Mountain Air

By Sage Wentzell-Brehme ‘21

The wind buffeted the hood of my rain jacket, spraying tiny snow crystals on my face and threatening to tip me into the snowy rock face. I rebalanced myself and scooted down the rocks after the rest of the group. Tucked in a sunny (and slightly less windy) corner behind the rocks, we stopped to admire the view: dusty purple mountains fading out to a hazy skyline in every direction. Phones were unearthed from pockets and backpacks as everyone attempted to capture the glorious day, but pictures could never do it justice.

For those who don’t know, Wellesley has an outdoor recreation department that sponsors hiking and rock climbing trips around the region. In a fit of early semester exuberance, I signed up for a hiking trip at the end of October. It ended up being canceled (a forecast of low 40s with downpouring rain will do that), but it was rescheduled for a November Sunday, and, despite drowning in a sea of midterms, I convinced myself to attend.

I miss hiking. I’m a New England girl, and I spent much of my childhood climbing mountains and wandering in the woods. Wellesley has some beautiful nature, and I love the peacefulness of our campus, but it’s no mountain (although the hill to the residential quad gets me every time). And after a summer in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, where my job was basically hiking and every spare weekend was spent adding to my list of 4,000-footers, I had been feeling a little nature-deprived.

The original plan was to hike the Franconia Ridge Trail in the White Mountains. It’s an iconic New England hike, reaching the summits of Mt. Lafayette, Mt. Lincoln, and Little Haystack. I somehow missed it this summer, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity. But November in the Whites is cold and snowy. And although I am very comfortable with mountains and winter, I haven’t actually done much winter hiking—my family is more likely to walk through some flat woods when the snow really starts to build up. And I know the winds on an open ridgeline can be brutal even in the summer, so I was a little apprehensive about the potential trail conditions.

Luckily for me, the weather and the previous day’s hike on the same trail convinced the program director to change our destination. We ended up doing Mt. Monadnock, a much smaller but still rugged hike, coincidentally about 30 minutes from my house. 

We left campus at 7 a.m. (giving me a chance to actually appreciate the benefit of Daylight Savings) and headed towards New Hampshire: thirteen adventurous Wellesley students and our intrepid leader, the coordinator of Outdoor Recreation. We arrived a few hours later and piled out of the van, the cold motivating everyone to quickly don additional layers.

Winter hiking requires careful layering so you can adjust during the hike and avoid breaking a sweat, since sweating introduces the possibility of hypothermia and should be avoided at all costs. Our trip leader informed us of this and other useful outdoors tips along the way. He even mentioned the importance of sticking to the rocks in the alpine zone so as to protect the delicate plants. (My ecologist side appreciated this; I have a soft spot for the tiny alpine plants eking out an existence in such a harsh world).

As we prepared to set off, trading extra hats and gloves around the circle of people, I was nervous. What had I signed myself up for? Hiking a snowy mountain with random strangers on a day when I should have been doing homework suddenly seemed foolish.

I was caught up in anxious thoughts as we started up the trail, pondering the stack of items on my to-do list for the coming week. But there’s something about the woods that doesn’t allow you to be anxious. Physical exertion makes it difficult to stress about that group project. Monadnock might only be 3,166 feet high, but there are still a large number of rocky scrambles and some decent elevation gain along the way. Soon, I was focused on not falling on the snowy ground more than my looming assignments. I love winter woods (and I know it’s technically still fall, but there was snow, y’all); the trees bare, grey branches silhouetted against the blue mountains. There’s a certain magic about transitioning from hardwood forest to alpine zone: the combination of the scent of balsam fir brushing against my elbows and the sky widening behind me never fails to take my breath away. As we climbed into the conifer forests, I took a deep breath and felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.

This hike was the perfect escape to nature, but it also reminded me of why I love Wellesley. The trip participants were a motley collection of majors, years, residential halls, and org affiliations. We were from California and China and New Hampshire, spanning a range of outdoorsy backgrounds. But we all decided to devote a Sunday to hiking up a mountain. And, somehow, it brought us together.

We talked about life, classes, a ridiculous email chain from the night before, home states, and more. By noon we reached the summit and huddled together for warmth in the sun, inhaling our lunch of sandwiches and bags of Stacy’s pita chips. The bald summit offers stunning 360-degree views, which we appreciated when not being blown sideways by the mountaintop gales. Raucous laughter rang out over our new hairstyles, created from a combination of wind and hats, but we quickly reassured one another that the group photo was meant to be an action shot.

Winter hiking is definitely far more challenging than summer hiking. I have a tendency to fall on flat ground, so icy slanted rocks introduce new room for injury. But the addition of new friends to lend a balancing hand and some micro-spikes (tiny metal spikes that strap onto hiking boots for extra gripping in icy conditions) made it enjoyable.

I love how the light always feels softer in late fall, and how the sunset starts peach and lavender and then fades into dusky purples. As we tramped the last half mile down the trail, skidding on the leaves and laughing at our clumsiness, I realized I had not thought about schoolwork in hours. On the car ride home we played Contact and other 20 Questions-esque games. All around, it was slightly nerve-wracking, extremely wholesome, and some of the most fun I’ve had all semester.  Although I left this morning with twelve strangers, I came back with twelve potential friends. For me, that seems like the magic of Wellesley (and the magic of hiking).

I’m not saying everyone would love a long winter hike, but there is something to be said for trying new things. Or an old thing. From a junior who’s realizing just how fast the time goes: stop, take a breath, go to that random org meeting, see a lecture, or go on a mountain climbing trip. You never know how it could turn out.

from the November 2019 issue