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I wait in the chilled shadows for mysterious "Hiker X" to appear. An undisclosed location. Let's just say somewhere on the "rough side" of Lincoln. It's my first encounter with this covert operative, who is only known to those with the very highest security clearance. Her reputation and credentials are regarded as impeccable by the finest in the field. But doubt still swam through my head...would she be up to our task for the day? Would I? These questions gnawed at my very soul as I passed the minutes, nervously downing my java. On schedule, she arrives. She appears sharp and ready for the heat of battle...but there is no time for introduction or idle-chit chat. The completion of our mission is all that matters. We speed
to our first destination - the Downes Brook Trailhead. We grab our strike packages, and are soon in the relative security of the woods. Stealthily, we make our way up the mountain, utilizing the latest "bareboot" technology to avoid detection by roving IR drones ( and possibly, Bob Novak). Our first objective is reached within minutes of our estimates - the peak of North Tripyramid. We activate the Antlometer and begin our search, one that promises to be a challenge. Unfortunately, the next stretch of trail is completely unbroken, giving a clear sign of our passage. We nervously don our snowshoes, hoping that our speed will keep us safe from possible interlopers from the rear. Adding to the tension, drifting and a poorly blazed trail finds us searching for the route. Fortunately, operative "X" has recently had an internal Cerebro-GPS unit surgically installed, and she quickly points the way. I gasp in awe. We take turns breaking the trail in 8"-12" of new snow, and quickly find ourselves passing over the summits of Middle Tripyramid and the South Peak. The top of the South Slide is a treacherous combination of thin and hollow windowpane ice from the beating sun, steep rock, and loose snow. We carefully make our way down after removing our snowshoes, only to need them again on the untracked Kate Sleeper Trail. The snow seems a bit deeper here, but the moderate grades allow us to continue our journey on schedule. Still no sign. We press on. Surely it must be here, somewhere... our intelligence... is never wrong. Near the East Sleeper Junction, our XB-34 Antlometer begins showing a weak signal....we try to remain calm, knowing that this technology is relatively untested. We scan the woods for activity, but see nothing. Onwards we press over the summit of Whiteface, our hope fading. The day is slipping away, and with it, the chances of our mission's success. Suddenly the signal grows stronger... surely we must be getting closer! As we round a bend, the Antlometer locks on target...there in the very trail itself, we spy our prize: "The Crown of Passaconaway". Two shiny tines, pointing proudly through the snow, indicate it's presence. We race towards it, knowing that time is now of the essence as we wrestle the much sought after moose antler from the grip of the ice and snow. It's in near perfect condition, only suffering minor damage from gnawing rogue rodentia! My heart races as I lash the four pounds of sweet plunder to my pack. 25 inches of spruce and musk scented, gently curved majesty. Varnished with a glaze of whites, browns and blacks...furrowed and ribbed, polished by the forest, a symphony of perfect curves, strength and beauty! We must be off the mountain by the quickest possible route at this point. "Hiker X" consults her Cerebro-GPS again. We must take the abandoned slide route... it's our only chance. Of course! Sheer genius on the part of Hiker X..not only will we save time via this steep but direct route, we will most likely complete our mission undetected. We quickly visit the summit of Passaconaway to scan the sky for drones, but see no sign of their diabolical forms in the late afternoon sky. We gain the abandoned Downes Brook Slide from just to the left of the .3 spur trail that leads to the North viewpoint below the summit. Hiker "X" boldly plunges headfirst into the fall line, expertly trailing her rearmost snowshoe much like a telemark skier. I struggle to keep up on the steep unconsolidated 2 to 3 feet of snow leading from the sharp arete into the depths of frozen Downes Brook. Below the arete, we cross left to right across the widening brook bed, a thin snowy mantle hiding a slippery soul of deadly water ice. We hug the right bank, making out occasional white blazes made by local insurgents over the passing years, and many more greyed out versions of the same. Doubtless, the cruel handiwork of the notorious Mountainland Security squad, in their efforts to eradicate the traditional lifestyle of the indigent but rarely seen Downes Brook Hiker Sect. We come to a point where the the frozen brook bed lures us into it's icy grasp...I tumble from a small icy shelf concealed by snow, but catch myself. We are getting close to a traveled route now, and must be vigilant. We travel the frozen brook itself for a bit on a wide section above some falls, but are forced once again into the woods on the right when we encounter bands of bare water ice above steep drops in the brook bed. Fortunately, the light is fading, and tonight...the night is our friend. We are elated that the Downes Brook trail is relatively packed out, and keep our snowshoes on to keep from arousing suspicion, lest we chance meeting with anyone who might interfere with our mission. Hiker "X" covers my back side as we trend the level trail towards the road in the gathering darkness, the final 2 miles of our covert journey. At last, we reach the Downes Brook Trailhead lot. After ensuring that no eyes were prying, we quickly stash our booty and uncover MVI. Speeding off in the night, we at last could smile...our mission was a success. We had recovered the "Crown of Passaconaway" without sacrificing the identity of Hiker "X"... and visited 4 beautiful summits to boot...what could be more glorious? Until our next mission, dear reader.
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