By Sylvie O’Rourke
I have heard that life is a journey, not a destination. Hikers will tell you as much about a mountain trail. Heck! Even Miley Cirus sings that it’s about the climb. If so, why is it that as I prepare for my second hike to Fish Hawk Cliffs, all I can recall from my initial visit is the beginning and the ending? If you ask me about it, I will describe the long walk to the trailhead, the outstanding summit view at the top, and the excruciating walk back. Everything in between is a blur. One might say that in my case, it was entirely about the destination. This memory void puzzles me, and I hope to discover its reason today.
I am standing with the others at the start of the easement through private property where only members of the Adirondack Mountain Reserve are authorized to drive. Although we have the privilege of enjoying the trails, as visitors we must reach them on foot. The road to the trailhead is as long as the trail itself; This I remember all too well.
As we trek along the road, I observe small cascades and clusters of white admiral butterflies warming their wings in the sun. Spiritually these magnificent creatures symbolize hope and inspiration. I take this as a good sign. The wild foliage is thriving in this mountainous setting and the mosquitoes are minimal. Our group is quite chatty, and our voices and laughter fill the air.
It is not until we reach the Gill Brook trailhead that the real hiking begins. Roots and rock hazards are everywhere, and we must tread with care, but the trail is aesthetically delightful, zigzagging along the brook to the soothing sound of running water. It is worth maneuvering through slippery moss-covered stones and mud to admire all the waterfalls along our path. Due to steepness, we sometimes need to climb stairs or wooden ladders to attain the next level. Although the trail is picturesque, I am languishing in the heat and eager to reach the summit. The closer we get to it, the rockier the terrain becomes, but my spirits are high from the certainty of what awaits at the top. Of this, my memory could not be clearer: The massive rockface looking down at the Ausable River in the valley below and the mountain peaks towering above us. It is a stunning location for dining and resting our weary feet. It is very windy here and we must hang on to our hats for fear of losing them in the abyss. But after our exertion in the heat, the airflow is a blessing. We are in no hurry to head back down the trail.
Reluctantly we must eventually leave this beautiful setting. The walk down the mountain is difficult, and I am hyper-conscious that tired feet tend to drag. With effort, I redouble my concentration to avoid an injury. So intent am I at looking at my toes that I occasionally lose the trail markers and must pause to get my bearings. Nearing the end of the rough trail, I glimpse the river below through a gap in the trees and daydream of a cool dip. Instead, I persevere, and to my relief, finally emerge onto the flatter road where I can relax my guard. We walk to a stream to dip our hats to cool ourselves down. It is so cold! It is like receiving a boost of energy. Overheating again after a couple more kilometers, we stop on a rock ledge by the brook to fill one of our empty bottles with chilled water, not to drink but to splash ourselves. It feels luxurious! The finish line is within reach, and I feel more weary than sore, an improvement from my last visit. Curiously, It is a journey I will remember.
What has changed? I believe that the first time my anxiety about the length of the hike combined with my lack of confidence in my ability resulted in my focus being on the hike’s completion. Today, I came armed with experience and realistic expectations, which allowed me to enjoy the details of the journey. Walking this road to discovery leads me to conclude that sometimes it is about the journey and other times it is about the destination. It all depends on your state of mind. I wonder what will happen if I return. I have heard that the third time is the charm.
SDG & A Cornwall Seeker, www.theseeker.ca, September 2024, page 11