Years ago I found a hike that was rated as "very strenuous" and hailed as being one of the toughest hikes on the east coast. Naturally this attracted me. Years went by and I let it fall behind. Turns out the location and timing fit into my little vacation. Weather seemed alright for November and I had a game plan set.
Appropriately named the Devils Path, I set off early and it was raining lightly. It wasnt supposed to rain at all. The path starts with 1800' ascent in about a mile. A nice warm up. I would be crossing multiple peaks in the trip.
Considering the peaks were all around 4000', I learned to love this sign as it meant I was nearing the summit.
Atop Plateau Mountain.
The other side of Plateau. I wasnt too far into the trip and already I was a little concerned. It was a lot colder than I expected. The hike was more grueling. I was soaked by sweat which chilled me quickly. Onto the next.
Sugarloaf Mountain did not have any vistas. However it did have snow. Perhaps another sign.
While coming down from Sugarloaf I could see the next objective across the valley, Twin Mountain. Clearly from the twin peaks. Theres supposed to be a cave somewheres, my ultimate goal. I had fantasized about setting up shop in a cave for the night. I grew colder.
I couldnt find the cave. Well. I may have. But it was more of a notch in a wall, not what I had imagined at all. I took note of the time and my location. I had hiked 8 miles in. I was cold. Had plenty of food and water. Tired from three separate ascents, along with equally difficult descents. I had to make a choice. I was already past the halfway point of daylight. I passed a leanto a few miles back, best option if Im staying. I had 8 miles to go to get back to my truck. The way back would take longer too due to exhaustion. Either way I had to back track, disappointed.
I took a break at the leanto. It was clear my knees had enough. Both of them shaking, easily giving way to sudden jars and missed steps. The cold and loneliness set in. I felt that maybe this is nearing the end of a phase in my life. There was a sign for 6.4 miles back to the trailhead. It was already getting dark.
I decided that I would push through rather than risk hypothermia. Two mountains stood in my way and I climbed them probably at the slowest pace I ever have.
I crested the last peak at sunset. There was still a few miles to go. I descended the mountain as the forest darkened. I strapped my flashlight to my shoulder strap so it was easily accessible. I shuffled through the leaves in a zombie like fashion. The push felt like forever but there is no feeling like the one of shuffling out of the woods and seeing my truck. I cranked the heat, stripped the cold sweaty clothes off and sighed out of defeat. Or was it success?
