Ice Hike: Girl, Stop Apologizing

Four of us walked into the hike. Three of us walked out. All of us were safe and uninjured. None of us had any regrets.”

The ice hike.

Hike two of 12, quite possibly will be my most ambitious hike of the year. It was difficult in every way possible – physically, mentally and emotionally. It checked all the boxes.

Preparation Unknown

Prepping for the ice hike for me meant going back to the gym about five times before hike day. Plenty of time, right?! It meant gathering all of my cold-weather clothing and ski gear and making sure I had all of the essentials to wear or carry. It meant having good directions and being on time for the hike. It meant having several bottles of water and snacks in my pack.

In preparation for the ice hike, I also checked out the company, Valley to Summit, who would be guiding us through the Ricketts Glen State Park hike in Northeast Pennsylvania. I read about the hike on their website and saw the word “difficult.” I scrolled through several photos of beautiful frozen waterfalls and people who appeared to be casually holding on to a rope as they walked along the snowy trails. I thoroughly read the detailed emails, checklists and waivers that were provided to us prior to hike day.

I knew it was going to be a cold and difficult hike, but I was prepared. HA!

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Geared Up 

I had signed up to do the half-day ice hike, while my three friends had signed up to do the full day. The half-day hike was about 2.5 miles and four hours long. The full-day hike was about 4.5 miles and six hours long. I had the foresight to know hiking for four hours in the cold would be difficult enough for me and the thought of hiking an extra two hours was not appealing, so I was quite happy to sign up solo for the half day, while my three friends did the full day.

The four of us geared up together. Valley to Summit provided all the ice hike gear we needed with a helmet, crampon spikes for our hiking boots, harness around the waist, and an ice axe to carry. We were instructed on all the gear and precautions for the day, and the full day and half day groups separated to begin the prospective journeys.

My fantastically amazing hiking guides were Corey and Jay. I didn’t know it yet but they would soon become my bff’s, my security blankets, my lifesavers. I made sure to inform my entire group of 13 hikers and Corey and Jay that it was highly likely I would cry at some point during this hike. I apologized in advance, the group laughed and the hike began.

Related: Valley to Summit Year-Round Tours 

Confidence In Your Steps

As soon as we began to walk on a wide, flat, snow covered ice trail in crampons, reality set in. The back of my thighs were instantly burning and we were five minutes in on the easiest part of the trail. We reached what they called a Bunny Hill on the trail and Jay and Corey instructed us on how to confidently walk on ice while wearing crampons. The first thing they said (and repeated throughout the entire hike) was, “to be confident in your steps.”

As soon as those words hit the cold air I knew I was doomed.

I have zero confidence in my steps, and zero confidence in my hiking abilities. So when instruction number one was to be confident, I knew it was quite literally going to be downhill from there. Because I roll my ankles so often, and fall all the time on every day flat ground, I’m always timid with my steps. And even more timid with my steps when hiking. During my Devil’s Bridge hike, I took every step with extreme caution and surveyed the land in front of me before each step.

Jay and Corey explained that when going down an incline, we would want to turn our bodies sideways and take one large step downhill stomping that crampon into the ice to secure our footing, and then have the second foot meet the first with the same stomping confidence. The guides made it look so simple. But when it was my turn to inch my way down the slight incline of the Bunny Hill, I had zero confidence in my steps and slid on the ice instead of stomping securely into it. Jay helped me down this hill named after a fluffy cute animal that would be perfect for a toddler to sled down. Neither of us knew it yet, but soon I would require Jay to be by my side at all times.

Related: Devil’s Bridge Hike: Be Where Your Feet Are Now 

The Reality

On most of the group hikes I’ve done, I’m the caboose. I’m always last and by last I mean VERY far behind the rest of the group. After getting familiar with the crampons and giving my feet a crash course on confidence and how to crampon walk, Jay and I caught up to the rest of the group. The Falls Trail in Ricketts Glen State Park was a snowy serene scene. The bare trees and banks of Kitchen Creek were blanketed white and the sounds of the rushing water and small waterfalls created almost a white noise calm as you walked. I made myself take in the scene whenever we were on a simple portion of the Falls Trail.

There weren’t many simple portions.

We arrived at the first giant slab of ice (pictured above) and the frigid reality of this ice hike slapped me in the face. The entire group stopped and we all took photos while Jay and Corey set up ropes for us to scale down this Giant Ice Slab. They hooked the ropes to trees and dug clamps into the ice and demonstrated how to go about this icicle obstacle. About 13 people were in front of me on this somewhat narrow trail so I only got a small glimpse of the ice ahead. Each person in the group slowly took their time hooking their harness into the rope and stomping their crampons into the ice to make their way down.

I decided to take photos, rest on a rock and not get a better look at what was ahead. Until about half the people had gone down and I felt more comfortable maneuvering around the “waiting area.” I inched my way through the group, just to get a peek at how everyone was doing and saw the full (and literal) gravity of the Giant Ice Slab. It was at that moment that I realized what I had gotten myself into.

My mouth was agape. Several curse words slipped from my lips. My mind raced with scenarios for how I could turn around and go home. I did NOT want to go down the Giant Ice Slab.

Related: Hiking Is Not Who I Am 

The Apology Tour Begins

After hearing repeatedly that I needed to have confidence in my steps and needing a good mantra to get through this hike, I started saying out loud and in my head what became my ice hike mantra, “I am a confident hiker!” Now, I did not actually believe I was a confident hiker, but I thought if I said it enough times perhaps I could fake until I made it.

All but two of us had reached the bottom of the Giant Ice Slab without incident, and I was up next. Corey hooked my harness to the rope, my hand that wasn’t holding the ice axe had a death grip on the rope, he gave me many encouraging words to get started, and I stared at my feet unable to move.

Corey asked if I would like for him to come with me and I said absolutely! Corey positioned himself downhill, in front of me, and instructed me on every single step forward. My mantra evaporated from my brain, and instead I apologized with every.single.step. I felt a need to apologize repeatedly, for absolutely no reason at all.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Oh man, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The apology tour quickly became a broken record and I could not stop myself from saying, “sorry.” Corey said I had no need to apologize and told me I was doing great as we inched down the Giant Ice Slab together. However, I realized about halfway down when it actually wasn’t extremely difficult to do (it was difficult but it wasn’t as extremely difficult as I had anticipated), that Corey was basically doing all of the work for me, and it made much more sense. Corey, who was downhill from me, was pushing my downhill arm up and that was keeping my center of gravity upright making it easier for me to crampon on down.

We reached the bottom of the Giant Ice Slab, Corey passed me off to Jay who was at the bottom and with ease, quickly scurried back up the ice slab to help the last hiker down.

I took a deep breath.

We were only about a quarter of the way through the hike.

Calm Before the Crying

The Falls Trail eased up for awhile after the Giant Ice Slab. We slowly stomped along the banks of Kitchen Creek and I took in the serenity of the rushing water. I kept up with the group and we stopped to take photos along the way before reaching our rest point, where we sat for a bit, ate and drank.

I sat and pondered the hike thus far. I had gained confidence at this point. I thought that maybe the lesson for this hike would be that I was becoming a confident hiker and all you had to do was fake it, until you made it, and then boom, confidence! I was calm, I was more confident than I had been at the start, I hadn’t truly cried yet (there may have been some small whimpers) and my body was doing fine.

While we were snacking, Corey was ahead setting up our next set of ropes. He rejoined us and told us that this next set of ropes and ice looked worse than it was. He explained that it was less difficult to maneuver than the Giant Ice Slab we had just conquered, however it would likely look more intimidating. Nailed it, Corey, NAILED IT!

Corey and Jay led us to the next slab of ice. Per usual, I was in the back of the pack and a man in our group (not a guide) somehow ended up stuck behind me. We reached a narrow point where there were several tree stumps, small water cracks in the ground and small rocks all covered in snow and ice. The group ahead turned around a bend and I no longer had eyes on anyone, and it was me and the Man Behind Me. I was attempting to maneuver what was honestly not a difficult part of the trail, but slowly I could feel the panic setting in.

The confidence I thought I had gained merely moments ago, had instantly left my body and I was unsure of where to place my feet. The Man Behind Me, who I apologized to about 23,472 times, was extremely patient and calm and helped me as best he could. He suggested places for me to step but I stood frozen unable to move. My breathing and my heart rate began to increase and I could feel it all about to boil over from my eyeballs.

The Man Behind Man easily maneuvered himself to the front of me, suggested more places for me to put my feet and when I shook my head no, unable to speak, he took my hands and I was moving again. Bless that man!

Sobbing Solo On a Slab of Ice

The Man Behind Me and I rounded the bend ahead and the intimidation that Corey predicted we would have upon seeing this next Icicle Insanity bubbled up in my chest and came pouring out of my eyeballs. I began not just to cry, I began to SOB on the side of an ice covered mountain. The kind of sob where you can’t catch your breath. The kind of sob that includes snot. The kind of sob that usually takes place in the privacy of your home, NOT on the side of a mountain!

The poor Man Behind Me remained patient and tried to calm me down, but it was a lost cause. Once the tears are flowing, there’s no shoving them back in. I warned everyone this would happen. And here we were, me and the Man Behind Me.

We had caught up to the group and they were all slowly crossing the Icicle Insanity Switchback by holding on to a rope that had Jay on the other end of it, where he would hook hikers in to the next switchback rope to descend further down into the valley. At the bottom of the switchback was the giant Ganoga Waterfall, the reward of Falls Trail. The deafening waterfall that I could hear and see through bare trees below was the destination. And then we would turn around and climb out.

When I looked through teary eyes across the Icicle Insanity and down the Switchback, I realized that what goes down, must also come back up. I knew that I would have to conquer this insanity not once, but twice, going down AND going back up.

So I decided I was done.

I informed the Man Behind Me that I was going no further and would stay right there crying alone, and would wait until everyone came back up from the waterfall. I assured him it was ok and I preferred to cry alone, and he crossed the Icicle Insanity with ease. People in my group saw me and all tried to encourage me to cross but I just stood there crying, shaking my head no.

I stood there calming myself down and surveying the entire switchback situation. Corey was below me on the switchback and when he saw me standing alone (presumably crying) he yelled up that they would come and get me once the rest of the group was safely down.

But the more I calmed down, the more what tiny ounce of confidence I still had left crept back in to my hiking mindset. I AM A CONFIDENT HIKER! I inched forward, bent down, grabbed the rope, and quietly scurried across the Icicle Insanity with no one watching. I still have no idea what propelled me forward. I had slowed my breathing and heart rate, and stopped crying, so that helped. I knew I wanted a photo of the waterfall at the bottom. And I think I knew I would have regret if I didn’t go.

The Man Behind Me (who was now in front of me) turned around in surprise when he saw me next to him again, and offered me a proud smile and congratulations for doing it!

I thanked him with my own proud, giant smile but with a caveat that we weren’t done yet.

No Reflection

The rest of my group slowly descended down into the valley of the Ganoga Waterfall, and when it was my turn, Jay took me down step by step and pointed exactly where to place my feet. I did slip and fall on my butt but it was more of a sitdown than an actual fall. However, I hadn’t considered that after even a very minor fall, you still had to stand back up. And if you’ve every worn high heels, sat on the ground and then tried to stand, that’s what standing up wearing crampons was like. Plus, the added bonus of having zero core muscles does not help.

Nonetheless, I made it to the destination of seeing the giant, ice-filled Ganoga Waterfall and it was magnificent. The entire waterfall valley was covered in giant white icicles that looked more like white tree roots embedded in the surrounding cliff rocks, than frozen water. It was truly beautiful.

I took some photos and asked my hiking group friend to take photos of me, but very quickly it was time to scale back up the Icicle Insanity Switchback. Because I was last to arrive at Ganoga Waterfall, I understandably had only a few minutes to spend there. Another group of hikers was descending down and we needed to stay on time and keep a good distance between groups. So while I completely understood the need to move on, I wasn’t able to truly reflect and enjoy the waterfall. That was my only real disappointment of the hike.

Related: Invest In You

The Exit 

As I had predicted during my sob fest, climbing out of the waterfall valley and exiting out of the entire ice hike, was indeed incredibly difficult. Hiking in to the valley was all downfall, which had many challenges. Trying not to slip on ice while going downhill isn’t easy and is rough on the knees. But going up, ascending those same ice covered vertical stairs and inclines was next level difficult.

Corey assisted me back up the Icicle Insanity Switchback, which was difficult but not horrible the second time around. I needed assistance but I was calmer and there were no tears, praise be! Corey and I rested a minute after the switchback and the rest of the group continued on, out of sight. I explained to him my hiking goal for the year and how I’m try to find a lesson on every hike.

Corey was very encouraging and we walked a ways just the two of us until Jay came running back toward us. Corey was the lead guide and needed to be with the majority of the group, so the two guides swapped places and Corey ran ahead to be with the larger group, while Jay stayed with me.

Jay and I caught up to the group one last time and I was happy to see them. But that was short lived and soon again they were out of sight, this time never to seen again. I hate always being so far behind everyone else (in hiking and in business) but I also enjoy oxygen and I had to stop often so I could catch my breath.

My exit out of the ice hike took forrrrrevvvveerrrrr. I had no concept of time or miles but if I had to guess, I was a good hour or more behind my group. Jay stood behind me the entire time. He was silent when I clearly needed silence and he told me stories when I need him to talk to me.

I first had to conquer the numerous vertical steps that felt more like ladders and were covered in ice. It was as if I were seeing these steps for the first time despite having walked down them an hour or two earlier. I took them one-by-one and they seemed to be never ending. When I finished one set, there seemed to always be another set of steps ahead. Not having core strength was a definite downfall because you needed more than your leg muscles to propel yourself forward up the icy steps.

Jay was incredibly kind and patient with me the entire time. He assured me my pants (that I could feel sinking lower and lower off my ass with every step) were still securely around my bum. I would ask stupid questions like where we were going to go next on the trail when the direction of the trail was very clear, I just didn’t want to accept it’s clarity. Jay, without sarcasm, would respond, “we’re going forward.” This was obvious I know but every time I asked I was hoping Jay instead knew of a secret button that could transport us to the end with ease. Jay stood firm with me, when I wanted to crawl up the last set of stairs. At the time, crawling seemed best, but Jay knew better and knew crawling on ice could easily turn dangerous. So I listened when he told me to stand up despite reallllly wanting to crawl like a baby out of this hike.

The tears were long gone at this point and anger had set in. I wanted the ice hike to be over, my body was exhausted and in pain, and then Random Guide Guy appeared out of nowhere by my side and I took my anger out on him. I had not seen Random Guide Guy at all the entire day but suddenly he appeared at my side on a narrow set of stairs and asked me how I was doing. I gave him a look of disgust and rudely asked him to get out of my personal space. I didn’t know immediately that he was a guide but quickly realized it when he said he was the lead something or other of the company. He said he just wanted to check on me, asked if I had any injuries or if it was just my asthma that was slowing me down.

Lead Random Guide Guy did not win me over with those words! I said, yes, I’m fine, please leave me alone, Jay and I are fine and I’m just moving very slowly, thank you very much. Him and Jay had a whispery conversation behind me, and Jay and I carried on.

Lead Random Guide Guy did inform me before he headed back to his own hiking group behind us, that the Bunny Hill was ahead and while it is only a slight incline, it can be a doozy sometimes when our bodies are tried. Thanks for the heads up Lead Random Guide Guy, thank YOU!

I finally finished with the vertical ice stairs and arrived at the slight incline of the Bunny Hill and it looked much more like a Rabid Rabbit to me. I took the hill in small bursts. I would scurry up it for about five steps and then stopped, scurry up again, stop, scurry, stop. Until finally I had conquered the Bunny Hill (where Jay and I first got acquainted at the beginning of this icy journey).

I was in the last stretch. I was back at the easy, wide, flat part of the hike. But by now, my legs were jello, my lower back was in pain, even my big toe was starting to feel pain so every small step was still a struggle. I wanted to jog to the end but I stumbled just as much here because my body was so exhausted. You have to pick your feet up higher than normal when wearing crampons and my feet were beginning to drag so little stumbles continued to happen on the easiest section of the trail.

I asked Jay a bunch of questions about his life and he told me great stories to distract me from this long, last mile. I focused on my steps, listened to Jay and just kept moving forward.

Finally I saw the shimmer of a car windshield through the bare trees ahead and I knew the end was near! I had completed the ice hike!

The Aftermath 

My entire hiking group was gone by the time I reached the parking lot. I removed all of my gear and thanked Jay and Corey a million times. Corey reminded me of the lesson I needed to carry forward on the rest of my hikes throughout the rest of the year. I tipped them both generously (they were truly my lifesavers!) and walked without crampons to my car, where I cried some more. This time out of exhaustion and shock.

My three friends still had a few hours to go on their full day hike, so I headed back to our Airbnb to shower, eat and rest. A few hours later, they too arrived home and we laughed for hours sharing stories of our respective hikes. The three of them had similar struggles as me. Their hike was a loop whereas mine was an in and out trail. But we both exited the same path. When they reached the giant Ganoga Waterfall, they too had to ascend the Icicle Insanity Switchback, climb the vertical ice steps, inch up the Bunny Hill and slowly stumble down the long last mile.

But one of my friends had to exit the hike by ATV. Dehydration had set in for her just before the Ganoga Waterfall and she informed her guides that she wasn’t feeling well. She ate and drank a bit, felt better and continued up the Icicle Insanity Switchback. But her body began to shut down and when the guides informed her there was at least an hour still to go, she told them she could no longer continue.

The guides called the state park rangers and they arrived with a hardcore utility vehicle to drive her out on some sort of access road. She arrived back at the parking lot, where she drank tons of water and quickly began to feel better. Thankfully, she listened to her body and did not push herself to the point of major injury or more traumatic type of rescue. We were all very happy with her decision and she did not have any regrets. Her exit does however emphasize just how difficult this ice hike was for all of us.

Related: How a Puzzle Led Me To Start a Coaching Business

The Lesson

Looking back on the ice hike, I think I was in shock after it because I never got that overwhelming sense of accomplishment. There was never that high of, damn, I did that! I consciously knew I did that and consciously was aware of how awesome it was that my body and mind were able to complete something so physically intense and difficult. But my soul was missing that sense of accomplishment that comes with most hikes.

Maybe it was because I required so much assistance. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a long enough reflection time at the giant Ganago Waterfall. Maybe it was because my body was in survival mode, and once I was safe again, shock arrived instead of accomplishment. I’m not sure.

But I am sure of the lesson learned on Hike Two. I credit Guide Corey for pointing this lesson out to me, and I hope it sticks on all of my hikes going forward this year. When I explained to Corey how I was looking for a lesson in each hike, Corey quickly said, “Well I think the lesson for this hike should be, ‘never apologize for going at your own pace.'”

When he said that, a bright little icicle went off above my head! Corey nailed it again!

I apologized on the ice hike approximately 25 million times, to everyone, for no reason at all. And it’s a habit I’ve had on nearly every group hike I’ve ever taken. I unnecessarily apologize on repeat for doing nothing wrong, and then I even apologize for apologizing, to make it worse. I don’t really know why I do it. But I think I feel bad that I’m holding up the rest of the group, or that I need assistance, or that I’m being scared or emotional or weak.

I’m apologetic for not being a confident hiker.

But I’m not one yet! I’m still learning and pushing myself to perhaps some day become a confident hiker. I’m showing up and doing it, just like in building a business. I hate feeling like I’m behind everyone else in hiking or in business. But I have to remember, I’m going at my own pace and that’s okay! I do not have to apologize for moving slowly or for being cautious with my steps. I do not have to apologize for pivoting, changing my mind or even for investing in myself or my business.

I don’t have to apologize because I’m here damnit! I’m moving forward and no matter how long it takes me, I know I will have success because I show up.

I show up for business and I show up for ice hikes.

Hike No. 2 Lesson: Never apologize for going at your own pace. 

 

I don’t yet know what Hike Three will be, but I do know it will be low key.

Related: Sometimes Shit Happens: Lessons Learned on Hike 1 

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