Mt. Potash

Mt. Potash 2024

An unexpected trip to our home state of Maine, led to an interesting question from a friend. It was part statement and part question. They simply stated ” I never realized hiking was so important to you”. I fumbled with a quick response explaining that yes it’s always been important to me. But, somehow the words felt inadequate to me and the question has been on my mind ever since.

When did hiking become so important to me? Thinking about it causes a series of images to flash through my mind. Views from various mountain peaks, waterfalls, friends, strangers, long stretches of nothing but trail. It’s like watching a movie of my life pass in front of me. But, when did the simple activity of walking through the woods and climbing mountains become so important to me? A simple question, which is not as simple for me to answer.

My relationship with Mt. Potash is maybe the simplest explanation I have. I hope the idea that this place holds a spot within my heart like a special person is one you can digest and understand in the end. It is located in the White Mountains of New Hampshire off the Kancamagus Highway. A moderate 1.9 mile hike one-way through pine forests leading to beautiful granite slabs with incredible views of the surrounding mountains. This remarkable little mountain allowed me to take steps much bigger than I realized were possible.

Quest to climb the 4000’ers

It was 1997, I was recently divorced, and navigating being a single parent of an energetic one year old. I had been exposed to hiking only a few years before when I climbed Mt. Katahdin with her father. That one hike led to many more and together him and I began a journey to hike all of the 4000’ers in New Hampshire.

The four thousand footer club was formed in 1957 as a way to spread out hikers, throughout the Whites. There is a specific criteria for a mountain to make the list. It must be at least 4000′ tall and must rise a minimum of 200′ above the low point of the connecting ridge of a higher mountain. There are forty-eight 4000’ers in New Hampshire. Now, I was faced with a decision. Do I continue?

Elephant’s Head 1998

I loved the sport, but I never planned our hikes or even knew how to go about it. There were no cell phones, no trail apps, only books and maps of which I had none. At this point, I simply went along and hiked whatever someone else had chosen. I didn’t have to know where the trail started or how long or difficult it was. Even carrying my daughter was done by others, my ex or his dad happily took on the task. I just laced up my boots and enjoyed the views. Now if I wanted to continue hiking on my own I would have to do the research to find appropriate trails, figure out directions, pack our gear, carry my daughter, and ensure our well being.

Learning to Walk on My Own

I was inexperienced and fearful of heading into the woods without their knowledge. For the first time I would be solely responsible for my daughter’s safety. Lists of reasons why this was a bad idea kept me awake nights, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing this activity. I loved hiking, the work, the joy, the accomplishment. After agonizing over the decision and scouring my newly gifted AMC White Mountain Guide complete with maps from my father-in-law, I selected Mt. Potash, not a 4000’er, but a beginning.

My well used AMC Guide

Just as my one year old was finding her footing and attempting to stand and walk on her own, apparently I was too. I would be attempting not only the first hike I had ever planned, but I would also be carrying my daughter in her pack for the first time. The fourteen hundred foot elevation gain over two miles I decided was well within my ability. The trail description sounded reasonable with only one river crossing.

Our First Climb of Mt. Potash

Mt Potash 1997

I asked a friend to accompany us and we set out. It was tough and wonderful at the same time. I estimated the weight of my pack with my daughter and everything I carried to be about forty pounds. What I failed to realize before the hike is how active she was. As she moved around and shifted her weight it impacted my stride and balance. It was quite a workout and took a bit of getting used to. I had only carried a pack with this amount of weight a few times, and never one that moved.

We stopped and took frequent breaks to allow her to play and me to rest. Watching her waddle around practicing her balance on the slopping slabs of granite was amazing. Her eyes were big taking in the new sights and smells. It was an awesome experience exploring through my child’s eyes. Seeing the wonder of everything, knowing it’s the first time she’d seen any of it, I was touched by the innocence and simplicity of the joy I saw in her.

She loved climbing on the rocks! When we reached the top of Mt. Potash safely on our own with only ourselves leading the way, I immediately felt different. Transformed somehow. The nagging questions swirling in my mind since the divorce now answered. Could I take care of her? Hell Yeah! Could I provide for us? Hell yeah! Could I make our lives everything she deserved? Hell yeah!

Jockey Cap 1998

The Journey Begins

That mountain and that first hike pushed those voices of doubt from my mind. Our hikes became longer and more difficult, with more navigating and challenges as we continued our quest to hike the NH 4000’ers. We were often joined by friends and family members who wanted to hike with us. My daughter and I naturally fell into a rhythm. She loved stairs and hand over hand climbing. Which worked out wonderful for us. She was still too little to hike an entire ten miles, but she was great at hiking the steepest, gnarliest uphills. This significantly helped me.

One of many 4000′ unknown location 1998

We enjoyed many snacks and breaks throughout our hikes. Playing games and making up crazy songs as we walked, made the time fly by. I loved reading nursery rhymes and poetry to her. Shel Silverstein’s Where The Sidewalk Ends was a personal favorite of mine. I had most of them memorized by the time she was a year old, reciting them as we climbed was a favorite activity for us both.

Uphills were a mix of her walking and me carrying her in our LL Bean pack. Lunch would be at the top with a longer stop for her to play and explore. The downhills were all business. I loaded her in her pack and used the descents to make up the extra time we spent playing on our hikes up. Typically within the first half mile she would be asleep, it was common for her to sleep through the entire descent. My days off were limited and we learned to hike in all weather, good or bad and even in the winter months.

Mt. Waumbek 1998

Life’s Curveballs

In 1999, after completing about half of the forty-eight peaks, I was dealt a life changing medical diagnosis. Leukemia. Doctors informed me I needed to undergo a bone marrow transplant. Like the divorce this abruptly changed the path of our life. As I laid in my hospital bed fighting for my life those self doubts relentlessly tried to crawl back into my mind. I let the successes, accomplishments and strength I had earned through hiking and doing hard things drown those thoughts. I focused on my daughter and getting better for her. The idea of fighting for her provided me more strength than I realized I had. I was not going to leave her alone.

Post-transplant August 1999

Two months after leaving the hospital, I still struggled to care for myself, and was receiving help from my mother to care for my daughter. I had no hair and was winded walking up a flight of stairs. But, I knew it was time to go back to Mt. Potash. Somehow I knew I could do it. I had to do it. Mt. Potash provided me with what I needed on that very first hike. I needed all that and more on this second hike.

Physically, I was a shell of myself, but more importantly I had nothing left to give emotionally. Enduring the procedure and surviving the side effects was excruciating. I was mentally exhausted and weak. It was important for me to re-fill my tank and prove to myself I could again become the person I wanted to be. I convinced my mother it was a good idea for us to go hiking, and against her better judgement she agreed.

Mt. Potash September 1999

Mt. Potash Healed me Again!

I would like to tell you the details of the hike, the ups and downs but like everything else at that time of my life, details are a bit foggy, almost like a dream you just can’t quite recall. But, what I do vividly remember is trying to keep up with a now almost four year old. There was no carrying her on this hike, both of us had to do it on our own. To be honest, I think she carried me up that mountain. Her enthusiasm and excitement of hiking on her own was infectious, I couldn’t disappoint her.

I don’t know how long it took us and very few details about the hike. I do know we made it, both of us together with my mother. It’s was Amber’s first complete hike on her own. As was true on my first climb, it was an important step in my recovery. I realized how far I still had to go both physically and emotionally but this accomplishment set me on the path I needed to travel for us both.

The struggle when doing hard things usually makes for good stories. Things that go wrong or epic journeys are easy to write about. But what is more difficult to explain are the simple joys, and how people fall in love with hiking. The smell of the granite, the spruce trees, or ocean breezes. The feel of the air as you hike through a valley. Watching the dew drop from a leaf on an early morning walk. The crispness of the air when you take a deep breath on a high mountain pass. The first rays of sunlight that expose the overnight work of a spider. The sounds of birds and squirrels sounding off around you. Simple, beautiful, innocent joys.

Our Journey Continued

Mt. Cabot 1998

The journey continued albeit, slowly and with a lot of effort. I failed on my first attempt to climb a 4000’er post transplant. It was Mt. Hale, a climb I had completed several times previously. When I reached a point, that I could not push through. I sat down on the side of the trail and convinced my step-mother to continue to the summit with Amber without me. I knew we were close, probably less than a few tenths of a mile. The fear, the doubts, the pain was all too much at that moment.

As I sat there waiting for them to return, a gray jay landed in the branch of a tree directly in front of me. If you have ever hiked in the NH Whites you have probably seen this beautiful bird, trying to steal your snacks. Together, we sat in silence. There was so much racing through my mind.

The moments I’ve shared with others hiking, magical bonds are formed through struggle and mutual experiences. People I have hiked with and met on trails and mountain tops are amongst some of my favorite people. It’s common to see strangers talking and laughing together like life long friends. This camaraderie provides a unique energy in a solitary journey.

The gray jay sat across from me until they returned. I descended down the trail, happy they completed the hike and satisfied with my accomplishment. I realized this journey was a marathon and not a sprint. It was too soon in my recovery to have attempted this challenge. I needed to get stronger and let my body continue to heal. I would never carry Amber again.

Mt Washington 1998

Mt. Potash, there for me Again!

Life happened after the failure of Mt. Hale. Job responsibilities, relationships, school sports all competing for our time. It was a couple years before I hiked again. A solo hike for just Amber and I to the summit of Carter Dome. It was the shot in the arm I needed and hiking again became part of our lives. The amount of time, I was able to share with Amber as we both navigated our busy lives was priceless. Completely uninterrupted silence, tends to lead to meaningful conversations.

As I thought more about the original question I realized how much hiking was an integral and consistent part of my life. I’m not sure how many times I have hiked Mt. Potash. It is my favorite place to take friends and family in the NH Whites.

I had known Jess for only a few weeks and I convinced her to hike Mt. Potash with me. Again at another pivotal transition in my life, Mt. Potash was there providing me the strength and courage I needed, to move forward. It was the beginning of our incredible future together. A future I could not have imagined would be so wonderful.

Mt. Potash September 2007

Before Amber went off to college we completed her list of forty-eight 4000’ers in New Hampshire. Jess had started hiking with us when we were three quarters complete. Amber and I re-hiked many of the mountains we had previously climbed so Jess could also earn the peaks.

Carter Dome with Jess 2013

Completing a Journey Together

Shortly after Amber went off to school Jess also finished her goal of the forty-eight NH 4000’ers. Together Jess and I embarked on a new journey to hike the more remote fourteen 4000’ers in Maine, which we also completed. Many of the most important personal and business decisions we made as a couple were decided as we hiked through the woods together.

I realize how much of my identity and life I owe to the activity I love. Mt. Potash, I give credit for the strength and confidence in my life. It has been there for me to confront fear and doubt. On many occasions it’s rewarded me with love and joy. There I learned how to explore the world with the eyes of a child. Appreciate and embrace new experiences. And, that happiness is a choice and it’s up to each of us to discover what things in life truly fulfill us.

I am thankful I was asked the question, because it has truly been a joy thinking about and trying to explain the answer even if primarily to myself. It has been wonderful reliving the memories and sharing them with you. I hope this explanation encourages you to find activities that touch your soul and empower you. The joy of the experience, eclipses the struggle, but the struggle enhances the joy.

Live Simple Live Happy

To read more about our hiking adventures, this time with our pup, read this blog.