Pastor’s Note: A “re-blogging,” if you will, in commemoration of today’s 10th anniversary of the collapse of New Hampshire’s “Old Man on the Mountain!”
It was a number of years ago now, but I remember the day very well: we’d been camping here in New Hampshire, and it’d been a good day. We’d driven across the Kancamagus Highway through the White Mountains, had hiked a trail along the great granite walls of the Flume Gorge and across the Sentinel Pine Footbridge that stretches across a 140-foot deep pool. And now, as the sun was just beginning to dip behind the mountains to our west, we’d decided to head up the road a little farther, so to give our kids a quick look at the “Old Man of the Mountain,” that venerable (and, at the time, the still intact) natural wonder that remains the symbol of New Hampshire itself.
Which was great, but I have to confess that at this point, the day’s activity was beginning to wear on me – my feet were tired…
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