Mount Washington, The Monk's Trail and The Walking Sticks

Over the course of three days in New York, I experienced 65 degree sweater days, 50 miles per hour gale force winds, two hours of rain and three inches of snow.    In other words…real weather.

I wrapped up in multiple scarves, bought a pair of warm(er) socks, and meandered around Manhattan and Brooklyn with my daughter and her boyfriend.  At least, I meandered; the two of them always seemed to be half a block ahead of me.   I figured it was because I was the adult from California who had thought ahead about a cold winter wardrobe. They were obviously walking faster because they were colder.  Or maybe it was because they were taller.

“Are you okay, Mom?” asked my tall, slim, not-that-warmly-dressed daughter?  “You’re panting.”

It was a moment of truth in Midtown.   I was a short, out-of-shape adult from California with warm clothes and no stamina.

Obviously, the stop-and-start walks up and down my Mount Washington block with the Small Black Dog were not enough exercise.

Back home, my artist friend Connie, who also juggles work and creative endeavors, proved game to accompany me as I get-up-and-go.  Our plan of (more) action is waylaid by this week’s two days of downpour.  Saturday morning’s darkening sky does not bode well for a walk.  Happily, the sun comes out mid-day.  I grab my camera and my dusty walking sticks and huff and puff up the Hill to meet Connie at the Monks' Trail.

It’s a glorious day.   I just hope my legs and lungs hold out long enough to enjoy it.

The winds that swept away the pre-noon clouds has also scrubbed the sky, which is so bright and shiny it practically squeaks.  Connie and I skirt the heavy, rusted chain blocking the entrance of the Monks’ Trail from four-wheeled traffic.    As we walk the first leg of the rutted path, Griffith Observatory (which Connie’s young daughter Nora always claimed as her “castle”) glows like a shiny white button on the not-so-distant horizon.

I apologize that I’m not moving faster and blame it on the walking sticks.  “It takes more effort to move my upper and lower body at the same time,” I explain.  Also, while I haven’t watched the recommended, online “How to” videos, I throw in a little, back-and-forth torso twist for some waist-whittling action.   I realize I probably look like a midget giraffe doing the Watusi.

Good friend that she is, Connie claims to not care that we’re moving at glacial speed.

The trail winds from the open road of Bob Scholfield Park (dedicated to  a Mount Washington-based real estate broker and arboreal activist) to a tree-lined path.   It seems the perfect place for a meditative stroll but Connie and I realize that we’ve never actually seen any monks from the ’s, Mount Washington Mother Center on the Monks Trail, which other, less romantic souls refer to as the Mount Washington Back Road or the Old Fire Trail.

There are a few families as well as several fit and not-so-fit joggers but by far, the most soulful creatures on the path are of the canine persuasion, including a shaggy, collie-esque fellow.  I’m sure it’s my imagination but he seems to cast a scornful look at my walking sticks as he strolls by on stumpy legs that still manage to move faster than I do.

There’s probably no point explaining that I’m moving my upper and lower body at the same time.

Chastened, I chug along beside Connie.  My spirits lift when the trees clear to reveal the snow-capped San Gabriel Mountains.  It’s bright and clear and sunny in Mount Washington but a mist of rain veils the lower reaches of the hills.   I later find out there was hail in Tujunga.  Take that, New York!  Southern California has weather too.

I juggle my walking sticks and camera in an awkward attempt to preserve the vista.  Connie offers to hold the sticks while I snap some photos then decides to try them out herself.  “Wow, these take some getting used to,” she says.  “It’s like walking with four legs.”

I’m gratified!  She gets it!  It’s not just me!  Walking sticks are hard!

Then Connie says, “Maybe I’ll get some too and then we can both be walking stick nerds.”

The day is bright and clear.  The Monks Trail is gorgeous.  And the Walking Stick Nerd Watusis on.