By the time we reached the timberline, my jeans were soaked and my palms were raw. But as we moved into the trees, the route became easier. Just a quick descent down the way we’d come, and we arrived soon after, back at the junction. Without stopping, Kootch turned left and headed up the main trail. I fell in behind him and followed as best I could. We meandered through the trees, sometimes up, sometimes down, moving off the shoulder of this first mountain and headed to the next one.
The slope got steeper and we began our second ascent. Within just a few minutes, we were slowing down and grinding our way up the mountain. Here in the woods the wind had lessened but the dampness was all about us. My hair was wet and I had to pull my hands into my sweatshirt sleeves to keep them from going numb. Whenever we got a view to the west, the weather seemed more promising. Patches of blue were starting to appear in the sea of cloud streaming in from our right. I wanted to have a look around, but each time I stopped, Kootch would get farther out in front of me and I had to hurry to catch up. So I stopped looking. Head down. Keep going.
Soon we were on the stairs. As the trees began to fail, the trail climbed up through rocky terrain in giant steps, sometimes just a few feet up, sometimes so high I had to find a hand-hold and pull myself up. At one point we reached a particularly steep section and I had to look it over to figure the best way to go. I tried one way and another. I pulled myself up and turning around found I was now almost above the tree line. There was a clearer view back to where we’d started. The clouds had risen and were breaking apart. I could see the valley where we had parked, the service road leading back to the highway, and here and there small collections of buildings. I pulled out my water bottle and had a drink while I took it all in.
Turning around again to look at the trail ahead, I suddenly realized I was alone. Kootch was gone. He hadn’t waited for me but continued on his way. In several places high above, the trail snaked left and right across the ridge but he was nowhere to be seen. I jammed my water into my pack and followed as quickly as I could. At first I tried to look ahead, to catch a glimpse of him, but it was impossible to watch where I was going at the same time, so I just kept my eyes on the trail and plodded along as best I could.
Up the side of the mountain I went, alone. The way was monotonous, back and forth across the face, and one giant stair after another. For a while I thought that maybe I could catch him. My legs were burning from the ascent, but I kept thinking Kootch might be just up ahead. I kept after him. Left and right, back and forth and up the mountain staircase. As I came to each switchback I could see that I was steadily rising into the sky. To the east the view was still socked in but each time I got a view to the west I could see mountains in that direction were farther and farther below me. After a little while there was nothing visible in that direction that was as high as me.
I continued up the mountain. I was sure I must be near the top. I came to a point where I could see the summit ahead, and I ran up as quickly as I could, only to find there was more climb in front of me. It happened twice more. I stopped running. I put my nose down again, one foot in front of the other, up the rock face. As before, I came to a place where cairns and yellow paint marks showed the way. I walked up one final rise with the wind at my back. As I looked up for the trail ahead, I suddenly realized I had reached the summit.
But no Kootch. Only a vast flat expanse of rock, with open views in all directions except directly east, which was still covered in the receding remains of the morning fog. I moved over to that side, figuring he would once again have his back to the wind, and sure enough there he was. He was huddled right under my feet, his back against a small shelf, working on another apple.
“Took you long enough!” he shouted, though he didn’t look up and I don’t know how he knew I was there.
“What was the rush?”
“Two rushes, actually. The first is the view. I bet it’s coming along in just a few minutes, and I didn’t want to miss it. Sit down. Enjoy the show.”
I circled around to find a place to jump down.
“Show?”
“Just watch.”
I hopped down, took off my stuff, put my back against the rock. In just a few minutes, my heart was slowing. The clouds were rising and breaking into straggly pieces, and soon the sun was opening up on our little shelf. And spread out before us, some of the mountains were coming into clear view.
“Pretty cool, eh? That’s Colden,” he said, pointing to a mountain directly across the valley only slightly shorter than the one we were sitting on. It was scarred with gigantic rock slides from top to bottom, great streaks of chalky white against a green background, like a giant hand had risen up out the valley below and run its pale fingers down the sides. The slides ran all the way from the summit down the mountainside as far as we could see.
As the clouds kept lifting, Kootch kept pointing at various other mountains as they came into view. “Over there’s the Great Range, awesome mountains but lots of tourists. There are more farther south that get a lot less traffic. Most of the big ones are out in front of us, but there are some others set apart a bit.” The clouds kept lifting and breaking. “If we’re lucky we’ll get a good look at Tahawus.”
“Which one’s that?”
“That one there,” he said, pointing to a mountain with its head still hiding a little in the clouds. “Just behind Colden. It’s the tallest one in the State.”
“I thought Marcy was the tallest.”
“It’s the same, same mountain, two names. Its modern name is Marcy. But I like to call it Tahawus, which may have been its original name long ago.” As he spoke, the ceiling was lifting further, gradually revealing a round summit of rock, higher than anything else that we could see.
“There it is. There’s Marcy. Tahawus.” The lingering mist was receding, only the very top of the mountain remained obscured.
“Tahawus,” I said out loud, so I would remember it. It seemed an odd name.
“The Indians called it that,” he said cryptically, as if he didn’t want to reveal the whole story.
I realized I was supposed to play along. “What’s it mean?”
He smiled. The clouds were slowly coming apart on the summit. Streaks of bright sunlight spattered its shoulders and started to form into large patches. The shadows were nearly gone. Finally the very top came into clear view, the summit of Marcy. Tahawus.
Kootch smiled again and said, “It means ‘Cloudsplitter’.”