“Why the hell did y’all come here?” That more or less was the question we kept on getting asked. It… makes sense. Why did three Virginians drive ten hours to experience winter at its most grey, snowy, and bitter? The middle of January is too cold for half their attractions to be open, and it hasn’t been cold long enough for the other half to be open yet. The snowsports there are a draw, but if we just wanted to ski we could’ve gone out to Snowshoe in West Virginia where they’re having a brilliant year. We could’ve flown out west or gone to the Catskills or Whites or Greens or said to hell with cold weather and gone down to the keys and beach bummed it for a week. So again, why were we seemingly the only people from south of the Mason Dixon Line in the entirety of the North Country?
Winter. Real winter. Or at least that was our boilerplate answer.
Truth be told, I don’t know if any of us had a great explanation. The trip originally occurred to me, with Stilly and Alex happy to come along for the ride. So, I guess the explanation really falls on me. I’ve reflected on the question, and my answers, in the time since. I was struck by the true confusion in folks’ voices when they asked us why we were there. On other trips I might get asked why I’m there, but in the same tone you ask somebody how they’re doing – they more or less know the answer and are just being polite. This time, though, the locals truly seemed unsure why some Virginians would opt to be there in the middle of January.
I’m not here to really answer that question. We didn’t lie, experiencing real winter really was at the core of it all. I wanted to go snowshoeing. I love the Adirondacks and knew they would be taken by it. They were, and we’re already plotting a return trip. There’s a certain magic there. The west has been plundered and razed by Vail and company, the authenticity stripped dollar by dollar. We’re in a weird position now where some places out east feel more like untapped, overlooked places that haven’t been completely destroyed by private equity. The North Country is one of those places.
On one of our snowshoeing adventures up north, we got to a beautiful view of Mount Whiteface. Despite it being ten degrees, we were toasty warm, and enthused. We decided why the hell don’t we just finish out the descent topless? There was no real reason other than to say hey, we snowshoed in bitter cold temperatures topless. We got stopped by a group of I think NYU students on the way down. I could tell they didn’t want to say anything at first, clearly the shirtless idiots at ten degrees don’t have anything to lose. As we passed, one of them spoke up, asking
“Ok what’s going on?”
“Uh, it’s a tradition!”
“Can… can we take a picture of you all?”
“Sure!”
“So are you all locals!”
“Nope, we’re from Virginia!”
“Huh…”
They took their pictures like they’d come across a bear and cubs, we exchanged pleasantries and went on our way. We could hear them discuss doing the same thing on their way down, half unsure of the prospect. We’d never been warmer.
In a way, I think that was a microcosm of the whole trip – why? Well, why not?
The grass is always greener, everything, good or bad, trends towards the median of human existence after a while. It’s natural for us to acclimate, to grow bored and complacent. Sometimes you have to take your shirt off at ten degrees and feel the wind on your skin. Sometimes you have to shake things up.
This year, I’m saying yes more. There’s nothing worse than letting life go stale. We rarely remember the times we say no. It’s easy to sink into routine, once a river flows it takes a lot for it to change course. Sometimes we have to remember nothing is really normal, just normalized. We grow apathetic to the good, calloused to the bad. It’s not normal that Virginia isn’t getting real winters anymore. Life is a result of interconnected choices, some ours, some others, but it isn’t just chance. It’s not just chance we don’t get real winters anymore. It wasn’t just a whim that led us to the North Country. We chose to go, even if we can’t explain why fully. We can choose for things to be better, and we can choose to stand by. We can choose to go for it, or we can choose to not. Not doing anything is still a choice. Why? Well, why not? Why are we here? Why are you here?
Not everything needs to be or even can be explained. I know my affinity for the North Country at least in part has to do with my Grandpas passing. He lived the majority of his life in Syracuse and was a frequent visitor to its trails, slopes, and waters. I wish I knew him better, but I never fully knew how to talk to him. It’s not that he was hard to talk to or closed off, he was an incredibly giving, kind, warm man. Smart as all hell, I admired and admire him a lot. Since he’s passed, I’ve felt myself drawn to a lot of what I know he had been drawn to. I think in a way, my desire to go into the Adirondacks, to get out southwest and northwest as well, have something to do with him. I don’t know why I didn’t mention this in the entry on the supernatural, but it’s all interconnected anyways. I can’t explain it, but I know he’s part of my why. It’s incredible how simple twists of fate can change so much.
There’s a core message to be dug out of here somewhere. It’s a blog, not an essay nor article nor chapter, I’m no Kerouac or Thompson but by God I am Anderson. Haynes too. Life is full of choices. I choose to go outside, get scraped up, sleep under the stars, feel the bitter cold on my face and feel the sweat dripping down the same pores in the stifling heat. Why? Why does anybody? We’re figuring out why, together. I got admitted into William and Mary’s Masters program for American Studies, and my big proposed focus was on the outdoors recreation subculture of the United States, your thru-hikers, van lifers, dirtbags, river rats, etc, with some healthy ecocritical and ethnographic lenses thrown in. My choices are paying off, I suppose. More on that later when there’s more to say. Otherwise, I’m just glad we went to the North Country, whether I can explain it or not.
I don’t know if this’ll be the last entry in the North Country series or not. There’s other little vignettes and thoughts, but nothing substantial. We’ll see. Otherwise, I plan on actually getting email notifications up and running and getting a few more projects off the ground. No timeline, just vibes. Until then.