![]() In fact, winter conditions at its summit can rival those of Mount Everest. In winter, Mount Washington experiences sub-zero temperatures, hurricane-force winds, snow and ice that essentially turn the peak into an Arctic outpost in a temperate climate zone. Mount Washington’s weather is notoriously extreme. Originally called Agiocochook by native Americans, the mountain boasts some of the planet’s most severe weather. You’ll never meet a friendlier, funnier or more photogenic cat.Standing at 6,288 feet, New Hampshire’s Mount Washington is the highest peak in the northeastern United States. Nin was New Hampshire’s “other” Old Man of the Mountain, and just as much an icon. It looks as if Marty will continue to walk in the pawprints of his photogenic predecessors, Inga and Nin. Checking the statistics in January 2008, I noticed a keyword search for “marty nin cats.” Marty the cat had only been on the summit for a few days and he’d already been Googled more often than Jasper ever was. The tradition continues as a new Mount Washingon cat named Marty moved up to the summit in January 2008. Inga died in 1994, and Nin is no longer on the summit, but they’re both still the limelight. At first I couldn’t even find a picture of Jasper close at hand as I was putting together this page. But there wasn’t a single search for poor old Jasper. I found plenty of searches for “nin the cat,” mt washington cats,” “inga mt washingon,” and similar variations. Apparently everyone was Googling “Mount Washington cats.” It made me curious enough to look up the keyword statistics. When Nin retired from the summit the day after Christmas in 2007, there was a flurry of internet activity and a surge of “hits” on this page in particular. Washington State Park rangers down in Gorham, New Hampshire, much closer to the vet’s office. The only legacy of this big, shy, but basically friendly cat is likely to be a clump of orange furballs left behind on the living room rug He also robs Jasper’s food bowl when the older cat isn’t looking. (Rumors to the contrary, Nin’s name is not short for nincompoop-though it should be!) Nin poses for the cameras and purrs in the arms of visiting journalists. Even worse, a new nemesis named Nin appeared on the scene in 1996, just when Jasper finally thought he had the summit to himself. While thousands of Inga postcards are shipped to mailboxes all across the continent, poor Jasper lurks in the shadows, far from the public eye. Sadly, Jasper has enjoyed no such notoriety. Photo of Marty © Mount Washington Observatory, from the second edition of Eric Pinder’s book Life at the Top. He often flees in terror from children but tolerates adults, so long as they hold him upside down (he hates being held right-side up) and put plenty of milk in his drinking bowl. What’s so odd about an orange tabby cat who lives on a mountain and likes to eat asparagus? In Jasper’s case, quite a bit. We expected the Environmental Protection Agency to show up any minute to delcare the American house mouse an endangered species. “He was stacking them up like cordwood,” announced one early riser. By night’s end, a row of rodents lay scattered across the observation deck, sorted by size. He deposited his prize in the doorway and ran back for more. One night, he trotted off into the twilight and jogged back with a mouse tucked between his jaws. Outside, sheets of ice rain have shattered on the rocks like glass, but a snoozing Jasper has purred through it all. The only door Jasper waits in front of is the refrigerator’s.”įor fourteen years, Jasper has survived inside the warm belly of the Mount Washington Observatory while sleet and hail battered the windowpanes and hurricane-force winds rattled the walls. “Is Jasper an outdoor cat?” I wondered aloud. He even begged pitifully for a second peace offering two minutes later. He squirmed and struggled in my arms until I let him go, but graciously accepted a bowl of milk as a peace offering. Jasper was not a happy animal when I rudely walked in from the cold and picked him up I even had the nerve to try to pet him. I encountered a truly angry cat back in the shelter of the observatory. With each strong gust, the precipitation can I was carrying squirmed in my arms like an angry cat. As I stumbled through the fog, bullets of hail nipped at my face, and the hood of my jacket flapped like a sail. Gray mist splashed on the boulders like ocean spray. I stood alone on the mountaintop and watched a dark fist of cloud punch slowly toward the peaks, beaching itself on the rocks. I first met Jasper the cat on a chilly evening when westerly winds were whipping across the summit at seventy miles per hour. Walsh from the picture book Cat in the Clouds. New summit cat Marty’s dark fur and constant motion make him a challenge to photograph. ![]()
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