FAREWELL TO CRAG CAMP

     By Hannah Marshall  

 

I rest on flat ground, far away from the dramatic landscape of the White Mountains. It has been three days since I walked out of the woods for the last time.  Three painfully long days, in which I've dreamed about when my feet might next carry me home to Randolph.  No matter what I do, no experience compares to the moments at Crag Camp when strangers become family in the frigid glow of sunrise on the ravine. 
   

  

I stumbled upon a 1920s-era tourist guide recently which read,

"New Hampshire is a state reclining with its head pillowed on high mountains and its feet washed by the ocean.  These elevated summits are the White Mountains... For beauty and general attractiveness it is believed nothing in our own land can pretend to rival it. There are, it is true, higher mountains, deeper valleys, broader lakes, more stupendous ravines; yet for that rare and exquisite combination of all the most salient and picturesque types of scenery, the travelled and untravelled alike award to the White Mountains an incontestable superiority."

  Until next time, from Hannah "Crag,"

Take Care!