Nobody likes waking up to the sound of a screeching alarm clock, but when conditions are forecasted to be as good as they were last Sunday, I’ll wake up to just about anything.
Howie, Taylor, Road Dust and I met up at Mount Washington’s Cog Railroad parking lot under clear skies, and in warming temperatures we found a small group of fellow comrades strapping on skins, packing away beer, food and other essentials for the long trudge to the Great Gulf. Our efforts to seek out Washington’s corned-up slopes would prove to be a very rewarding endeavor.
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