By Bethany Garretson
Part 4: Plan B
Day 6: Thursday, August 11
Mountains: Cascade and Porter
Miles: 6.2
My eyes flashed open at 5:00 am. I grabbed for my water bottle and pack. In the early fog of awakening, my mind lapsed and I couldn’t understand why I was in a bed. Then it all came to me: The heat, the Great Range, and JBL. I lay back and tapped my hands against my stomach. What was I going to do with the day? It seemed so long with hours and hours of nothing to do. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be on trail—making my way from mountain to mountain. I wanted my tarp and sleeping pad. I wanted my damp and smelly clothes. Like a stiff zombie, I lumbered down to my office. On the stairs, I was hyperaware of my cracked heels and tender knees. I sat at my desk and turned on my computer. I opened a new word document and crafted the letter I’d post to Climb it 4 Climate’s Facebook page.
Good morning family, friends, Paul Smith’s Community members, and devoted supporters of Climb it 4 Climate. It’s a beautiful day in the Adirondacks and I’m sad to announce that I’m no longer on trail. The quest for the thru hike ended yesterday on Day 5 around 1 pm.
My shoulders folded and body shuddered. Tears rolled down my face and I embraced them. It felt rejuvenating to cry, to mourn. With blurry eyes I continued typing:
The hike was everything I hoped it would be: Challenging, beautiful, and bittersweet. I cannot begin to express how touched I was when I turned on my computer for the first time in 6 days and saw the influx of support. When I was in the woods, I felt positive energy all around me and now I know where it came from. Today I will not focus on what could have been. Instead, I will focus on what Climb it 4 Climate was and still is.
It was:
*A community coming together.
*High fives and hugs on trail.
*5 days, 30 lb pack, 23 high peaks, 130 miles and 9 Mountain Meals.
It still is:
*A fundraiser for Paul Smith’s College.
*An opportunity to get out and explore the mountains and yourself!
On an end note, I will share three things I thought about on trail:
1. It is important we pursue things that make us feel alive. My muscles are sore and each step I take this morning reminds me of the most beautiful moments I experienced on trail. Laying back and looking up at the stars, watching the shadow of Algonquin lengthen over Colden as the sun set, and small red maple leaves on dark muddy trails.
2. Beauty outweighs ugly and there is an abundance of kindness in this world. For five days I was blessed to be without phone, computer, or “connection” as we may call it. For anyone who has gone on a backpacking trip or been without modern devices for a week—you find a much deeper connection in your surroundings. Our world isn’t falling apart. It’s still very much intact.
3. Be humble. We are human and no more important than another species. We may like to think we have some sort of superior brain because of our fancy computers, outfits and gadgets, but wander to the middle of the woods with nothing but the clothes on your back, lay there and listen. We are vulnerable and rely on the support of others. One does not conquer mountains. One does not conquer nature. The best relationships in life give and take equally. Lets remember that as we move forward in this era of mass consumption. Carry your world on your back for a week and you’ll realize we could all live a bit more simply.
I copy and pasted the text and pushed the send button. I stood up, went to the kitchen, blew my nose and splashed water on my face. I opened my bear canister and pulled out a Clif Bar. On the counter, I laid out the map and grabbed a notebook. I wrote down the 23 high peaks I needed and began brainstorming a strategy for the next 8 days. I waited for the peak heat of the day (96) to dissipate and arrived at the trailhead for Cascade and Porter at 4 in the afternoon. It was 91 degrees. The first hundred yards, my legs screamed and pleaded me to go back to the car. I ignored their wishes and within five minutes, I was in a peaceful rhythm, breathing and sweating with the trail. I would complete my journey. One thing I’ve learned many times over: It’s very rare that Plan A gets you to your destination… it’s usually Plan B, C, or D.
Day 7: Friday, August 12
Mountains: Giant and Rocky Peak Ridge
Miles: 8
The humidity continued through the night and when I hit the Giant Ridge Trail at 8 am, it was already 82. A hazy overcast sky hung low across the Great Range and Champlain Valley. I shared the socked in summit with a backpacker. In an attempt to escape the worse of the wind, he was hunkered down between two rocks. His map blew violently and he peered up at me.
“Hey!” he said.
“Hey!” I replied with the surprised recognition of meeting someone I knew in a remote place. A few years back, Brandon and I had worked together in wilderness therapy.
“I was hoping I’d run into you out here,” he said. He’d been following the thru hike and was on a multiple day backpacking trip of his own, climbing it for climate along the way. We stood against the wind and snapped a few photos.
“This makes me a better person,” he said.
“Me too.”
Day 8: Saturday, August 13
Whiteface and Esther
Miles: 10
On day 8, Andy and I celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary on the summit of Whiteface. The year we married, we biked up the toll road on the Fourth of July and watched the Mirror Lake firework show. At sunset, the sky was a brilliant pink and a sliver of orange moon rose in the West. When the fireworks started, I felt like I was looking out over a battlefield—counting fifteen displays along the Champlain Valley and surrounding areas. Today, we hiked between lite rain showers and dense fog. On the summit of Esther Mountain, I knelt down and read the plaque dedicated to Esther McComb—the young woman who made the first recorded summit in 1839 at the age of 15. Surrounded by dense forest, I wondered what route she took before the herd path existed. 1839. I wondered if she wore a long skirt or borrowed a pair of trousers. The plaque described her indomitable spirit and that she climbed for the love of it. Esther Mountain may not have the open vistas of Whiteface and it often receives poor reviews because of the muddy herd path conditions, however, it is one of my favorite climbs because I feel the presence of a very strong individual with an indomitable spirit. And that’s inspiring.
Day 9: Sunday, August 14
Macomb, South Dix, Grace, Hough, Dix
Miles: 17
Storms passed through the night, broke the humidity and ended the stretch of 90 degree days. Andy dropped me off at the trail head near Elk Lake to start my trek over the Dix Range. A soft rain pattered against the canopy. By the time I reached Macomb’s slide my pants were slick with water shed from pine boughs along the herd path. The red rock was bright and slippery. Soaked through, I struggled to find motivation to be on trail. I wanted to be done. All I was doing was putting one foot in front of the other. I called it zombie hiking. I made my way from Macomb to South Dix to Grace, back to South, down to Hough and up to Dix. The morning fog and low clouds began to clear. I passed over the summit of Dix and sat on a large rock looking out to the Great Range. My gaze narrowed at the col between Haystack and Basin. I shoved my fists into the pockets of my rain jacket and bit my lower lip. Did I make the right decision? Was there an option I’d overlooked? Could I have made it? What if, what if, what if…? I shook my head, pushed myself up, and descended. The slide rushed with the newly fallen rain. I took off my pack and sat by the moving water. It was mountain clear and reminded me of a river I’d sat next to during a backpacking trip to Nepal in 2014. After my Himalaya trek, I was in Kathmandu when an avalanche killed 16 on Everest and the climbing season was shut down. I imagined those climbers felt pretty lost too—sitting in the haziness of the city, sipping coffee and listening to the morning traffic, days after being hunkered down at base camp ready to climb the highest mountain in the world. My situation was not a tragedy, it was an adjustment. And the more I acknowledged that, the more peace I found.
Day 10: Monday, August 15
Mountain: Cascade
Miles: 5
The day after the thru hike attempt ended, my mother wrote me a beautiful email—detailing how inspired she’d been to watch a community come together for a common purpose. She ended with, “I will hike a high peak with you, no matter if it takes me 24 hours.” So, on Day 10, I lay on a ground pad in Marcy Field with the newest edition of Outside Magazine, waiting for my mom and older sister to join me for a hike. My mother’s red van signaled and turned into the parking area. I grabbed my gear and jogged over. Hugs were exchanged and they followed me to Cascade. Sandals were slipped off and hiking shoes laced up. I shouldered our day pack and brought an extra pair of trekking poles in case anyone needed them. Every now and then, my mother stopped to catch her breath.
“I just need a minute,” she said.
“It’s alright, take your time,” I said. I leaned against a birch tree and looked up at the leaves.
“You’re doing great,” Celia said. I never thought I’d share a high peak summit with my mother—it just wasn’t a passion or interest of hers. But, when she put her mind to something, she did it. When I’d read her email a few days back, there was no doubt we’d make it to the summit. And we did. The three of us placed our hands on the bare rock and cheered. My mother’s excitement was contagious. Yesterday, I’d looked at the Dix Range with tired eyes. Now, as I watched my mother take in the views for the first time, I remembered the magic of the mountains and why I was here.
Day 11: Tuesday, August 16
Mom and Celia left in the morning. I hugged them at the door and took the puppy upstairs to give him a bath. The house was quiet and I made a list of errands: Move into my new office, finish course outlines, and buy groceries. It felt good to have an office day and begin the transition from hiking to academia. For lunch, I fixed a backpacker’s pantry meal. Once I polished off the granola with blueberries, I grabbed a book, put my feet up and listened to the rain. It wasn’t long before I was sound asleep and dreaming… yep, of those rocky Adirondack trails.
Day 12: Wednesday, August 17
Mountain: Big Slide
Miles: 8
After the Cascade hike with my mom and sister, Big Slide was an enjoyable piece of cake with raspberries on top. The weather was perfect and when I arrived at the Garden parking area, I squeezed into the last available spot. I felt a new wind of energy. Our minds and bodies rise and fall like the mountains. Even in a lull—keep climbing. Even if it looks like the odds are stacked against you—pick yourself back up. Even if it seems big money and corporations run the country and climate policy is a shot in the dark, never underestimate the power of a group of like-minded individuals. Especially if those like-minded individuals are hikers.
Day 13: Thursday, August 18
Mountains: Dial, Nippletop, Colvin, Blake
Miles: 18
After 18 miles on trail—the tape on the back of my heels displaced and morphed into clumped balls. I walked out the Ausable road and sung loudly. I’d just completed the Dial, Nippletop, Colvin, and Blake loop – and it felt fantastic to be on level ground. The day had called for afternoon showers. I’d watched them pass over the Great Range when I stood on the summit of Colvin and only felt a few drops of rain. Now, the sky was a clear blue. On the way home, I picked up a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. At the house, took off my shoes and stretched. Thirty-nine down, seven more to go. Tomorrow, I’d return to the Great Range.
Bethany Garretson
Hometown: Cherry Valley, New York
Currently resides: Paul Smiths, New York
Role at PSC: Instructor of Environmental Studies and Osgood Farm Manager
Years at PSC: 2
Interests: Mountain climbing, writing, farming, exploring wild places, and advocating for all things great and small.
Quote: “Farming is the cultivation of better human beings.” -Masanobu Fukuoka
