Mt. Tom beckoned Peter and I Saturday, and ended up keeping us captive on the summit for nearly an hour, an unheard of winter pleasure for this time of year. Last March, I spent about three minutes at the very same summit, with views of about ten feet and a howling westerly wind. This Saturday, no wind. Nothing. Nada. Unworldly blue skies, and temps in the 20s.
The trail was packed tight, a superhighway of white billowy snow sculptures and our ascent was rapid. The Mt. Tom Spur trail was a stunning maze of snow-laden trees, a tunnel network of a trail, that we crawled under and walked through. The sunlight reflecting 360 degrees off the snow made the trail seem like a greenhouse, and gave us suntan on our faces and under our chins.
At the summit we were met by two very aggressive Gray Jays that danced off tiny branches within feet of us. They were rewarded for their near-National Geographic-style poses with handfuls of trail mix.
Enough words, perhaps some pictures might better explain the joy of that day. The full album is up at:
The Northern Presidentials shine!
The cliffs of Mt. Webster