Hike #26: The Osceolas
Elevation: 4,315 (Mount
Osceola); 4,156 (East Osceola)
Date: August 10, 2015
Location: Lincoln, NH
Distance: 8.4 miles
Time: 6:53 (49:10/mile)
“You put your right foot up, you put your
right foot down. You pick your right foot up and you hike it all about. You do
the hikey-pikey then you hike yourself back down. That’s what it’s all about!”
Two
days earlier, Sara and I hiked a hard ten miles across the two Kinsman summits
in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. By
the end, I could barely walk; my feet held up well, for the first time in well
over a year. But my left knee flared up badly. One day earlier, the skies
opened up and dumped over an inch of rain. Since we were staying at a hotel, we
poked around town and rested our tired, hurting bodies.
As our
last hiking day dawned, I knew in the first few steps out of bed that my knee
still wasn’t right. Anxious and pissed, I was unsure if I’d have a chance to
return this hiking season. I was twelve summits behind schedule in my goal of hiking
all 67 4,000-foot New England summits over 67 months, and my body failed me
enough in the last year.
I didn’t
talk much as we quickly packed up. We prepared as if we would go hiking, but I
wasn’t sure if I’d even set foot on a mountain. After eating a quiet breakfast
and checking out, I limped to the truck and we climbed in. Sara turned to me
and I explained that I truly didn’t know what I was capable of accomplishing,
but needed to try. Sara was great about going with the flow and not remotely acknowledging
me being the anchor on her own hiking goals.
Sara, navigating the rocky sections better than me (and looking more fashionable in her sweaty band!) |
We
arrived at the trailhead, strapped on our packs, set up our hiking poles, and
set off, along with a couple of groups repairing sections of trails. One set up
to work a section shortly in from the parking lot and another practically
sprinted by us to work farther up the trail.
I
shouldn’t hike. But I was going to give it what I could. I quickly adopted a
strategy to use my right foot to initiate any step up or down or for longer
strides. I’d also use hiking poles to distribute weight and to support my left
foot when my right couldn’t step first.
“You put your right foot up, you put your
right foot down. You pick your right foot up and you hike it all about. You do
the hikey-pikey then you hike yourself back down. That’s what it’s all about!”
Unlike
the Kinsman hike, we chatted very little, checking in on each other
periodically. Our pace wasn’t strong, but at least it was steady. After an
hour, I began to believe I could reach the summit. If successful, I could hike
out regardless of the pain, and claim success at knocking another mountain off
the list. But adding the second Osceola summit increases the distance by about
30%, which seemed to be pushing my luck.
A
big rule for survivalists is to be willing to adapt to changing circumstances.
Obstinately pushing on to tackle two summits in this condition is stupid.
Actually, one summit is stupid. Two becomes moronic and potentially
dangerous. So I began thinking about how
only hitting one summit becomes a silver lining. Deliberately losing myself in
thought, I soldiered on.
“You put your right foot up, you put your
right foot down. You pick your right foot up and you hike it all about. You do
the hikey-pikey then you hike yourself back down. That’s what it’s all about!”
Mt. Osceola's summit offers plenty of room to rest and enjoy incredible views. |
"The Chimney", between the two peaks of Osceola, is more free climb than hiking, and a ton of fun! |
We
descended toward a col between the two summits, which is hardest on my knee. We
then hit “The Chimney”, which is a chute of rock forcing a free climb down. We
passed poles to each other, and tried to not be unnerved. After high-fives upon
successfully reaching the bottom, we continued on. Sara and I agreed that if I
had a flare-up in the near future, I could hike out the shorter trail straight
ahead while she would retrace her steps, get the truck, and drive around the
mountains to pick me up. Despite the ridiculous decision-making involved and
the slower pace, we eventually found ourselves on the second summit. We now had
two summits under our belts and were halfway done. But the hike back to the
original summit began to create some twinges, and I resumed my focus.
“You put your right foot up, you put your
right foot down. You pick your right foot up and you hike it all about. You do
the hikey-pikey then you hike yourself back down. That’s what it’s all about!”
Admiring the view from the top of the world. |
Time to put these summits in the "done" column, even if Sara still looks fresh! |
As
we leveled out near the end of the hike, I knew I’d shortly start to rest and
recover. I’d sandwiched four summits and almost 19 miles of hiking around a day
of downpours, rest, and reconnecting with Sara. I also knew I’d been a fool to
have taken these chances, and Sara hadn’t policed me. As a team, we probably
egged each other on more than supported each other, Sara deferring to my
judgment and happy to hike both mountains; me stubborn, loathe to disappoint
her, and a typical guy who’d rather suck it up and risk bigger problems than
use his words. There’s a lesson here about improving our group decision-making,
but at least we survived. I do also feel some pride over the perseverance this
took, and adapting my approach to be successful. While I can often ruminate
when in a bad place, this time I managed myself well, even if it were an odd
technique: any time I felt negative thoughts creeping in, I repeated my saying,
from start to finish. And no matter how childish the saying, or how fleeting
the negative thought, or how many hundreds of times I recited the lines, I kept
going.
“You put your right foot up, you put your
right foot down. You pick your right foot up and you hike it all about. You do
the hikey-pikey then you hike yourself back down. That’s what it’s all about!”
See
you on the trail,
Jay Bell, AKA Rock Hopper
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