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.

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".

A trip back in time

This past weekend my girlfriend and I went away for the night.  It's been a little crazy recently as my photography is picking up, life is happening, and we had found ourselves busy, stressed, and needing a break.  We decided to head to West Virginia to check out the zoo and a park I had stumbled across online one night.  Just about every person in 2019 has heard of Airbnb, and most people have used it.  I've been using Airbnb for about 2 years now almost every time I travel.  It's cheaper than a hotel room but also ads a sense of adventure to your trip.

For those who don't know how Airbnb works, here is a brief synopsis.  You go online and type in the area you are looking to stay.  You set your dates, budget, and needs such as beds, privacy, hot tub, etc.  Once you find a place you like, you request to book it.  Your request is hopefully approved and then you show up at some random stranger's door hoping they aren't an ax wielding psychopath.  Sounds fun doesn't it?

Making friends

We started out a little later than expected Saturday morning and made our way to the zoo.  The zoo was an experience, from the looks when you pull in the parking lot you don't expect it to be a zoo.  I've seen petting zoos that were more inviting this than place.  We sat in the car for a few minutes wondering if we had just drove 4 hours for nothing.  After some contemplation the ol' Forest Gump mentality kicked in and I decided, "well, I've come this far, I might as well keep on going".  I sure was glad that I did.  The zoo was small, friendly, welcoming, and quite amazing.  We fed birds, played with Alpacas, and watched 2 grizzly bear cubs terrorize each other.  After a few hours of snapping photos and just enjoying the zoo we headed out to our next destination.

Cooper's Rock State Forest was an accidental find a few months back.  Neither of us had ever heard of it, but it was about 40 minutes from the zoo and semi in the direction of our room.  The weather was starting to deteriorate but we headed for it anyways.  We didn't explore much, we went to the main overlook then hiked a short trail where we almost crashed the wedding vows of Jennifer and Steve (congrats btw folks).  As we were approaching the car it began to rain so we decided to go meet our psychopath host.

I found our room a few days earlier and it was listed at a discounted rate for the night.  I knew it was a shared residence where the owner was living there as well.  I messaged him that we were on our way to which he responded that he would not be there and to let ourselves in.  The place was amazing.  We were staying in the basement of his home which he had converted in to a small apartment.  Full kitchen, bathroom, sofas, table, and a bed.  It was absolutely beautiful with an amazing view of the mountains.  We settled in and decided to go grab dinner.  We ate at the local restaurant and hit the grocery store for creamer and breakfast.

View from our room

It was a rainy cool Saturday night.  A little later in the evening we were standing outside talking, the conversation turned to the idea of how Airbnb works and how some people are skeptical about it.  How it is this new concept instead of using hotels, which made me wonder.  Is this really that new of a concept?

Lately I've been reading some books of people who have adventured across the country on bicycle.  Every book has a handful of stories about strangers that these adventures meet who let them stay in their homes for the night, or week, or however long it may be.  The general consensus from these stories is that "there are still good people in this world".  But why is it "still good people", at what point did we begin to assume every person was bad?

I don't know if I'm blessed or cursed to have lived in a pre-9/11 world in which I remember when we didn't assume all people were bad.  The rise of 24 hour news coverage, social media, and a fear driven society has morphed our thinking to assume every person out there is an ax wielding psychopath.  Every story we hear is about murder, rape, terrorism, racism, greed, etc.  Why don't we ever hear these stories about the good things in the world?

I posed the idea in our conversation that the Airbnb concept is not actually all that new, but rather a reinvention of the old way of life.  You see, back before the rise of hotels in the 20th century, travelers would find a home along their way, go up to the front door and knock and ask to stay there for the night.  The hosting family would welcome them in, often feed and bathe them, and send them on their way the next day.  Many times without asking for compensation.  While Airbnb does require payment, and is not as hospitable, the idea of staying in a random stranger's house for the night is not new.

Cooper's Rock State Forest

Is this a shift to the old way of living?  A more trusting society?  A simpler concept of people helping people?  I don't believe so unfortunately.  I still believe we will take another person's kindness with a grain of salt, that we will still choose the safe route rather than the one we can learn from.  But my hope is that we can begin to break down the barriers and start to see the good in each person again.

I've learned a lot over the last few years of adventures and traveling.  I've met a lot of great people and have seen some amazing things.  Yet the question still lingers, why do I still live in a constant state of fear from a perfect stranger?  I hope they aren't as afraid of me as I am of them, after all, I know my intentions are good, why do I suspect theirs aren't?

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 6 - Lower WolfJaw Mountain

Dan atop Roostercomb Mountain

2017 was such a great year, I learned and accomplished so much, and came so far from that trip to Boston for New Years.  I was learning to love myself, and learning to love those around me.  It had taken over 2 years of hard emotional, mental, and spiritual work to get to this point and it was beginning to pay off.  A few weeks after our return from New York we were back in the car and heading to the great white north again.

This time we had a traveling partner.  I had just started seeing this wonderful girl and had asked her to tag along with us, to which she agreed.  Little did I know in just a few short months she would become one of the greatest mountains I was to climb to date.  You see, she kind of snuck right on in during this journey, I was so focused on trying to right myself and accomplish some goals, I didn't even see it coming.

The trip north this time was an interesting one.  It was cold and rainy when we left Virginia.  The forecast was calling for snow so we got an early start expecting a longer than usual trip.  I drove the first few hours till the weather started changing at which point I asked Dan to drive.  The miles progressed, and so did the hours.  I fell asleep only to wake up many hours from our destination and the sun rising.  We were in an all our winter storm.  My confidence in Dan's driving was high, until it was time to merge back on to the interstate.  There was a truck barreling down and we needed all the momentum we could muster to get up the hill and on to clean pavement, slowing down to merge we finally came to that dreaded stop, in 8 inches of fresh unplowed snow.  And stop we did.  After what seemed an eternity, Dan got us going and on to the highway.  Around 10am we finally rolled in to Queensbury to check in to our hotel.  They graciously let us check in early and we headed in to town for food.

Laura and I in Keene, NY

This trip was quite different from any of the others.  I don't know if it was having a gorgeous girl on my arm, or the lobster bisque at the small town shop we stumbled upon, but I was feeling pretty good.  We explored the town and headed back to the hotel, we had a long day ahead of us tomorrow as we were set to begin our assault on the Great Range, an approximately 12 mile long stretch of 7 peaks over 4,000 feet.  Often regarded as one of the toughest traverses in the lower 48, we were heading to make our mark and begin our attempt to complete it, not in one shot though.  We knew it was going to be tough, but we were up for the challenge.

The next morning we woke and headed toward the trailhead, after gearing up and being seen off by my beautiful new friend, Dan and I hit the trail.  It was an average winter day in the Adirondacks, about 10° at the trailhead, with sub-zero temps expected at elevation.  We felt good, strong, and motivated.  The trail was unbroked with the exception of a path left by one curious and generous little rabbit.  We made our way up and up and up.  This was one of our easiest climbs yet up here and we felt great, we finally summitted Lower Wolfjaw Mountain.  We decided to leave Upper Wolfjaw for another time and take a different route back in to Keene.  This route would lead us to Roostercomb Mountain.  We weren't terribly excited about this as it wasn't a 46er, but decided to bag it anyways.  We didn't regret this decision.  Roostercomb turned out to be a spectacular little peak with amazing views.  We stood there for about 30 minutes taking photos and just reveling in how far we had come.

We headed back down and towards the Noonmark Diner.  Dan was able to get a call out from the summit of Wolfjaw to tell Laura to meet us there at a certain time.  We wandered in, shed some layers, and ordered about 20 cups of coffee a piece.  We talked about the day, asked Laura how her trip to Lake Placid was, and relaxed from the day.

The drive home was just as long as the drive up, but mostly from exhaustion and not weather.  I spent a lot of time during this trip wondering about what was happening with this beautiful new lady in my life.  It was a confusing time for myself, I also knew I had some personal things going on within myself and back at home that I feared would push her away.  I had no clue what it was, but whatever it was felt good, and I wanted to hold on to it as long as possible.  We didn't talk much on the ride home, but once home life was beginning to change, and for once, I was ok with change.

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...

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!!