visit to Yellowstone, I returned to New Hampshire determined to finish up its infamous list of forty-eight 4000 foot mountains.  Unfortunately, as the objective wasn't enjoying God's good creation but checking names off a list, many of my hikes were rushed and done solo... more like a two month long scavenger hunt than a series of beautiful journeys.

Early morning on Zeacliff, 2012.

My long walk over Zealand, the Bonds and eventually the Twins was a solo hike as well, and given that I had hiked three other mountains over the previous three days, I was already tired before even hitting the trail.  In order to cover the necessary twenty-two miles before sunset, I started out a bit before sunrise, running the first two and a half miles of the Zealand Trail through an absolutely beautiful valley.  This part of the trail was familiar terrain (my favorite in the Whites actually), so outside of a quick water stop to chat with a nice older couple I nearly ran into, things were great but uneventful all the way to the beginning of the Twinway up to Zealand Falls Hut.  After a very short but steep climb, I arrived at the hut right as some early risers were eating breakfast.  I took about five minutes to chat with a young father about the joys of hiking with children (no sarcasm intended) and then kept moving onto what would be brand new trail for the rest of my journey.  Completing another quick but tough mile, I arrived at my favorite point of the whole trail, an absolutely epic overlook off of Zeacliff.  With the morning fog billowing out of the valley below me, I couldn't have been happier.

Zealand Summit Sign, 2012.

I said a quick prayer thanking God for Her creation and the gift of a day to enjoy it, and then quickly rushed off instead of staying awhile to fully take in the breathtaking scene... needed to keep on time, of course.  Another mile and a half later saw me bag the day's first mountain: Zealand.  Although its entirely wooded summit offered no views for my effort, it does arguably feature the best summit sign in the White Mountains.  Not too long after leaving Zealand's summit I made it to Mount Guyot, which sort of marked a point of no return for my hike.  A long ridge jutting sharply south from Guyot into the heart of the Pemigewasset Wilderness, Mount Bond's three peaks are some of the most remote of NH's four-thousand footers.  Surrounded by other mountains and miles of forest on all sides, it's also one of the most stunningly beautiful places in New England.  Folks tend to bag the Bonds on a overnight due to the distance, the beauty and the convenience of the nearby Guyot Campsite, but given my lack of gear and companions, a really long day hike had proved necessary.

Bondcliff from Mount Bond, 2012.

Making good time and actually getting some limited cellphone reception, I left a message for my friend to pick me up at the Mount Twin trailhead... he was planning on coming up to hike my final peak the next day (Carrigain), or so I thought, and thus I figured it wouldn't be much of a problem.  After bagging West Bond I made my way through a half mile of thin trees to the highest peak of Mount Bond, and boy, it was awesome!  Bond is one of the few summits in the Whites where you really can't see much human civilization due to its remoteness.  Furthermore, you've got the sharp knife-edge of Bondcliff straight ahead of you to the south... couldn't be more amazing really.  Unfortunately though, it seemed like clouds might be soon rolling in, and given that I didn't really want to get caught above treeline if it rained, I bound quickly back into the trees in order to reach Bondcliff's highpoint (another 4000 foot peak).

On Bondcliff, 2012.

By the time I ran the mile out to Bondcliff and back, it was starting to rain HARD... the sort of hard summer downpour that gets through even the best rain-gear, so I decided to seek shelter at the Guyot Campsite.  I was a bit nervous about doing so as it would cost me a bunch of time, but I simply couldn't make it back out over the open face of Guyot and Mount Twin in such weather.  Soaking wet, I spent about an hour munching granola in a small lean-to at the campsite.  Luckily, the older women I met early that morning had arrived and raised my spirits through telling about their own journey through the Whites together.  Although the rain eventually stopped, the clouds never seemed to burn off... as it was getting late, I had to decide whether to spend a very cold, wet night at the campsite or try to make it across Guyot and Twin in less than ideal weather.  With some persuasion from my two companions, I decided to go for it.  By the time I got back to Guyot, the weather had improved and the two miles across a shallow ridge to South Twin didn't seem all that foreboding... it should of though.  Not long after I made it to the open summit of South Twin, it started to thunder, but instead of thundering above me, it was pretty much AROUND me.

On Mount Guyot toward South Twin, 2012.

I didn't see any lightening really, but boy was I scared... I think I yelled for God to quit it or something with all the thunder, but She kept at it until I made it another mile and a half over North Twin's summit.  Completely aching after almost eighteen miles of hiking and emotionally exhausted after my near-death experience, I gingerly started limping my way down the home stretch of the North Twin Trail.  It was a bit after 5pm by then, so I tried to make the best time I could in order to rendezvous with my friend at the time I planned, but it was definitely slow going.  I eventually came upon a fellow named Ben, who turned out to be the best person in the world.  When I finally got to the trailhead, I heard the news my friend couldn't make it, but Ben, being the best person in the world, drove me over what would have been another ten or so miles of road back to my car... I'm pretty sure he was an angel or something.  Bruised and exhausted, I set up my tent at Zealand Campground and ate a cold can of baked beans, feeling proud of my journey that day... I had covered over twenty-two miles and seven of NH's big peaks after all.  I realized though that after completing my list on Mount Carrigain the next day, I was finished with going fast and especially finished with going solo.  I discovered that I had grown into a place where the beauty of God's creation needed to be shared rather than experienced alone.  I'd like to think I came upon a new understanding of the whole "where two or more are gathered" thing Jesus was talking about this past summer, and I hope to never forget that discovery.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 3): A Northern Presidential Traverse

What follows is part three of the five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here and part two here.

Sitting in a late-night Starbucks in Queens, my northern presidential traverse in New Hampshire's White Mountains couldn't seem further away... with required-Santa-headgear-tasseled baristas,  purposefully tacky holiday decorations and sombre Elliot Smith tunes pumping over the stereo speakers, the coffeehouse seems wrapped in a warm snuggie of self-aware commercial melancholy.  It's entirely self-reflection inducing and largely familiar in a city that seems dead-set on exuding just that feeling in anticipation of a long, cold winter.

On the presidential range in the summer of '07.

If one hones in though on that notion of reflection in the face of cresting anticipation, my tramp over Mount Madison, Mount Adams, Mount Jefferson and Old Man Washington two summers ago was quite similar.  The seven years between my first summit of NH 4000 footer on Mount Pierce and my day on hadn't treated me that well.  Then a starry eyed high school grad burning with optimism, I had grown into a weathered hospital chaplain.. while my college years at the George Washington University in Washington, DC were largely good ones, near the end of my time there the clouds had certainly rolled in.  My mother and I had been diagnosed with cancer roughly at the same time during the spring of 2008, and while I would eventually receive news of my misdiagnosis with relief, my mom wouldn't fair so lucky... she ended up passing away soon after Christmas that year.  On top of these problems, facing a job search during the worst days of the Great Recession proved difficult, although I eventually was able to a land a less than enjoyably but fairly well paying financial position.  Eventually I figured out I'd like to attend seminary and become a Lutheran pastor, thus beginning what I'd consider a recovery period after the troubles of '08.

Zealand Trail, 2012.

As my brother and I pulled into Dolly Copp campground to prep for our hike two summers ago, it felt like that "recovery period" was ending... I had slowly regained my confidence in the intervening three years and began coming to terms with the anger I felt at the Divine for everything inflicted on my family and I in 2008.  My renewed sense of confidence had emerged in a quieter, calmer manner than that of the innocently joyful days of my youth, but that didn't mean I had lost my playful sense of competition at all... which meant that although my brother Darren had never hiked in the White Mountains before, I was taking him on an introductory march over one of toughest trails in the state.  Darren was probably in better shape than I was, so I knew he could handle it, but I also knew he had no idea what he was about to get into.  Since he seemed to always think himself tougher than me, I figured it was about time to put his notion to the test.  On the other hand, I felt deeply satisfied to be spending a long day hiking with my brother.  We had only become close after my mother's death, so I considered the trip a celebration of our new found closeness... the dynamics of brotherly relationships are interesting, right?

Near the summit of Mount Guyot, 2012.

Starting out around 6:30am, we made okay time up three and a half miles of the Daniel Webster Scout Trail, although Darren was lagging a bit more than I expected.  Once we got out of the trees near Osgood Junction though, he quickly picked up his pace.  Although we had hiked fairly quietly (the stoic awkwardness of two brothers who have not been close still lingered between us), once we attained the ridge, that quickly changed... It was a bright sunny day, and having never been above treeline before, Darren absolutely loved it, yelling out that he couldn't wait to tell his buddies back home in CT about the trip.  The bummer though was that he thought this was near the peak of our adventure, so when I pointed across the Great Gulf at Washington and told him we were following the whole horseshoe-shaped ridge-line all the way around to its summit, Darren wasn't too happy we had that long to go.

After quickly bagging Mount Madison, we headed down into the col to rest awhile and had a late breakfast at Madison Hut.  As familial awkwardness retook us, there was some brief talk about the views, a conversation to which my vain attempt at sounding like an expert about the AMC hut system made a grand addition.  Heading out of the col we passed by Star Lake and joined a large number of hikers heading up to bag Mount Adams.  With Darren once again lagging near the summit, I finally came out and asked him why he was going so slow... that's when an amazing blessing came in the form of a heavy gallon jug of iced-tea Darren thought would be a good idea to bring along on the hike.  As he pulled the jug out of his day-pack and dumped the full gallon out on the side of the trail, swearing his head off all the while, I immediately started chiding him about his mistake, as any good older brother would.  He remained pretty upset with me for the next hour or so, but event completely broke the ice between us- we realized it was okay to be vulnerable around each other for the first time in years, and our relationship has never again descended into silence.

Mount Washington, 2006.

We proceeded to the top of Mount Adams quite quickly, and after descending into Edmunds Col for a short rest, we hastened to summit Mount Jefferson... the ice-tea had definitely slowed us down, and I was increasingly worried we might not make it out to Pinkham Notch before sunset.  I don't remember much about the mad-dash across the final 2.5 miles of ridge line from Jefferson, past Mount Clay and up to the summit of Washington, outside of all the brand new curse-words I learned as Darren yelled most of the way.  We eventually made it to the final summit, and astounding all the motorists who had came up on the auto-road, triumphantly pointed across the Great Gulf toward Osgood Junction to indicate where we started.  Luckily I picked up a flashlight in the summit gift shop, as making our way down Lionhead's as it got dark without one (Tucks was closed for restoration work) would have been less than ideal.  With the awkward gulf between us now gone, on the ride home we were able to reflect about our mom, our emotional recovery process after her passing, and how much we greatly looked toward the future.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 2): Overnight at Mizpah

What follows is part two of the five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here.

My very first trip up one of NH's big peaks took place in 2004 as a young camp counselor taking teenagers to the AMC's Mizpah Spring Hut for Calumet Lutheran Ministries.  Before that first summer I hiked up to Mizpah, the outdoors in general hadn't really ever been my thing.  I had technically been a Boy Scout for years, and even had recently earned my Eagle Scout Badge, but campouts had always been more about building fires, chopping down trees and generally screwing around with a ragtag group of friends than actually enjoying any real hiking through God's creation.  I had also been a camper at Calumet for a few years and counselor the prior summer as well, but even then I was more interested in getting a great tan or flirting with girls than soaking up the untrampled beauty of the White Mountains... when possible, I'd always go on the easy canoe trip with a few campers rather than a hike.

Boy I was goofy.

Upon first hearing I had to help lead an overnight to Mizpah, I was pretty bummed... the trip up the Crawford Path was technically categorized as one of the "hard" hikes Calumet offered, and it additionally meant two days away from my "epic love" that summer.  I was also at nearly the pinnacle of my neo-flower child phase, and thus had great concern about a long day of sweaty hiking messing up my "sweet" bleached-blonde locks.  Eventually though I came to terms with my fate and even heard from a few of my fellow counselors that it was amazing trip. The moss covered forest floor looked like some sort of fairy garden and water from the spring was supposedly the tastiest in the world.

Following my usual practice that summer, I fell asleep during the bus ride to the trailhead despite being responsible for campers.  I awoke as the bus pulled into Crawford Notch near the AMC's Highland Center to an absolutely beautiful valley all around me... I had never, ever even come to close to seeing such wondrous creation during my Boy Scout trips.  As we headed up the Crawford Path, I quickly realized that it wasn't all that bad, even with the heavy pack on my back.  The kids that usually sign up for the hard hike at Calumet tend to actually like the outdoors, and that definitely seemed to be the case on this trip.

A similar "fairy-garden" on Wildcat Mountain.

Right around hitting the Mizpah Cut-off, things seemed to flatten out pretty substantially AND the fairy garden deal started happening.  Long before getting to a summit, seeing such lush, beautiful forest for the first time already made the trip well worth my effort.  Soon enough though we reached Mizpah Hut and I was once again astounded, this time that such things existed up in the White Mountains.  The clearing around the hut was filled with birds that seemingly lacked any fear of people and I specifically remember hearing Uncle John's Band being played by the hut crew as they started preparing dinner.  Calumet couldn't afford quite such plush accommodations for our group however, so we instead found a couple platforms at the nearby Nauman Tentsite.

Eisenhower, Pierce and Jackson from Mount Monroe.

Once we set up our tents on the assigned platforms, the trip's head counselor quickly suggested we take the "optional" Webster-Cliff trail up to the summit of Mount Pierce.  Most of the campers seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea, so we grabbed our Nalgenes and headed up a decidedly steep (although short) trail to the summit.  Despite the tough grade, I felt hungry to reach that summit... a feeling I had never felt before, and I remember it sort of surprising me.  

It didn't take our group too long to summit, and since most of us had never been above treeline before, there was a strong sense of camaraderie through our shared experience.  I felt honored to be part of that moment with my campers and fellow counselors, and we stayed above treeline for much of the afternoon.  Mount Eisenhower and even Washington seemed like a close hike away and  I remember wishing we could keep ascending up the Crawford Path to the top of New England... the whole world seemed in front of us, all-embracing and filled with adventure.  Being a sentimental fellow, I quickly realized how this reflected my own life situation as recent high-school grad soon to go off to college for the first time.

After heading back into the trees and down to our tents, I suppose we had dinner, told a few stories and went to bed... I frankly don't remember much more about the trip.  Looking back on it though, that trail up Mount Pierce helped me recognize two things.  First, I realized that much like the ecstasy of looking forward to the summit of Washington for the first time, the joy I felt during my last summer before college, the joy of having a bright, untarnished future ahead of me, was fleeting.  Second, I comprehended the great hunger for future mountaintop experiences within me for the first time.

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Day Trips Over Mount Hale, Galehead and Garfield

I'm up in beautiful New Hampshire on my last trip of the summer finishing up hiking all of the state's forty-eight four thousand foot mountains, and boy, it's pretty amazing so far.  Outside of waking up today with a really bad cold (hence the break today), I couldn't have asked for more: mostly sunny skies with temperatures in the seventies/ low eighties, success finding some pretty cheap campgrounds.  I even got to stop by a friend's lake house on the way up and catch up with a group of folks I hadn't seen in over a year.  While I'm physically feeling a whole lot better, mentally I'm still spent, so apologies for the scant amount of reflection in the rest of this post.  That said, there's definitely some epic pictures.

Two days ago I headed up through Crawford Notch to do a quick six-mile warmup hike over Mount Hale.  As you can see from the summit, it's less than impressive view, but the way back couldn't have been better.  I decided to head back out to NH302 via the Zealand Trail, which descends past both the AMC's Zealand Hut and Zealand Falls and levels off into an absolutely magnificent valley, my favorite in the White Mountains.

Summit of Mount Hale

Cascade at Zealand Falls

 

 

Flooded area in Zealand Valley

That night I camped at the Zealand Campground under a clear starry sky, with a site only costing me $16 for the night... both things which were quite beautiful.  I also had an amazing dinner at Cold Mountain Cafe, a place couldn't recommend strongly enough.

View from Galehead Hut

Yesterday saw me on a bit more ambitious hike over Mount Galehead and Mount Garfield.  The first leg of the journey up the Gale River Trail wasn't bad at all with a pretty moderate grade.  After briefing checking out a great view at the AMC's Galehead Hut, I quickly got up the Frost Trail to the once again unimpressive summit of Mount Galehead.  After heading back down to the hut for lunch and a bit of a break, I started across the ridge to Mount Garfield on the appropriately named Garfield Ridge trail... this was definitely the hard part and ate up a huge amount of my time.  My favorite part of this portion of the hike wasn't the scenery at all, but rather with a thru hiker named Laughing Dog who was heading south for Georgia on the Appalachian trail.  You can check out a great blog chronicling his journey here.  After finishing up my conversation with LDog at a trail junction, I climbed up to the steep summit of Mount Garfield and was treated absolutely amazing 360 views of the Pemigewasset Wilderness and nearby towns.  Particularly awesome was the view of Owl's Head Mountain at the heart of the wilderness area, a pretty difficult summit I attained not too long ago.  I got back out to the road down the easy but long Garfield Trail, and then had to unfortunately finish up the day on a mile and a half walk up the dirt road to my car. 

Garfield Ridge Trail

View of Owl's Head from atop Mount Garfield

When I have a bit more time, I'll post a 360 video from the top of Garfield to give a bit more of an idea what it looks like.  So wow, the next few days are going to be pretty nuts... some of my overnight gear isn't in the best shape and I have to work around changed plans for hiking with friends on Sunday, so I'm going to have to split up my Mount Bond overnight into two day trips.  Tomorrow will definitely be the most challenging, as I'll be starting a roughly twenty-two mile trip at sunrise over Mount Zealand, into the Bond peaks and then back.  Then Sunday I'll do a bit more modest hike to Mount Carrigain with some friends and finish up all of NH's big peaks on the Twins this Monday.  I'm hoping today has taken care of whatever ailed me this morning, as needing another day off might start putting me up against some tougher weather.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is a Masters of Divinity candidate in his second year of study at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin really likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.