Adirondack Peeks Winter 2023

The Trees by the Trail John Swanson III, #14369

The root of a tree can be friend or foe, Which one it cares not, It can help you crawl up the side of a slide, Or dump you on the spot. Some have stood the test of time, Touched by a thousand hands, Others turned to rot and slime, And surrendered to the land. In fall when leaves take on their hues, And gently drift on down, Their job is done, they’ve paid their dues, They give earth a lovely gown. So when the wind brings out their song, Remember this my friend, They’ll be here when we’re long gone, May their reign never end! Here’s to the trees by the trail.

When you set out to hike the 46 hills, There’s something you should know, The trees by the side of the trail, Will witness your triumphs and woes. They won’t tell about your slip in the Bog, On your way out to Cooch, Or if you were dragging a little dog, That could hardly be called a pooch. They’ve seen the dogged plodders, And the young go whizzing by, Then there are the joggers, Makes you wonder why? You grabbed their limbs and polished their bark, To stay upright and out of the mud, They heard you when you hiked out in the dark, Grumbling Blake was a dud. Some were laid in the mud precise, That’s always on the path, To keep our boots clean and nice, Isn’t that a laugh! I was recovering from the darkest time of my life. Twen ty-nineteen was hell on Earth. My mental health con sumed me, and recovery was taking a long time. When 2020 came around, we were met with the COVID-19 pan demic. Isolation and uncertainty filled the world around us. I needed something new and something that would get me active outdoors. I was tired of sitting in my head. On May 13, 2020, I set out to climb Mt. Marcy, the highest peak of New York State. Given that it was now May, I assumed that the snow and ice would be gone. I prepared an outfit of all cotton, including a Syracuse University crewneck, thin and non-waterproof gloves, windbreaker pants, and ath letic socks. I wore a cheap pair of hiking boots to get me through. I had never been to this part of the Adirondacks before. I wasn’t even sure where the trailhead was, let alone know anything about the trail itself. I didn’t know how to use a map and compass, so I didn’t bring them. I packed everything into a drawstring backpack that I had picked up from Walmart a few days prior. I packed one bottle of water, one small bag of trail mix, and half a Mt. Marcy Maria Aldrich

Photo credit: Sébastien Provost #14679

sandwich as I had eaten the other half on the two and a half¬–hour drive there. I didn’t have trekking poles, snow shoes, or microspikes. I would break trail in my cheap hik ing boots, occasionally swapping the work with two other solo hikers I would meet along the way. I stood at the Adirondack Loj trailhead, solo, around 7:00 a.m. ready to begin my hike after signing in at the register. My hands were already cold, but I had driven all that way and refused to turn around. It was the com mon ignorance of a novice hiker. The summit meant more to me than my safety, it seems. The first mile of the hike to the Marcy/Algonquin junction is pleasant. Very little elevation gain, the snow is often packed down very well by fellow hikers, and it pro vides a good warm-up. After the junction, you hit Marcy Dam. From here, you can see the high peaks standing tall around you. Here, you will find another register to sign into. After signing in, the real challenge began. The foot prints in the snow were gone so I didn’t have anyone to follow, the snow was getting deeper, and my thin gloves were already soaking wet from catching myself each time

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