part 2

as the cog wheel ground to a halt, i rallied my sense, stood and filed out of the car with the families, the foreign tourists and the groups of 50-something ladies that inhabited it.

i looked around and noticed that the building we stopped at didn't resemble the center we left from earlier in the day. it was a museum and i am sure it was lovely, but i needed to get to a bottle of water and to the car. i had noticed a younger couple also on the train that were decked in the appropriate gear one would wear when climbing a mountain. i seemed to remember them saying to someone on the trip down that they had climbed up but were taking the train down. i figured when i saw this same couple head through the parking lot and onto the access road that they knew where they were going and would lead me to the visitor's center.

i followed them (on a gradual down slope) for about 1/4 mile when i realized that i suddenly had to go to the bathroom. i excused myself into the woods that lined the road and found a nice spot. when i re-emerged to the street i noticed that the couple was gone. "no big deal" i thought. "there is only one way they could have turned."

as i crossed the street and entered the increasingly unfamiliar parking lot, i saw the couple sitting on the ground, removing their shoes and packs and snacking on something pulled from the open trunk of their car.

it WAS a parking lot. a remote lot, by the looks of it. right about now, i came to the realization that maybe, just maybe there was more than one way up that blasted mountain. i approached them and asked if they knew where the visitor's center was. they asked if i knew the name of the place and for the life of me, i didn't.

he offered me their map of the park. we found the train station and the parking lot and the following conversation ensued:

him: there's a visitor center about 3/4 the way to the summit. is that the one you are thinking of?

me: no. it's at the base of the mountain.

him: (indicating a spot on the map on the exact opposite point of the mountain as we were currently standing.) well, i hope you are not thinking about pinkham's notch. it's all the way over here

me: yep. i AM thinking about pinkham's notch. so not cool.

just as we realized that i was a solid 10-mile hike or roughly an hour of road travel away from the car, a sheriff pulled into the lot. i thanked the guy and headed over to the sheriff. i explained to him what had apparently happened. that i did not realize that the train came down the other side of the mountain. that i needed to somehow get to pinkham's notch so that i could meet the other guys when they came down. that i should probably get a message to them over there so that they didn't think i was dead or lost.

he offered little help. only stating that he could get a deputy to take me back to the campground where we were staying since i was apparently closer to that now than to pinkham's notch. or that if we could get a message to them, that my friends could come around and pick me up once they got down. i thought about this for a moment, but then i remembered something very strange and VERY unfortunate.

rewind to the top of huntington's ravine: as i got into the back of that vermont mini-van, i vaguely remembered jeff handing me something. something that would, in theory, enable me to wait for them in a more comfortable manner while they descended.

he had handed me the car keys.

so, left with a helpless cop and no other option but to somehow get myself to pinkham's notch so that we could all get home, i started walking.

the slight decline of the road that i had previously enjoyed, was now poised against me. my lungs still not recovered and my body was mostly worthless, i wandered up the hill toward the train station to hopefully get someone to help me at least get a message over the mountain. i was almost back to the station when a truck pulled up. from inside, a young man named ryan who worked on the train told me that he had seen me wandering and wondered if everything was alright. i told him what had happened and my predicament and he was kind enough to offer me a ride to the new lodge about 20 minutes away that would be in better contact with pinkham's than anyone at the train depot. i obliged and we were off through a service road that cut across a good chunk of the forest.

ryan apologized for not being able to take me the whole way back to pinkham's but i assured him that anything was better than walking.

we arrived at the appalachian mountain club's highland center and he wished me luck. i made my way to the front desk and once again explained my situation. i told them i needed a ride and asked if there was anyone who could take me to pinkham's notch.

"well, that would be bruce." the young lady behind the counter said.

"well, let's give bruce a call." i suggested.

she let me use her cell phone to call bruce and when he answered, i repeated what was now becoming the most overtold story in the history of human experience: train to the wrong side of the mountain. pinkham's notch. car keys. etc. etc. he said he would gladly do it for the price of gas and he would be there to get me in an hour.

"an hour?"

"i am not at my vehicle. i will get there as soon as i can."

"oh. ok. thanks."

they then gave me the number to the visitor's center and i left a message for "someone who may or may not be looking for a message" that i was fine and would be there in a little lest than two hours.

i told the desk workers that i was going to go sit down by the water fountain and to point bruce to me when he got there.

the hour passed pretty quickly and in that time i managed to not only drink a lot of water, but also find out that i am significantly allergic to one of the ingredients of the cookies 'n cream cliff bar™. bruce showed up and we were on our way.

his van was the sort of industrial-strength crazy that one would expect from a former hippie from louisiana living in the white mountains of new hampshire. plain white with nothing in the back aside from a red camping chair (not bolted down) and a peach foam sleeper chair. i apologized if i had pulled him away from any holiday weekend festivities and he assured me that "the vodka would still be there" when he got back.

for the next 45 minutes he regaled me with stories of cops in arizona and the pain of owning antique trucks as we wound our way back to my friends. it was a nice and light way to end one of the hardest experiences of my life.

we pulled into pinkham's notch and i waved to the guys as we passed. bruce wanted $20 for the trip. i wanted to give him more and i only had $14. i borrowed some money from the guys and bruce happily pulled away into the vodka sunset. just a bit more than 8 hours after leaving the visitor's center, i was back in the car and we were on our way back to camp.

in retrospect, i am so thankful for the friends i had with me for (most of) that day. for safety. for beauty. and for the fact that God has a serious sense of humor.