When you have friends to climb with, time passes quickly, and the panting, sweating and wondering if you can keep going is easier to push out of your mind.

Not long ago I set out with three friends to climb Mt. Hale, one of the White Mountains' easiest 4,000-footers. Teresa has studied plants for years and can walk up a trail, knowing so many names of tiny woodland plants. Roxanne loves to tell stories and can turn the smallest situation into a 30-minute narrative. Sandra is a soccer-mom friend. At one game, we discovered a common passion­--the mountains.

One of the lesser-known Whites, Mt. Hale has an elevation of 4,054 feet. Checking my book, I discovered I'd climbed Hale July 28 three years earlier. I vaguely remembered a long slog with the final half-mile going on and on and on.

Every time I climb a mountain a second or third time, I try not to have a preconceived idea of what the hike will be like. A mountain never bores. Each has its own ruggedness, majesty and magic. Its terrain and elevation combine with weather, state of mind, and hiking companions to offer a unique experience every day, every season, every year, for every climber.

As my friends and I geared up at the bottom, we noticed it had gotten colder and the sky had turned gray. We had diligently watched weather forecasts, and though we thought the day would be cool and clear, we'd packed cold and wet-weather gear, ready for anything. The White Mountains during a "shoulder season" are unpredictable.

Half an hour into the climb, snowflakes started falling. But none of us voiced any concerns.
Teresa kept pointing out wild plants and Roxanne kept telling stories. The snow started coming down harder.

There's a formula suggested for timing climbs. You have to learn how your own kind of hiking fits the formula and add or subtract time. We were planning on two miles per hour and a half hour per 1,000 feet of elevation gain. So, since the trail we chose, the Hale Brook Trail, was 2.2 miles long with a 2,300 elevation gain, we estimated we would reach the top in about two and a half hours.

It was getting colder. We stopped to pull gloves and hats from our packs. We put on waterproof jackets, and Sandra zipped on the bottom of her pants. Roxanne and I were wearing shorts. We hated getting overheated. We pulled our hoods up. The snow began swirling around us. We estimated about a half hour to go. I knew the worst part lay ahead: the final slog to the summit.
We stopped several times to readjust our layers. Hot, cold, back and forth. Luckily we had packed smart: extra gloves, extra socks, food, water, emergency blankets and more. We laughed at our fashion statements. Bright ponchos blowing in the wind, crazy hats of all kinds, zip on, zip off pants, gaiters.

No one wanted to give up.

Near the top, trudging along a bank that was now covered by four inches of snow, someone suggested, "Let's make snow angels."

With our packs still on, we fell back towards the bank, and spreading our arms and legs, we flew like angels, laughing and joking, catching snowflakes in our mouths with the glee of little girls. We got up gingerly, trying not to mar our angels. Admiring our artwork, we lingered there, talking about how fun it was to stop and play, enjoying what nature had thrown at us so ferociously.

We knew we could make it to the top. Within minutes we rounded the corner and reached the summit. Exhilarated, we cheered and breathed sighs of relief.

We got out our lunches and ate quickly, hooded, huddled and shivering in the blowing snow. We knew we needed to get back to the shelter of the woods and get on with the two-and-a-half-hour return to the warmth of the car. But we took time to climb atop the huge cairn and take photos of the gray, snow-filled sky around us. No view from this summit.

Our camaraderie, again, made us pause. This time our pause was more reflective. We thought of the turning weather, thankful that we had prepared well. We thanked our snow angels for boosting our spirits and reminding us that we could trust each other. So, we each put one foot forward to make four boot prints in the snow at the top of Mt. Hale­sole-sister prints, evidence of our bond and trust in each other.

In some ways we wished we'd had good weather and could linger. But we'd found fun and magic in the midst of a dangerous turn by Mother Nature.

Our four angels were covered with snow by the time we trudged by hurriedly on the way down. But we knew their magic, laughter and inspiration would be with us all the way to the end of our hike.

By Meg Downey Hardy, Master Gardener

Photo credit: Roxanne Angevine. Some rights reserved.

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