The Adirondacks: Part Two-The Climb (Up)

 Brad assures me that, somewhere along the line, I had agreed to this. "This" being the climbing of what my friend Sarah called the most unmountainous of the High Peak mountains in the Adirondacks: Cascade, coming in at a measly, barely-worth-mentioning 4,098 feet. "It's a great starter hike," Brad said,  reading from author Lisa Densmore's guidebook on Hiking the Adirondacks. Let me be frank with you here:  Lisa and I will NEVER be friends. Her very name became a profanity upon my dry, chapped lips as I belly-crawled my way up boulders. This woman should sell used cars for a living. Proof-in-point: "There are lots of rocks and roots on the eroded trail, but they seem more like steps than inconvenient obstacles." 

"You did swear a lot on this hike," Brad observed. "I did?" I asked, surprised. I don't actually remember speaking at all because I was so out of breath. "Yeah, the trail would even out a bit and then we'd hit another incline and you'd yell, What the hell!" he said. "I don't know when I would have even had the chance to speak," I snapped at him, "You were so busy telling me how this was a perfect trail for small children, the elderly, and disabled dogs."

According to Lisa (please say her name with a disgusted, venomous snarl), the total hiking time should be around four hours. Obviously, Lisa has kept the location of the hidden gondola ride to the summit top secret because it took me almost that time to travel one way on this blessed mountain. I think it was because I was considerate enough to let the toddlers, pregnant women, centenarians, and the three-legged dog go ahead of me.

I would insist on small breaks every ten (or two) minutes or so because I could tell that Brad and the girls were tired. In a rare romantic mood, Brad insisted on holding my hand and then would turn on me like a snake when I used him for leverage as I nimbly climbed nature's staircase. "Let me pull you," he instructed, dramatically rubbing his shoulder like I'd pulled it out of the socket (on purpose). Angry, I'd drop his hand, refusing to allow him the opportunity to say that he'd pulled me up the entire mountain but eventually, I'd relent and let him hold my hand again. After all, Tarzan didn't curse the vine, did he? Besides, Brad couldn't take ALL the credit. There were more hands on my ass during this ascent than a bar waitress experiences during a power outage after midnight. Sydney and Savannah win the Loving Daughters Award as they took turns playing Rabbit to my Pooh Bear.


Legs quivering, ankles shaking, I continued to climb without complaint...walking when I could, crawling when I couldn't. "I believe that this may be the end of the trail for you," Brad finally said, horrifying fellow climbers who paused to take careful note of my appearance for the Missing Persons poster. I, however, rallied. Channeling Rocky (ironic, huh?), I quoted his famous words to his trainer, Mickey as it appeared that the underdog boxer was about done in (like me) and said to my husband, "You stop this fight, I'll kill ya!" Don't get me wrong...I was on the ropes. I was clinging to trees like they were respirators or bottles of tequila. But I was determined to make it...you'll see.