1973: Rattlesnake

A modest family-style climb up “Rattlesnake Mountain,” on the north shore of Big Squam Lake would take us to a place where we could relax on a flat rock and from which we could see Winnipesaukee in the distance and a cross-shaped island in the lake just below. An amazing view, in the autumn, especially with hawks whirlwinding about. We must have been directed here about this time.

Valerie would display some anxiety at the summit, herding our chicks away from the brink of the viewpoint clearing: it boasted no guard rails, nor warning signs, and the kids varied widely in their desire to approach the point of danger.

Never did encounter a rattlesnake, nor any notable wildlife. Nor would a geographer call Rattlesnake a mountain, but it suited our level of family athleticism. I look back with some amazement on my surefootedness in the descent, generally at a trot and often carrying a child on shoulders or back, down a series of rocky creek-beds. Never turned an ankle nor damaged a passenger (after Rick in California). Couldn’t now negotiate such uneven terrain at any speed.