Deep in the Catskills, the trail to the summit of Wittenberg Mountain begins in a campground not far from Phoenicia. The trail starts steep, then continues steeply, then rises more steeply until the top, 3.7 miles one-way.
I’ve hiked Wittenberg before, maybe six or seven years ago. And yet, I chose to hike it again because of the incredible view from the top and my ability to forget pain. This time I hiked with Mark, on a perfect day with comfortable temperatures and few people on the trail.
Oh, we were plenty chatty while heading up the trail, carrying on a steady conversation between gulping breaths. The first stretch of trail before you reach any junction or trail sign is 2.6 miles, and there’s no way of knowing how far you’ve gone other than guesswork based on elapsed time and the certainty, growing less certain every few minutes, that the junction is just around the next bend in the trail.
Eventually, we reached the junction, but still faced more than a mile to the top, which felt like fifty miles. We encountered rooty and rocky areas requiring both hands and feet to get up. We conquered ledge after ledge, switchback upon switchback. We stopped often to rest and drink water.
Finally we stood on the summit. It was a calm, slightly hazy day, but we could see the Ashokan Reservoir below, other peaks in the distance, and the expanse of the Hudson Valley beyond.
After a thirty-minute rest and a PBJ lunch, we started down, feeling confident that the hard part was past us. The hard part was just beginning. The steep terrain was slow going. It was hard on the joints. We had to step on, over, and around rocks the size of basketballs, rocks the size of beach balls, roots tangled like nests of wires. We had to lower ourselves down the ledges. Soon, my feet were raising objections. With each step of the descent, my toes mushed against the front of my boot. The bottoms of my feet hurt. My knees wobbled. My quads ached.
Are my boots no good? Did we go too big for not having hiked much this season? Am I just that much older and more vulnerable to the physical demands? Most likely, a bit of all three.
I had to remind myself: this is fun! This is what I chose to do!
I’ve always liked pushing my physical limits, but am discovering those limits are more limited than they used to be, which means they get pushed more easily and I might not be as ready.
We were a lot quieter hiking down the trail than we were hiking up, each of us wallowing in our own pain and misery. That last 2.6 miles without sign or junction felt like a forced death march. We stopped saying we were almost there. When we finally did get to the bottom, I had a good foot soak in an icy stream.
This is fun!
But I won’t be having fun on Wittenberg again. I’ve reached its summit twice and don’t need to do so a third time. I’m sure I’ll find other challenging and painful hikes to take its place.
And so, Adieu Wittenberg. Adieu in the traditional sense of the word: farewell forever. I will remember you somewhat fondly and certainly respectfully.
