Where it all began ...

This is where I truly think the whole obsession began. We were all up before the crack of dawn, four college kids from SUNY Potsdam, ready to embark on a journey that we were far from prepared for. I'm Mike, a Math/Business major with little hiking experience. With me are Jen, a long distance runner studying Biology, preparing for a future in sports medicine, and Bonna, another runner, studying to be a teacher and EMT. Then comes our fearless leader, Mat, whose hiking experience trumps all of ours, and then some. Here we are, just four students piling our supplies, our packs, our snowshoes into my minivan (I actually admitted to it) for a journey we never expected.

We were now on our way to the base of Mount Marcy, the tallest mountain in New York state.

Of course we were excited, or as excited as our tired bodies would allow. Mat, with all of his common sense, was asleep long before we had settled in the night before. The rest of us, in our infamous wisdom, now faced a 10 hour hike on 2 hours sleep. By Mat's calculations, the hike would more or less take that long, 10 hours to complete 16 miles. For anyone unfamiliar with Marcy, it usually takes hikers upwards of 12 hours to complete the round trip. But we are all athletic and would make it up in no problem. Back to that later.

When we finally arrived, nearly two hours of slippery driving and close calls with snow plows later, the reality had not set in yet. Snow shoes felt funny on my feet, and they were easily a foot too long for the trip we taking.

Optimism slowly left us. The snowshoes dragged on my feet, my ankles hurting more than I can remember. For the first 2.4 miles we kept a fabulous pace. And when we reached the Marcy Dam, the scenery gave us all the hope that today was going to be a wonderful experience.

That feeling did not last long.

As the miles wore on, Mat's experience began to shine through, and he pulled ahead of us. Slowly we realized our athletic ability was built for distance running, or in my case, for as little cardio work as possible.

After several hours, the forest broke into a fabulous view of the Adirondack range that surrounded us. Although our spirits withered, a little hope was restored as the sun cast its rays over the region. Only 2.5 miles at this point from the summit, and all we could think was will it ever end?

It never felt like we would reach the top. But distance was not our problem anymore. The sun was fading as we reached closer to lunch time. The slopes got steeper, the air colder and the wind angrier. Finally Jen, Bonna and I reached a clearing and paused, trying to figure out how far ahead Mat was. We reached sheets of ice and soon discovered our snowshoes were ill equipped for the rest of the journey. We found ourselves in sight of the peak, with no way to reach it.

I will spare the details of our ordeal at the top, but heartbroken and exhausted, we decided to rest, eat lunch and trek back down the mountain while Mat finished the climb. Mat, I might add, is a Wilderness Education student at SUNY Potsdam, at was much more equipped with sharper snowshoes and his trusty ice pick. He was the only one really ready for this trip.

Although I am envious that he actually reached the top and we could not, I have to say that when all was said and down he presented each of us with a piece of the summit. He gave us all a small piece of Adirondack Anorthacite, a rock that the earth physically cannot produce anymore. That may have been one of the kinder gestures I've seen in a long time, and I extend my thank you to Mat. I may not have got it myself, but now I can look at the summit from the comfort of my desk.

In some cases the dissent was harder than the climb. Our muscles screamed with every step, trying not to run and stress our joints more. My knee ached with more pain then when I tore my MCL, and although I try not to complain in my life, I did a whole lot of it on this trip. Remember how the trip was supposed to take even experienced climbers 12 hours, and we were pacing for 10? Well, from the time the shoes were strapped on to the time I ripped them off, it took 8 1/2 hours. I was impressed myself.

I hate to say this, for fear of scaring anyone from experiencing what I did, but I do not recommend this trip to anyone that does not hike regularly or snowshoe regularly. I had never strapped snowshoes to my feet and climbing the tallest mountain in New York was not a good first choice. But I assure you, at the end of the day I think about the scenery I was able to witness, the sunshine on the snowy ridge, and despite the pain I am glad I got through it and I do not regret it.

I plan on going back to Marcy some day, next time in the summer. I want to climb her at a pace that would take an actual 10 hours, and enjoy her a little more. Next time though, I will get those extra 100 feet and touch the highest point in the Adirondacks. Someday I will.

This is where my obsession with seeing the world has begun. When you feel as though you can see the whole world below your feet, all you want to do is reach out and touch it all.

That is what I want to do, hold it all in my hand.

(A special thank you to Bonna for snapping some wonderful pictures on the trip, memories that we will all hold close to our hearts for the rest of our lives)