Mt. Agamenticus

I have been hiking for as long as I can remember—from the time I was a toddler, my dad would take my sister and I to the Blue Hills, just outside of our old home in Boston, and we would crawl our way to the “castle” at the top. In grades four through eight, there was a class hiking trip every year, each for several nights, and I was able to climb almost every peak in the Presidential range of the White Mountains.

My dad has been an avid hiker for years, and Diana and I have embarked on many hiking trips with him. We hiked Mt. Washington four years ago, the first time for Diana, the third time for me, and the umpteenth time for my dad, and he has always been enthusiastic about taking hikes when we go on vacations—we hiked into the Grand Canyon on his birthday two years ago, mistakenly bringing only two bottles of water for the 100+ degree weather, and staggered out several hours later.

Yesterday, I drove to Maine with my sister, Diana, and Klaudia. It was absolutely perfect weather for a hike: the sky was cloudy, so I knew I wouldn’t get sunburned, and it wasn’t humid, like it had been the last few days. Before leaving, we stopped here to get the best bagels in Newburyport, and Klaudia and I went to the grocery store to get all the necessary hiking supplies (chocolate, peanuts, cheese, and pretzels).

Hiking is one of my favorite things to do, so to get back in condition for the summer we started with Mt. Agamenticus. It’s a small mountain, and we reached the summit in less than half an hour, taking the low-impact loop trail. I have done a good amount of hiking on Agamenticus, especially with my dad, and I have managed to get lost every time. I probably should have taken that as a sign for what would happen next.

After eating lunch, we continued down the other side of the mountain, and realized after about an hour that we were hopelessly lost. Instead of trying to continue following the loop trail (which really didn’t seem like a loop), we decided that the best thing to do was to look for the road we had driven in on, and follow it until we could find the parking lot. After walking on a dirt road for about an hour and receiving directions from several friendly drivers, we finally arrived at the car, and stopped for ice cream before heading back to Newburyport. 

I’ve talked to friends about my excitement for hiking, and a lot of them don’t understand why I would rather hike a mountain on a half day than go to the mall. Some people think hiking is a huge, physical feat, but I’ve never looked at it that way. The feeling when I get to the top of a mountain like Washington is really indescribable; there are times on the trail when I ask myself why I put myself through this misery, why I need to climb a mountain, why I hike. To be honest, I don’t really know what the answers are. It’s something I’ve been doing for my whole life, and I know that if I wasn’t constantly busy, I would hike all the time.