If I went back in time to the beginning of my term at the SLA and told myself that I’d be the first to finish the Ridge Race, I’d think I was joking. But by August I would’ve proved myself right.
Now, to be clear, I did not actually participate in the Ridge Race, and I definitely didn’t run it. I was, however, tasked with getting the trail race-ready. This endeavor began back in mid-August, about a month before the 12 mile-long race. This involved tracking the mileage of the rollercoaster-like route, nailing a marker to a tree every half mile along the trail and its many climbs and descents. It was a six hour day that was wet with a thick mist and steeping in grayness. The near-constant trekking kept me and fellow AmeriCorps member Paul warm throughout our journey, and the three summits and many vistas along the route offered a great deal of views, each one a glorious depiction of Squam Lake and the surrounding forests in the summertime. The gloom of it all made the green trees pop against the clouds with a richness akin to emeralds.The drizzle falling from the air to the lake below gave its surface a staticky texture and highlighted the movements of the wind blowing over the water. The foggy weather not only brought out beauty in the views, but in the gut of the trail as well. The wooded switchbacks and old road sections at the foot of the peaks were crawling with red efts enjoying the humidity, and rife with an array of mushrooms (soooo many mushrooms…) peeking out of the rot of fallen trees. After many revolutions of walking uphill then downhill, Paul and I finally found ourselves back at the starting point at Burleigh Farm, half-jokingly basking in our victory as the first people to complete the 2022 Ridge Race.
But the Ridge Race work was not over yet! Fast forwarding to a week before the race, I was sent out yet again to do another lap of the route, this time with half-time cohorts Andy and Nathan. This time around, we were tasked with hanging up more official (and more motivational) mile markers on top of the ones Paul and I hung up earlier. We also hung up arrows along the trail to keep racers from accidentally going off-route (which is not what I would want to happen to me, especially if there were hot dogs and beers waiting for me at the finish line!). While the route was the same as before, it was somehow completely different. The push and pull of the changing seasons made the trail feel transformed. The misty views of greenery had been overcome by New England autumn. It was the same trees as before, but this time set on fire with blazing reds and glowy yellows with the breeze making them look like crackling embers against the dark negative space between the forest canopy. The lake had taken on the colors of kyanite and was reflecting a sun that was just as bright as summer, but not quite as hot. On the top of Mount Livermore, we watched as geese formed a perfect V in the azure sky and began their long journey south, and tried not to think about how we’d be saying goodbye to Squam soon, too.
I frequently talk to my friends about how I’ve always felt like an explorer, on a long odyssey to find something new. But I think there is a certain beauty in doing the same thing twice, and finding something new in the old. It’s like watching your favorite movie over and over and noticing something you hadn’t picked up on before, or discovering something about someone despite years and years of friendship. Maybe we don’t notice everything at once because of the pace of life, which often feels far too fast for our brains and hearts to fully keep up. I’ll be on the trail all day, feeling enveloped in it like it’s swallowed me whole, and then next thing I know I’m unlocking the van to start making my way back home. I’ve been sitting with this same sensation a lot lately as I start making moves to finish up the term, like saying goodbyes and packing up my clothes and tchotchkes (what was I thinking bringing so many?!?). It felt like I’d just gotten here a week or two ago, yet still feels long enough to have this place and these people ingrained in my heart to the point where it’s hard to imagine going without it. It’s funny how things feel so fleeting and deep-rooted at the same time. It doesn’t quite make sense to me, the way people and places pass through me in my lifetime, but one thing I do know is that there’s more where it came from.
Top of mt livermore 8-17-2022
Macie will be spending next season in Flagstaff, Arizona working with the Forest Service! Learn more about Macie here.