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Description
In a single year long ago I climbed every 4000 foot mountain in the White Mountains of New Hampshire (40 plus peaks)--except for one, the northernmost, Mt. Cabot. I remember sitting in my VW beetle one evening in October and staring at Cabot, far over the autumn valley, and deciding that instead of spending another cold uncomfortable night in the car I'd come back in a week or so to climb it. That week has now stretched to over 50 years. Somehow that memory of Cabot, silent and distant, has haunted me since. It could be the reason I keep doing images of solitary travelers facing a distant objective.

But I notified my son recently that come next summer he and I and grandson are going to climb Cabot.

Description
In a single year long ago I climbed every 4000 foot mountain in the White Mountains of New Hampshire (40 plus peaks)--except for one, the northernmost, Mt. Cabot. I remember sitting in my VW beetle one evening in October and staring at Cabot, far over the autumn valley, and deciding that instead of spending another cold uncomfortable night in the car I'd come back in a week or so to climb it. That week has now stretched to over 50 years. Somehow that memory of Cabot, silent and distant, has haunted me since. It could be the reason I keep doing images of solitary travelers facing a distant objective.

But I notified my son recently that come next summer he and I and grandson are going to climb Cabot.