Therese Marie

There’s A Lot I Haven’t Told You About

It’s the beginning of 2023, and I’ve fallen in love with hiking in the winter. So, it’s hard to believe that I bought my first pair of microspikes just over 1 year ago. It changed the game Big Time. I also hiked up my first…ice last year – haha, is that how you would say that?

Ok, I’m talking about my First Trail Covered In Ice And Not Just Snow. You know, like, in the summer the water just runs over the trail in some parts, pooling maybe, trickling over the large expanses of rock once you’re above tree line? But then in the winter, all that water freezes on top of itself until its a thick layer of unrelenting slippery.

Ok, dude, yeah, sure, I’M SURE YOU ALREADY KNEW THIS. But when I went up there, I wasn’t thinking about it, and I didn’t know it was a thing. Listen, we all learn about this stuff somehow in our own way. I don’t look online, I just…go.

Now that I am where I am now, now that I know all I know, this! Feels! Weird! To! Say! Do you have those moments where you think back to something that feels like a lifetime ago, but you realize it wasn’t THAT long ago on the calendar – and THEN you consequently realize how far you’ve come in just a short amount of time?

Let me take you back to that time I hiked the ‘Dacks in November 2021.

November! I thought, it’ll be FINE! And it was mostly fine, but Giant Mountain is very big and very far north so it gets quite cold up there. And that was something I didn’t really fully prepare for.

Oh, gosh, this is a whole story. I have much more to tell you. We’re gonna have to back up again. Ok! Are you ready?

Backstory: I have this problem where I psych myself out on hikes, get scared, and turn around.

It’s…silly, but it also might help keep me safe sometimes? I think it started after I read “Into Thin Air” and then also almost got struck by lightning twice. Really drives home the importance of a turnaround time, and how dangerous it can be to be atop a bald, exposed mountain when inclement weather approaches. 

Of course, you’re not always at risk for being struck by lightning when there are clouds in the sky.

Really, we need to rewind a little bit: I took my first trip to the Adirondacks in September 2020

Did a solo trip with the doggo, hiked Whiteface, then thought, “Cool cool cool I will make a (flippant, lazy) attempt to hike all these 5,000-footers, so next I will hike Giant.”

I attempted Giant twice that trip. TWICE. Two times, and both times I turned around. The first time was because of aforementioned storm-fear. I don’t really have control over it, my body just kind of goes into flight mode when I hear thunder or see dark clouds while I’m hiking. I’m getting over it now because it’s been years since The Incident. But in that moment, I was so sure me and my dog were going to get zapped.

(…To be clear, there was no thunder. Just eerie looking clouds. Not my proudest moment.)

So I went back to my campsite, but upon getting all snuggled in bed I became filled with rage. I couldn’t believe myself! I was just going to give up? I really did turn around. Tons of other people completed that hike that day, safe and fine, and I still convinced myself I was in grave danger. That didn’t feel right, I needed to go back the next day and DO IT.

I go back the next morning, and it was a sunny day, and there were lots of people, but I got there early and I went up. And, let me tell you, it got REAL hard REAL fast. I soon passed the point where I’d given up the day before and raised myself above the tree line. I was greeted with a MAGNIFICENT view. And I crawled higher and higher up the steep rock face until I was higher than little passenger planes flying through the valley. Stunning.

Surely I must be close to the top, I thought. The whole hike was out-and-back only 6 miles total, which meant a mere 3 miles to the top! I usually hike at like, 1 to 2 miles an hour on account of the short legs. But surely I must be close. It felt like I’d been out for hours at that point.

I checked my map to find I had HARDLY MADE IT HALF WAY. 

This time, my turnaround was dictated by hunger, disappointment, exhaustion, and time restraints. I had to travel back home that day and …well actually, I can’t remember my inane excuses, but I had a slew that were convincing enough in the moment to make myself descend after this grandiose moment and face failure a second day in a row.

I tried to convince myself this was acceptable, and it worked for awhile. But a year later, the rage I felt was tenfold. I could not freaking believe myself. Why would I try going up that son-of-a-biscuit twice and give up TWICE? That wasn’t very Therese of me. But maybe that is what happens when you have the option of throwing in the towel. You believe it’s a privilege to be able to give up, give in, cut yourself short. Making excuses is a slippery slope.

But all that does is create a mounting feeling of internal rage that eventually convinces you to plan a specific trip to go back a year later.

I went back in November 2021 and I was going to do this god damn hike.

I found a place to stay so that I could roll up to that trail at the crack of dawn. CRACK OF DAWN. And surely, at 6am, I stood drinking my French pressed coffee looking up at the looming beast. I was going to freaking do it today, because I didn’t give myself a choice. There was no giving up allowed. I had time, I had legs, I had food and water. I brushed my teeth on the side of the road, spit out the foam, and felt the sharp pierce of the cold air as I inhaled it into my minty mouth. It was time to do it.

Alright now we’re caught back up to what I was trying to describe to you earlier: ice in the mountains. 

The portion of the hike that I repeated (back to that part where I was above air planes) was fine. Steep as I remember, and chilly, and fine. Me and my dog crushed that part. When we got to the place I’d previously turned around, I ate a quick snack, and looked forward with cheerful resolve. I was going to DO it this time. 

This is where, upon reflection, I feel like I’ve come unspeakably far in just a year, and I am baffled that I was ever surprised by what I found in those pines. I really didn’t think about what it was going to be like up so high during the fall-descending-into-winter, and if you’re reading this and you haven’t been up there, just…get microspikes ok?

There was so much ice that had devoured the trail. I laughed out loud to myself as we slid across it like GOOBERS. A little ice skating rink right there on the trail. I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t know that could happen! Honestly, there were some parts that I just straight up could not hike. Steep rock covered in a thick layer of ice means no traction. I had to attempt to LNT by dipping and weaving off the side of the trail in the trees in order to ascend some pieces.

But here’s the cool thing: even though I was wildly unprepared for this winter wonderland, I still gave myself zero option to turn around. I was so angry at my old self for making excuses and giving up twice in a row. So no, I didn’t care if the ice went on for half a mile up a rockface that was impossible to climb with regular hiking boots, I! Was! Going! To! Finish! This! Hike! 

I cannot tell you what joy I felt upon reaching that stupid summit. Was the view much more grand than anything else I’d seen that day? Not really, and yet … completely. It was made grand by the notion that I had arrived at my destination without being deterred by slippery obstacles. Without being deterred by my mind.

I’m not sure what happened to my brain in the years since my thru-hike, but things ARE different. And I’ve had to come to terms with that and grow with it. I guess it’s also a big deal because I’d not really been a hiker before the AT. I didn’t go out into the mountains for long, 5+ mile day hikes. But I’ve become someone who needs to do that weekly in order to function.

After that hike, I bought myself a pair of microspikes.

Conveniently, I’d just picked up a job working at REI for a stint, and the spikes were easy to pick up. Slap a pair of those guys on and you can walk on ANYTHING!! You feel like Spider-Man. Those spikes would take me up many more icy adventures that I can’t wait to tell you about.

Thanks for listening, fly on friends,

Lil W.