Mount Washington’s summit was covered in clouds as I drove towards Jackson, NH. Everything’s bigger in New Hampshire: much as I love the Adirondacks, the White Mountains a positively gargantuan in scale.
Decades ago, I drove to the western Catskills on a Friday night. On Saturday, I roller skied around one of the reservoirs with three other people, including a nordic athlete who’d gone to the Paralympics. That afternoon, I drove to Virgil NY and camped out near a bullring where dirt track race cars snorted and roared.
