Offseasons Stink

Too much of a good thing can be bad. So say parents around Halloween or birthdays. So say nutrition experts when you want more of that ice cream or cake (or a physician reacting to someone consuming a half-pound of salted shelled peanuts per day. But that’s another story). So say friends when you’re bummed you can’t do something you want. I’ve said those words, been on the receiving end from a horrified physician, and disagreed when told that the hiking break is no biggie.



My lone way of exercising this winter...
Glades with my girls in Bolton Valley, VT, 2013



After starting my 67-4,000-foot-peaks-in-67-months challenge, I then shelved it for seven months. Actually, I did summit some peaks on chairlifts, but those don’t count. And other than skiing, I didn’t do a blessed thing. It wasn’t that I wanted a breather to recharge myself. I got plantar fasciitis and Achilles tendonitis, and it took five months to (mostly) heal. It’s the longest period of inactivity for me in several years, and it stunk. Skiing was great, but only goes so far – especially when you then tweak your knee skiing into a drift and wiping out to make your kids laugh, only to have it hurt for two of those months. But I did spend time thinking about the peaks I had under my belt as well as what may lay in store.

I hadn’t really hiked much before. I’ve always been an outdoorsy type. But it tended to be other things: car camping, some downhill and cross-country skiing, canoeing, regular sports such as baseball, and anything else that allowed me to be outside. My school jobs were mostly landscaping. And as an adult I started running roads and trails, mountain biking, and participating in some adventure races.

Hiking, though, tended to bore me. As a kid, we often camped at Lafayette Place Campground in Franconia Notch, New Hampshire, and sometimes hiked up to Lonesome Lake. I thought it was aptly named, since I reasoned that I’d be happy to leave it alone and skip the tedious climb.  There were other, sometimes shorter hikes as well, and my enjoyment was inversely proportional to the incline.

But once I got to college I didn’t mind as much. In fact, friends and I stayed at the same campground and did the same hike to Lonesome Lake. Maybe it was from owning the itinerary, or being comfortable pushing myself physically, or beginning to appreciate experiences and the stories that linger afterwards. Speaking of stories, this was one hike I think we’d all still remember. We enjoyed it and had a chaotically entertaining descent from Lonesome Lake: one friend went to the bathroom on a steep decline, nervously holding a small tree to keep from falling. After a switchback or two, I wondered if she’d shoot past me, rolling ass over teakettle, holding a sapling, pants around her ankles. One person began running, and next thing you know there was a race to the bottom, sometimes using tree trunks to help swing you into a turn, or using boulders or trees to stop your momentum. It culminated with one friend running straight to the campground, to the campsite, and into the tent, where he immediately napped for couple of hours. 

Around that same time, I also tackled Mt. Jefferson in New Hampshire’s Presidential Range, my inexperience showing plainly. It was about 90 degrees and humid, and we headed out late in the morning, not dressed appropriately and with only a single water bottle each. There were falls and staggers by three of the four of us, and we got spread out a little. I rejoined my sister when she was half-crying as she called for me, convinced I’d plummeted off the mountain to my doom far below. I was on a switchback above her so when I asked her what the heck she was carrying on for, I scared the bejeezus out of her. We came up just short of the summit before turning back, and I wound up with heat stroke which took its toll for a few days. 

 

My first hike with Sara, 2008



That was mostly it for a while, aside of an incredibly amazing hike in the Andes while in Chile for a wedding, as life took me towards the ocean for a number of years. But Sara’s an avid hiker, so when we started dating she got me walking uphill again. I was in better shape so it wasn’t so bad. And as any male runner knows, if there’s an attractive woman around then you act like you’ve got miles and miles of energy left. That bred better conditioning, too, and it turned out hiking had more to like than just the views. You could talk and daydream more than during mountain biking. It was also a good way to mix up activities, and a way to experience Sara’s world in return for her being willing to risk life and limb mountain biking with me. Next thing you know, I had more time walking in the woods to my credit than I realized. 



First backpacking trip at Mount Mansfield, VT, 2008

Then we went backpacking, which I hadn’t done before. My knee got gimpy, which it started doing around age 30 and which can become almost debilitating if I don’t stop what I’m doing for the day. But I liked the accomplishment of hiking Mt. Mansfield in Vermont, the bigger adventure vibe from an overnight trip, and having everything I need on my back. Although, I didn’t enjoy flipping over when the tree serving as my handhold gave way and the backpack threw off my balance and chance for recovery. Alas, I still remember falling backwards until I was looking straight up, seeing the root ball in my hand, silhouetted against the gray sky while knowing I was a few feet off the ground, and briefly concluding, “aww, crap. This is gonna get interesting.” Despite a sprained elbow that would take a few months to heal, I was lucky and I soldiered on (see prior comment about not looking weak in front of someone I want to impress). I also had my first experience with ladders attached to bedrock, and absolutely loved them. Sara? Notsomuch. Me? Channeling my inner boy. The same one who played Revolutionary War and chucked rocks at friends from behind a stone wall (the only time I got knocked out); the same one who lost three pairs of sneakers in three weeks from wandering around woods and streams barefoot; the same one who wore a glove as a friend and I filled two buckets with prickly, fresh chestnuts and then chucked them at each other.

I also savored the après hike food and drink, mimicking our après ski and après ride ritual. Usually, this is pub food and some locally brewed draft beer. You swap your tales from the trails, you fill your belly, and you dull the aches and pains.

The pace of hiking activities picked up a bit after that, with more hikes in the Green Mountains and at smaller, local areas. I also spent a little time with my girls in the woods, using Letterboxing as a way to coax them outdoors, and discovering they inherited my enjoyment of rock scrambles. Sara’s secret surprise tradition was a great touch, too. Some of the best gifts given and received were blueberry cobbler martinis, Goldschlager, teriyaki jerky, and a disco ball. Alas again, the disco ball may be yet another story for another time. But I will say the campfire reflecting off of it works as well as anything at Studio 54!



Lafayette Ridge Loop, NH, 2009



I think doing the Franconia Ridge loop cemented hiking as one of my activities. Sara had read in the AMC White Mountain Guidebook that any self-respecting hiker in the northeast has to earn their stripes by doing this. Summiting Mount Lafayette, Mount Lincoln, and Little Haystack was my first multi-summit hike. It was one of the hottest days of the year, so I really felt that my pride was legit.

Let’s recap: I haven’t done a ton of hiking, but have done it more often as time’s gone on. So why not take the logical step of having to do exponentially more hikes than I’ve previously done? In fact, why not take on even bigger challenges of doing some of it in tougher fashion, such as a 20-mile traverse all of the Presidential mountains in one day? Why not do some of it in the winter? Why not do the 32-mile Pemigewasset loop, which my hiking-savvy friends did and refer to as the “Pemi Death March”?

As winter wound down, Sara and I began finalizing some hiking goals for the year. Yeah, it’s contingent on my foot being better. But if it’s not better soon then I might get so frustrated I go all Kathy-Bates-on-James-Caan and hobble myself for good! Assuming we put Humpty Dumpty back together again, this should be a great season, and I should finish much more confident about my experience and skills. I should get to double-digits on the peak count. I should have a lot of hours to ponder and talk. And I should accumulate some great stories to remember.

See you on the trail,

Jay Bell, AKA Rock Hopper