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.

46 Climbs 2019 - Old Rag Mountain

After my 3rd and final summit of the day

August 31st, 2019; 2:00 am my alarm goes off.  I had just drifted off to sleep an hour earlier, the excitement of the day to come kept me from sleeping but I've been here before, and knew this would be the case.  I got up and downed some coffee and made some french toast.  I knew I was physically prepared for the day ahead but was a little concerned about the mental.  I'm a quitter, I have always quit when things got tough, I've always said "I can't", so the day ahead was going to be hard and I knew it.  I kept telling myself "you can do this".

I filled the cooler with water bottles, Gatorade, some sandwiches, and ice packs.  I grabbed my new lightweight running vest, and a gym bag of extra clothes and was on my way.  The drive to Old Rag from my house is about an hour and a half, I stopped at Wawa for a couple bananas and 2 more liters of water.  There's not many cars on the road at 3 am, so the drive is extra lonely.  I crank up the radio and try not to think about the challenge ahead.

My 2nd summit

I landed at the lot just before 4:30, quickly changed, stretched, went to the bathroom, went to the bathroom again, set my tracker, and went to the bathroom again.  Anxiety is terrible on the bladder.  I finally started the trek to the trail head about 4:35 am.  I'd done this trail 24 times prior, I knew what to expect and knew where my slowdown points would be.  Two other groups had left the parking lot while I was there and while I had to pace myself I also knew I would catch up to them.  The first group I caught up to right at the trail head, I paced them for a few minutes before they let me go by.  A few minutes later, I was passing the second group.  I was worried about my speed but knew I was going slower than normal and refused to check the clock.

From the parking lot to the scramble is about 3 miles so when I finally got there and was feeling stronger than ever, I began to make my way through; this is when I started passing a lot of people.  You'd be surprised the amount of people on this mountain at 5:30 in the morning.  I reached the summit for the first time around 6:15.  I stayed for roughly 30 minutes, stretched, ate a stale oat bar, talked with some people.  My fiance and friend were supposed to be meeting me at 8 and I didn't want to keep them waiting so I hurried down.  8 came, and went, and around 8:30 they showed up.  They got a little later start than usual and while my frustration was mounting I told myself "you need the rest, it's okay, things are exactly the way they're supposed to be".

You see, I've always had a problem with that saying.  If things aren't how I want them, then in my mind they're not the way they're supposed to be.  The reality is much different.  The things that Matt wanted in life are the exact reason I was here on this very day.  Matt wanted to be dead.  Matt wanted life to revolve around his wishes, what he thought was best, and when that didn't happen, Matt drank, and drank, and drank.  Matt was a full blown alcoholic by age 23, but refused to accept that idea.  Matt fought it tooth and nail for the next 7 years.  If my wife hadn't left me, if God didn't take that baby, if my parents understood me, if, if, if, until it was just Matt sitting on his couch making plans to finally be successful after dozens of failed suicide attempts.  The nights of drinking until oblivion and taking a handful of pills before passing out hadn't worked, I chickened out the night I stood in a doorway with a belt around my neck for 2 hours, no more messing up, I knew how to do it this time and the plans were in place.

Ken and Laura arrived with sandwiches, water, and Gatorade.  I ate, stretched, and refilled my fluids and we hit the trail.  This was a nice change of pace, it was slower, I had people to talk with, and I wasn't thinking about me or why I was there.  I met Ken and Laura 2 years ago and they both became a huge part of my life right away.  Ken has taught me so much about myself and how to be a better me, I've watched him grow and become an amazing man.  Laura has been an endless supply of love, encouragement, and devotion from the very beginning, so when I asked her to marry me 3 months ago I knew that I was truly about to become the luckiest man alive.  To have them with me for this day reminded me just how possible this impossible feat was.

This was a slow climb, they both struggled at times, and it was just what I needed.  I told them, just keep your feet moving, deep breaths, get some water, eat a snack, let's keep going.  At one point Ken looked up to the next blaze about 50 feet overhead and said "I don't think I can do it" I asked him if he was concerned about where the blaze was and he said yes, I said "don't worry about that rock up there, just step up on this one here", "one step at a time" he responded, and made his way up.  We hit the top around noon, 2nd summit on the day.  They were tired and wanted to rest, but the longer I sat the worse I felt, I was crashing, I had to keep moving.  So reluctantly they got up and headed down with me.  This meant a lot to me, they were pushing themselves beyond their comfort to help me succeed.  Such love and selflessness.  The descent was slow, by the time we reached the fire road I had decided I needed to break off, the day was passing by and I still had another round to go.  I said thank you and took off.

With Laura on my 2nd summit

I was back to the car around 2 pm, grabbed a sandwich, took a bathroom break, stretched, refilled my fluids, and was heading back up.  I can only imagine the thoughts in the people's heads whom I had just ran by moments earlier and was now heading back up.  The reality is they probably thought nothing of it, I still have this idea that people think about me all the time.  I'm really not that important.

The final climb was tough, my legs were tired, it was hotter than earlier, and I really had to conserve water this time.  By the time I hit the scramble the exhaustion was kicking in.  I refused to check my tracker or clock as time and miles were no longer important, getting to the top was the only goal right now.  I came upon the same spot Ken struggled at earlier and my mind went right back to our conversation, "don't worry about that rock up there, just step up on this one here...one step at a time".

3rd summit

It was around this time that it truly occurred to me why I was here today.  Why things were exactly the way they were supposed to be.  Why I was alive.  To recount that moment 4 years earlier, and to share my story.  The night was August 31st, 2015 exactly 4 years prior.  You see, the date didn't line up in my head until I was nearing the end of this painfully tough day.  4 years earlier to the day, I was planning to finally take my life, now here I was participating in an event to raise money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  Something happened in the early morning hours of August 31st 2015 and I reached out to someone and said "I need help, I need to go to a meeting, and don't let me back out".  I went to a 12 step meeting that night instead of taking my life.  2 days later I would wake up and say "enough is enough" and have not picked up a drink or a drug since.

My life has changed drastically over the last 4 years, but more so over the last 2 since I got in to mountain climbing.  This new hobby has taken me all over the country and literally saved my life.  2 years ago with 2 years of sobriety I was still struggling with suicidal thoughts but was determined to live.  I finally got medical help and haven't had those thoughts since.  You can read more on that in last year's blog post here.

I started to descend the mountain and that's when the emotions kicked in.  This was the mountain that started it all.  As a kid I was supposed to hike it with my dad, but I didn't care about him, or mountains, I cared about Matt and drugs and death.  My father hiked this mountain over 25 times, and this day was my 25th, 26th, and 27th times hitting the summit, but I've never done it with him.  He's unable to do it now and every time I'm there, I wish he was with me.  My father has never given up on me, and always supported me, told me when I'm acting crazy, and told me he loves me.  Our relationship has grown significantly since I started climbing mountains and I think of him often while I'm out there.  Just as soon as the emotions came, so did the cramps, and again so did the "one step at a time".  I finally made my way down to find Laura waiting for me with the car.  I did it!

Training run up Old Rag 6 days before

So many people throughout the day had asked questions, gave encouragement, but there is one man I will always remember.  Back down at the car a gentleman stopped and congratulated me, but thanked me multiple times for what I had done.  I don't know how this effected this man, but I know how it effected me.  God kept me here for a reason, even when I didn't understand, or want it, even when I hated Him for it.  I will never know the full extent, but I know I live a damn good life today and am blessed beyond measure.  I know I have a story, and I have an obligation to tell that story.  I want people to know the impossible is possible, life is worth living, you are worth it, you're not alone, and as one of my favorite songs says, life is beautiful.

This year I raised over $1,000 for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, you can still donate here.  My final numbers for my climb were over 23 miles and almost 7,000 feet of elevation gain.  I don't know what the future holds, but I do know laying in bed that night Laura said "I hope you're not going to try and do it 4 times next year" I burst in to laughter and said "well, I was actually thinking about doing it sooner".

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 5 - Cascade and Porter Mountains

On the summit of Cascade Mountain; 9 of 46

After the thrill of conquering Giant Mountain we headed back to our hotel to thaw out and relax a little.  It was a long, cold, tiring day and a hot shower and sleep were definitely in order.  The temperature was supposed to be a little warmer the next day, but still well below 0°.  We had plans to head back out to climb then to head across the state to visit Dan's friend Dan who had joined us on our first hike in the Adirondacks.  I was excited to see him and his wife again and to just enjoy some time seeing the state.

We slept good that night, and completely overslept for our early start time.  We finally got up and out of the hotel and headed back to the mountains.  Cascade and Porter Mountains are known to be the two easiest of the 46ers, so we knew the small parking lot would fill up quickly.  

Summit handstand on Porter Mountain; 8 of 46

Luckily we got there early enough to get a spot and get started on the trail.  I was surprised with how much easier the hike was than any of the other ones we had done.  It felt like we made it to the split in no time.  We headed right to go tag Porter Mountain first.  Up, down, and around through the pines.  There were a couple of spots with great views, but the sky still wasn't very clear.  We could see parts of the valley but not 100% of it.  We finally made it to the summit and topped it off with another handstand photo.

It was hovering around -15° so we knew we couldn't stay long, after a quick break we headed back towards the split.  Porter offered some great butt sliding on the descent and we were back to the split and heading up Cascade before we knew it.  It was a short spur up to the summit, and though definitely my easiest 46er so far, the summit of Cascade was really cool.  It is all exposed rock much like the summits of Marcy, Wright, Algonquin, and Skylight, but a lot easier of a hike.  I could easily see why most people start their 46er journey here.  We spent a little more time on Cascade's summit taking photos, and chatting with the ice climbers who had just scaled the mountain.  It was getting cold and there were no views so we headed back on down the mountain and to the car.

Dan leaving the summit of Cascade

The descent down Cascade was a weird one.  Dan and I got separated by a little bit of space as I was descending a little quicker than he was.  As I walked along the last mile and a half my mind began to wander.  As I spoke about in my last post, this Christmas season had been totally different than any before.  I was going through major changes in my life at this time, which brought on some confusion.  I don't know if it was being tired, walking through the woods alone, or just the culmination of the last few weeks events, but it all started to hit me like a ton of bricks.  Suddenly I just wanted to be out of the mountains and back home.  This has been a constant in the emotional roller coaster of change that these hiking journeys have brought on, and it would not be the last time I felt that way.

We had a long drive across the state ahead of us so once we were back to the car we loaded up and hit the road.  A quick stop at a McDonalds for food and to change in to some warm dry clothes and we were on our way.  We knew we were going to hit some snow so we wanted to make up as much time as we could from the beginning, and then the snow hit.  It was heavy and coming down hard.  Dan was having a tough time but he got us there safely.

Dan on the summit of Cascade Mountain

It was great to see Dan and Jenn again.  There are some people in this world that from the first moment you meet them that make you feel like you have known them forever, and this entire family are some of those people.  We got there late and didn't get to spend too much time catching up but I was happy to be out of the car and in a warm house.  We hit the hay pretty early for a good night's sleep.

We woke the next day and enjoyed the morning catching up with Dan and the kids.  They made us an amazing breakfast and then we suited up to head outside.  Snowmobile time!!  I had never seen a snowmobile in person, much less ridden on one.  All of that was about to change.  Dan went out and cut a trail through the fresh powder that had fallen the night before, then turned over the keys.  I was very hesitant at first, this was a heavy machine, and I'm a small guy, but a few trips around the house and I was starting to get comfortable with it.  We headed back to the field on the back of his property and he told us to go for it.  Dan was a lot more ballsy than I was at first.  I was still very hesitant.  It felt like as soon as I got up over 25 miles per hour it was going to throw me off, but eventually I got the hang of it.  We rode for what felt like hours, around in circles, it was like being a kid again on that brand new orange bicycle I got for Christmas one year.  I rode that thing in circles for days out in the street.  I could have done the same on the snowmobile.

We went in and got showers and packed back up.  It was getting a little later in the day and we had decided to head home.  It was New Years Eve and the thought of a new year and new journeys ahead had me excited to get back home.  2017 was an odd year for me.  It started in Boston during a trip I never thought I would take, and ended at home on my couch after 2 great trips to New York back to back.  I covered a lot of miles in 2017, on foot, in a car, and in the air.  I visited 13 states, logged 53 summits, felt 140° of different temperatures, made new friends, and conquered a lot of my own personal demons.  I had no clue what the next year might hold for me, but I made one promise to myself.  The next year I was going to go higher, faster, and farther.  Now to just figure out how.

My 46er Journey - Part 4 - Giant Mountain

Making our descent down Giant Mountain

Christmas 2017 was different for me than any other Christmas before.  10 years prior I spent Christmas morning curled up under the tree passed out from taking a bunch of pills the night before.  I wasn't able to wake up to see my 4 year old son open his presents or to open up my present from him, a picture frame with his picture in it that they had made at preschool.  My ex-wife and I had just split up but she had let me come by to be there Christmas morning, and that was the way I responded.  I knew it was to be the last time my family would be together, and at the time the pain was so great I felt it better to run from it than to deal with it.  That was around the time my addictions really started taking off, and that event was slowly trumped by many others and quickly fell in to a hidden area in the back of my mind.  I forgot about it and didn't talk about it until 9 years later.  I cherish that picture and have since come to terms with what happened that day and in the years to follow.

I hated Christmas after that, the season, the idea, the day, I wanted nothing to do with it.  I always sucked it up as best as possible to give my son a good Christmas, but even he knew just how much I didn't like it, though not really knowing why.  By Christmas 2017 though things were starting to change.  My perspective on life was better and for the first time in many many years I had something to look forward to that would help to drag my attention elsewhere, the Adirondacks.

In part 3 I talked about our trip up Macomb Mountain a few days before Christmas.  I came back home and spent Christmas eve and Christmas day being of service to others.  Others who may have gone through similar situations but were now trying to better their lives too.  I had experience to share, both good and bad, and I was able to do so.  I also knew that in just a few hours I would be back to the place where I really connect with God and find peace, the mountains.

Christmas on Old Rag summit

Before we headed back to New York though, Dan and I decided to take a trip up Old Rag here at home in Shendandoah National Park.  Old Rag was were this whole thing started for us, and we had made a decision to climb it at least once a month for an entire year.  We first climbed it on Easter morning, then on my birthday.  We climbed it Father's Day, and the day after my sobriety date.  My son and I went up it Thanksgiving morning, so Christmas Day seemed the logical choice.  It was a cold climb, but compared to what we were to encounter in a few hours, it felt like standing in Badwater Basin in July.  This also turned out to be my 50th summit since April 16th of that year.  As we descended I took a moment and stopped where we watched our first sunrise on the mountain, I didn't want to leave.  The peace that this journey had brought me was overwhelming and I just wanted to stay in that moment forever, I finally made my way down and back home to pack up for the long drive to New York.

We watched the weather again, it was to be drier this time, but the cold, that was a different story.  The north east is notoriously cold, but this week they were calling for an Arctic blast to come through that would plummet temperatures well below zero.  I was ready for this, or so I hoped.  I had ordered new mittens since our trip a few days earlier.  These were rated for -40° so in theory, my hands should be good this time.  As we made the drive north the temperatures went south.  Topping out at -9° when we got to our hotel to check in.  Nothing wakes you up quite as fast as the freezing air hitting your face, and I was in love.

We stopped by Wal-Mart and stocked up on foods for our weekend ahead.  We had planned to have a room 2 nights this time and bought food to help save money.  We had layers upon layers of clothes and were ready to tackle this beast they call Giant Mountain.  We woke up early and started getting ready and made the hour drive to the trailhead.  While gearing up it quickly became evident just how cold it was going to be that day by how quickly everything started to freeze.  We got ready as fast as possible and hit the trail.  Up and up and up.  We were both easily carrying 35+ pounds in our packs.  What we didn't consider with the cold temperatures was that once we started moving, our bodies would warm up, and we didn't need all the crap we had, but we were already in to this journey, and I wasn't going back down just to come back up, so we carried on.

The climb up Giant was tough.  The cold, the weight, the slope, the snow, it was a long slog but we carried on.  I noticed on the way up that the hair on my face around my mouth and nose was starting to form ice, this was a new one for me, and very cool.  Ice beards are a weird thing, something you take pride in.  Even more is the snot that rolls down uncontrollably and freezes helping to form more ice.  I guess it's like the lumberjack beard of mountaineers, but it's a truly unique experience that you learn to really enjoy.

My first summit handstand

About 3/4 of a mile from the summit we finally decided to drop our packs.  We were close enough that we knew we wouldn't need anything in them and if we got into trouble one person could quickly retrieve them.  We made it to the summit and the wind coming up from Keene Valley was relentless.  It was COLD!!  Temperatures were around -20° but with a windchill easily below -30°.  We celebrated and took some pictures before our cameras froze up, but one thing happened on the summit that would become a regular celebration for me.  Something told me to do a handstand.  I had not done a handstand in probably 20+ years, but hey, when in Rome right?  It took a few attempts but we finally got a picture of me doing a handstand.

Summit of Giant Mountain; 7 of 46

We headed back down the mountain using our new descent technique, the Adirondack Butt Slide.  One of the most fun things about climbing the Adirondacks in the winter is that EVERYTHING is covered in snow, including the rock and root filled terrain that you climb on in the summer.  So the logical and entertaining way to descend is to plop down on your ass and go!  Our laughter echoed through the woods and deep in to my soul.  I was having the time of my life, and it was still Christmas season.

We made the trip back to the hotel to rest and get ready for the next day, but all I could think about was how much fun it was to be at -30°, at Christmas, surrounded by snow, and at perfect peace with the person starring back at me in the mirror.  I had come a long way since that Christmas Day 10 years prior, I had conquered many other mountains before this Giant, and even before that first ascent up Old Rag 8 months prior.  I had many more mountains to go, but the journey so far had been quite amazing.  Dan fell asleep first that night, and as I laid there listening to him cut down a forest with snores I kept thinking about the recent events that had happened, knowing that this would be a Christmas I would always remember, and for good reasons this time.

Giant summit, looking down in to Keene Valley

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 2 - Algonquin, Wright, and Marcy

At Marcy Dam on our way out

It was late August and as my typical summers go, I was miserable from the heat, but this particular summer was different.  It wasn't the hottest, or longest, or anything really, except I was struggling really bad with my depression.  I had already called off a few planned trips to Mount Mitchell and Spruce Knob.  I was struggling to get through each and every day just waiting to see my doctor.  A few weeks prior I had ventured in to the Adirondacks and the memory and serenity that it brought was still fresh in my mind.  My friend Dan and I were both going through some changes in life at the time and in a moment things just seemed to come to a breaking point for both of us.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and we decided we needed a break.  "How about Mt Mitchell?", "ehhh it's going to rain".  "Spruce Knob?  Mount Rogers?" we tossed back and forth.  "What about Marcy?" I said.  36 hours later we were in the car and heading north.  This was before we had a map of the high peaks, or a book, or any knowledge of really anything up there.  All we knew was we were heading to the Adirondack Loj and we were going to climb Marcy again.  We were probably 4 hours in to our 10 hour drive when we decided to knock of Algonquin and then head over to Marcy, still without a map.

I will take a moment to acknowledge that this was not one of our best ideas ever.  We were wildly ignorant to the wilderness and dangers that come along with Adirondack Park, we have since learned and actually bought a map and guide book, but not until after this part of my journey is completed.

Waterfall on the way up Algonquin

We landed at the Adirondack Loj parking lot around 4 am with intentions on sleeping for a few hours, but the adrenaline and excitement of being up all night and out of the Virginia heat and humidity drove us to grab our packs and hit the trails.  Less than a mile in we were at a trail junction and not sure which way to go, we guessed (again, we acknowledge our stupidity here).  We found our way and had only added about a half mile more to our trip.  We started towards Algonquin and hit a beautiful waterfall.  We took a break and snapped some photos, I fell in, but got a great shot.  Selfie, check, and on up the mountain we went.

When we arrived at the junction for Wrights Peak we decided to go ahead and do it since we were there.  Wrights was a great little climb, it was super windy and cloudy but we finally made it to the top.  We headed back down grabbed our packs and continued on to Algonquin.  The climb up Algonquin was tough, the toughest we had encountered thus far in the Adirondacks.  We slowly crept our way up to the top and promptly celebrated.  The clouds started to break and we got a few photos before heading down towards Lake Colden.  We knew the trek down was about 2 miles from a small printout we did have, but what we didn't realize was just how brutal that 2 miles was to be.  Step by step, stone by stone, we started down.  About a mile in we were gassed.  By this point we had been up since the previous morning and had nothing left.  We found a nice giant rock and nap time it was!!

Summit of Algonquin; 5 of 46

After a brief rest we carried on toward Lake Colden.  Beautiful is all I can say.  We marched around the lake and a few hours later, tired and hungry we finally found camp.  We set up the tent, made some grub, and settled in for the night.  We decided to get an early start the next morning.  Our plan was to try to make it to Marcy for sunrise, but without a map, we weren't really sure where we were or how far we had to go.  We started out around 2 am, we did know we had to head up Feldspar from our first trip and once we were there, we knew we were there.  Still tired and struggling from dehydration I was leading the way until I finally lost my balance and fell.  Dan called it at that point that we needed to rest and I needed water.  I curled up on the side of the trail and Dan pumped water from a puddle and cooked breakfast.  Around 7 am rehydrated and with a full belly we were back on our way.  We trekked our way back retracing our steps from our first hike and finally made our way up the south side of Marcy again.  There's just something about ascending that mountain that way that makes it truly magical.

Napping on our descent

It was cold on this ascent, around 30 degrees on the summit that day, though we didn't care.  We ate it up.  After about an hour we decided to head down and get back home.  We made our way out in great time.  Stopped for lunch and had great conversation.  About a mile before Marcy Dam we encountered this young couple whom we will never forget.  There we were feeling all bad ass from our trek and forgetting how unprepared we really were, these two kids walked by.  The poor girl carrying a Wal-Mart tent still in the box and the guy carrying an emoji pillow (you can't make this up).  They asked how far they were to the top and when we said they were still about 4 miles away they seemed deflated.  We carried on joking about how unprepared they were and how great of mountaineers we were (mountaineers carry maps, yes, I know this now).

We got back to the car and made our way back home.  36 hours in the woods, a great story, and we were now at 5 of 46 peaks.

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.