Trip to Hawk Mountain

So sometime in the middle of November a few buddies and I decided to go hiking up at Hawk Mountain. I figured it would be cool to write a blog about it (even two weeks after the fact jeez I am terrible at keeping up with this thing) since we talked about it a little in class and because it's something involving nature that I've never experienced before. It was a fun disaster that I won't soon forget and would eventually like to do again.

And yes, it was a disaster. I mean, nobody got hurt or anything--one of us fell but no real damage came as a result, thankfully--but .. oh man, where do I even begin? Coupling the fact that the girlfriend and I have never been hiking before with the fact that we brazenly chose to go the "Medium" difficulty route only to end it with one of the maximum difficulty paths, it's honestly a miracle we survived. That was not an exaggeration for humor purposes, mind you; I genuinely thought I was going to die at some point. But regardless, it was a fun experience.

The downhill part, you see, was easy. There were lots of rocks, sure, but they mostly acted as stepping stones to easily get down the hill. Oddly enough, there was very little wildlife, despite how nice it was (it felt more like an early October day), which disappointed me a little. Still, it just felt very real, you know? Surrounded by nothing but trees. Hell, trees as far as I could see, the only thing blocking the view of them was rocks. There were a few cabins and such here and there, but we were utterly alone. It seemed that everyone we encountered--about two other parties--were going the other direction. That didn't bode well, but hey, we were on an adventure.

I should probably clear something up: our party consisted of six people. Three couples, if you want to be a little more specific. The plan, see, was to go down to the old riverbed, eat lunch, then climb back up. I can't get over how quiet it was. It was really peaceful, climbing down. We got to the bottom and ate before the long trek back up. I felt pretty confident that everything was going swimmingly; I felt as though I still had most of my stamina, as did most of the others.

The way up was a nightmare. Not only was the path much rockier, but it was also much steeper than the way down, to the point where we had to physically climb rocks. I felt really nervous, but you know what? We pressed on. We kept going, and even though my legs started to feel like someone laid them out on concrete and played hopscotch on them for thirty-five straight days, I felt perfectly fine. I felt invigorated, even. I couldn't remember the last time I exerted my body in any way (I don't exercise very often), and it felt good to really push my muscles. So, whatever, I said. I laugh in the face of your challenge, world. You think a mountain named after a predatory bird can stop me?

Well, it almost did. See, we got to a crossroad. Now, the rest of the path was pretty long, and a few of us were drained to the extent that their lungs and other necessary-if-you-would-like-to-keep-living organs were starting to feel strained, so one of us noticed that one path exists as a sort of shortcut to get back to the main trail and get the hell out of dodge. Cool, we thought. The person either neglected to tell us that this was a maximum difficulty path or didn't know it was labelled as such on the map. So, completely oblivious to the daunting task ahead, we marched on.

Then we got to the first hill. I want to iterate that as much as possible: We were already climbing a mountain and we got to a hill. The path up to the shortcut trail was steep as hell, to the extent that even the rocky stepping stones were a trial in and of themselves to climb. Yeesh. But again, we persevered. After all, we just climbed quite a bit of altitude! We had to be back to the top by then, so the worst was probably over, right?

Now I don't really like to write a story unless it has at least a hint of irony in it, so here comes the best part. This path actually involves climbing over a large set of rocks. As in, it's beyond the main trail. As in, we had to climb back down to get back on the main trail. And I don't even think the trail was a trail anymore. We made a beeline for the main trail and I think ended up off course. We had to climb down a really steep rocky hill. The kind that would probably kill you if you slipped and fell.

Have I mentioned up to this point that I am afraid of heights? I don't mean the level of, "Oh man, we're pretty high up--that's pretty scary, you guys." I mean to the level of absolute, petrified fear when I am any higher than four feet off of stable ground. The next--and final--10 minutes of our journey were not pleasant for me. I had just thrown my walking stick away, too (it damaged during the uphill climb so I discarded it), so I had nothing to support myself with.

But I made it. We made it. And even though we were all irrevocably angry with the member of our group who suggested we take "THE SHORTCUT," we look back on the hike with enjoyable delight. Even the girlfriend, who I thought for sure would keel over from sheer exhaustion, forgave said member and admitted we had a good time and that she would like to go again if we picked a shorter path.

So what made it worth it in the end? The climb back up? Well, sometimes even I am at a loss for words, so instead, I'll put a thousand of them in a single image for you and leave it at that:

Next Time: I'm actually not sure. Maybe something about cats. I hear that's a surefire way to get more hits on your site.

ADDENDUM: 
For the record, this is where we started. See that little ridge in the center? We went around that.

The bold-dotted-line trail (river of rocks) is the main trail we took, all the way around the second rock-set-thing. I'm not sure if it was the "EXPRESS" or "ESCARPMENT" trail we took on the way out. "South Lookout Point" is where we started. Also, I know that it's a term also used for the larger birds of prey, but it makes me giggle every time I see the "Raptor Viewing Sites" caption.