Hot and humid.  That is what greeted us the first four days of our week away in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  I had checked the ten-day forecast for the Waterville Valley only a few days before our departure and at that point there was no hint whatever of the record-breaking temperatures awaiting the residents and visitors of that geologically remarkable area in the next few days.

The forecast optimistically predicted cool weather with occasional rain.  No whimsy; an educated, theoretical estimation based on previous years' weather occurrences at roughly the same time of year.  But that is not what occurred.  When we had visited a month later last year with our granddaughter we had been similarly greeted with steamy hot conditions; these were somewhat worse.

Even knowing that in advance, we would not have changed our plans.  We're committed to returning year after year, to be temporarily within the grand magnificence of nature in the raw.  It wins hands down for us when compared to the western Rockies where we've also climbed and done alpine camping.  That scenery is awesomely magnificent, but stark and raw in a way that the more modest White Mountains are not.

We prefer them to the Great Smokies where we have also done our share of mountain climbing, and the Adirondacks which were grand, but not comparable.  And the mountains and trails surrounding Tokyo and its distant environs were different, and enjoyable, but nothing near to comparison.  Reason enough to return year after year.

The heat, between 95 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit ensured we would not make any snap decisions to undertake climbs that would be certain to exhaust our abilities to endure long and difficult climbs, so we contented ourselves with quite modest ones, enjoying the cool shade of the forest canopy and the sound of rushing water as mountain streams made their way downstream.