Lucy hiked Mt. Marcy, the highest peak in New York, with a school group of eight children yesterday. I thought about her all day. Down here in the lowlands it was 40°, raw, with clouds scudding along the muddy ground and a cold drizzle falling. Blech!
I am not someone who particularly enjoys exercise for its own sake. I like to work, to see something accomplished. Walking up a mountain seems vaguely pointless to me, unless I am exercising a dog. So you can imagine that I am, at very best, a fair-weather hiker. Yesterday as I baked bread, stewed a chicken carcass for soup, and folded laundry I would peer out at the slanting rain and think: poor Lulu!
She had a blast. The moment they gained a bit of elevation the rain turned to snow.
Marcy is a long hike, slightly more than fifteen miles round trip. Here’s a short video of the typical, advertised view from the summit of Mt. Marcy:
Here was Lucy’s view yesterday:
But she didn’t mind at all. At almost fourteen, she is a cheerful soul. She had a long, fun day with friends, and that was enough.