I climbed a mountain this Labor Day weekend.
To celebrate Gino’s birthday, he, Brian, Brett, and myself hit the road and set up camp in Errol, New Hampshire. We stationed ourselves by a large stream, where we pitched our tents and fished along the murky waters a few feet away (Gino even managed to catch something). The next day, we drove to the base of Mount Washington, the highest mountain on the East Coast. It was our goal to reach the summit, and I was honestly unprepared (and unfit) to scale 6,289 feet.
Still, after nearly a 5 hour hike, I did it. The overall climbed proved taxing, but I’m proud to say that I was able to get up there with three of my greatest friends.
Exhausted and sore, we headed back to the campsite and popped open a bottle of Whistle Pig whiskey to celebrate both the climb and Gino turning whatever the fuck age he is.