It’s been a while since I needed to don spikes. I’m not sure exactly how long, but it feels like years. Well, for hiking anyway. Sometimes I’ve needed them to tread up a ski hill to watch my daughter race, but other than that, I haven’t had much cause. A series of health setbacks kept me from winter hiking for quite some time, and it’s been a long road back.
2024 has been a fantastic year for me as my health continues to return, and I’m growing stronger each week. Starting in February, I was able to take on more exercise and have steadily built my strength throughout the year. I can’t believe my good fortune to have my health back. In honor of that, I’ve been hitting the trails regularly to express my gratitude and fully embrace this gift. I will never take it for granted again.
Each week that I’ve been ascending in health, I’ve been ascending a mountain or two. I’m trying to be mindful about the adjustments needed to embrace winter hiking, both in stamina and gear, and figure the best way I can do that is by being consistent. Hitting the trail each week allows me to assess what the current conditions are and gauge what conditions might be like the next time out. The funny thing is, no matter how often you go, when it comes to winter, you really can’t predict what’s going to happen from one day to the next.
Winter is here! We were surprised to see how frozen Lonesome Lake was already.
After my first winter climb up Mount Avalon, Field, and Willey, I was able to get out again just five days later with another buddy and head up past Lonesome Lake to Cannon Mountain’s summit. It was striking to see how much a few days—and a little distance—could change the landscape. Despite being only 37 minutes apart by car, the trailheads for Avalon and Lonesome Lake felt worlds apart in weather. The Lonesome Lake Trail was snow-blasted, and icy winds followed us for much of the climb.
When we first stepped out of the car, we were hit with a blast of wind reminiscent of the kind you feel on Cannon’s chairlifts. Fortunately, I had thrown a bunch of extra gear and layers in the truck “just in case” the weather was worse than expected. As I readied my pack, all of that extra gear moved into the “necessary” column. I was so glad I had it. I usually warm up quickly on hikes, shedding layers about fifteen minutes in, but on this day, my body hadn’t yet adjusted to the dramatic drop in temperature, and I needed every layer on the way up. I removed my hat a couple of times to wipe the sweat, but that’s it.
My friend picked the route for the day—a loop from Lonesome Lake to Hi-Cannon—and it turned out to be quite a doozy. This was a new route for me, which, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, was cool because it helps keep the experience of climbing the same mountain feeling new. The selected route was also fortuitous because it gave me an opportunity to stop by the Lonesome Lake Hut and donate a copy of my book. Without a marketing team, I often give copies away to spread the word. Bringing a copy to one of the huts and getting the book added to their library felt like a fun way to do that. It was also great to chat with the current hut resident and find out what’s been going on in the area recently. Lots of stories and weather changes to report.
Pitstop at the Lonesome Lake Hut to talk books, weather, and conditions
We didn’t need snowshoes for the ascent, but we kept our spikes on the whole time, with the exception of a small portion of the trail near the parking lot. I’ve been looking at pictures from one of the 4000-footer Facebook pages this week and it looks like if we were to hit the trail today, snowshoes would certainly be needed. As it was, I’m glad we didn’t need to carry the extra weight of snowshoes this particular day—it was a tough route. But beautiful!
At the top, we didn’t have much in the way of views, but getting out there in the frigid cold, using spikes to climb the steep, rocky incline, made me feel so alive! Every summit awakens something in me that was lying dormant. I swear, at every peak, my eyes open a little wider. My smile stretches a little farther. When I climb a big mountain in the winter, it magnifies that feeling considerably. The conditions, the extra challenge and subsequent accomplishment, the brisk air hitting your face—all of it makes you think, I just did that, and there’s so much more you can do. But next time, better bring snowshoes.
Stay warm out there!