By Marty Basch

Mother Nature was fiendishly at work on Zealand Mountain, boiling up a sloppy brew in her cauldron. She deftly whipped up a potent combination of cold, rain, wind, hail and cloud to thwart a planned Zealand-Bonds outing and skillfully turned it into a relatively joyless slog to a pile of rocks surrounded by a bunch of trees.

The forecast for the higher summits had not been promising. There was a chance of mixed precipitation. The temperature wouldn't reach beyond the lower 30s and the wind chill could make it feel closer to zero. Winds would whip from the northwest between 35 and 50 mph with higher gusts, maybe even to 70 mph, later in the day.

Add to that the dwindling hours of daylight.

Not Central Park

Hiking the remote Bonds is no walk in the park, the choices for the long trek often maddening. Our initial plan was to stay at the Appalachian Mountain Club's Zealand Falls for two nights. Hike in the three miles on day one. Do the three Bonds and Zealand, some 14.4 miles, and return to the hut for the night. Hike out the next day. But that long day was projected to be rainy and cold, as well.

Turned out it was, so we opted for another plan. Spot two cars, one at the Zealand trailhead and the other in Lincoln Woods. Hike in to the hut, spend the night and hike the nearly 17 miles out to Lincoln, finishing on the flats in the dark by headlamp.

Though tramping about the 4,000-foot White Mountain peaks is a formidable task, a worthy challenge for those who want to climb the listed 48 mountains, there comes a time when you also want to enjoy the mountains, to see them in their glory.

Such is the case of 4,260-foot Zealand, 4,540-foot West Bond, 4,698-foot Mount Bond and 4,265-foot Bondcliff.

Jan Duprey and I wanted to sit and have a PB&J sandwich on the sunny ledge on top of the Zeacliffs, an eastern spur of Zealand, and gaze upon Zealand Notch from its perch.

Instead, we got a sea of gray and no lunch in the cold.

Can You See Me Now?

We wanted to trek above treeline and cross the Bonds, marveling at the wilderness landscape in a region we call home. But the Bondcliff Trail, the path to the sky, also comes with caution: About a mile stretch above treeline is possibly dangerous in foul weather, especially high winds.

That wasn't going to happen with Mother Nature's nasty mix.

We wanted to go to that incredible ledge on Bondcliff, the must-do photo in the White Mountains, and snap each other's photos.

Hard to do if you can't see and the winds knock you over to your death.

Still, like insane moths attracted to an addictive flame, we figured we'd at least take a shot at the hike as forecasts aren't always spot-on, and at worst, we could summit Zealand.

The odyssey began on the easy Zealand Trail under threatening skies with wonderful foliage. Perhaps the least taxing trek to an AMC hut, it's perched on the side of gushing Whitewall Brook and affords notch views, muted for us.

Canned Olympics

There were perhaps 16 guests, including several from Germany and a southbound AT thru-hiker. By day, the colorful "croo" engaged themselves in a tin can Olympics with their Mizpah Spring Hut brethren, complete with the singing of the national anthem, the challenge to be the first to eat a large tin of apples, peas or mushrooms. A Mizpah Croo member won with a can of apples. By night, there were ghost stories as the falls rushed, wind blew and rain pelted the roof.

Jan and I decided to give the hike a go, the temperature 39 degrees, the skies gray, the wind stiff. The higher we got, the less we could see, the mercury dropping, the trees eerily swaying. We made the summit via the Twinway in two and a half hours. But we agreed it best to turn around, opting for what turned out to be a two-day, 11.4-mile hike.

There is much to learn hiking these mountains. Jan and I are fair-weather hikers. Others likely would have pressed on, while others wouldn't have ventured far from their couches.

The mountains will be there when we're ready, and the Bonds will have to wait.