I am not sure when, exactly, I fell in love with hiking. The time outdoors, the vistas, the self-sufficiency, the tranquility… they are all small pieces of the broader experience. When I was just six-years-old, we had an expanse of woods across from where we lived, and my brother and I would wander those woods to visit the horse farm on the other side. It seemed like we could roam those woods all day. Perhaps this is where it first took hold. In my early teens, my parents bought my two brothers and me blue full-framed backpacks with the goal of walking up to the Hermit Lake Shelters on Mount Washington. I remember both the pack and my first walk up Mount Washington as well today as I did back then. We made the trek to the base of Tuckerman’s ravine a couple more times both with my family, with friends, and on my own over the years and it always gave me a genuine experience every time. Later still in life, I traded the term “hiking” for “rucking” when I joined a light infantry unit of the US Army. My time there taught me that I could go further with more weight than I had ever thought possible. It also introduced me to living outdoors in all kinds of weather. I recall walking in torrential downpours, hot Sun, January rain and sleet, and deep snow. I am not sure I would have ventured out in all of those conditions on my own, but each now has a place in my heart. Later in life, I would hike extensively in the White Mountain National Forest and chase both the 4,000-footers and the more manageable goal of staying at each of the AMC High Mountain Huts at least one-time. Though I have stayed at all of the huts in New Hampshire, I am still chasing 4,000-footers.
I would have to thank my father for introducing me to the White Mountains where I have spent countless hours above and below the tree line boulder hopping, eating family-style dinners at the AMC High Mountain Huts sleeping in bunks stacked four-high or under the stars. In more recent years I have had the opportunity to introduce my kids to those mountains and get them started collecting 4,000-footers and hut patches. While out on a three-day hike, my son Matthieu dropped a comment that makes me believe that I have been successful in handing off the baton when he said: “When I have kids, I am going to bring them up here.” A simple statement from a six-year-old, but a lifetime of memories passed down to a new custodian for the next generation.