Friday, June 5th, the day of our 60th wedding anniversary seemed like a perfect time, given the unusually clement weather in the mountains, to try for the Welsh-Dickey ledge. There was a time and it didn't seem all that long ago that we would never give it a second thought, that we would aspire to the entire circuit; having reached the ledge we would nonchalantly push on to the summit of Welsh, a relatively modest height, dip into the col connecting it to Dickey, forge on to the greater (not by much) height of the twin mountain, to make our exhilarating way down the rocky-faced slopes well above the treeline, of Dickey, and on into the dark, cool forest beyond, for the finished trek.

We first did that twin ascent with our teen-age children decades ago, and last did it with our teen-age granddaughter much later in time. Since then, we've aspired to no more than ascending to the lookout. We -- and in particular, me -- no longer have the stamina, the endurance, the physical energy to mount both peaks.

We might be able to do them, and probably still could, taking our time. But we would be hampered by our concern for the well-being of our two little dogs, hovering on eight months of age, for whom some of the approaches on Welsh would represent a hazard, and for whom we would have to expend both energy and foresight in aiding them physically to clear heights larger dogs would have no problems with. And, of course, they would be on the leash. Button never had to be, although we did keep Riley leashed, so we could respond if he got into trouble, and to keep him out of trouble to begin with.

The opportunity for accidents seem sobering to us beyond the attraction of continuing on, though in all likelihood they would be equal to the physical exertion required. Button always was, and Riley proved to be, as well, in their younger years. But then, we were younger too, and the additional exertion required to physically tend to them represented no hardship to us, back then.

This time Irving decided he'd take the backpack. The high for the day was to be 70F degrees and there was a bit of a wind along with a 20% chance of afternoon rain. Jack and Jill were excellent on the ascent, eager to pull ahead. The water level of the mountain stream alongside was higher than usual, but we forded the cross-stream with little trouble, bounding from rock to rock, above the water. The stream parallels the climb for a short distance, then veers off. We saw four pink Ladies Slippers beside the trail, never having seen them before, on that trail, so that was an extra visual treat. They were up at the approaches to the ledge.

There are tons of dogwood in the forest, lots of hemlock, beech, maple, moose maple and spruce. It was overcast and cool. The trail is well laddered with rocks and tree roots. Up on the ledge we felt pretty warm. And the black flies up there were murderously nuisance-prone. This year the fenced-off portions of the alpine growth areas have been vastly expanded over the previous years, with signage asking people to avoid treading on the delicate lichens and alpine plants. The black flies ensured we didn't linger there other than to give the puppies water and dog treats. We did come across an older couple, maybe in their early 60s climbing behind us. Hiking was new to them, old hat to us, and we stayed awhile, talking companionably.

Other than that couple there were plenty of younger people descending and ascending, passing by us with the alacrity of youthful vigour. Friendliness is the standard, the order of the day, any day, in the hiking community. The ascent and the descent took us about two and a half hours. Decades ago the entire circuit would have taken us that same time to complete. In fact, one young couple who had passed us on the ascent, descended from their circuit at the same time we did our truncated one.