When Bayard and I rolled into the trailhead at 7.15 AM, the place looked like the parking lot at Gillette Stadium an hour before kick off. There were news trucks, reporters and photographers. There were forest service rangers, fish and game cops, and state police. A hundred other folks from three different volunteer teams milled around in bulky winter clothes, awkwardly talking and shuffling to stay warm: guides, ski patrollers, and experienced winter travelers. This, I suddenly realized, was a Big Deal. This was a black tie event, a full blown senior prom for every climber and mountain professional in New Hampshire. 

By now, Brian had been out for two nights, and the New Hampshire Fish and Game was throwing all of their available resources at finding him. Everyone knew that after today, the odds didn’t look good for our hapless college man. And those resources included a Blackhawk helicopter, curtiousy of the New Hampshire Air National Guard. As I walked around the parking lot, chatting with the many framiliar faces, I heard very little discussion of Brian. These were good, caring people who had volunteered their time to come to the aid of a fellow climber. But the only thing people were talking about was the Blackhawk. 

The plan called for nine different five man teams to be flown to the top of Mount Lafayette, and than conduct searches of predetermined sections of the mountain from the top-down. Yet the chaotic state of the universe there in the Old Bridal Path parking lot at 7.30 in the morning meant nobody was assigning teams. It was every man for himself. Which team would go first?  What section of the mountain is your team searching? What team are you on? Nobody wants to go to senior prom with a slow team or a lame search assignment. Luckily, Bayard and I bumped into our friend Jim Shimberg. 

“Hey guys,” he called. “There’s two more spots on our team, come here!”. As we mingled with Jim and the rest of newly formed team, Bayard noticed something in the snow.