In order to prepare as well as possible, my son and I purchased a variety of items: two Space brand emergency blankets, water proof matches and a small first aid kit. In addition, we brought along a couple of pocket knives, flashlight and some bug spray, a few plastic bags for wet clothes and inexpensive ponchos. For food, it was carbs and protein. We packed beef jerky, granola bars and bagels; along with several Poland Spring bottled waters. However, about halfway up, there was a well with a hand pump. It provided the most absolutely pure, freezing cold, hydration I've ever had. Our clothing was non-traditional. First and foremost, unless you bring a Sherpa to carry your belongings, one simply couldn't carry the amount of gear and clothing necessary to prepare  for any condition on Mt. Washington. Therefore, we went by this simple formula: prepare for a worst case scenario and go comfortably. What does that mean? The first is obvious. I wasn't going to be stitching up any wounds on the mountain or making a shelter to survive in for a week. With that said, I wanted to ensure if either of us were hurt, we could survive long enough for help to arrive. As for food and clothing, we brought enough food to keep up our energy to make it up the mountain and/or enough to keep up fed while we waited for help if needed. We wore clothing that was functional and we were used to. Didn't want blisters or chafe. It was amusing, at the first “rest area” along the trail, to encounter a group of hikers talking up their pricey hiking gear. Brand name this and brand name that. Hours later, we'd pass them. Except we were heading down the mountain after already making it to the summit and they were still only two thirds the way up. So much for their designer hiking gear. My broken-in running shoes, Underarmor shorts and hoodie, a light weight back pack with snacks, water and emergency supplies  was enough get the job done.

 

    Before you start your hike, leave an extra set of clothes and shoes in your car at the base lodge parking area. You'll be glad you did. The combination of exposure to the elements and perspiration from the hike will leave you absolutely soaked.

 

     We woke early the morning of the hike as we had an almost two hour drive to the trail head. Failure to reach the summit was not an option.I wanted to eliminate as many of the issues (within my control) that I could before we even began. Timing was one of them. I didn't want to have to abort the attempt because we were running out of daylight. I knew, in September, that we'd need to make it to the top by 2 P.M. or risk turning back before we reached our goal. I did not want to be trying to make it down the mountain in the dark. We passed through North Conway, New Hampshire and the rain started to hit the windshield. As we continued and started to make the assent toward the Pinkham Notch visitors center (where the Tuckerman Trail begins) the rain became more steady. 

 

    The entrance was just ahead on Rt. 16 and I asked my son as I put my left turn signal on, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can drive home. There's no shame in that.” He replied, “No Dad, I want to do this."   

 

     Regardless of his opinion, it was my job as the parent to ensure his safety. It was ultimately my decision if we went or not, but it made my decision easier that he had the confidence to continue this journey. We were in this as a team. My son, at 13, was already full into his teenage years. I knew this was a once in a lifetime bonding experience. We had trained and prepared together. Now, we'd reach our goal together. But first, we needed this rain to stop. We sat in our Ford Explorer for nearly 30 minutes. I anxiously twisted my wrist to gaze at my watch with great frequency. Time was of the essence and we needed to start soon. The rain became a drizzle but the skies were still overcast. It was now or never. At just about 2,000 feet above sea level, the start of the Tuckerman trail seemed like any other trail I hiked; nothing particularly challenging. However, the first thing I noticed it was very rocky, and rocks are very slippery when wet. It was 2.4 miles to the Hermit Lake Shelter (where we'd meet our 'stylish' counterparts I mentioned before), where the first rest area sits at 3,875 ft. A minor accomplishment in itself.

 

     We started at a steady, yet careful pace. I didn't want to twist an ankle on the wet rocks and ruin the day before we even made any progress. The heavy foliage above us was providing cover from the majority of the precipitation. About 20 minutes into the hike, the leaves thinned and we were starting to get soaked. At that point, we were both just wearing our tee shirts so we reached into our backpacks and pulled out the ponchos. I find ponchos to be disgustingly hot, so it really wasn't an option I was enthusiastic about. However, being soaked this early into the day wasn't any better so I opted to put our “trash bags” on, as I sarcastically referred to them.

 

    Our first mistake was realized in the purchase of inexpensive ponchos. This brand seemed designed to be worn during something like a sporting event while sitting in stationary bleachers. The rugged terrain and our body's employing the use of all four limbs in negotiating the trail led to constant stretching and tearing of the ponchos. As luck may have it, the plastic rain wear reduced itself to tattered threads around the same time the rain stopped. Though the precipitation stopped, our shirts were soaked from the combination of rain and sweat from the heat induced by the ponchos. As not to litter the pristine mountain and for possible use later if the need arose for a shelter, we placed what remained of our ponchos into a pocket in my backpack. We then placed our soaked shirts (luckily, our shorts remained comfortably dry) in bags and placed them in our backpacks as well.

 

     We donned our hoodies and continued the hike. The trail felt a bit more open at this point and we upped our pace to just short of a jog. This part of the hike seemed a bit monotonous and boring; not unlike any other hike I'd ever done. Soon, we'd make it to Hermit Lake which had a covered deck and “bathrooms”, as well. I had made the mistake of consuming sushi the night before and the bathrooms, regardless of their condition, were a welcome sight. To my surprise, they were kept up and clean. Or I was just desperate. Regardless, I joined my son at the porch area in a clearing just off the trail. We dug into our beef jerky and each consumed a bagel. Though slightly tired from the first stage of our journey, we decided it best to keep moving and stay loose.