My 46er Journey - Part 10 - Haystack and Basin

September 2018 came fast and it was time to head back to the Adirondacks.  This trip however was to be much different, from the planning stages, through the end.  I wrote about this trip briefly in a previous post regarding my first time participating in 46 Climbs, you can find that post here.  I kept that entry short and left out some key points which were to be incorporated more in to this series, so hold tight cause this one is an emotional rollercoaster.

Many things were different about this trip since before we even got in the car.  For the first time, I was bringing my son Nicholas with me up to the Adirondacks.  He had done some climbs back home in Virginia with me a few times, but this was to be his first real test in the mountains.  Dan picked him up and headed over and we hit the road.  Not only was my son coming with me, I was also participating in 46 Climbs for the first time, and even better, Sunday September 2nd was my 3 year sobriety anniversary.  This trip also marked the first time we brought food with us, what a difference maker that became!!  Chicken sandwiches, eggs bacon and potatoes, and no Burger King, life was good and we felt like kings.

We hit the trail early Friday morning and headed to John's Brook Lodge, we were going to camp at the sites just past the lodge and made great time getting there.  We decided to set up camp and grab some grub before heading out.  We knew we had a long day ahead of us as we planned to get 3 peaks so fuel was a necessity.  Nicholas was doing great and keeping up, I was so happy to have my boy with me, and Dan was being Dan cracking jokes, smiling, and helping to lead the way.

We slogged our way up to Haystack, it was a busy day and we passed many hikers along the way.  After scrambling up to Little Haystack and then finally realizing we were at the wrong summit, we made it the rest of the way to Haystack for Nicholas' first high peak.  We relaxed for a few minutes and snacked.  We were socked in the clouds and couldn't see anything, but a slight break in the sky above us shown some blue and that energized us to carry on.  We headed over to Basin, by this time the long drive and lack of rest was catching up with us and our pace slowed.  The scrambles up the mountain were fun and Nicholas really enjoyed them.  We found our way to the top as the winds were picking up and the clouds were thickening.  We had never heard of the Saddleback cliffs which were in our route to the next peak.  We were informed by some other guys at the summit of Basin of them and with the rocks being slippery and uncertainty of what may lie ahead, we decided to forego Saddleback for another day.

This was a tough call for me as I was climbing for charity today, but also because we had now orphaned a peak in the middle of the great range.  At some point, we would have to come back for it.  We slowly made our way back to camp and the sun set on another beautiful day in the mountains.  Returning back to Slant Rock we ran in to an older gentleman who seemed to be in some trouble.  The man was shoeless, apparently his boots blew out coming down Mt Marcy and he had hiked back barefoot.  Andy was his name, an Adirondack veteran of about 70 years of age.  Dan gave him his crocks and asked if he needed anything else.  After making sure he was going to be ok for the night, we proceeded back to our camp.

We were all exhausted and after a brief meal we were out cold for the night.  The next morning we woke early, ate breakfast, and broke camp.  It was about that time that we saw Andy pass by with 2 other hikers carrying his pack for him.  It was nice to see he made it through the night and was safe and on his way home.  We headed out and eventually caught up with the group and hiked out together.  Andy and Dan were cutting up the whole time and made for a fun walk out of the woods.

Back in the car and headed home, we took our time getting back but were all anxious to sleep in a bed.  It was my anniversary and felt great to have started it in the woods with a man I called a brother and my son.  I was on top of the world once again, and once again, reality was about to set in.  I got back home and went about with life.  I celebrated with some great friends that week and things were going great.  I had been working with a boy named TJ for a few months and the week prior he had called to tell me he wasn't going to be attending meetings anymore, I didn't answer the phone but had talked to him through text.  I told him I would call him later that day to talk, he didn't answer.

Thursday night after my meeting Laura and I were sitting outside talking when I got a phone call around 10pm.  I'll never forget those words, "Did you hear about TJ?  He died".  Even now 2 years later writing this I well up with tears.  He had the most beautiful smile and could light up a room just by walking in it, his eyes cried of a boy who just wanted to be OK, a man who loved his son more than anything, he was genuine, loving, and funny.  I loved him so much, and always will.  I hardly slept that night, Laura and I laid in bed silent, I gazed at the ceiling and just couldn't comprehend that he was gone.

A group of us attended his funeral the following week and it was incredibly difficult.  I got to meet his family and tell them who I was, and who we were.  They were very appreciative of the help we had given him over the previous months, however they will never know the impact he had on me.  I'll never forget him and every year on my anniversary I make sure to make it known that while I am celebrating, myself, his family, and his beautiful son are all grieving for the loss of the most amazing young man I've ever known.  

I love you and miss you TJ.

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.

My 46er Journey - Part 7 - Dial and Nippletop

View of the Great Range from the summit of Nippletop

Making dinner at the High Peaks Hotel

A few weeks after returning from our last trip up north there we were once again in the car heading north.  Dan and I had signed up for a crampon and ice axe class for the next morning then planned to grab Dial and Nippletop mountains.  This trip was being planned on a budget so we decided to check in to what has since been dubbed "The High Peaks Hotel".  The hotel is anything but, it's actually just the welcome center rest area for the high peaks region of the Adirondacks.  We arrived late and grabbed the stove out of the trunk for a nice dinner of chicken and rice.  We found the whole ordeal hilarious, little did we know just how much of a tradition this would become.

We woke up the next morning and got dressed and headed out to the Cascade trailhead for our class.  The class was hosted by Adirondack Mountain Rescue, and our instructor was absolutely amazing.  The class was small, 5 or 6 of us in total.  We went over basic crampon and ice axe techniques.  These skills were invaluable resources that we would begin to put in to practice immediately.  The class finished up and we headed to lake road to tackle what we thought would be an easy day.

There are 2 main routes to Dial and Nippletop, one you climb almost immediately, the 2nd you go a few miles down Lake Road then tackle Nippletop first.  We chose the latter of the 2 routes figuring it would be easier to knock out the miles at the start and go for a steeper climb.  It was a beautiful day in the Adirondacks.  Temps were hovering right around freezing, and just a few miles in we were shedding clothes.  As the ascent began we passed a group descending on their butt sleds.  The joy and laughter from the girls coming down the mountain was infecting.  I still remember just how much fun they were having being out there.  It encouraged us to press on.

As always the conversation was good and helped to ease the pain of the steep climb.  About a mile from the top we stopped for a break and to feed our stomachs.  Not surprisingly the climb was taking longer than expected, but we pressed on.  Eventually we reached the ridge and the split, we took a right and made our way to the summit of Nippletop.  We snapped a few photos and enjoyed the amazing view we had of the Great Range.  After a few minutes we decided to get going, it was getting late and obvious we weren't going to make it back before dark.

Trail to Nippletop on the ridge

The trek to the summit of Dial was grueling.  We were tired, and the sun was just about down.  The wind was picking up and the sound of frozen trees swaying back and forth filled the air.  A few weeks back we had bushwacked up the side of Spruce Knob, the highest point in the state of West Virginia, during a storm.  All I could imagine was one of those widow makers coming down.  We pressed on, the conversation dimmed as did the last remaining light from the sun.  By the time we reached the summit it was pitch black minus the glow from our headlamps.  No pictures, no celebration, no congratulations, just more steps.  Exhaustion had passed and finally I hit the wall, "get me off of this fucking mountain" were the exact words.

Dan and I have spent enough time together on the mountain that we know each other's limits, and each other's moments.  We always tend to hit that wall at different times, tonight it was my wall that was hit first.  We found a rock and sat.  It was cold, late, dark, and windy, but without some fuel we weren't going to make it much further.  I forced myself to eat some snacks I had in my pack.  A brownie, some Cheetos, a few peanuts.  Swished around some water and after about 15 minutes we were back on our feet.  We trudged on, up and down and up and down.  We failed to realize this ridge was more of a rolling ridge than an easy descent.  The beautiful day that had started with frozen waterfalls, laughs of strangers, and views of the Great Range, had diminished to a cold, dark, dreaded slug back to the car.  Eventually the rolling stopped and it was just downhill.  The warm weather had melted a lot of the snow in the lower elevations so we were dealing with lots of ice.  We slowly navigated down thankful for our gear to give us the grip needed.

A few hours later we were back on Lake Road.  Flat Lake Road.  Steady downhill Lake Road.  Relief set in and the pace quickened.  Finally back at the car I sat on the guard rail on the side of the road and just breathed.  I looked at Dan and said, "I'm ready to go back".  Just a few hours after declaring to be off the mountain I was ready to be back on.  There's something about the mountain that just draws you back in.  It beats you up, teases you, breaks your heart, and gives you this sense of accomplishment that you have fought and been granted a chance that day.  A chance to make it to the top, but also, a chance to get back home.

Summit of Nippletop

We undressed and hit the High Peaks Hotel for a quick bath in the sinks and headed down the road.  I awoke around 5am in a parking lot with Dan snoring.  The original plan was to grab Big Slide on Sunday but exhausted and dehydrated we decided to start the trek home.  We decided to make a stop in Saratoga and check out the Battlefield.  Saratoga was the site of an important battle during the revolutionary war.  Being from George Washington's hometown I've always enjoyed different things dealing with the war so I was excited to stop and check it out.  We spent a few hours walking the battlefield before heading home.

We knew this would be our last trip to the Adirondacks for a few months as spring was moving in and with it the dreaded mud season.  We had a big trip planned for June to come up and bag a bunch of peaks and spend a few days in the woods.  As I would soon learn, and have to come to terms with is that my plans are not always God's plans.  But right now, I was elated to be heading home, alive, warm, all my digits, and an amazing women waiting for me when I got there.

Saratoga Battlefield

My 46er Journey - Part 3 - Macomb Mountain

Starting out on the trail to Macomb Mountain

I've spent the majority of my life living in Virginia, our "harsh winters" consist of a few snowflakes, cold rain, and dead everything.  When I was 15 years old I spent a year at a boarding school in the mountains of Pennsylvania and got my first taste of a real winter, but nothing like the true winters I have always dreamed about.  As a kid I loved Christmas, this trend continued for years until it lost it's novelty, and I just became a lonely Grinch.  I had decided that 2017 was going to be different.  You see, I had been out of work for a few months due to an injury sustained on Mount Mitchell in September, coupled with my depression and just daily struggles.  I finally had a job offer and was anxiously waiting for it to come through.  In the meantime, Dan and I planned a trip to Mount Mitchell for some winter climbing.  While rehabbing my knee and gathering up the necessary gear for our adventure, our focus shifted to the Adirondacks once again.

We finally made a decision to go and try our hand at a true winter climbing experience, and experience it was going to be.  We planned to head up for a weekend in the Adirondacks.  As the day approached we closely monitored the weather only to see the chances of snow stay steady.  We were committed, and still a bit ignorant.  Okay, we were very ignorant, but we were determined to conquer the Dix range.  You can commence laughing now.

At the trail head

Snowshoes, microspikes, 8 meals...each, stove, gloves, jackets, and a partridge in a pear tree (hey, it was Christmas) in hand we hit the road, ADK bound.  The trip was long as usual, but we were stoked to hit the trail.  We got to the Elk Lake parking lot around 1 am and decided to catch some Z's before hitting the trail.  As we settled in to the car it started to snow.  For this southern boy, it was truly magical.  We awoke around 6 am and started to gear up, layers, and layers, and layers.  Imagine Ralphy from A Christmas Story.  That was us.  We started the trudge through the 2 inches of fresh powder toward the trail head.  Great conversation, and heavy packs.  We reached the trail head and signed in around 7 am.  We were passed by a group of 5 heading to finish their winter 46.  After a few too many minutes long farting around taking pictures my hands were going numb.  Less than an hour in to this, and my hands were numb.

So here is that wonderful plot twist.  6 years earlier I had caught hypothermia one night, this was during my wonderfully successful drinking career.  I fell in a puddle in 15° weather one night and by the grace of God was found and treated.  I had never told anyone about that night out of the shame of the situation, but here I was, in single digit weather, with numb hands, heading in to the wilderness.  Do I swallow my pride and inform my partner of my situation, or continue to keep my experience a secret.  I opted to inform him of my situation.  Because once you catch hypothermia once, you're more susceptible to catching it again, and if that happens, my life is literally in his hands.  This was also good because it allowed me to start to remove some of that shame I had carried.  That is a major part of this recovery journey, and things I have learned literally, in the woods.

We carried on my hands warmed up thanks to Dan's mittens and some hand warmers, but my pride began to heal too.  We reached the Slide Brook Lean-To and decided to cook.  We made a breakfast and learned just how rough this cooking in the winter was to be.  It took forever to boil the water and while we waiting, everything started to freeze.  Welcome to the North Rebel child.

After breakfast we again hit the trail.  Destination Macomb Mountain, and the Macomb Slide.  We read about it, had seen some pictures, but we had no clue what we were in for.  As we made our way up the heard path we started to see this giant snow covered opening going up the mountain, "That's where we're going??  Uh oh...".  As the path led us to the slide and we first made our way out on to this open expanse of snow, the adrenaline started.  We slogged our way out on to it and then suddenly the earth gave way beneath me.  Or so it felt, you see there was about 5 feet of snow in some of these spots.  And without caution, or the snowshoes which were securely strapped on my pack, you sink right in.  "Here we go" I thought.

When I was in middle and high school, I had made a deal with my Uncle.  I would read X amount of books and write a report on them and he would take me on a trip.  One of the books I read was Jon Krakauer's "Into Thin Air".  From that moment on I dreamed of climbing Mount Everest, until the drugs and alcohol became my obsession at least.  Looking up the Macomb Slide and planning my zig-zag route up, there I was with Rob Hall, heading up the Lhotse Face of Everest.  I was back to being that 13 year old kid with huge aspirations again, with the same level of ignorance.  Putting on my best Sir Edmond Hillary face I began the trek up the slide.  "One foot in front of the other, watch for avalanches, just keep moving, you can do this!!" I repeated over and over.  The snow was still falling and it seemed the mountain was still rising, but we eventually made it to the top of the slide.  Taking a moment to look back and how far we had come, we snapped some photos, sat down for a quick rest and carried on.

Summit of Macomb Mountain; 6 of 46

We finally made it to the summit, it was cold, snowy, and we were exhausted.  We had decided on the way up we were only getting one peak today.  So after a short celebration, we started to descend.  A quick stop at the Slide Brook Lean-To for food and we made the trek out.  What an adventure!!  We couldn't wait to get to the car.  There was so much more snow than when we left, which meant we had to shovel out.  Oops, we forgot about that.  Luckily we did expect it and brought a shovel, but didn't leave much energy to do so.  Thank God Dan had it in him to shovel us out, because I sure didn't.

We made our way to Queensbury and hit a McDonald's for food.  We decided to get a room for the night and spent the next day exploring Lake Placid.  It was a few days before Christmas and my love affair with winter in upstate New York had begun.  We made our way back home Christmas Eve due to some prior commitments, but were dead set to return, and a few days later we were back on our way...

My 46er Journey - Part 1 - Gray, Skylight, and Marcy

On the summit of Skylight looking towards Mount Marcy

It was early July 2017 and we were packed in the car and heading north.  I had been to New York a few times in my life, but never outside of the city.  This time we were heading upstate.  I was excited for a week of camping with my friend, but apprehensive about the uncertainty of a new area, new people, and new experiences.  We had planned to hike one day while there as we had just started our hiking journey.  On the agenda, a 17 mile loop including Mount Marcy, the highest point in New York state.  No problem we thought.....if we only knew.

The dream team at Marcy Dam

The trip up was long, 10+ hours, but I slept, played on my phone, and talked about life with Dan.  We eventually made it to the camp ground and unloaded.  I met my new friends Dan and Jenn and their kids, was promptly titled "savage" by their son, and we settled in for the night with excitement and anticipation for our early start the next morning.

We headed out to the Adirondack Loj while it was still dark and got there about 6 am.  We suited up with our camera gear, snacks, water, and hit the trail.  2 miles in we arrived at Marcy Dam as the sun beams burst over the mountain tops.  Break one, we snapped some photos, took a selfie, and continued on our way.  Our route was to take us up to a place called Lake Arnold.  After a grueling trek uphill through boulders, roots, and mud, we arrived.  What a beautiful place!!  A small mountain lake with a gorgeous backdrop and cold water.  We rested, snacked, and took more photos before heading out again.

Lake Arnold

 Our next destination was a swamp we had read about but didn't exactly know what to expect.  When we got there we saw what appeared to be floating logs in the clearest swamp water one could ever imagine.  As I stepped out for the first time and the log moved, so did my bowels.  I wasn't expecting that!!  We crossed the logs while laughing, joking, and simply enjoying life.  "What a great hike so far!!" I thought, "what's next!?!"

Crossing the floating logs

MISERY, absolute misery is what was next.  Before we go further, let me tell you about the Adirondack Mountains.  They suck!  They suck the life out of you, they suck your energy, your stamina, your sanity, and then they suck you in for more.  The routes and terrain is hard at best, miserable is a more accurate description.  They beat you up, and kick you while you're down, and then beckon you to come back for more, which you do.

Back to our journey; about 24 miles later of our 17 total mile hike we came to a place called Lake Tear of the Cloud.  This is the highest point of what eventually becomes the Hudson river, I know the Hudson from my trips to the city so this was an interesting place for me.  We settled down for a break and a lunch of our new found favorite meal of Ramen noodles with tuna fish (don't knock it 'til you've tried it).  After lunch we geared up and headed up the heard path that leads to our first summit.  Along the way we encountered a rock with about a 15 foot drop down, this ain't no trail!!  We scrambled down and continued up the mountain.  Summit!!  We made it, little did I know, this would become 1 of 46.  More selfies and photos and back down the mountain.  Off to our next destination.

At the top of Gray Mountain; 1 of 46

Four Corners is an intersection on the south side of Mount Marcy in between her and Skylight mountain.  We were getting tired and decided to only carry our cameras up Skylight.  We hid our packs and headed up.  And up.  And up.  Rocks, boulders, roots, elves, you name, we climbed over it, until we finally saw the sign informing us we were in the Alpine zone.  Alpine zone!?!?!  Did we miss a turn and end up in Alaska?  Nope!  "Welcome to upstate New York southern boy" is what it should have read.  The summit of Skylight was amazing; 2 of 46.  The clouds were moving in so the views weren't that great but the exposed rock and alpine vegetation was beautiful it self.  More pictures, more selfies, Dan got in his underwear to strike a yoga pose, and all was well in the world.  Time to descend.

Skylight Mountain; 2 of 46

Pain, that was the story of this descent.  You see, back in May I had hurt my knee on Old Rag Mountain back home, it was feeling better, until now.  I struggled down the mountain and called for a break.  I was 8 miles from the car, and in serious pain.  I was running low on food, and would not force these guys to carry me out.  You see, that's another thing about the Adirondacks, you can't give up out here.  You have to pursue, you have to dig deep, you have to overcome.  I took some Advil, stretched it out, and grabbed my pack.  We still had a mountain to climb, literally and metaphorically.  Begin the trek up Mount Marcy.  Our original reasoning in selecting this particular hike.  Up and up, back in to Alpine zone.  Back above tree line, "we can see the top!!  Oh wait, that's not it!".  Up and up some more.  We struggled up the mountain, it was tough, it was steep, we were tired.

Mount Marcy summit; 3 of 46

We finally reached the top; 3 of 46.  Nothing but clouds, wind, and cold.  I'm from Virginia, cold and July don't go in the same sentence, not the case up here.  Cold and July go hand in hand.  More selfies, a huge celebration, a group hug, and while standing on the top of New York state, I asked myself, "how the hell did I get here?".  22 months prior I tried to get sober, again.  It had been a life long struggle, and finally at wits end, I decided to do whatever it took to get and stay sober.  Part of that included doing things I had never done before.  I never hiked, or climbed, or met new people.  That's not me, or so I thought.  22 months prior I wanted to die, until I woke up one morning and wanted to live.  I had climbed my own personal Mount Marcy prior to even hearing of Mount Marcy, but here I was on top of both of them, even if just for a moment.  This is living, this is it, what's next!?!

We descended Mount Marcy, 7 miles to go to get back to the car.  Wait, 7 miles!?!?  We had already been out here for close to 10 hours, and we still have 7 miles to go!?!  The descent was long, tiring, I was out of food, and my legs were melted Jello.  Nothing left, but again, I had to make it out.  We finally got back to the car around 9 pm.  It was a long, exhausting, and rewarding day.  We made it back to camp with the experience of a lifetime, countless stories, pictures, and though I didn't know it then, a new goal in life.  Become a 46er.

So this is where the Adirondacks and I first meet.  Our love affair has began.  I currently sit at 17 of 46 in September 2018 with a finish goal of January 2020.  I will write about my other 7 trips to upstate New York, as well as document my future ones too.

It's been a hell of a ride so far, so be sure to subscribe and follow along on this crazy journey life has taken me on.

46 Climbs - Climbing To Conquer Suicide

My baby boy and love of my life.  My son Nicholas

I started out climbing as a way to get out of the house and start to view the world around me.  In the 32 years prior I had never really taken the time to appreciate the world for what it was.  I had no clue where it would take me, or what I would learn, but I did know I was sick and tired of sitting around saying "there's nothing to do".

My climbing career thus far has been an interesting one.  In the first 6 months I sustained 2 knee injuries, multiple bear and snake encounters, traveled damn near across the country, and yet the worst thing I faced was looking back at me in the mirror.  I have always been a quitter.  Plain and simple.  I'm a spoiled little brat.  I had to have people around, I couldn't do anything too hard, and my mind was always telling me I wasn't good enough.

You can't quit in the backcountry.  Well, you can, but I have harmed enough people in my life, I wouldn't do that in my new found venture.  So when I was 8 miles out in the woods, I had to walk 8 miles back.  Commitment; success number one.  Though the woods gave me a sense of oneness with my Creator, I still had that inner battle and would just 4 months in to my climbing career be contemplating suicide yet again, for the umpteenth time over the course of 22 years.  I finally broke down and went and saw my doctor.  He prescribed me with an anti-depressant and told me to keep active.

At the time I was jobless, I knew without a miracle I was to lose my house.  I had already blown up one vehicle and my second one was on it's last leg.  I took the meds and headed back in to the woods.  3 weeks later, after bagging Mount Mitchell in North Carolina, the highest point east of the Mississippi, I promptly blew out my knee on the descent.  Sidelined, I can't even catch a break in life.  Yet I continue with the meds, and tried to stay as active as possible.  A few weeks later it occurred to me that I was sad.  I sudden sense of relief came over me.  I was sad.  I was sad!!!  I had never felt sad before, just depressed.  I was the happiest sad person to grace this planet.

For the first time in my life I was down about something, but knew it would get better, and even more so, I didn't think about eating a bullet sandwich.  I celebrated by continuing on the meds and began rehabilitating my knee.  It finally healed and my mind began healing as well.

Nicholas' first 46er

Enter 46 Climbs.  46 Climbs is a national event where people pledge to climb certain mountains to raise money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  Now here is something I can get behind, or in front of.  I immediately signed up and went to work trying to raise funds.  I figured I'd kick it off myself and donate $25 to my fund.  I made Facebook post after Facebook post, and slowly the dollars started coming in.  Mostly family and my closest friends, but they came in.  I found a greater purpose than myself.  I know how it feels to be doing everything and still be hopeless, I also know how it feels when they finally goes away.  I want others to feel that too.  And here is my chance.

Last Friday we set out for the Adirondacks for my climb.  I was $116 shy of my goal of $500 but that didn't matter, I was heading to the place I love, the mountains.  My climbing partner and son in tow.  What more could I ask for?  As we headed up the road I got an email saying I had another donation.  I checked and it was the final $116 needed to hit my goal.  I was elated.  I had never done anything like this before, and here it was being a total success.  In to the woods we go!!

My son and I celebrating

We climbed our hearts out and bagged 2 of the 3 peaks I was hoping for.  Due to circumstances we had to leave the 3rd, another thing I've learned, it's ok to fail.  But did we fail?  We made the effort, I raised the money, my entire climb was devoted to a stranger, someone I may never meet, but someone I could help by living.  And living I did, and continue to do.  I came home with a new attitude toward climbing.  Remembering what it has done for me.  Where it has taken me.  Who I have met, and who I have not.  The mountains are big, the challenge is hard, sometimes you fail, sometimes you succeed, sounds a lot like life.

I will continue to climb, and I will continue to take part in 46 Climbs.  I will continue to pursue foundations and causes to help.  These mountains have saved my life, why can't they save someone else's?

My donation page for my 46 Climbs event page is still up.  You can read more of my personal story there and some of the other struggles I have faced in life.  You may also still donate.  Every dollar helps.  Thanks and God bless!!