The answer: A greasy slice of pepperoni pizza, served under heat lamps in a hot box, from a cardboard container.
Sounds terrible, yes? Let’s put this in context.
John and I were sweating under an early morning sun. It was beating down on us as we crossed a moonscape of sharp, gritty, black rock as we hiked the final mile to the summit of New England’s highest peak.
We could see the Mount Washington observatory, and the spider-like spires used for collecting weather data just above us. Awake at dawn, we had eaten a meager breakfast. I had hot ramen with chicken, and bottled water. This was day two of a Presidential Traverse in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. The day before we had climbed both Mount Madison and Mount Adams before hiking down below treeline to camp. Today, we were already on our second peak. Calorie starved, we planned on stopping at the cafeteria and visitor center at the top of Washington to hydrate and get out of the sun.
Smelly, dirty and sweaty, we reached the summit and dropped our packs at the door with many others. The cafeteria was busy. Queuing into the line for lunch, I loaded up with a day’s worth of food even before reaching the rotating glass box with the pizza slices. The pie spun in a slow mesmerizing circle, hypnotizing me with it’s alluring dance.
I pulled out a huge slice, dropping it into it’s cardboard holder. Arriving at the table I found John had done the same. The smell of hot cheese, bread and pepperoni was all I could focus on. John and I seemed to pick up the slices and bite into them simultaneously.
We both let out a sigh of complete fulfillment. The oily carbs, salty meat and cheese was a shot of super powered energy for our bodies. Any other item on my plate after that was just filler. We still agree that the pizza slice in that cafeteria was the best thing we both ever ate.
I’ve had some fine meals in my life, cooked to perfection. They’ll never compare to that slice of cafeteria pizza that would carry me over several more mountains, saving the day,and returning me back to the trailhead below.
An Unmapped Route: A Hiker's Blog 