By the Power of Greylock

After my trip to Costa Rica, I felt the urge to start hiking again, something I hadn't done much of since I was a teenager (even then it was a few trips up Mt. Washington, and not much more). My little brother has this fabulous goal to climb the highest peak in each state (also known as "highpointing"). So while I had planned an adventure weekend over Labor Day in 2010, we decided since we were in Western Massachusetts, we might as well cross Mt.
Greylock (3,491 ft.) off his list.

I really hadn't done much in the way of hiking, at least nothing that involved scaling an actual mountain. A hilly walk on Bear Mountain and a rolling non-peak walk in the Shawagunks earlier in the year, but neither of them really required me hoisting my plus-sized body to the top of a mountain. And definitely nothing that involved the terrain that the Appalachian trail offered up. And given that I was hiking with my dad and brother, that meant we couldn't park on one of the easy trails. Nope. We had to start at the trail at the very bottom of the mountain and work our way up.

It didn't take more than twenty minutes for me to realize just how out of shape I was. My poor brother carried the water and snacks, so I didn't even have the excuse that a pack was weighing me down. I had top stop every few yards to catch my breath, and was drinking water like I was in a desert. I was thrilled when my brother spotted the wreckage of an old plane crash, as that meant we could stop while he climbed over the brush to get a closer look.

But that relief was short lived, as there was a stretch towards the summit which was just basically a stone staircase. I was extremely grateful when a drizzle began to fall, as it provided some relief, and propelled me up to the top of the mountain. I somehow even got enough energy to climb the lighthouse-esque building at the top, so I could say that I went all the way up. I'm a sucker for all things lighthouse and waterfall, and will usually go the extra mile for the promise of seeing them (with very few exceptions). For me, they are like dangling a carrot in front of a horse.

And there was a nice little restaurant as a reward/break. I got a nice peanut butter sandwich and it was delicious. Honestly, it could have tasted like dirt and I would have happily wolfed it down. After driving about four hours to get to the mountain and hiking for a couple hours, I was starving and wiped... and yet still had to climb all the way back down. And no, sitting on the top and waiting for my brother and father to come back up the mountain road and get me wasn't an option. I stubbornly like to finish what I start, so we headed back down the mountain to our cars and I felt that wonderful sense of accomplishment when we finally reached our cars. There's just something about saying, "I climbed a mountain", no matter the size of it, that just sounds pretty cool.

That hike rekindled my love for the outdoor activity (or at least my love for seeing the cool sights that you can only see on foot), and made me request hiking poles and a camelback as holiday gifts that year. Me. The girl who a year prior had barely had the energy to walk more than a mile or two if there was the slightest hint of a hill involved. Must have been something about the power of Greylock that propelled me. Just glad we didn't run into Skeletor.