Who got you started?

[Eddie70]

My boyfriend (known to all of you as Bruno) got me started hiking. When we met I was in pretty good shape but i hadn't done much hiking (except for a few camp trips that taught me never to bring your toothbrush near the latrine and that bandanas are not a good look for me).

For one of our first dates, we hiked Mt. Willard in December 2003. Bruno had to come over to my house early in the morning to suit me up in his capilene and boots (my only pair were ten year old Nikes that clicked when I walked and were definitely not winter-ready). We almost had to abort our hike right at the beginning due to stream crossings, but after shimmying over a log, we were on our way.

I think the hike was Bruno's way of testing my physical endurance and skill before we really started dating. Fortunately I passed the test.

Our second hike was Mt. Eisenhower in March and while we hiked down through the last of the snow I knew that I was hooked. Now I've done 30 of the NH4000s.

 

[NYBRAD]

Camp Chingachgook

About 25 years ago at YMCA Camp Chingachgook, on a 5 day hike through the Cold River Valley. Hooked on the mountains ever since.http://www.capitaldistrictymca.com/branches/chingachgook/chingachgook.asp?id=2

 

[the starchild]

similiar to a few other VFFT's i was just a kid who loved exploring and going on adventures. Indiana Jones was my biggest hero! Unfortunetly there wasn't too much a 9 year old could explore via only a bike in Lubbock, Texas. A few ponds, abondoned buildings and big holes at construction sites. The only "forests" out there are the mesquite bushes that eventually die and become tumbleweeds!!!!

After moving to hartford, i soon discovered the MDC reservoirs (our public water supply) and miles and miles of woods and most importantly, the bus route out there. I would always walk off trail and explore gullies and cliffs and generally just try to see how long i could stay "lost" for. The system of trails and fire roads and my map made it impossible to ever be truly lost

I really enjoyed hiking and had been to many state parks and Acadia and lots of other car camping trips but had never backpacked or really knew much about backpacking throughout highschool and some of college. Then I met my good friend jano who had just hiked the long trail. we instantly hit it off. i had never met someone who liked to smoke, drink and be merry in the woods, yet have respect for them. my city friends littered and didn't "get it" but Jano was, as P Funk would say, ... "on the one."

My first trip was supposed to be the Franconia Ridge Loop from lincoln Woods via 13 falls, garfield etc. i hurt my ankle very badly and then we also got involved in a dog rescue/carry. We made it to 13 Falls for a night and tarped a 2ed night 1/2 way out the same way we came in. That second night a raging thunderstorm hit....greatest night ever!!!! I knew after that trip backpacking was where it was at. the longer amount of time in the woods really spoke to me and i enjoyed the disconnect from the outside world. We also had a great time exploring all up and down both Franconia falls and 13 Falls.

Its super funny to me after all these years later to be rediscovering all the lightweight things jano used to do. I recently started using a tarp and yet, 7 or 8? years ago on that first trip was were tarping as well. The list goes on and on about many things i once made fun of him for....and now have discovered for myself through trial, error and experience

 

[mediclimber]

It was a natural thing for me. My grand parents lived in the Poconos and every summer I was there for at least a month. What's a kid gonna do when the woods are right out the back door and there is an abandoned railroad bed and swamp within 15 minutes of the house. It's time to go explore and catch frogs and snakes, much to grammy's displeasure. As i got older, I became involved in the Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts. Of course their big camps here are in the Poconos, my old back yard. Frokm there it got worse, i broke my wrist in a motorcycle accident and found a book, "Moving Out". My first real hiking book. Yeah, I read all the outdoor/hunting mags, my favorite is Fur, Fish and Game, but they never went into the detail the book did. I then had to get a real pack, a real sleeping bag, a real stove, and a real 60 40 coat, anyone remember Class 5 gear?? I fond the closest spot to get on the AT and it's been all over since then. I don't get out as much as I'd like to right now, but I enjoy every step when I'm out.

 

[jn316]

In the same summer, many years ago, as a 10 year old i hiked up Cardigan with the family, and also saw the movie "The Conquest of Everest".
I thought they were pretty much about the same thing.
Later that summer, after a family trip up the Cog, I wandered off alone to the edge of the summit, looked down at Lakes of the Clouds and the mountains spreading out to the horizon, and knew where I wanted to live....and hike.

 

[Maddy]

My Dog!!! :d

 

[LenDawg]

I just started hiking this year. The catalyst that got me into it was my divorce. I needed an escape, so I chose to start hiking. So I guess you could say my ex-wife is who got me into it. The people who introduced me to hiking were my sister-in-law and her boyfriend, he who shall not be named, for you Harry Potter fans. Most importantly, it has been the new friends that I have met on this site and on the trails who have kept me going. Thanks.

 

[AntlerPeak]

The credit or blame depending upon how you look at it falls squarely in my wife's lap. Two events combined to lead her into the desperate act of hiking. The first was football. To this day my wife hates football. Have any of you noticed that every Sunday they show them back to back to---? Now I never missed a one and she noticed. The second factor factor was the Mrs had that brand new record album. Uh huh I said record album, it was titled Rocky Mt High with twelve songs or so saying how cool it is to climb uphill through rocks, mud, and roots.

Here I am feet on the coffee table, a bag of chips, cup of coffee, it was too early for the hard stuff, and the TV schedule lamenting it was four hours before kick off. My wife enters hands on hips with that expression. You have all seen that expression. She announced she and the kids are going hiking. I noticed strange looking bags I later learned were called day packs. I said no I don't want to go but have fun. The icy stare was followed with an "I thought you would like to try it." I shook my head in fervent denial. "You are sure?", she asked. The door slammed feet were heard walking off the porch. A moment later the door reopened this time a stern gaze or should I say challenging stare penetrated. "I have a pack ready for you in the car, just in case," she added.

I can take a hint and figured out all by myself that this will be one heck of a long day if I don't go. Besides it is four hours before kickoff, how long can this take? Three hours later we reached Jaffrey NH. So my first hike was Monadnock and that is all it took. Twelve Hundred mountains later we are still looking for more. I can't thank her enough for getting all of this started. Even better the lady and I shared a lot of adventures from rehabbing lean-tos in the Adirondacks to crossing summer snowfields while gazing upon glaciers in the Cascades. Most were good but there were a few stinkers. We won't talk about the Bradley Pond trail or how she broke her foot in the Maine 100 mile wilderness. And that is how it started back in 73' Where it will end, who knows?

 

[Dory]

Living across the road from a state park

I grew up beside Gifford Pinchot State Park here in good ole PA. My dad took us hiking and fishing around that park for years. There is still a rock that I take my kids to that is "our fishing rock". We camped at that park as well and once I was old enough I started hunting with Dad.
I had a coop job in Wilkes-Barre, PA when I was 22, and this guy got me and a friend into rock climbing. I still remember my first boulder problem, the gritty feel of the rock, becoming familiar with the balance my body had as I moved to a particular foothold. But that wasn't enough for me, I wanted something extra cool on my 23rd birthday and had noone who could do anything with me. So I went to the local rock/ski/pack shop and one of the guys there, Marty, scribbled this on the back of an old receipt...
81N...88E...87N
I took off with that and a road atlas and headed north. I got into ADK Loj, after car camping somewhere along 87, at 7:30AM. I had all cotton attire, duck boots, a brand new backpack with a fleece blanket and a jar of PB thrown in it cause I didn't have a sleeping bag yet and didn't know what other food to take. I thought I'd hike into Marcy Dam, just to see what was there, but I ran into a couple of guys who were doing Marcy...would I like to join them?....Well sure!
That was one amazing birthday. I got back to my car that night around 7PM after bagging Marcy and I drove the 8 hours home all night cause my parents were expecting me for my birthday!
I was hooked ever since. My body surely lives here, but my heart is in the DAKS.

 

[BorealChickadee]

Antlerpeak- That was one of the nicest stories I've read. I'm very happy for you. Here's to many more years of happy trails.

 

[AntlerPeak]

Antlerpeak- That was one of the nicest stories I've read. I'm very happy for you. Here's to many more years of happy trails.

Thank you, that really was the way I got into this. Her favorite hill, of the ones she climbed is Council Bluff. It is about 6,000 feet. An air mile from Mt Adams ( WA ). There is a 360 view of Adams, St Helens, Rainier, Hood and Jefferson. We must have spent two hours on top, shameless view hogging. If you are ever out there it is a must. Two miles, a thousand foot ascent, after a twenty five mile logging road drive.

 

[Neil]

Way to go Antler. Such a great story and so well written. Hands on hips indeed! The look. Horrors! It's...
THE LOOKI love it.

 

[sardog1]

My father, who regularly sailed an open canoe alone on Lake Superior, who gave away every football and baseball ticket that ever came his way, and who showed up very sunburned, faintly redolent of fresh-caught fish, and almost late for his wedding (hey, it was "The Opener," after all) to:

My mother, whose own father took the whole family camping every summer (even though he spent his entire life working outdoors), who backpacked some tough Norwegian mountain trails despite a bleeding ulcer in her late 50s, and who came up laughing after she fell in the mud getting off a float plane in Alaska in her mid-60s.

They took us camping and fishing every year, and they let us explore the woods on our own. What choice did I have after that?

 

[Dan F]

My parents, bless them, took me (and my brother) on forced marches throughout the Whites from a tender age. Vivid memories include a lighting storm on the Franc ridge, sweating out the flu at Lakes, and seeing Mom almost swept downstream in some unknown river somewhere. I objected so vehemently to these (miserable) expeditions that I truly can't believe my folks didn't concede defeat and leave me home in front of the Atari. I even had a theme song, which I made up en route to Lonesome Lake in the rain. It went like this:

"I hate hiking. Yes I do. I hate hiking. So should you." (Repeat chorus until parents get you out of the woods.)

Oddly, however, I became a backcountry addict (winter, especially). I get itchy if kept from the mountains too long. I return to the scenes of childhood disasters and see them in better light. And every now and then, no matter where I am, I can feel the liquid ice of the Pemi in my blood, the air of Presi summits in my lungs, and Cardigan granite in my bones. Thanks, Mom & Pop...

 

[dave p.]

I got started late. My wife, baby daughter, sister inlaw and her boyfriend were camping at Lafayette Place Campground (1979). The girls wanted to go to the beach, we decided to go hiking. We went up Cannon, I enjoyed it so much we went up Lafayette and Lincoln the next day. Been hiking since

 

[mtnpa]

My Dad got me hooked on the mountains. When I was 7 he took my brother and I camping at Dolly Copp on Columbus day weekend. We never took vacations. Dad worked all the time. We were joined by my Uncle Henry, his three sons who were older, and a couple of their friends. Our time was spent kicking field goals with soda cans through goalposts made of branches, and carving spears that we chased squirrels with. As you can imagine we soon became somewhat rambunctious. Dad decided that there must be a better way to burn off some of our energy. So he dragged us all up the Daniel Webster Scout Trail. I wasn't too keen on the idea. I had't caught any squirrels yet, and it was tough to keep up with the older kids. The Columbus Day trip to Dolly Copp became an annual event as did the hike up the trail. It was always tough for me but I started to feel the serenity of the forest. And Dad got inspired when he saw signs at trail junctions leading to the summits. Each year we started our hike earlier with hopes of getting to the top. When I was 10 we drove to Pinkham Notch and hiked up towards Tuckermans Ravine. I'll never forget coming out at Hermit Lake and looking at the ravine. It looked impossible to climb.When I asked Dad how we were going to get to the top he just pointed. I was apprehensive and excited at the same time. Climbing up the ravine was the coolest thing I'd ever done. We were in the clouds with a steady drizzle and a stiff wind, but I loved every minute of it. When we reached the top of the ravine I thought we were almost there. Little did I know we still had over a mile and nearly two more hours of hiking. Visibility was diminishing. It felt like we were walking on the moon. We finally made the summit wet and cold and tired. We hung out in the summit building to dry out and drink hot chocolate. I remember reading about people who died on the mountain. When it was time to leave it was apparent that not everyone would be able to climb down. More than half of our gang ended up hitching a ride down the Auto Road. I was not interested in any ride. It was late. We knew we it would be dark long before we reached the bottom. So Dad decided that we would hike down the Auto Road. It seemed endless. There were no views at any time on the way up, but going down the clouds settled below us. Clear blue skies above and puffy white clouds below. It looked like you could jump off the side of the mountain and land safely in the clouds. This made me forget how tired I was. We hiked the rest of the way down while whistling the theme from "Bridge On The River Kwai." When we got back to camp Uncle Henry was nodding off in front of the Beef Stew and everyone else was sound asleep in the tents.

 

[smitty77]

My dad Max got me hooked with a hike up Monadnock when I was 4. When I was 5 we did Liberty and Washington on overnights. I still remember looking at the rings of Saturn through a telescope set up by one of the Croo in front of Lakes of the Clouds Hut. A year later I spotted the biggest rabbit I've seen to date at Nauman tentsites, where I also learned Gray Jays love granola. Some memories never fade.

Smitty

 

[Dennis C.]

Like Jay H and frytz, I was a self starter when it comes to hiking. It started off as just a few (3) season ventures into the Whites with local friends. I introduced several "2nd generation" youngsters to the sport, but none of them have had the interest or climbing intensity that I developed over the years. It was other climbers that I met through club affiliations that got me working on lists, first (3) season and winter (New England), then New York. The most influential one for me was John Swanson. He first had the vision for all the 3000 footers of the Northeast and convinced me that I should complete them too.

 

[post'r boy]

my grand dad, 1963. youngest a.m.c. member at the time! hike and whack everything in his memory and honor.

 

[Weird_AL]

Dr. Seuss of course

On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.