At 5:00 I woke, at 6 I drove, at 7:30 I arrived at the base of the mountain. I wanted to be the first one up Monadnock on this historically busy climbing weekend. It was wet, and a light rain fell through the trees for most of my climb. I wanted to climb where I have climbed since a child, to step in the steps I remember from so many trips, starting in childhood, first reaching the peak with my father and Aunt Marion, with brothers and sisters and cousins. I wanted the experience of being in good shape, climbing comfortably, energetically, confidently, at my own sweet pace. I gathered two walking sticks by the side of the trail – needed them to keep from slipping on the rocks. The granite peak was surrounded in thick mist and I reached the top much sooner than I expected. The temperature dropped a few degrees and a cool wind blew; I put on my jacket and stood in the mist. On a clear day, I could see Boston. This morning, I could see only a few feet. Happy to have made the it, I turned around the for the slippery descent. First I met a couple, then a small group of young people; then increasingly, they came. By the time I reached the parking lot on my quick return there must have been fifty cars. By 10:15 a.m. I was heading home, happy, so happy I had come, and grateful, to Marion, for teaching me to love this special place.