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Bragging Rights Having spent the last, frigid, winter as the Gray Knob caretaker, I was able to witness the natural processes of the mountain world with some immediacy. I saw storms roiling over the Northern Presidentials, high-pressure systems barreling out of the northwest, stars blazing through deep frigid nights, and even the return of juncos and buntings in the spring. There was another phenomenon, though, of particular note, which would unfold every Saturday night. Just as a hint of moisture in the Serengeti air makes the wildebeest herd restless, or a certain slant of light sends our local bull moose into a frothing, eye-rolling frenzy, the dim light and relative heat of Gray Knob, along with bitter winds kicking up in the nearby krumholz, inevitably signals the commencement of the weekly Knob struggle for alpha hiker.
Now, what is it about Gray Knob that so consistently inspires this poorly hidden game of one-upmanship? Is it general insecurity inspired by the storm-shrouded view of Jefferson from the Quay? A desire to claim the Whites as one’s own domain; after all, how could anyone else have such wonderful memories of this mountain range? Maybe this is simply how people act when they meet one another in a situation where status still seems unestablished (except the caretaker’s status, of course, secured by his or her control of the woodstove). These questions I leave to the reader, and to the witness of future winter weekends at the Knob. I, having lived among these hikers long enough to observe behavioral patterns, will offer a few observations. The following is a partial list of strategies in the conversational Gray Knob Dance for Dominance. The Leading Question: An old favorite, these questions can, out of the blue, bring conversation around to any exploit or experience. “So, have you ever climbed Mount Rainier?” Usually, the questioner cares very little about the answer, so eager are they to hear the reciprocal, “How about you?” Caveat: an attentive listener might answer the question without the reciprocal question, bringing the session to a frustrating and premature end: “No, I’ve never climbed Mount Rainier. Say, I’m hungry.” Good Cop/Bad Cop (or old hiker/ new hiker): The company of another hiker, especially a hiker who is relatively inexperienced, paves the way for an easy bragging set-up. “Well, Tom here has never been in the Presidentials in the winter. I just keep telling him about it, but this is his first trip.” Or, “Well, Jen here thought the wind was blowing about seventy on top of Adams. Of course, she’s never been up there on one of those really windy days, you know?” Caveat: A perfect way to destroy a romantic weekend in the mountains when, having basked in the glow of recognition, (“Oh, so you must come up here a lot”), one turns to face his less experienced partner, with her face bright red. That’s not windburn (the wind wasn’t blowing that hard); it’s embarrassment. And rage. The Loud Talker: A classic, if simple strategy. Tell your story loud enough, and everyone will hear about your ski down the ravine. Caveat: Were people listening or not? You’ll never know. Gear-Speak: A mind-numbing recitation of gear terms, dimensions, temperature ratings, and, of course, brand names can make a first time mountaineer sound like a pro. Caveat: Said recitation can also make a pro sound like a first time mountaineer. The Name Drop: An easy way to sound plugged-in to the mountain community. One needs only to remember the name of a former caretaker, forest ranger, weather observer, trail crewmember or RMC President. Importantly, and this is the beauty of a small community, you need never to have actually met them – just to have heard the name: “So, how’s Matt the ranger doing?” Caveat: You better be sure you’re not asking Matt the ranger how Matt the ranger is doing. The Redirected Conversation: Perhaps the most direct way to display one’s mountain resume. “You know, that hot chocolate you’re drinking reminds me of the time I climbed on Denali.” The possibilities are limited only by the speaker’s connective imagination. I mean, who’s to say that talking about firewood wouldn’t lead directly to a conversation about just how fast you hiked from Jefferson to Washington? Caveat: This is the conversational equivalent of, say, deposing a government without any plans for a replacement: What were we talking about? Chaos ensues. As the stubborn packed snow disappears from the White Mountain trails, so too the stove-side rites of a cold Saturday night fade into memory. But of course, it won’t be long before winter rules again, and boasts, subtle and not so, rebound from the walls of the Knob, and are carried toward Randolph on the wind. Ah, the wind. You know, that reminds me of the time I was on top of Mount Adams… Will Kemeza was
RMC's winter caretaker. He has worked for the AMC as Carter Notch
winter caretaker, and for GMC as the caretaker for Taft Lodge
on Mount Mansfield. This fall, he heads to Harvard University
to attend Divinity School.
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I
am told that, while social status and the establishment of a
hierarchy is important among the animals of many species, it
is of particular importance among social pack-hunters and their
descendants. Like dogs, for instance, and like us. Ah, but for
humans, the joy of showing-off is tempered by a need for subtlety.
First of all, at least at Gray Knob, any display of prowess is
unlikely to be physical. After all, most of the weekend warriors
who manage to drag themselves up Lowe’s Path are unable
to so much as stand. Secondly, and herein lies the real art,
one must be able to boast while appearing not to. The display
must look accidental, as if to say, “I wouldn’t dream
of bragging. How can I help it if these things come up in conversation?”