We simul-climbed right across the ledge for 150 meters, looking for the best weakness in the discontinuous face above. There were several possibilities, though neither was a sure bet. 

I changed my mind back and forth about what crack system to try before finally settling on the right hand option and setting off into the unknown. Of course, the crack bottomed out just as the wall steepened. I wavered and feebly bitched to Dave about the insecure climbing and what lousy shape I was in. Deep down inside, I knew I was just going to have to suck it up and get on with it. 

The beauty of this kind of off-vertical terrain is that you don’t have to be at peak fitness to climb it. The game is more about careful, crafty footwork and a being in a grounded mental state then it is about possessing a finely tuned sport climbing physique. And it just so happens that this is exactly the kind of rock we have in New Hampshire. I closed my eyes and tried to recall all the times I’ve seen some grey-haired old timer with a beer gut sketch his way up a dicey route back home. I’m a fervent believe that New England adventure climbing is the perfect training for alpinism. Take VMC Direct Direct on Cannon. It’s a route I’ve done a bunch of times: classic, tricky 5.10 (maybe even a touch harder) with less than ideal gear and some devious route finding.

In three pitches I probably covered more horizontal distance as I did vertical gain, traversing back and forth to connect short flakes. Given the sparse gear, I climbed in a state of constant, gnawing fear, which frequently bubbled over into full-blown shit fits. Veteran that he is, Dave calmly listened to the four letter epithets I strung together as I inched higher. 

But the climbing was good and as soon as I finished my final lead, the whole experience didn’t seem that bad. The sun was out, the rock was warm and featured, and we were positioned just one pitch below Mahindra’s summit ridge with an inviting corner to lead us on. Dave took over for this last glory pitch, and we were soon high-fiving on top. 

As we laughed and snapped a few photos, I realized that Mahindra, for all its Himalayan grandeur, bore more than a passing resemblance to what I have right under my nose in New Hampshire. We lingered on top for a few minutes before beginning the long journey home.