I hiked some mountains and my ankle didn't snap in half

Before I start hurling awesome adventurefest memories at you and pummeling you with superlatives, let me first make a few comments. That's actually less of a request and more of a "hey, shut up for a second because I'm going to say some semi-related stuffs."

After tearing nearly every ligament in my ankle, I spent a few months stomping around in a horrific-smelling boot and working through PT and can now say that my ankle is doing ok. I can at least hike and play flag football, so: good enough for now. But sitting on the sidelines for over two months was enough to make me want to increase my adventure rate 300%. It was kind of like one of those near-death experiences where people go out and live life to the fullest after almost dying. Except for my foot. The week after I was cleared in PT (actually, it was a week before, but whatever, everything worked out), I hiked 3 days within an 8-day time period. It was great and my ankle didn't explode, so good news there.

Finally, I'm physically capable of returning to my "I want to go do ALL the things" mentality, and as such became more interested in completing the White Mountain 4000 foot challenge. This is where you hike all 48 mountains above 4000 ft in the White Mountain range in NH. My friend Katie aggressively accomplished this feat within a year (and I helped!). You should probably check out her blag, because it highlights the highs and lows of her adventures, and does a good job explaining how crittering around the northeast can be a mind-blowingly awesome challenge. The 4000 footer challenge has both positive and negative aspects though. On the plus side, it is a great impetus to get out and go hike some friggn amazing mountains and try things you normally wouldn't seek out. It also provides a safe outlet for those of us who need to hardcore adventure at least once every seven days or else we'd destroy entire cities with our pent-up rage. On the down-side, it seems fairly easy to get wrapped up in the whole "check this mountain off the list" mentality. If you are going through life saying "I'd need to complete my little list of hikes and will only go if it's on the list and if I haven't done it yet" then you, sir or madam, are losing the game. SHIT we all just lost the game... But anyway, I see it as a driver to hike more instead of "knocking out another mountain on the list," so I'm not too worried about falling into that trap. In fact, I'm starting to plan a 3-day backpacking trip sometime in June, hiking around something like 12 mountains. It's going to be epic; let me know if you want to join.

So anyway, at this point I've done 16 peaks. Calm down, 8 of them were on one trip. We hiked 21 miles from sunrise to sunset, I think we battled a dragon, all-in-all it was pretty baller. I also already wrote about it and have no intention of repeating myself.

I had also done two peaks, the Osceolas, back in June. It was a lot of fun, had a bunch of great views, but was infested with skin-nomming bugs that were particularly interested in Michelle's neck. It was a great hike for beginners; I would definitely recommend it. Oh and I did Moosilauki sometime in August. THAT was an awesome hike. A lot of really cool waterfalls and really steep rock scrambles. The fog was pretty heavy at the top. Definitely the view from inside a pingpong ball. Oh well, it was a really fun hike. And nobody died, so that's always a plus.

Then, a couple weeks ago, when I was like "meh, my ankle is good enough. Let's go hiking," Katie, Michelle, Rob and I hiked up Garfield. It was a pretty easy hike, which was helpful when you're going from "no hiking for two months with a broken limb" to "climbing up mountains before you're technically allowed to?" But it was still somewhat warm IN DECEMBER, so that helped.

It was basically Skyrim

And by the time we got to the top, my ankle was only minimally throbbing and BEST VIEW EVER.

There were even some questionable Titanic-esque poses, but we're going to keep this PG. If you want to see them, they are here, but be careful because they might cause a violent digestive reaction.

The next morning Sarah and I decided to go hike the two Hancock peaks. The next morning. My foot was still balloon-sized from the previous day, and all my muscles were like "you bitch. We haven't done shit for two months and then you go and play football and hike a goddamn mountain? Fuck you." The... conditions in which we decided to hike this particular morning were... hilarious. However, that story is not for prying internet eyes. But yes, we drove up to New Hampshire, spur of the moment, and hiked two mountains. It was a really flat, easy hike up until you get to the Hancock loop. Then it is a vertical climb to the top of the mountain. That is a small exaggeration, but we definitely got quite a workout. Again, another clear, warm day in December. What the fuck is going on New England?

The headband is less for ear warmth and more about making a fashion statement

Then last weekend, Sarah, Katie and I hiked the two Tripyramid peaks (well there are three, but only two are on the 4000 footer list). It was a little bit colder than the preceding weekend and there was a deal more snow on the ground, but for December it was a really nice, clear day. Finding our way to the parking area was a bit confusing, but after getting there it was a fairly easy hike. We didn't need microspikes or snowshoes or anything. River crossings were a bit icy and precarious, but nobody went swimming this time. We scrambled up the south rockslide, with one of the best, Skyrimiest views I had yet seen in the White Mountains.

I own this land

Trudging through the snow was a lot of fun, and actually made the loose pebbly rocks stick together, so it wasn't as difficult as it could have been. Katie and I took a few shocker pictures, made some snow angels, the usual.

Katie's snow angels are often mistaken for those of children

Gloves and a hat were a good idea. Also, Katie's camelback tube froze, so I might want to consider getting some kind of thermal insulator. Or not, because I rarely get around to things like that. But it's a good idea.

It was SO CLEAR out I could just DIE

We opted NOT to go down the north rockslide, but instead took a longer, less steep option. Katie had PTSD from her first time sliding down the rocks when it WASN'T icy out, so I was glad we had an alternate path. We finished around 2:30, which is great because the Sun was still up, which isn't always the case in December, when it's dark out for like 43 hours a day.