Hike Up Hadley

Ain't he cute?


He's just itching to get off that rock.

So, I woke up with the ambitious notion of hiking up Hadley Mountain, this morning. I'd promised Shadow I'd take him on a real hike, as opposed to the "meandering through the woods" variety we'd been doing lately. (The trick is to take no one with you, as most human hiking buddies steer clear of inclines of any degree.) I'd hiked Hadley before, and liked the idea of an actual destination: the firetower. (Although, I've recently started trying to pay more attention to the journey, too.) And I knew we'd each get a decent workout.

I got to sleep late last night and was unusually tired all day yesterday, so I didn't have high hopes for a very motivated Saturday morning. But I woke up especially excited about a decent hike to a real place on a cool, authentically "Autumn" day.

I got all layered up in my EMS and L.L. Bean garb (and various rip-offs), hiking boots, backpack, and accessories, mostly dog-related, and headed out in the Jeep. (Okay, yes; I realize the image here, but I assure you it's completely accurate.)

Hadley Mountain is listed on those "local hikes" sites as a moderate hike. They must have averaged the "up" and "back" difficulty levels to come up with that estimation. Because, while "down" is relatively quick and lacking in the whole "against gravity" thing, "up" is quite a different matter. (I'm beginning to understand the allure of the typical "human hiking buddy" perspective.) Once I stopped to stretch, once to pee (takes on a whole, new level of complication when accompanied on your hike by an energetic lab mix with a bit of separation anxiety), and once to try out the firmness rating on a particularly comfy-looking slab of gray rock.

But we eventually made it to the top where Shadow surprised the hell out of me by going immediately to the firetower steps and climbing. This is a dog with a fierce dislike for having less than four feet on the ground at the same time and skulks across those Adirondack wooden bridges with barely any light shining between his belly and the floor boards for the entire span. After agreeing to take a picture of three guys sharing a beer, with two different cameras, of course, I followed Shadow up the tower. Really, I have no idea what got into him, but he was hell-bent on reaching the top. Halfway up, it was me who forced us back down. It was really windy, and I wasn't relishing the thought of my less-than-fifty-pound dog wafting over the edge in a strong gust. So, maybe next time, Shadow. Sorry.

I took a few shots of Shadow at the top, but the light was behind him and he's really just a lean, good-looking, silhouette on a mountain. It was really too cold and windy at the top to stick around for long. And my six-and-a-half-year-old canine hiking buddy has this thing about standing around in one place for more than the time it takes to sniff something. So, relaxing at the top, flat on your back and staring at the blue sky or hovering over a rust and yellow valley with a meandering river for the length of time it would take to fully appreciate and take in such a thing, is strictly prohibited. Unless you're one of those few who can completely tune out someone else's incessant pacing, whining, and nose-nudging, while falling into one of those deep, Zen-like meditation states, it's best just to keep walking.

The way down, which was thankfully shorter than the way up, was exceedingly more painful. Some day, I'll find a pair of hiking boots that don't hurt my feet, and truly enjoy the rambling scramble of a scoot down the gravelly slope. Today, though, I actually made my knees angry with me. You see, much of the trail is flat, smooth rock. Today, those rocks were covered with slimy, wet leaves. This meant taking lots of short, stiff little steps to avoid sledding down the full height on my ass. By the time we were two-thirds down, I was seriously thinking of just camping out there for the night. How Shadow manages to plant four separate feet on the ground in rapid succession without even paying any real attention, and not twist an ankle, is beyond me. (He did take a little spill on one of those slippery rocks, though. It was quite comical, and I think he was a little mad eat me for a minute for laughing. But then I took one, too, and I swear I heard him chuckle as he trotted confidently by me.)

Well, it's late and I've got a tired puppy with his soft, warm, and snoring, nose laying on my lap. Enjoy the pictures.