To think a mountain could be a beloved
thing is kinda weird but, that's how Graham Mathews felt about Mt. Washington.
For years, off and on, Gray had played and worked upon it, especially skiing
in Tuckerman Ravine and the Sherborne trail. The thought of it conjured up
memories of good times and heathful living.
Through the grace of a trust fund Graham had time and resources to enjoy
the area. As a longtime member of the Harvard Mountain Club, Gray spent most
springtime’s in the mountains to condition himself more serious climbing with
well to do friends in the high peaks of Peru.
Many of these friends were world class climbers. Time spent in Tuckerman's
and along the Sherborne was a suitable challenge as the mountain weather changed
the snow surface from day to day.
Now, summer was fast approaching and Gray needed a project to recondition
a knee injured skiing. About halfway up the Sherborne was an outcropping of
rock which Gray had hit a number of times and which had shortened the skiing
careers of more than a few athletes!
The rock was located at a scenic spot named Windy Corner". After a good
ski to that point; the unsuspecting skier recognizes the trail cornering to
the left and, naturally, cuts inside, the better to navigate the turn. In
the last brief split second before impact, the poor skier realizes he or
she is in trouble. The impact itself seldom could compare with the terror
of eminent disaster. The victim invariably has the same emotional experience
as having been in a serious car accident! All victims here felt cheated of
their well being.
If luck was with the skier, he could turn just enough to graze the offending
granite but, in so doing a new obstacle must be faced, every bit as threatening
as the rock!
Having avoided serious calamity at the outcrop, the poor skier now is out
of control, hurtling along at thirty or forty miles per hour in the direction
of the bordering woods, still reeling from the thrill of certain injury.
Graham's last intimacy with "Windy Corner" took place in winter, a few
months prior to his "project". He had decided that old wooden pyramid shaped
Philco radio at Tuck Shelter (The original) needed mending and had strapped
it to a pack board after climbing on foot up the fire trail.
It was a great day for skiing and Gray intended to take advantage of it.
The fact is that he took such advantage of it that when he arrived at "Windy",
he had too much steam up to handle quick turns with the result that the rock
sent the poor guy ass over band box into the adjoining woods, radio and all!
Down at the Trading Post in Pinkham we were all minding the chores when
the door blew open and in roars Gray! He was madder'n hell! Even I was a
little embarrassed over the language he used. Lamanna ran out back 'cause
he thought it was funny as hell and didn’t want to get killed!
After the packboard came off his back he just looked awful standing there
staring at the now totaled radio with it's tubes and wires hanging out.
An idealist, Gray figured that rock had been put therein the Sherborne
just for him and he became quite determined to get it to hell out of his
life once and for all. Now was the time.
Each morning after breakfast he took off up the mountain with pick ax,
crow bar, ropes and shovel. The project took him all of two weeks to move
the boulder, of glacial origin which weighed many tons.
Having no means to lift it out, he excavated a trench over to the side
of the trail and bit by bit he block and tackled it out of harm's way. Seriously,
it was a real accomplishment for one man and it must have been a glowing moment
for him when he realized it was out of his life, forever!
During the following summer when Gray was in Peru, the volunteer ski patrol
guys were cleaning the sherborne of brush and fallen trees and on the way
down after a day's effort higher up, came upon this goofy looking hole at
"Windy Corner". As it was late in the day they retired to Pinkham and consulted
with Joe Dodge, the boss.
At supper somebody brought the subject up and asked Joe what he wanted
done about the crazy crater. Predictably, Joe said,
"Well, for crisake, what are you asking me for? What the hell else is there
to do-fill it"!
Next morning, when they arrived on the scene, the boys looked around and
by a great stroke of luck there was a boulder by the side of the trail just
about big enough to fill the hole! With six men, that rock was back in Graham's
life inside fifteen minutes and the boys proceeded up the trail looking for
more chores.T
hat winter, our hero returned looking in the peak of health and with many
stories to tell about Peru and the big mountains to be found there. Several
days he spent at Pinkham as the weather was bad. When it cleared there was
plenty of snow. Gray was fairly drooling to get up the fire trail and put
on the boards carefully stored last year.
The weather was grand and at the top of the ski trail there was four inches
of the lightest powder snow. No one else was in sight and to relish the day
even more Gray dropped his small pack, got out his little stove, teacup, teaball
and brewed up a steaming cup of his favorite lapsang Suchong tea from S.S.
Pierce Company. At such times one can really feel life is coming one's way!
Presently "Windy Corner" was also coming his way and it was with complete
abandon that he approached it, remembering his project. He looked forward
to the treat of gliding smoothly around the wicked corner and then another
cup of tea at Pinkham. Geez! It was almost like being in Zermatt!
Without question the impact of his unexcelled horror was equal to the impact
on the replaced rock! Seconds before he actually had time to yell,
"You sonova bitch"! Then, while sailing into the woods, he almost ceased
to care.
For a full half hour he lay a hundred feet off the Sherborne in shock!
Such intense fear, frustration and anger comes to few of our lives and for
a while he was overcome by it.
In the end, the anger won out! He gathered up the remains of his skis,
hurled them further into the woods and plodded on foot to the Trading Post
at Pinkham. His language was like few people ever hear. After he got it off
his chest he just collapsed into a chair and shed quiet tears.
One of the usually unsympathetic crew stopped to ask, "What's wrong, sport?"
Leonard Sleazy Dalton worked at Pinkham in 1949-1950 and was
hutmaster at Tuckerman. His is retired from an oil heating business and lives
in Melrose, Massachusetts. He is known by all his mountain companions as Sleazy
and was given the nickname by Annie Dodge Middleton. Sleazy doesn't remember
how she picked that particular nickname and, at first, neither could Annie
remember when we called her. After a moment to reflect, Annie thought that
it was because of his appearance after operating the old dishwasher in Pinkham’s
kitchen which covered him with a mixture of gormings and industrial' soap.
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