Written by Board Director Amy Nelson
I remember the first time I brought my brother out to an Adirondack trail. We were up to our kneecaps in muck, surrounded by armpit-high plants, and he hollers at me from behind with, “YOU CALL THIS A TRAIL?!?” He has come around since, by the way.
Certainly, hiking during “mud season” is not for everyone, but it can be done and done in a way that does right by the woods. If you’re going out for a hike in the rain, bravo, but be prepared. You’ll enjoy it so much more if you are! In the North Country in spring it means a rain jacket, a hat, good waterproof boots, gaiters, high energy snacks, water, and the expectation that you will get soaked. I mean good and drenched. You may want to pack dry layers!
Regardless of the weather report, you will likely not stay dry in spring or even summer. You need to stay warm. In the winter it is reversed; you won’t stay warm, necessarily, but you need to stay dry or you’ll be in trouble. As in all things, you are your first and best line of defense against injury, misery, or catastrophe.
Preparation is key!
First of all, don’t wear anything you truly care about. Be practical. Wear what is meant for the woods and for keeping you safe. Get dirty. Celebrate the woods by communing with the soil. It will make you look tough for friends in the “post-hike” photos!
Second — JUMP! Our kids had fun with this. I barely have legs but I still have fun with it, too. Look for rocks or logs or stiffer parts in the desired direction and heave yourself mightily. Enjoy the feeling of being fully alive and strong and balanced. Be ready for failure, though. (Aside: good luck if you’re on the Lake Arnold trail.) Bring a swimsuit and change ahead of time when you get there is my advice. But all is not lost: many paths sport planks, stumps, root systems or rocks. Hooray!
It is what it is, so commiserate briefly and then level with them; What happens is that the dirt from each step gets loosened and pushed down into the water which sloshes down and out of the path, leaving more space for water and an ever-widening mess for the next poor chaps to deal with. There are endless examples of this. Morass after morass is not thoroughly enjoyable unless you are an insect or a moose.
My favorite way to show best practice is to make a loud and joyful noise as I go.
“Woohoo! Filth! …Yeehah! Sploooosh! …. Good one! Zach wins the award for most epic fail!” You get the idea.
If you really can’t put yourself through the center of the path, it might be time to turn around and decide to come back another time during a dryer month.
