My 46er Journey - Part 9 - Upper WolfJaw, Armstrong, and Gothics

The spring of 2018 was a purge of sorts for me.  Mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I had grown enough over my 2 1/2 years of sobriety to be in a place where God knew I could handle what was thrown at me.  It wasn't easy, and each day was a struggle, but I held on and made it through.  I was told many times I couldn't think my way in to better living, that I had to live my way in to better thinking.  Hope had turned to faith because I got the hell out of the way and did the next right thing.  I knew moving forward that so long as I didn't drink and trusted the process, everything would be OK.  Nothing was going to happen in my time, but everything was going to happen in God's perfect timing, including my return to the mountains.

Memorial day weekend of 2018 before Laura and I set off to Roan Mountain we signed the lease on our new house.  We were to move in June 15th, but I was still without a job.  I lived on faith and trusted that everything would be OK.  A few weeks later I got offered a job, start date was June 13th, just in time, not a moment too soon, not a moment too late.

Mount Charleston

July of 2018 saw an adventure of a lifetime.  Laura and I had been invited to go west for a wedding, we would be spending a few days in Las Vegas, then traveling to Yosemite and then back to Vegas.  I decided I would do something to take my adventure to new heights and climbed Mount Charleston.  I took weeks to prepare for the adventure and on July 22nd at 7:15 am I stepped foot on an 11,916 foot tall peak.  However, this is a story for another time.

By August Dan and I were headed back north to the Adirondacks.  We had made plans to finish the Great Range.  The Great Range traverse is considered one of the toughest hikes in America.  There are very few water sources, incredibly rugged terrain, and many miles with lots of elevation, but we were determined to give it our all.  We arrived in the early hours on Saturday and slept in the car.  We decided we were both hungry and that it would be a good idea to grab some food before hitting the trail.  We were to be out overnight so a last good meal would offer the fuel needed.  We hit the Noonmark diner for breakfast and headed to the trail.  We felt great, strong, happy, healthy, and determined.

We signed in at Lake Road and headed toward Upper Wolfjaw Mountain.  We made great time ascending the range and grabbed our first peak of the day.  The mood was the usual determined but carefree life that Dan and I had come to adapt.  There was never animosity between us on the mountains, we knew each other's limits and never let the other person quit.  Each trip we bonded tighter and grew to really love each other more and more.  I no longer saw him as a friend, he was a brother, the older brother I always wanted, the one who never demeaned me, always encouraged me, shared in my successes and my failures.  Dan was my family and I wasn't going to let anything happen to him.

Dan ascending a ladder

We hastily made our way to Armstrong, a small summit with not great views or room on the summit rock, but we didn't care.  We were hungry and ready for a break.  Dan ate tortilla shells with tuna fish, I believe I just had some Pringles and snacks.  It was hot this day, but not unbearably.  Very humid though, but there wasn't any chance of weather so we sucked it up and headed out.  We still had a long way to go, but we were making great time, it was about noon and figured with our pace we should be able to finish before dark and descend to camp.

Gothics mountain has it's own mystique in the Adirondacks.  The name alone just screams "I'm a bad ass mountain", but it holds up to that reputation.  The views from the summit are incredible and there's tons of exposed rock.  The southwest side of the peak is called the "cable route" as there have been cables permanently fixed to the mountain to help climbers up and down the rock.  These cables are just that, metal cables.  Dan and I had been looking forward to the cable route since we first started our journey a year prior.  We had learned to embrace the thrill of the Adirondacks.

While taking shelter on the summit of Gothics

We made the summit some time between 1 and 2 pm.  We sat down to rest again and enjoy a small snack and the views.  After a short moment I noticed some clouds forming between the ranges, and forming fast.  The speed at which they were forming and moving in was terrifying.  There were a few other climbers on the summit with us and we all realized it was time to go.  Dan and I were the only ones with heavy packs on, we tucked away our trekking poles and strapped them to our backs and started to make our way over the mountain.  We knew we had the cables to descend and wanted to get down as fast as possible.  Unfortunately, we weren't fast enough and the storm moved in right on top of us.  We weighed our options and decided to try to take cover on the summit in some brush.  After a few moments we decided to move down the mountain as fast as possible.  We looked at each other and knew we wouldn't leave the other behind and that this was a decision we were both comfortable with.

We moved as fast as we could, the water was rushing down the rock almost an inch deep.  I don't think I'd ever seen rain to hard, heavy, and fast.  We were drenched from head to toe, but we needed to get to a safer spot.  As if some strange twist of fate, the second we grabbed the cables we heard the thunder, "LET'S GO!!!" I screamed as loud as I could so Dan could hear me over the wind and rain.  I descended faster than Dan and kept losing sight of him.  I would scream out at the top of lungs asking if he was OK, he would scream back and we would continue on.  The thunder, the wind, the rain, it was getting louder, faster, heavier.  At this point I was terrified.  I couldn't see Dan, I could hardly hear him, and I knew we were both in trouble if we didn't get down FAST.  That's when the power of God was made known to me.  The brightest flash of light I'd ever seen and the loudest crack of thunder I'd ever heard.  It was no more than 100 feet away, and neither was Dan.  "HOLY SHIT" was all I could muster.  "DAN?  DAN!?  DANNNN!?!" he finally responded and then seconds later, it was all over.

Summit of Armstrong

As quick as the storm came in, it subsided.  As I stood on the rock looking up to see if and when Dan would emerge I heard a soft and calming "Are you OK?" from behind me.  Physically shaking in terror and white as a ghost I turned around to see the head of a young girl poking up from between two boulders.  She had seen us on the summit and had even let us pass her on our descent, but during our moments of trying to take cover on the summit she had passed us only to take shelter below the two rocks as things got bad.  "Yes, that was close!" I responded.  That's when Dan came around the bend and we embraced knowing that we had just dodged a major bullet.

We descended the rest of the way to the col between Gothics and Saddleback.  By this time the shaking had subsided and we were starting to get clear heads again.  We were drenched and emotionally drained, we decided to bail out after looking at the map and realizing there was a shelter about 2 miles from where we were.  We made our way down, unpacked our sleeping bags, stripped off our wet clothes, and settled in for the night.  It was a cold night, but I was relieved we were both alive and safe.  We had just gone through the most terrifying experience of my life thus far, together.  I didn't sleep well that night.  The next day we woke and made our way out of the woods.  Because we had bailed on the opposite side of the range we were going to have to try to get a ride to our car or walk another 10 miles.

The town of Keene runs a shuttle during the summer to move hikers from the parking lot at Marcy Field to the Garden.  We just so happened to luck out that there were no hikers to take to Marcy Field and the driver agreed to drive us to our car at Lake Road.  We were incredibly grateful for this gesture and even more grateful to be alive.  We found out that the storm was pretty bad in the valley too, a few buildings had been struck by lightning and people were talking about how bad it looked up top on Gothics, and believe me, it was bad up there.

We made our way back home and ended our ride as we ended all of them, with an embrace, an "as always, fucking awesome dude" and an "I love you".  It was always the perfect end to these journeys, it didn't matter what happened on the mountain, how many peaks we got, how many miles we logged, or how fast we climbed.  It mattered that we were sharing in this journey together, and were committed to it together, that we had learned so much about ourselves and grown together.  Life is meant to be shared, and we were sharing it with each other in a way I had never done before.

My 46er Journey - Part 8 - The Interlude

Roan Mountain State Park - Tennessee

In February 2018 we returned home to Virginia from our previous trip to the Adirondacks.  We had now climbed 13 of the 46 high peaks in the Adirondacks and were getting excited about continuing our journey.  We had learned so much since that first trip less than a year prior.  So much about the mountains, the road, the experience, and ourselves.  We had learned to just keep going when you think you can't go on anymore.  We had learned that there's always something deep down inside that can push you through any adversary.  We had learned that we could rely on each other, and that things often don't work out the way you planned.

Returning home, I knew I had much uncertainty about my future.  I still hadn't found a job and the bills were piling up.  I was falling for this beautiful girl and afraid to tell her that I was unsure what was going to happen.  I didn't want to hurt someone, I didn't want to bring my baggage on to someone, I didn't want to expose myself to someone.  Then the day came, a note on the door to pick up a certified letter from the post office.  My heart sank, my stomach churned, my anxiety rose, the time had come.  I went and retrieved the letter and came back home to open it.  I had until the 31st of March to pay all the back payments on my house, or vacate the property.

Me on Grandfather Mountain, NC

There was no way I could come up with the over $8,000 that was owed to bring my payments up to date.  There was no way I could face myself or own up to this to anyone.  So I did the logical thing, and tucked the letter away and didn't say anything to anyone.  A few days went by and I knew I had to do something, so I met with my mentor and told him what was going on.  He made a few suggestions then asked if I was going to tell Laura.  I knew I obviously had to, but I didn't want to.  What would she think, would she leave, would she think I was a loser, would she never talk to me again.  Truth is, it didn't matter, because she was going to find out one way or another.  That evening I made us dinner and sat her down at the table and told her I was losing my house.  I explained everything and waited for the inevitable.  She looked at me and said "OK, well I guess we have to start packing".  WHAT!?!  Really!?!  You're not leaving?  You're not going to call me out for the loser I am?  Why?

Laura and I at Harper's Ferry, WV

She offered me encouragement and support, she helped pack when I couldn't.  At this point, we had 2 weeks to empty this house, sell what I could, throw away the trash, and pack what I couldn't sell in to storage.  Dan helped as much as he could too, and together the 3 of us got the house vacated just in time.

God had a plan all along, and He knew what He was doing.  I questioned time and time again throughout the whole ordeal but by this point I had learned to trust Him.  The last day, at the last moment, right before leaving my neighbor came out.  We had become pretty close over the years as he too was a recovering alcoholic with 18 years of sobriety.  I told him I lost the house and wasn't sure what I was going to do or even where I was going.  I told him "I can't believe with over 2 years sober I'm homeless", he looked at me and said "So what?  I was homeless at 10 years sober and God took care of me.  He will take care of you too."  I thanked him for everything and told him I would see him around.  I got in the car and pulled away.

I went to Laura's that night as she had offered for me to stay there till I figured things out.  Dan and I had a trip planned the next day and I figured the mountains would offer some solutions.  By this time Laura and I were officially a thing, but I wasn't too sure about the commitment of officially moving in together.  I knew though to do what I had been doing for 2 1/2 years now, take it one day at a time.

Dan and I at Roan Mountain, TN

Dan and I headed down to Tennessee for a few days to explore.  We stayed at Roan Mountain State Park and hiked all over Roan Mountain.  We took a day to do Grandfather Mountain in Western North Carolina, and explored a portion of the Linville Gorge.  It was a great trip and we both became homesick, or homeless sick in my case, and headed back to Virginia a few days early.

After getting back I decided I would "stay" with Laura, but I wasn't "moving in".  This became a source of comic relief for her and Dan as I refused to unpack my bags even though she had emptied a dresser for me.  I was so scared, even though she had proven to me time and time again over the past few months her dedication to me and to us, but what if I mess it up?  That's what I've always done.  Even with all the confidence I'd gained through the mountains and life, there was still that fear of failure lingering not just in the back, but all over my mind.

Me, Laura, Ken, and Dan at Hawksbill Mountain, NC

I was still struggling with the job situation but was told "just do the footwork", so I did.  I continued to apply for jobs, I got quite a few interviews and I went to them all.  Since I wasn't working and couldn't contribute financially, I pulled my weight around the house.  I cooked dinner every night, cleaned up, continued to look for work, and trusted God that everything will be alright.  Dan and I had planned to head up to New York again in June for a week or two to knock out more peaks.  By this time we had tossed around the notion of finishing our 46er on his 46th birthday which was just under 2 years away.  We knew we had our work cut out for us, but we were willing to do our best to make it happen.  We continued to hike and took a memorial day trip back to Roan Mountain with Laura and our friend Ken and the excitement for the summer continued to build.

Then it happened.  I got a job.  Start date; June 13th.

The mountains would have to wait.  God had different plans...again.