Mileage: 7.6
​Time: 3.5 hours
NH 4,000 footers: Mt. Osceola & Osceola East Peak
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I woke up on a June 16th to a quiet morning, my first day off in a few weeks, with nothing major that needed to be done around the house. As I debated what to do with my day, I got a burst of inspiration to go hike a mountain. Throwing on some New Balance activewear, I grabbed my 40-liter LowePro Rover backpack and threw in miscellaneous hiking gear that I thought would come in handy for a single day trip in the White Mountains. With my camera, a small tripod, a few granola bars, a liter of water, and my REI quarter-zip fleece packed into the bag (with tons of space to spare), I hopped in the car and began the 2.5 hour drive to the Kancamangus, a 34 mile scenic highway that stretches across mid-New Hampshire and winds past a handful of trailhead parking lots that lead to notable 4,000' peaks. To be honest, I didn't check the weather report before leaving the house, something that I'd expect myself to do but for some reason forgot; about an hour from the trailhead my windshield wipers kicked on as a light rain began to fall, at which point I realized I never packed a rain shell... oops! 

I arrived at the Greeley Pond Trailhead parking lot at 10h45 with light rain still falling, and after a quick stretch and referencing the trailhead map, I began my hike to East Osceola's summit 5 minutes after shutting the ignition off. Per the posted sign it would be 1.3 miles to a trail split where the I would turn southwest and begin the climb to the peaks. The distance from the parking lot to the split was exactly what I needed as a warmup: gradual terrain that crossed over a few streams and one wider river, a few log bridges over swampy marsh, and otherwise typical root and rock stricken ground that is so characteristically New England. It was after crossing the first stream that I heard branches breaking behind me, turning to see a black Columbia rain shell moving through the woods a hundred feet back. As the silent hiker and I made our way further, I laughed as I recognized I had, without consciously doing so, pushed myself to maintain the quick pace I began at. It took no time at all to reach the sign at the trail split, at which point my stopping to take a picture allowed Black Columbia Jacket Guy to catch up to me. We exchanged hellos and he took the lead for the next portion of the hike. The sign had denoted 1.5 miles to the peak of East Osceola and 2.5 miles to Mt. Osceola's summit.

The trail began climbing almost immediately, though the terrain stayed more towards the dirt and roots side of things. I made it a quarter mile or so before realizing with the rain picking up, it would be worth my time to stop and pull the rain cover over my backpack earlier on than waiting until it was soaked. I lost some distance behind Black Columbia Guy, but caught up to him ten or fifteen minutes later as he stopped for a snack break. It was at this point that I asked if he was peak-bagging the 4,000-footers in New Hampshire, which he was, and we continued talking together as we moved up the mountain. The terrain became steeper by the minute, and as our conversation carried on I began utilizing my hands more and more to grip wet rocks and whatever tree trunks were possible to pull myself up the mountain. Having not climbed a mountain like that in quite a while, I definitely felt the strain on my body as I got higher up and covered the more difficult terrain. By 12h55, only an hour into my hike, the Black Columbia Jacket Guy and I reached the top of Mt. Osceola East. The completely wooded peak was adorned with a large pile of rocks against a tree denoting the 4,116-foot summit, and the worn-down trail was starting to resemble a running stream due to the volume of water falling. It was at this point, taking each other's pictures with the rock pile, that I introduced myself to Black Columbia Jacket Guy, who officially became Matt. 

Informing my new friend of the time, he asked me if I was continuing on to Mt. Osceola's main peak, another mile  southwest of where we currently stood. Given the rain and rocky conditions we encountered on the way up, I had been thinking against moving towards the second peak if it was to be alone, though he quickly interrupted my internal thought process by saying that he would add the mileage if I was going... with that, Matt and I moved on together, continuing conversations of work, life, hiking, and other adventures. Dropping steeply off the East Peak to the varied terrain of the ridge between the mountaintops, we came across two other hikers in head to toe rain gear, who we came to learn were the drivers of the only other vehicle in the Kancamangus trailhead parking lot. After another ten minutes or so we came to the bald face of Mt. Osceola where I was greeted with cold wind and stinging rain against my skin. I took a quick photo before ducking into the nearby trees down a short trail, taking a moment to pull out my water bottle for some hydration. We didn't linger long, turning around and heading another mile back to the East Peak and begin our descent out of the mountains.

We flew down the trail, using caution and our weight to get down the more difficult sections of terrain. As we crossed over an exposed face to the north of East Osceola, the thick cloud cover broke for a few moments exposing a beautiful view of vibrantly green trees that stood tall across the ridge before us. Carefully stepping across the wet rocks, my body was quick to remind me that my knees don't love descents as they started getting sore after just a little while; I always hike with my Black Diamond trekking poles, but had recently lent them to a friend who was doing a day hike in the Whites and asked to borrow them. Cutting back into the tree-cover the ambient temperature got warmer, and as our elevation dropped my damp shirt became a little bit more bearable as it stuck to my skin. After what seemed like no time at all, Matt and I approached the trail split sign denoting the remaining 1.3 miles to the parking lot. I mentioned my hunger, having not eaten anything while on the trail all day, and he spoke up about a favorite bar in nearby Lincoln, NH, suggesting we stop in for a burger on the way out of the mountains. We stepped foot in the trailhead shortly before 14h30, just 3.5 hours after beginning the hike, a time I was quite pleased with given the mileage and terrain covered. Hopping in our respective cars, I followed him a few miles west on the the Kancamangus to Black Mountain Burger Company where we had a quick lunch before we parted ways and I began the 130 mile drive back to Boston, satisfied with a great, albeit wet, impromptu day in the mountains, checking another 2 peaks off my list of the 48 New Hampshire 4,000-footers.

​As June marches on, work winds down and I'm getting closer and closer to nearly two months of summer vacation. From the looks of it there will be a plethora of adventures throughout North America with lots of hiking and photography opportunities... but I'll fill you in on that in a week or two.

Onwards & upwards,

Texaco

It's hard to imagine that it has taken me over a month and a half to write about my last day in Italy, but I wanted to wrap that trip up before I started posting about other happenings, and before the summer gets crazy with planned trips and adventures. With that, here we go... from Venice to Rome by car.

Despite the relatively late night shooting the rainy scenes around Venice, Brad and I were up early to begin what would be a long day of travel. When we made our plans to visit the northeast coast of Italy we weighed out a few options of how to get back to Rome. Having taken the train on our way to Venice, we decided that renting a car and driving back to Brad's house would allow us the great opportunity to see Pisa and the Leaning Tower while on the way. To pick up a rental car we'd have to get to Marco Polo International Airport, about 4 and a half miles north of Venice. We packed our bags, made our way down the windy streets towards the train station almost entirely be memory, and purchased bus passes to the airport in short order. After almost an hour of traveling by bus, watching our GPS dot move sporadically around the map on my phone screen, we realized that we had boarded the wrong bus and were going to end up nowhere near the location we were aiming for. Exchanging glances on the very crowded bus, we simultaneously hopped off at the next stop and re-evaluated our situation. Some quick time spent on the Internet left us with a new game plan, a 20 minute walk across a quiet suburban town on a lazy Sunday morning. We found the correct bus stop, narrowed down the correct bus route to get on, and waited for it to arrive. All said it took nearly two hours to make the 45 minute trip to the airport from our Airbnb in Venice, but upon arrival we were able to quickly find the rental car desk and get the keys to our tiny little Renault.

The irony of the rental situation was that Bradley had no clue how to drive a 5-speed. As we made our way across the parking lot he tossed me the keys, verifying aloud that I could drive a manual transmission car. I laughed as we struggled to pack our bags into the tiny back seat, adjusting the driver's seat and taking a moment to figure out the gearbox pattern. Brad became navigator as I found my way out of the parking garage, and before long we were zipping down the highway as I searched for some kind of speed limit sign with which to gauge our rate of travel. We stopped for a quick fast-food breakfast as I searched for a Venice postcard, ultimately finding that we were too far from the city proper to find a "local" card to mail back to the States. As we drove along the suburban scenery turned to luscious green mountains and a the road began disappearing into a whole heck of a lot of tunnels. Growing up in Boston and having lived through the 20 year process of "The Big Dig" where our entire city highway system got buried underground, I'm used to driving in long tunnels. The northern region of Italy, however, blows the sox off any tunnel Massachusetts is home to. The perfectly paved two lane highway would go from winding though hillsides to entering a continuous tunnel that would last us five or ten minutes at a time to get through... it was impressive to think of how long it must have taken them to build these monstrous underpasses. 

We arrive in Pisa shortly after lunchtime, both hungry and anxiously awaiting some form of nutrition. I found us a great parking spot on the street a quarter mile walk from the Piazza del Duomo that is home to both the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Cattedrale di Pisa. Packed with other tourists enjoying the history, architecture, and gorgeously sunny Sunday, Brad and I would our way through the lines of people waiting to climb the Tower, and as I turned to look down the length of the Cathedral, my eyes settled on what may have been the most beautiful sight of my entire trip to Italy. When we had begun planning our trip in the months before, one of the most important things for me was to go to the Ferrari world headquarters in Modena, Italy to see either the Ferrari Museum or, if possible, to get a tour of the factory itself. As we considered other things we were interested in doing, it became apparent that there likely wouldn't be time to visit Ferrari if we wanted to see Venice. With that backstory, I will tell you that I nearly shed a tear when we wrapped around the backside of the Leaning Tower of Pisa and found the road closed off and full of vintage Ferraris lined up for a celebratory car show. I had died and gone to heaven.

After an hour or so comprised of staring at this behemoth tower as it leaned into the pull of gravity, admiring the incredibly sexy array of vintage Prancing Horse automobiles, getting gelato and another small snack, and (finally) finding a post card, we were back on the road. The tiny gas tank of our tiny car was getting low, and as we stopped at a gas station, Brad and I discussed the urgent need for him to be able to drive the 5-speed in order to return the car from the airport after dropping me off for my flight home to Boston. It was there and then on that sunny spring day that I found myself doing circles in a dirt parking lot as I taught him how to use the clutch and gearbox simultaneously. As we were running out of time to get back to Rome in time for a Cirque du Soleil cast/crew party we were expected at, I deemed Brad's driving skills acceptable enough to try on the main Italian highways, and with a tiny bit of hesitation on both of our parts, we were off. He got progressively better at shifting as we made the nearly 4 hour drive from Pisa back to Rome, and even did a great job in the latter city's rush hour traffic.

We parked along the Tiber River nearby to where I had walked a few days prior, and I packed up my camera and tripod before walking over to a bridge I had scoped out in hopes of photographing sunset there. With a gorgeous view of Vatican city and flanked by a hundred other people with cameras, Brad was politely impatient with me as I clicked away with the shutter of my dSLR. I took only ten photos, doing my best to be respectful of the time while still doing my best to ensure a usable photograph from the pitstop. We hopped back in his car and made it across town in no time, each taking quick showers and changing for the Cirque event. We didn't stay as long as either of us had planned on, but seeing his coworkers outside of the Big Top was a great experience, especially having seen the show just three nights before. We were back at the house around midnight, having been awake for nearly eighteen hours. With my boarding pass downloaded to my phone and the alarm set for early the next morning, I passed out after an awesome day discovering a totally different kind of Italy.

The flight home the next day was simple, and Brad managed to get our tiny car back to the rental company without leaving the clutch to die on the streets of Rome. I made it back to Boston before the sun set, after a brief stop at New York's JFK International Airport. Luckily, despite some initial confusion as to whether not my suitcase ever left Europe, I was reunited with it before my Uber driver arrived outside passenger pickup. I had a great week with a great friend, traveled a country I had never experienced before, and took a whole heck of a lot of photographs. I'm thankful to have accomplished all this safely, and look forward to returning abroad again in the near future. 

Final note - thanks for the hospitality Brad, I had a blast :)

More to come as life returns to normal domestically, and plans for upcoming summer adventures get solidified.

​- Ryan