“WYF-711, this is Mount Washington weather observatory with your morning weather.” The radio came on with a staticy voice, I could hear Sean shuffling papers preparing to write down the morning weather for the hut guests downstairs. “The current temperature outside is currently minus twenty degrees, with high winds causing wind chills to drop up to minus 60 degrees. There is a statewide wind-chill warning in effect until tomorrow at 9am when temperatures are expected to start to rise again. Extended outdoor activities are not recommended.” I stirred in my sleeping bag, afraid to face the cold air outside. Lily was still asleep at the bottom of the bag curled up around my feet. She’s a smart dog, and knows where the warmth is. I think to myself “extended outdoor activities… great, that’s just what I plan to do.” The radio kicked off and Sean stood up. “Going to be a fun day today.” He said. I cinched the sleeping bag hood over my face and tried to doze back asleep.

I was going stir crazy at home. I’ve been back from Nepal for over a month now. I am broke and unemployed, my only companions are my parents, and I haven’t done much more than sit lazily around the house looking for a job online. I scraped together the little money I had, brought some cans back to the store for the deposits (thirty five cents). I threw my winter gear into my pack, grabbed some food from the pantry, and got into the car headed for my other home, the White Mountains. I stopped only once to put the $11.73 I had into the gas tank, hoping this would be enough to get me up and back, even though I knew deep down it wouldn’t and I would probably have to bum some money once I got up there, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out.

I arrived at Crawford Notch around noon and borrowed some Snow Shoes from a roadside lodge called the Highland Center (I know some people there from working for the AMC), and headed over to the trail head. I parked the car and packed up my things, a light flurry started to fall. I already started to feel an ease of mind being back in the mountains. My destination was Zealand Hut, which is located up in the Zealand Valley of the White Mountains. It is a small cabin open in the winter on a self serve basis with a caretaker living there. That caretaker is a good friend of mine named Sean who I have worked with in the White Mountain Trails dept of the AMC for the past 2 years. So I thought I would drop in for a surprise visit. I closed up the car and Lily and I started our walk.

The Zealand trail is usually accessed by a 3 mile long logging road. In the winter this road is closed, so the first part of this trip is long and flat. Luckily the first short part was plowed due to some recent active logging, though it didn’t last, and before too long it became a slow slog down the very long road.

Once I reached the sign for the Zealand trail it marked the half way point, it’s roughly another 3 miles up the trail to the hut. I ate a piece of bread I had in my pack for an energy boost and tried to have a swig of water but my bottle had already frozen solid, it was now nothing but dead weight in my pack. Lily was running up and down the trail very happy to be out on a hike again, she tried a few times to explore off trail but sank in the snow over her head and gave up trying.

The Zealand Valley is beautiful in the winter. I had been there many times during other seasons, and was happy to see it all in such a different state. The valley is usually very rich in vegetation due to all the water that comes through there, and there are areas of big bogs and ponds. It was now all frozen over in an expanse of white. The muffled silence of the woods in the winter is maybe the most calming and satisfying sounds I have ever experienced. You must hear it to understand.

The hike into the hut took about three and a half hours. I walked into the hut covered in snow, Lily at my heel. Sean walked up and said “I’m sorry, dogs aren’t allowed in here.” I said “shut up,” and we hugged. He showed me to my bunk up in the caretaker’s quarters up in the loft. I unpacked while Sean started a fire in the wood stove. We sat and talked for hours about our recent adventures. He had just returned from South Africa, and I from Nepal. It was good to be with a friend again. After eating dinner we talked some more and turned in for the night. “It’s supposed to be really cold tomorrow.” Sean said as he turned off the light. “I think I heard something about that.” I replied.

After the morning weather radio call, Sean asked me “So, are you going to hike in the cold?” “I’m going to try.” I said. “What about Lily?” He asked. I hadn’t thought about her yet. She didn’t have booties, and it was way too cold for her paws and could risk frostbite. Once I finally extracted myself from my sleeping bag I was determined to find a solution for Lily’s paws. It was simple enough, but not pretty. I put some spare socks over her paws then pet her paws in Ziplocs, then duct taped them on tight. She did not like this at all, and had some trouble walking with them on, though she didn’t know that it was for her own good.

I said goodbye to Sean and started my walk out into the cold forest. Wind had blown the snow to cover all the snow pack that was there the day before which meant I had six miles of breaking trail ahead of me, 38 inches deep. This was a task, and my slow hiking pace was reduced to a crawl. I kept a decent pace considering the conditions, and when I made it about halfway back to the trailhead I made a very aggravating discovery. I had dropped my camera somewhere on the trail, my new camera none the less. I struggled for a while trying to decide whether or not I wanted to go back and look for it, or even if I had the energy to go back and look for it. As I stood there arguing with myself I remembered where I may have dropped it. I had to stop once shortly after leaving the hut to readjust Lily’s booties, and had to bend over several times. I decided to go back. It took me two hours to slog back to the spot, and I was happy to find the camera lying in a patch of packed snow. It was frozen and wouldn’t turn on, but I had it back. I turned around once again and walked slowly through the snow back towards the car. I looked at the thermometer on my wrist, it had warmed up to minus ten degrees, almost t-shirt weather for a White Mountain winter.

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