I did something Sunday. I became an Adirondack 46er.

The shadow of the Adirondacks had always been cast toward the “flatlands”, and I grew up imagining what it would be like to roam the wilderness like Roger’s Rangers, the Iroquois or Algonquin, or trappers and hunters. After graduating high school I joined the Army, lived overseas and then on the west coast, and then finally moved back to New York in 1998. It didn’t take long and I set about plans to hike Mt. Marcy, just because it was the tallest of course. My plans weren’t plans at all really. I had a backpack if you can call it that, and some boots. That’s all I needed, right? I did climb Mt. Marcy in the summer of 2000, from Elk Lake and back. I ran out of water, it was colder on the summit than I thought it would be, and my clothes were laughable looking back on it. Soon after I took a crack at hiking Dial and Nippletop, but ended up stopping very short of Bear Den and doing Round Mountain instead. That was the extent of my hiking for a very, very long time. Continue reading Adirondack 46er →