My soon-to-be 93-year-old dad is a handful, to say the least.

He not only retains all his mental faculties, but swims laps for a full hour seven days a week.

So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when Pop-Pop (as everyone calls him) told me he wanted to tag along with my son, Chris, and me the next time we climbed New Hampshire’s rugged Mt. Washington.

Pop-Pop suggested he, and my older brother, Russ, ride the so-called Cog Railway to the top of Mt. Washington and then rendezvous with Chris, me and our superb guide, Art Mooney. Once we were all standing atop the 6,288-foot peak, Pop-Pop promised he’d raise his arms and repeat Julius Caesar’s famous line, ‘Veni. Vidi. Vici.’ (I came. I saw. I conquered.)

Well, Mother Nature had plans of her own.

We were forced to postpone the first day thanks to a torrential rain of biblical proportions.

Despite an equally gloomy forecast for our second, and final, day, we set out to make Pop-Pop’s dream a reality.

Art’s blog and photographs provide a moving account of our experience.

Suffice it to say that, despite driving rain, winds of 40 miles per hour and temperatures of 35 degrees, Pop-Pop ended up throwing his arms around Russ, Chris and me, and shouting, ‘Vini. Vidi. Vici!

Three generations of Cody men had, indeed, fulfilled Pop-Pop’s dream and stood astride the summit of New England’s highest (and most treacherous) peak.