Yup, I know this is getting lame, every entry I have revolves around Tuckermans, I guess I need to get out more. But screw it, here is my tale to get this contest rolling.

It was a typical spring day in Northern New Hampshire, mild and a bit overcast. I awoke sore and tired from a long day prior at Tuckermans. Everyone had left town the preceding evening, leaving me to a day of shredding alone. I had the amp still going from the day before and decided I would take a shot at Tuckermans on my own, hoping to meet up with a few of my friends that were caretaking on the big hill. I made pretty good time hiking. The clouds were moving quickly overhead and the weather was not looking good. I had come to the conclusion that this day was pretty much shot and had resigned to just riding out on the Sherburne Trail. When I reached the camping lean-tos, my friends were sitting on the deck watching the bowl and the weather above. We sat for awhile exchanging different tales of Mt. Washington, when suddenly the weather broke and the sun shone through. After waiting 15 minutes with no change in weather, the three of us motored our way to the base of the bowl.

We were the only ones in and around the ravine. I had gotten fresh tracks over the lip the day before and was anxious to get another set.

The other two opted for a fairly safe route below the chute. It is always a bit eerie climbing with no one else around. I was probing every now and again for undermining and about half way up my pole shot straight through. Water was rushing by a mere 1 and half feet below the surface. Images of the countless people that have plummeted into near bottomless crevasses ran through my mind. I gingerly moved to my left about four feet and probed again. With much relief, solid snow greeted my probe. I continued to the top of the headwall as some ominous clouds rapidly rolled in from the West. It was during that time period where you are still winded from the hike yet the adrenaline is pumping in anticipation of the run ahead, that I heard a low rumble. I knew I was in a safe area for avalanches but immediately worried about my friends below. With hast, I finished strapping in and stood up. There was another low rumble as I was intently scanning the floor of the ravine. Then from below, my friends came into view running madly toward the trees while furiously waving and screaming at me. I had no clue what was going on until a bolt of lightning came flashing down in what seemed like feet of where I was standing, followed quickly by another. At that point, my instincts took over and I pointed it for the bottom. Had I taken the time to think it through, I probably would have crouched beside one of the enormous boulders nearby. I basically straight lined the headwall with a few turns to check speed. In no way was it pretty or stylish. When I hit the uneven flat terrain at the base, I completely lost it, falling violently end over end. The lightning was still striking heavily and I was still exposed. I unstrapped and ran for the trees. As I reached my friends and safety of the trees, the lightning was subsiding and being replaced by a horrific downpour of golf ball sized hail. We quickly descended to the lodge where we were greeted by some wide eyed onlookers. They stated that it was one of the craziest things they had ever seen; apparently the lightning was concentrated to just the bowl.

I have had many lines that have been greater in difficulty but none that could compare to how surreal this was. In all my life, I have never been that close to a full blown lightning storm. It was an experience that will be vivid in my memory for years and years to come.