Lady of the Wild Woods

My First 4000-Footer – Mt. Liberty

“You are not in the mountains. The mountains are in you.”
— John Muir

I’ve always been an avid adventurer, or so I thought. I love being in the woods and walking through nature. Whenever I am surrounded by woods or mountains or any sublime natural manifestation, I experience a plethora of feelings from ecstatic euphoria to intense calm, but ultimately I feel a connection to something that is greater than myself. Ironically, as I experience a sense of awe amidst splendor, I also feel my own connection to this incredible emanation of the natural world. I know somehow that it exists within me and I within it. We are one, and yet I am humbled by its magnificence. I wonder if I am truly worthy to be a part of this. And yet some innate wisdom speaks within me, and I know that it is not a question of worthiness. It just is.

The connection I feel with the natural world has always drawn me to the wild places, and I have been fortunate to travel fairly extensively throughout the United States. I’ve experienced all different climates and terrains, but I’ve always felt most at home in New England. I’m originally from Philadelphia, but there was something magical about New England that called to me from an early age, probably from reading Stephen King novels and works by H.P. Lovecraft. There always seemed to be something exotic, deeply spiritual, and somewhat deadly that underlies the fabric of New England. It’s like anything can happen, no matter how weird, and it would just be normal in New England. The rugged, wild quality of the natural world here is a mystery and an invitation to those would take the challenge. I moved to New Hampshire in 2012, then left to return to Pennsylvania in 2015, only to come back in 2017, because I pined for it like a lost lover. 

Living in New Hampshire is like living in a natural paradise every day. Where I live is an hour from Boston, and hour from the beach, and an hour from the mountains. Here winter is winter, so if you like snow, and you like the cold, and being outside doing fun wintery things like snowshoeing and skiing, then this is the place for you. And I love being outside in any season, so I am right at home here. 

Sometimes I wonder if the more challenging climate of New England breeds and attracts a certain type of person. Folks in New England are known to be a bit more rugged, sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but extremely loyal once your work your way into their hearts. It’s not easy to win the heart of a new-englander, but once you have, it’s totally worth it. They love a challenge, and hiking up mountains is one of them. 

In New England (And upstate NY), there are groups of mountains that exceed 4000 feet in height. They are known as 4000-footers. Climbing a 4000-footer is no easy feet, and in New Hampshire alone there are 48 peaks that are about 4000 feet. When you’ve climbed all 48, you get get to join the 4000-footer club, which basically means you earn a patch sent to you by the Appalachian Mountain Club in recognition of your perseverance. It’s actually a big deal. 

I have always wanted to hike the 48, but where I live in New Hampshire is about 1.5 hours away (at least) from every peak. In the end, though I had the desire, I didn’t have the drive or dedication to do it, though I had plenty of excuses. Mostly I just felt lost doing it on my own, unsure about what I would need, or where I would go or which trail to take. Then I met Hui Yeng, and my life changed. 

I’ve never met anyone more unabashedly brave and naturally accomplished. She’s hiked all 48 peaks in New Hampshire, plus the 4000-footers in Vermont, Maine, AND upstate New York. And she did them a second time in the winter, because why not? She turned out to be an amazing guide, extremely knowledgable about everything hiking related and just overall very supportive and encouraging. We were planning a hike one weekend, and out of the blue she suggested a 4000-footer, like why not? And I just fell right in with an exuberant yes! 

Mount Liberty was my first. It was late November, so it wasn’t winter yet, but there were definitely winter conditions. I had no idea what I was in for, but I trusted my guide. We were just getting to know each other, but somehow I just knew it would be okay. 

It was a 7.5 mile hike with an elevation gain of over 3000 feet, so it wasn’t a walk in the park, but I was prepared. I had layers, winter hiking boots, and microspikes for icy conditions later on. My biggest mistake in preparing was thinking it would be colder, so I wouldn’t need as much water. I only brought a small bottle and should have filled my hydration reservoir in my daypack. Lesson learned. 

It was cool outside as we started out, with maybe a dusting here and there of snow, which was a treat, as there wasn’t any snow near my house yet. Fortunately my boots were waterproof, because we crossed several large streams starting out. I had also neglected to bring hiking poles. Fortunately Hui Yeng had probably two of everything, so she gave me a pair to use for the hike. 

The trail began with a quick upward trajectory which left me winded, but I maintained a sustainable pace and continued the climb. For Hui Yeng it seemed like nothing at all. I told her she was like a mountain goat, it was effortless for her to make the climb quickly. But she was never too far ahead of me, and slowly and surely we gained elevation. 

Almost immediately, despite the elevation gain, we both took off a layer, because the body heats quickly during exertion, and the goal is not to sweat so much as to make your clothes damp. Soon the dusting of snow became more like a layer covering the ground, but I was warm and comfortable. I became ever warmer when we got to the portion that Hui Yeng referred to as the “stair-master.” It was indeed just like that – a seemingly never-ending climb up stairs of rock. And I had thought I was an endurance “athlete” running my half-marathons once a year and cycling longer distances in the summer. Nope. This was definitely a challenge, but I embraced it! Plus Hui Yeng was so encouraging. Really, I just didn’t want to disappoint her. 

Soon the layer of snow became deeper, but my winter hiking boots stayed strong. Eventually we had to put on our microspikes to keep good traction going up the mountain. We made it to a campsite with a spring, where you could fill your water bottle. There was a cute outhouse there too. Apparently you only use them for number two, otherwise you just pee in the woods. Hui Yeng told me about how she had camped there with her friends before, so she was very familiar with the mountain and the trail. I was naturally impressed. 

From there the peak was not too much further, and I was stoked to make it to my first 4000-footer summit. But then I was forced to confront my worst, deep-seated fear, the plague of many of my adventures. The top of the mountain is very exposed. It’s just rock with no trees. Part of the trail went by an area that had a steep cutoff. It was perfectly safe, and the trail wasn’t actually that close to any cliff or drop-off, but my perception was quite different. Being in the vast openness at the top, anywhere near an edge, gives me a sense of vertigo. I feel like I could possibly be sucked into the expansive openness, with no trees to cling to or hamper a fall. It was quite unrealistic a fear, and I realized that, but my physiological response was very palpable. I had to take a moment to stop, and I was embarrassed by my own irrational fear. But Hui Yeng was so supportive and kind. She just waited with me, while I took in the surroundings and worked through my silly mindset. Fortunately there was a path to the summit that was slightly more supported by rock and trees, so I didn’t feel so out in the open. And then we made it to the summit!!! 

I did it! My first 4000-footer. And the views were amazing! And the people were great. All different kinds of people. Some were in groups and some were alone, a single person by themselves. I had a lot of respect for the singles, but my inquisitive self wondered what their story was. What inspired them to climb to the peak that day? 

First Summit Pose

At the summit folks were taking photos, eating snacks to replenish their energy, and just exuding a sense of excitement for being at the summit. We piled on a couple of layers to keep warm at the top, since we stopped working up a sweat. Part of the hiking culture are piles of rocks known as cairns. They mark the way up to summits sometimes, but every time there is a cairn at the summit. I’m not sure who constructs them, but there are ubiquitous. And at this summit I witnessed a snow spirit. An upward draft of air whisked up soft flakes of snow to create what appears to be a snowy apparition. It was quite lovely. 

The way down was much quicker than the way up, but it was much more treacherous. Watching your footing and protecting your knees and ankles on the rocks going down is imperative. I kept my spikes on most of the way to help with traction, but it was definitely a fast descent. Soon the snow layer shined out again, and I began to remember that I was hungry. We started out at 10am, and I had only a few snacks going up and a Vega Bar at the summit. Now, at 3:30pm, I was starving! 

We stopped at The Basin after we got back to the car. It was a very short drive from the trailhead and a super easy walk to see some beautiful flowing water. It was a beautiful end to a very memorable day. The hike was amazing. Hui Yeng was amazing. I felt amazing! Now I am ready for more of it all.

The Basin

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