North Woods adventure

The idea of a trip to New Hampshire reminded me of Bill Bryson’s article about the ill-omened forests near Hanover, described as “some kind of Bermuda triangle of the deciduous world.” I brushed these grim thoughts off and kept packing. Future events proved me wrong. The Bermuda-triangle hypothesis was, in the end, borne out by our experience: Even though we did not get lost in the woods for good, we did spend close to five hours in a car in the middle of the wilderness on our way from the Sunapee Ski Resort to Hanover.

The five Princetonians travelling in our car had diverse backgrounds and varied world experience: a rabbi who has travelled everywhere, a Bolivian Jew, a Taiwanese violinist, a girl from Hong Kong who lived in Wales and a Hungarian who lived in Singapore. When we left the resort at 5 p.m. on a beautiful and rather chilly Tuesday evening, we had no idea that the road sign pointing toward the “beach” did not lead quite as far as the GPS had assumed. After following the windings for a good half hour, we came to realize two things: First, the “beach” to which the sign referred described the shore of a beautiful, ice-coated lake with a crystalline shine in the dusk; and second, we were in the middle of nowhere with no light poles and a snow-covered road.

Eventually, we reached an abandoned summer house at the end of the driveway — a dead end. We stepped out of the car and took pictures of the infinite ice sea with tiny emerald islands breaking the cold, blue surface. When we decided to drive back, technology defied us once more. No matter how hard we tried, the wheels of our Toyota kept sliding on the sheet of ice covering the road: We drove on snow to cause friction but still ended up rolling all the way down to the bottom of the hill and into a heap of snow.

Feeling helpless and impotent, we called AAA. Our car ice-locked in the middle of nowhere in 25 degrees at night was not classified as desperate, so we were promised help in 45 minutes. We felt relieved. And, two minutes later, also a bit bored. Normally, this was a car of many great conversations: about Jewish traditions, Eastern European food, classical music and even gun ownership. Except this time it was 6 p.m., freezing cold and pitch black out. So, we decided to watch Monty Python on the rabbi’s iPhone.

The rescue truck’s red lights penetrated the dark skies around 7 p.m., and Mike, the AAA guy, inspected the situation. He concluded that it was dangerous for him to come down the slope and thus he would stay on the other side of the hill to avoid the ice. Ironically, he didn’t have snow chains, either. Two minutes later, counter to what he just said, he was right in front of us with the truck, at the bottom of the hill. It was an ambitious move, but he nevertheless got stuck, with our Toyota in the back. But at least the innocent travellers were rescued into another car.

After two arduous yet ineffectual hours, the unwavering and famished Mike decided to find new, radical means of rescue to speed things up. Hence, for the lack of a better alternative, he decided to tie the truck to electric poles and pull it uphill. We protested. He gave in. He tied the truck to trees instead. The rabbi asked us if we wanted to help. We said of course and ran out, peeling and crushing bananas OA-style while the moisture in our breath froze and hit the ground. The trick, miraculously, worked. The truck moved uphill inch by inch, slowly but surely. We were watching it crawl in suspense and awe. Then, as it moved uphill, we — equipped with a camera and much good spirit — ran to document the last time they tied the rope to a tree to pull the truck for a good 100 feet farther. We were rescued, after four hungry, dehydrated, arctic, yet immensely fun hours.

Thus, the seemingly ordinary ski trip metamorphosed into a cultural OA-like experience. We learned about the significance of morning prayers, Kosher food and Jewish heritage, devised problem-solving schemes while lost in the forest, spread the Princeton spirit among Dartmouth students and learned to appreciate Princeton’s weather and residential colleges even more.

Dalma Foldesi is a freshman from Kecskemet, Hungary. She can be reached at dfoldesi@princeton.edu.