#26

#26 - Climb a mountain.

I'll admit it. When I first jotted down this goal, I had thoughts of grandeur. Maybe not quite Everest...but maybe an Everest base camp...? 

Given time and resources, hoofing it up to Mt. Everest base camp fits better on my listing of "life goals" than my "30 Things to Do Before I'm 30" list. So while that plan has been realigned, I had the opportunity to go hiking earlier this month in lovely upstate New York! As my plane made its final descent over the Adirondacks and into Burlington, VT, I got a good view of the mountains that gave Ethan Allen's troops their "Green Mountain Boys" nickname. I would be meeting my old college roommate and escaping my reality for a few days; and who can't use a little escape from reality every now and then, right?!

I'd classify Burlington's airport as quaint. I've been in smaller, but it is definitely one of the smaller airports out there. I grabbed my luggage and toted it outside, and within minutes was reunited with my friend. We crashed at a Starbucks in a Barnes and Noble to catch up and discuss the plan for the next few days. We had tickets to a show that night (Beauty and the Beast the musical), plans for an ADK hike the next day, a visit to the arena where the US Men's Hockey team won Olympic gold in 1980 the day after that, and finally a day to catch up on all the movies we wanted to see together since graduation. We made our way into downtown Burlington where we had dinner at a great little pub on Church Street. Church Street somehow reminded me of Annapolis, and I instantly liked it. Like any self-respecting New England establishment, Ken's Pub supports the Red Sox and that was fine with me. (My roommate, a diehard Yankees fan, knew she was outnumbered and wisely kept quiet regarding her baseball loyalties. Damn Yankees.) They also have a leg lamp a la Christmas Story on the bar. Perfection. Later at the theater, we wove our way through girls in princess dresses and grandmas to our seats in the upper balcony of the Flynn Theater. The show was enjoyable, though I felt bad for our poor neighbor. She had to put up with us giggling and singing along to some of the songs. (Like the Gaston song.) SPOILER ALERT: At the end, just like in the movie, the beast turns back into a human. However, the stage version of the human beast was terribly reminiscent of Meatloaf and I can safely say I preferred him as the beast. After the show, we hopped a ferry across Lake Champlain and drove back to her house near Lake Placid. Thoroughly exhausted from a day of travel, I promptly collapsed onto the bed provided me. I may or may not have brushed my teeth. (For the record, I'm pretty sure I did--because one of her cats attacked me on my way back down the hall.) The next day, we would climb a mountain!!

Being a native of the region, my former roommate has hiked and climbed many summits in the area. The mountain chosen for my visit was Noonmark. She had never scaled this particular peak but heard it had great 360-degree views of the area. I had never climbed a mountain, so I shrugged and said "Yeah, sure!" when asked for my opinion. Lunches packed, water stocked, backpacks in place, we set off to the trails. 

I wasn't quite sure what to expect as we started out. As we exited the car, a pair of decidedly "crunch" looking dudes were shouldering their much more impressive-looking backpacks and heading to a trail head across the road. And by impressive-looking backpacks, I mean rather monstrous looking. It looked like those bags perhaps housed a tent. At my comment, my friend informed me that they were most likely overnight hikers. Curiosity of the ridiculously large bag solved. Moving on...

The hike to the trail head was relatively flat, so I felt a slight panic when I was slightly out of breath. I don't know what's in the air in the spring, but it gets me every time. This year has been particularly bad for whatever undiagnosed allergies afflict me. But still. After encountering nearly zero elevation, I was huffing and puffing? For goodness' sake!!--I was training for a freaking marathon before my calf punked out. What was the deal?! I caught my breath as my friend signed the hiking book. Or maybe it's called a mountain log? I was at least able to take comfort in the fact that if something bad happened on the mountain, my name was written in a book that park rangers may or may not check everyday. With as many hiking trails in the area, would they bother checking who was in and out?--And if a person forgot to sign out...would the ranger call them and yell at them? 

Clearly, I still have much to learn about hiking mountains.

We continued on, and ever the tourist, I had my camera by my side. We passed a few swanky mountain homes, aka "camps", and my old roomie explained to me that the area had been decimated by the remnants of Irene that soaked the region the previous fall. The trail was clear, but the devastation was still visible in some places. We approached a serene mountain stream which my roommate danced across like a mountain goat, effectively leaving me in her dust. I stared at the gently flowing water, its sound perfect for an easy listening CD titled "Bubbling Brook"; however, to my inexperienced feet, it appeared more bubbling cauldron. My friend continued to scamper ahead of me as I contemplated how to navigate the threatening trickle of water. This is where my humanities education gets me every time. I analyzed the angle of the rock to my left, while observing the size of the rock on my right, wondering if I fell, how could I catch myself and prevent my meager hiking clothes from getting soaked. In the end, I used both rocks and was on the other side in seconds. (For the record, I danced across it on the way back.)

We continued our hike at a sedate pace, dodging muddy patches and boggy looking areas, discussing books we love, jobs we hate, and our awesome plan to do some yoga once we reached the summit. We forded another mountain stream and continued up, up, and up. While the trail had to that point seemingly taken us parallel to the mountain, we rounded a curve and suddenly were demanded to face the mountain at a perpendicular course. That is, straight up. My hiking companion continued to hop around like a mountain goat, leaving me once again in her dust. Determined to keep up, I tried compensating for my slowness by asking questions and telling stories. Anything to keep her close. The trail leveled out a bit and we encountered our first bald-faced area of the mountain. We paused to take it in and snap a few pictures, then continued on our way. Hiking over some more rocks, I could hear the opening strains of the Last of the Mohicans soundtrack. The violin crescendo grew and convinced Magua and a band of his angry friends were on our tail, I hurried to the summit I saw up ahead. I thought for sure we had reached the top of the mountain, but quickly found out that was not the case. The higher we climbed, the cooler it got, and I realized my casual zip up and summer running tights were not going to be enough to keep me warm. My friend continued to hike, pausing where the trail seemed to disappear, appearing to sniff the air to find our way--all of it in a t-shirt and shorts! Shivering, I tried to burrow deeper into my zip up, all the while impressed by her mountain prowess. Approaching another bald area of the mountain, I started to hum the Last of the Mohicans theme song again, and was impressed with myself for having enough breath to climb and carry a tune. (It's the small things!!) As the wind grew stronger, the conversation thinned, and to sound quite dramatic, I feel like my body's survival instinct kicked in. My fingers were getting cold and I wondered if I would possibly fall victim to hypothermia. I asked my scantily clad roommate if she was cold and she kind of shrugged and I felt every inch the cold-intolerant Southerner. We paused on what was the first of several false peaks for water and a quick snack of carrots. I could feel my blood sugar dropping and in addition to hypothermia, was now wondering about frostbite.

I feel the need to interrupt my own story here to add that I was loving it. Every. Single. Minute.

Sliding our backpacks back on, my friend forged ahead and said something. It didn't register at first, but when she repeated it "I hear people" I realized that I too heard conversation. It was coming from above--someone else had reached the top! Climbing a rather steep portion of the trail, we were soon face-to-face with what looked like a father/daughter hiking team. They were fully outfitted with impressive looking hiking boots, hiking poles, and warm looking clothes. Thoughts of hypothermia and frostbite aside, I wasn't worried about how much colder it was going to get until we came across this couple. She was in a full-on puffer jacket. I swear I stood there staring at her in my neon green headband and shiny aviator sunglasses wondering how offended she would be if I tried to steal her coat. It was maroon. And it looked amazingly warm. I think I may have been staring because she smiled slightly and offered, "Almost there!" before continuing on her way.

And you know what? 

She was a dirty liar!!

The trail went from steep to steeper at that point. In a display of morbid enthusiasm, I tackled the next set of rocks in a bear crawl, excited that a boot camp exercise I normally loathe was actually useful in a real-life application! I couldn't wait to get back to my 5:30am workout group and share the news! Scraping my palms, but not chipping one nail, I took the lead from my mountain goat climbing buddy and set off. If we were close, then gosh darn it, I was going to stomp my foot on the top of that mountain and maybe bust out a tree pose. The trees thinned and in a detached sort of way, I observed the vegetation and remembered my fourth grade science class's discussion on plants found in the tundra. I'm pretty sure that's where I was. The tundra. Another false peak, another pause to re-find the trail, and we finally reached the top. The wind was blowing so hard and I was so cold, that I hardly cared. My friend pointed out the various peaks around us. Mt. Dix was immediately across from us. We struck a few poses and snapped a few pictures, then hurried to find a shield from the wind to sit and eat. 

I'm pretty sure that tuna sandwich I had for lunch was the best I've ever had in my life. And the spinach that accompanied it was divine. I finally started to warm up. My nose had finally stopped running. I could now cross another item off of my "30 Things to Do Before I'm 30" list. It was a good day. 

And I'd totally do it again.

Bigger mountain next time.

Everest base camp.

YES!