That's how high I climbed, yesterday, on a hike I went on with the hiking club I joined last fall. The picture is a little blurry but I like it because you can see just how high I was, looking down over the Hudson River and the town far below. The two guys sitting on the edge of the cliff with their dog were talking earnestly about something or other. It made me nervous to see them sitting there but I like having them in the picture.
The hike was much too hard for me, but I made it to the top because I had no choice. I knew there would be some climbing from the rating in the hike book, but I had been wanting to challenge myself a little, and also, if truth be told, meet some people who might be closer to my age than the ones I meet on the easy hikes I usually go on. Not that I am what you might call young (!) but the people on the easier hikes tend to be well into retirement age, a good deal older than me.
Another reason I chose to go on this hike was that it started in the afternoon, not early in the morning. Since it can take me two hours on public transportation to get to where the hikes start, a nine o'clock meeting time means I have to get up at 6:30 on a Saturday. I can do it once in a while, but it's a struggle, believe me.
The minute the group starting going up the mountain, I was left in the dust. I was truly chastened by how much worse shape I was in than I thought I was. The hike started out with a wooden stairway that was pretty steep. When I got to the top of that, I thought, okay, maybe the worst is over. The leader had told me that the beginning of the hike was a tough uphill, but then you get that part over with, and it's more level.
What he meant, it turned out, was that the first
half of the 7-mile hike was uphill and then more uphill. That's what it felt like to me, anyway--although afterwards I looked at the trail map and the uphill part was apparently only one mile.
I tried to keep up a steady, slow pace, but I was pretty much panting for breath the whole way up. The hardest thing was not knowing when it was going to end. Every time I came to the top of one little rise, I thought, "Okay, this must be it." Then the trail would switch in another direction and keep climbing. One kind soul, a woman who was stronger than me but not quite as quick as the rest of the group, lingered with me at first and then got ahead of me but kept more or less in sight, calling back encouraging things once in awhile, like, "Good job, Sarah!" and "Keep on coming!"
At one point, I had to stop and sit on a rock. I was starting to feel nauseated. I felt like I wouldn't be able to go on after that but I knew the group was waiting for me at the summit.
After I rested I felt a little better, so I continued my tortured climb. Up ahead I saw that the woman who had befriended me from my group was talking to a couple coming down the mountain. They parted, my friend continuing upward, and the couple continuing down. The woman in the couple yelled down to me, "Come on! You can do it! If an old woman like me can do it, you can!"
She seemed to be around my age, but I appreciated the encouragement.
As they approached me, she said, "It's worth it, believe me, once you get up there." Then the guy, who was one of those guys who apparently can't keep from flirting even when he's with his wife, said something like, "You feel great once you get to the top and start coming down. Look at me, don't I look rested?"
"You look great," I said.
(Okay, maybe I'm the one who can't keep myself from flirting.)
He seemed a little startled, then came closer to me. He was kind of a big, bearded guy, beard neatly trimmed, a little overweight but not in terrible shape, obviously, or he would never have made it up the mountain. He had a certain, as they say, animal charm.
He said, "Hold still," and rubbed something off my eyebrow.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I don't know, some kind of bug," he said, showing it to me as he rubbed it between his fingers and flicked it away.
Then he repeated, "Really, you're doing great, you're almost there."
His wife was taking all this in stride.
"Give her your stick," she said.
He immediately handed over a branch he had been using, the perfect height and strength for a walking stick.
"Really?" I asked, looking at them both.
"Yes," he said, "It'll help you on the way down."
I thanked them and continued on, heartened by their kindness.
I made it to the top of the mountain not long after that, just in time to see everyone getting up from their comfortable resting spot. They were walking towards me. "Okay, turn around," the leader said, "we're going that way."
But I had to rest, and look at the view, and take pictures of the two guys sitting on the edge of the cliff, so I did, and then set off to catch up with the group.
The rest of the hike was easier, and I could actually enjoy it, now that I wasn't so worried about keeping up with the group or whether my lungs were going to burst. We walked around a beautiful lake (see pic), and through the forest and past a waterfall. There were muddy patches and little slippery crossings. One time I almost slipped and fell in the little stream but I managed to right myself. The sunlight flickered through the trees. The air smelled good.
Towards the end of the hike there were four of us who kind of stuck together. At one point we were confused about which way the trail led and the leader was nowhere in sight. We were just breaking out the cell phone to call him when we heard him hallooing through the woods, calling out the name of one of the guys. He came back and led us safely out of the forest, back down the oversized wooden staircase to the parking lot.
And that's how I spent the unofficial first day of summer.
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