At 3 in the morning we piled into the Suburban, unsure of what we were truly getting ourselves into, yet we were excited and optimistic. It was pitch black out as we sped down I-89S, some weird electronic music blasting as Stowe Pinnacle awaited our arrival.
All five of us seemed to believe that the idea was foolproof. How would a little ice, nighttime and snow impact a sunrise hike? We would make it. We could already imagine it’s beauty (which would of course be a very nice edition to each of our VSCO accounts). We were determined. We had no sleep; in fact a few of us might have still been slightly intoxicated from a solid Saturday night out at good ol’ S’mikes. After 45 minutes of driving we jumped out of the car, believing to be prepared for the below freezing weather thoughtfully equipped with our phones for flashlights, running sneakers and champagne.
For those of you who have never hiked Stowe Pinnacle, it’s a moderate-intermediate hike that takes about an hour. The beginning of the hike is a fairly flat wide trail, so undaunting that we ran it the last time we were at Stowe. This time was slightly different. The trail was pure ice and we could only see about 3 feet in front of us. Each time one of us fell the rest would collapse in laughter, taking probably about triple the normal amount of time to actually get on our feet again and get moving.
A half hour later we finally reached the wooded area, and darkness consumed our half developed night vision. Instead of being concerned about not being able to see our next footsteps, we each shot gunned a beer, a pat on the back for accomplishing the easiest part of the trail. We continued to trudge on, yelling, making jokes and falling all along the way, half of our attention on our surroundings, and the other half focused on each other’s shenanigans. As long as we climbed upwards, we weren’t worried, it all led to the same place anyways.
After about an hour and a half of hiking we found ourselves on a 70-degree slope, clutching our own separate trees, looking around aimlessly wondering where the hell we were. All of a sudden things didn’t look too familiar. Were we supposed to take that left an hour back? How could we, the extremely experienced and overly prepared hikers we were, actually be lost? The idea seemed too radical. As some of us began to stress, others were overly optimistic, I being part of the latter.
In one last desperate attempt to find our way I tried to climb to one more height, believing that if only I could reach the next set of trees that I could see the top, be the hero, and lead the troops to our final destination. I lunged upward, missed the tree by a solid 5 feet and gravity made me it’s bitch, my entire body tumbling down the mountain. Luckily gravity smiled on me for a moment, allowing me to be caught by a fallen tree. As I hit it, the front half of my body propelled forwards, my face slamming into the cold, hard bark.
“F*ck.”
My head spun as I fell (literally) into a state of shock, half crying in pain and half hysterically laughing at my stupidity. As I sat there, my nose gushing blood, the rest of the girls decided that this was our tipping point, we had no other choice but to call for help.
We dialed 911, informing them that yes, five 20 year old girls thought it would be a great idea to scale a half-frozen mountain at 3am just to take some good pictures for VSCO. We called in hopes of them tracking our signal and maybe navigating our path down or telling us a shortcut; instead, we got Doug.
Doug was a nice guy, he meant well and all but Doug’s main point of advice was to “Climb downwards, and give me a call back when you find your way.” Super insightful. Thank you Doug, the thought never crossed our minds.
Keep in mind that the rest of my hike felt like I was a cartoon character hit in the head with an anvil. Thus, I was only able to navigate through sound and touch than to even attempt at looking for a trail of any kind.
Even though Doug’s advice was sh*t, we did what he said, climbing down exactly back the way we came. As hour three began to strike and the sun started to come up through the trees, we scrambled for any opening in the woods that we could find. No chance in hell were we going not see any sunrise at all after all of that bullsh*t.
We saw the sign reading, “OVERLOOK THIS WAY” and sprinted towards it screaming at each other in our partly drunk, partly exhausted and anxious, partly excited state. We each stood on a boulder and if we got up high enough on our tippy toes and looked through the trees at a certain angle, we could actually see that damn sunrise. In between yelling and giving each other sh*t for this disaster of a journey the moment was sort of peaceful. We chugged our bottle of champagne to celebrate. I don’t know if I can say that this moment was worth the journey and the aftermath to come, but at least we accomplished something.
All we could do next was walk down, so we did, right past the sign pointing to the parking lot. Once I felt like my feet couldn’t move any further I heard someone yell that we were out—the nightmare was finally coming to an end. And we were out; we were out on the road a mile or so away from the parking lot, a mile further up the mountain. And so the yelling began again. In absolute disbelief that we actually survived and that we still weren’t done making stupid mistakes.
So we began hiking again, this time on pavement. We had all turned into hysterical, angry and exhausted excuses for human beings. We hated one another and ourselves but at least we saw an end to our misfortune.
My body had finally had enough of my mistreatment of it and I can definitely say that I gave up. My legs collapsed and I sat on the ground, practically in tears as everyone else was yelling at me to keep going. I’m pretty sure I laughed at them. There was a 0% chance of me walking anywhere else anytime soon. I was dead set on lying on the side of the road; I couldn’t have given less of a sh*t if a damn bear ate me. Nothing mattered to me at that point, the only thing I could think about was my lovely, inviting bed that was waiting for me at home.
As I started to drift into a dreamlike state, probably looking like road kill, I heard the sound of a horn. I must have thought it was a mirage or something because I was stunned and completely speechless as my savior, the Suburban, drove right towards me. Don’t know if the tears that rolled down my cheeks were from pure ecstasy or pure exhaustion but shit, they were there. I climbed into the car, rolled into the backseat and don’t remember a single thing after that.
I woke up at 2 pm still completely clothed with my windbreaker, fleece, leggings and wool socks on. At least I took off my boots. My hair was a disarray of leaves and small twigs, the entirety of my body covered in streaks of dirt, my socks, or what was left of them, torn in all sorts of places. Scratches, scrapes and bruises larger than my fist were scattered from my face all the way down to my shins. I later learned the numerous joys of concussions, including waiting for a CT scan in the UVM Medical Center for seven hours, only to confirm that my brain was not leaking out my skull, and being chained to my bed and room in the middle of midterms. It was truly a great week, the perfect way to cap off a great hike.
Overall, it was an unforgettable time. I would say I have no regrets but I don’t think my mom would be too happy to hear that, considering the fact that she was more upset that an animal could have attacked me.
I guess I should list some lessons learned from my ridiculous experience to make this paper slightly wholesome:
- Don’t ever drink and hike
- Don’t hike at night
- Don’t hike while it’s below freezing
- Always go with someone with experience (Hit up the Adventure Sports Center to really do it right.)
- Concussions suck
P.S. Eternally grateful for my kick ass boyfriend for waking me up every half hour between 8AM-2PM to make sure I wasn’t dead and forcing me to go to the hospital. You’re the homie.
P.S.S. Many thanks to my other significant other, Gail, for skipping class and sitting in the nasty E.R. with me. Also, special shout out to the ladies of J3 for the Alliot delivery services and tolerating my sunglasses and boxers fashion statement for a week.