Our hiking season begins on a perfectly pleasant day on the shoulder between Spring and Summer. Mild temps, verdant landscape, stream crossings, muddy spots, flitting bugs.
Jimmy and I wanted to ease our way in, so we picked a hike of about six miles that would get us to the top of two of the highest Catskill peaks—Blackhead and Black Dome.
But memory can lead us astray, and I’d forgotten that when Harriet and I had hiked Blackhead a few years ago, the ascent was steep and rocky, seemingly endless, with difficult sections of hands and feet scrambling. And it all came back to me during moments of gasping for breath, stopping to let the heart rate settle, and wondering who the hell chose this trail (I did). But that hard work and heavy breathing is one of the reasons I take to the mountain trails.
We met a few other hikers on the trail, all solo travelers. One of them we saw at the beginning of our hike and again in the higher peaks, but she looked tired and said she’d forgotten her hiking poles. I carried one pole, which I offered to give her, and after initial resistance, she accepted the gift. I hoped it would help her make her way down.
One of the day’s highlights happened before we reached the parking area on our way in: we saw a good-sized black bear crossing the road just ahead of us. Looked strong and healthy as it bounded off into the woods. Also saw a doe nursing her fawn in the shallows of a creek.
The feet ached, the legs were tired, the burger and beer afterward tasted divine.
