Spent a lovely day traipsing around the White Mountain National Forest with kurukami yesterday. Although there's something weird about running around Crawford Notch in 84 degree (F) weather when the autumn colors are at peak.

As we circumnavigated the national forest, we answered the burning question of Americans anywhere:

( Q: How can you tell the difference between a state park and federal land? )

Naturally, I engaged in my favorite passtime while tooling through the White Mountains: counting foreign languages.

I counted 6: French Canadian, Spanish, Hindi, Japanese, Polish, and something that sounded vaguely Eastern European.

The French Canadian isn't a shocker, since Quebecois tourists are big year-round. Spanish also wasn't terribly surprising, since the chances are kind of high that they were locals from the big cities to the south.

There have always been Japanese tourists hitting up the White Mountains in the fall for as long as I can remember, so while unusual it's also not terribly surprising. The thing that was surprising was the sheer numbers of Japanese tourists. I mean, there were a lot.

The Indian tourists, though, were huuuuuugely puzzling. They're really, really new in the tourist mix as far as I can see. And there's something really weird about seeing Indian women in full sari walking around the summit of Mount Washington without so much as a hair falling out of place. I dunno. Was there a package travel special to New Hampshire being advertised in India somewhere? I'm not complaining, mind you, because I, personally, thought it was cool. It was just weird because it seemed like there were Indian tourists everywhere. To double the weird, it hit both kurukami and I that the Himalayas have to be a hell of a lot closer to them than New Hampshire, and, let's be honest, the Himalayas are a hell of a lot more impressive than the White Mountains on a mountain-y scale. So, the bumper crop of Indian tourists are a bit of a mystery. We figured they were probably visiting family in the area and took a side trip up to the mountains.

The Polish came from a couple on top of Mount Washington and when I heard it I almost gave myself whiplash when my head snapped around to look at the couple who were excitedly babbling away as they climbed up to the geographical summit. And before you ask, no, I don't speak Polish, but I heard it enough as a kid to recognize the real deal when I hear it.

In a ladies room I heard something that sounded vaguely Eastern European (no idea if it's true). That was a bit odd, as well.

So, now that I've accounted for my international tourist haul for this trip, on to the show!

Since this was kurukami's first time in the White Mountains, let alone the White Mountains in the fall, it goes without saying that such a trip requires a high point (or crisis point, if you will).

Behold, Mount Washington, the crown jewel of the White Mountains, the highest point on the Appalachian Trail, the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi, and 6,288 feet of pure nightmare.

And guess who suggested that it would be a good idea to go?

--->*Me.*

The me who is terrified of heights.

Have I mentioned this part about Mount Washington? 6,288 feet of pure nightmare.

If I haven't, please re-read the above sentence. And if I have already mentioned it, I think it bears repeating. Several times.

Brains, apparently, is not one thing I seem to have in my head.

To fully illustrate this comic opera of hysterics inspired by the trip up Mount Washington, let me introduce you to two original characters:

• Rational Human Brain (RHB for short)
  
• Gibbering Monkey Brain (GMB for short)
  

( On with the show! Or how Mount Washington kicked my scared-y cat ass )

Anyway, we finally make it safely to the bottom of Mount Washington with ourselves and car intact.

The only thing hurt in the trip up or down was pretty much my pride, but I can definitely live with that.

Anyway, when we pulled over so we could catch our breath, I made sure to get on my hands and knees so I could kiss the ground.

I got a mouthful of dirt for my trouble.

Best. Tasting. Dirt. Ever.

As for Mount Washington. I came. I saw. I went up the auto road. The mountain kicked my ass.

But I got to live to tell the tale.

That counts for something right there.