10 June 2009, Waterville Valley, N.H.

Heavily clouded skies, but beginning to break up. Saw an eastern Kingbird return time and again to a copse of trees, just outside the cottage kitchen window. All the surrounding trees were dripping, as a result of the heavy overnight rain. The weather forecast, however, gave us reason to hope that rain would hold off until late in the day, giving us the opportunity to try for a hike nearby.

Set off wearing light jackets, backpack holding rain gear. The Sky quite a bit lighter; we had the feeling we would be leaving the possibility of sun behind, but we'd decided on climbing the eastern Rattlesnake. We'd heard on the forecast that sun might be expected by the week-end; precisely when that popular climb would be packed with climbers, mostly from the Boston area.

On our drive, we saw daisies, hawk weed, lilac, rhododendron and phlox, their cheerful textures and colours animating the landscape. The highway was still drying out, with heavy mist rising from the forested hillsides. This was a pleasant, undemanding drive, unlike yesterday's through pounding rain. Once again, we saw vultures flying over the forested areas, slipping by.

We were able, this year, to take advantage of the new parking lot, far more conveniently located, not now necessitating a dash across the highway; much appreciated. We'd forgotten to get our permit but don't need it here in any event. Made a deposit in the donations box for trail upkeep.

Looks as though we may be in for a few casual sprinkles. Found it cool enough to wear our rain jackets, in any event.

Plenty of fresh green ferns, interspersed with lilies-of-the-valley. Hemlock seedlings abound. Huge old oaks, blasted-out venerable trunks. Occasional pink Ladies-slippers in view. Acorns litter the ground. In June?

The trail proceeds fairly steeply at points, with stone steps, braided tree roots, squared timbers fashioning steps; encumbering rather than assisting progress. We forge on, Button an old hand at this mountain hiking, Riley less so, still on his learning curve. Finding his way by speedily scoping out the ascending trail areas most resistant to the efforts of his short legs pumping steadily on.

Unlike Button, springier, slimmer, long-legged. We too try to take the ways of least resistance which means whenever possible, by-passing the 'helpful' stairs, noting as we do, that many others before us have done likewise; the narrow trails beside the laboriously-placed steps a testament to the obvious.

We're feeling pretty good. Slept well, ate breakfast like the reasonable glutton that we are, dogs-inclusive. Stop briefly, when particularly enraptured by the scene ahead, to snap photographs. Each of us with individual cameras, acquired over the years. When I download them at home I'll file them under 'his' and 'hers' folders. Also obvious, since his will hold photos of me, and mine of him.

Half-way up, an encounter. A white-haired couple in shorts and tee-shirts, each wielding double hiking staffs; only he fully-bearded, however. We stop. Talk. they're from Framingham. both still working, but in the summer reserve Tuesdays and Thursdays for 'time off'. So they can get out and hike in solitary comfort, beating the crowds. We know just how that is. We compare our climbing experiences in the mountains, with them.

Lafayette, Mousilaki, Little Haystack, Clinton, Eisenhower among them. Steep challenges of the past, long simmering, not quite forgotten. When we were young, comparatively speaking, and our children, now mature adults, younger still. We've over a decade of age on these two we're chatting with. But you'd never know it. Speaking objectively, naturally.

Mosquitoes are assaulting them. They've used citronella and it's worn off. We dare not offer our commercial brand 'Off" with DEET, although because we're fully garbed, arms and legs protected, we're not wearing any. I'm engaged with her, he's engaged with her husband, animatedly. The dogs, patient to a fault, wait uncomplainingly, begin to wander tentatively into the woods. We call them back, then part, calling friendly appreciation back.

Soon, we look behind us, alerted by Riley to see a young man and woman, jogging slowly up the trail, she in front. Hardly breaking a sweat, it seems, though they're dressed for the cold temperatures, unlike the previous two. I call after them as they pass that they should be aware what they're doing is simply not possible. (There's signage on Lafayette, a difficult climb, that some hardy soul was able to run up and down in record time.) Simply not possible; for us, at any rate.

Not much longer before we reach the top. There to offer water to the dogs, which they disdain. (Offer them treats, and that's another thing altogether.) And to look out over Big Squam Lake. Despite the heavy cloud cover, good views. Over to the right, the mountains are veiled in low clouds. To the left, we get a good view down the lake and beyond.

We never linger long at a peak. Decide to descent. We've other things to do with the day. Note, on our way down, a bright orange, perfect little newt. Reminds me that thirty years earlier we'd seen a similar little creature, when we were doing this with our children. Thrushes trill in the forest as we begin to emerge.