The trail was mostly flat for the first 1.7 miles as we approached the Carrigain Notch and the Signal Ridge cutoff. We took a left continuing along the Signal Ridge Trail and headed towards our last summit. Shortly after crossing our first brook, the light rain that had been predicted materialized so we all donned our foul weather gear and continued along our journey warm and dry.

John, our hiking partner, was still nursing a little bronchitis so Susan kept playing Mother Hen by telling him to put on his jacket and rain pants. John dutifully complied and we all marched on toward our goal. I too was a little protective, not so much about John, but about Susan and our next two stream crossings. She had fallen crossing the last stream coming down Stony Brook in July, so I did not want her to re-injure her wrist, so I made sure she crossed without incident.

The trail became a little slippery in spots as the light rain made the fallen leaves a tad slick. It wasn't enough to cause you to loose your footing; it was just enough to make you a little more cautious. A little further up the trail, Susan became exited when she spotted her first patch of snow. We hadn't even counted on snow given the crack meteorological experts at the weather channel said nothing about snow being in the forecast. We just figured it was a fluke and pressed on. Not more than ten minutes later the light rain turned to snow as we were treated to the most beautiful fall mini-snowstorm.

We continued as the snow fell around us and covered the trees and trail with a soft blanket of fresh snow. Everything becomes more tranquil when it snows, it's as though the world undergoes a transformation or rebirth. Whatever troubles or concerns we might have, they all seem to disappear as the snow lightly falls and gives us a new sense of purpose.

Once we emerged onto the ridge, the wind began to increase and the temperature dropped 10 to 15 degrees. Two hikers who had passed us earlier were coming back from the summit and suggested that we might want to don every piece of clothing we had, for the wind at the summit was fierce. Heeding their warning, we quickly put on extra layers and headed towards the summit.

Susan, who arrived a few minutes before me because I had to put on an extra sweater, had an excited look on her face and said that I had to climb the fire tower. Being an obliging husband I quickly obeyed and began to fight my way up the ladder battling wind gust of 45 to 50 mph. I have to say, I've been in wind before, especially Mt Washington, but this had to be the highest wind I have ever encountered. We had to literally hang on to the rail in order to keep from being blown over as the wind tried to blow us off the tower.

After we all reached the top of the tower, I had John take a picture of Susan and I being hammered by the wind. If the picture comes out, it will be framed and placed on our wall at home. Occasionally we were able to catch glimpses of the other mountains as the clouds would part and then come together again placing us in an envelope of white snowflakes. We headed down the fire tower and towards the well we had passed on the way up to sit and have our lunch.

While eating we were visited by a large gray and white bird that insisted we share our meal. He or she was so persistent that we ultimately relented and gave up part of our lunch. After lunch we headed down the trail and only encountered two other brave souls who had ventured out into the snow. Once home, we relaxed by a campfire and sipped some wine as we reminisced about our three-year journey.