The Tribulations

The sky outside the windows of the Mt. Washington summit cafeteria was the color of a television tuned to a dead channel. The mountains of New Hampshire have consistently provided us views of a blank white nothing, like everything past the cliff we stand on has simply been deleted. The summit of Mt. Washington was so cloud infested that not only could we see nothing beyond the mountain, we had to follow signs to even find the giant cafeteria and gift shop. There was a crowd of tourists at the summit cairn, blasting music from a bluetooth speaker and woo-hooing. Behind chain link construction fences, a backhoe lurked in the fog. 

The summit of Mt. Washington is not exactly a wilderness experience, and we didn’t see any of its famously breathtaking views. But on the other hand I was able to put on some dry clothes and get a pretty decent bowl of chili and a hot cup of coffee in the cafeteria. The Marxist in me would point out that a pretty decent bowl of chili and a hot cup of coffee are the material conditions necessary for life, while a breathtaking view and a solitary wilderness experience are merely bourgeois aesthetic desires. Much to think about. 

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