A cold winter hike with a dear friend reinforces the need to resist life’s pressures

By Sarah Sindo

People older than me always said that with each passing birthday, time and years seemed to speed up. I don’t remember putting too much thought into this notion but now, being smack-dab in the middle of my 30s, I wholeheartedly agree.

The friendship between my best friend and me spans 15 years. We have never lived in the same town, so our get-togethers are usually planned outings. After a busy fall and not seeing much of each other, we decided on a weekend hut-to-hut trip at Maine Huts & Trails.

We booked the Stratton Brook Hut to Poplar Hut adventure a solid month in advance and, shortly after confirming the trip, Erin’s husband informed us that AccuWeather was calling for frigid negative temps that weekend.

I thought to myself, it’s more than a month away, there’s no way anyone can know what the weather will be!

Fast forward a few weeks and some serious Arctic-like air had settled in with no warm-up in sight. Dang, I thought, those meteorologists really have their skills dialed in. 

After doing some last-minute errands on Saturday morning, we dropped a vehicle off at the Airport Trailhead in Carrabassett Valley and drove to the Stratton Brook Trailhead, our starting point of the trip. While the allure of the stunning bluebird day had us excited about the hike up to the hut, the charm was dwarfed by the chill my entire body felt upon stepping out of my vehicle.

If there’s one thing you learn well from growing up in Maine, it’s how to dress for winter. Erin and I skillfully layered and made sure to cover most of our exposed skin. We pulled our microspikes over the bottom of our boots, buckled and tightened our backpacks, and off we went, the hard snow crunching beneath our feet.

On winter hikes, I always second-guess myself for the first little bit while on the trail. Should I really be doing this? Do I have everything in my pack I need? The what ifs flood my thoughts and it’s like my mind makes up all the bad things that could happen.

My mind loves to make up stories and cook up fear, and when I’m outside of my comfort zone, it’s fairly easy to hang on to those stories. So when they pushed their way to my consciousness, I acknowledged them and simply tried to let them go. I concentrated on something positive in the moment, like the sun hitting my eyes and cheekbones and the fact that I was outside with my best friend, who I hadn’t seen in a while. 

About a mile into the 3-mile hike, my thumbs had finally warmed and I felt like I had settled into a comfortable stride – minus one lingering cold-weather symptom: My lungs and chest felt so cold!

I was doing my best to keep my mouth covered with my buff, as I knew doing so would assist in breathing in slightly warmer air, compared with an exposed mouth taking in the ice-cold air. One foot in front of the other, I told myself.

After gaining some gradual vertical feet, I felt warmer on the inside and, overall, comfortable. Erin and I were mindful of our pace, knowing that if we hoofed it too fast we would most likely start to perspire and that doesn’t bode well in cold-weather hiking.

The sweat cools on your body, lowering your temperature. So, we reminded ourselves we had the entire afternoon and were in no rush. We arrived at Stratton Brook Hut an hour and a half after leaving the trailhead. 

The sun was spilling through the large windows in the common area and the heat, coupled with a cup of hot tea, warmed our chilled bodies. We enjoyed a relaxing evening, filled our bellies with a delicious home-cooked meal and surprised ourselves with an early bedtime.

The next day we were out the door by midmorning, ready and looking forward to the 7.5-mile hike to Poplar Hut. We had another beautiful blue sky above us and the air had warmed up into the teens or so. You can imagine how thrilled this made us!

Right away, the trail had us descending a handful of switchbacks and then it leveled out for a gradual, pleasant decline. We stopped at Crommett’s Overlook, enjoyed the beautiful view of Sugarloaf Mountain and dug into our numerous snacks.

At about the 4-mile mark, we found ourselves near the Airport Trailhead and hungry for lunch. We laid our backpacks and ourselves onto the snow. The sun felt so glorious and warm, we could’ve stayed there the entire afternoon. Actually, we almost did. 

Erin and I started to ruminate on the various pulls of daily life. There was a significant snowstorm coming the following day, and we both knew it was going to make Erin’s drive back to the coast a slow and dicey one. 

The easier decision was to call the trip and have her drive back in good weather. Also, her husband was shipping out the day after she got home. Shouldn’t she head home a night earlier to spend a bit of extra time with him?

I had a slew of things to do at home and errands to run. Gosh, if we just ended the trip now, I could do all those things before my work week started. The next thing we heard ourselves say was, “OK, our car is right here, let’s skip the night at Poplar and head home.” 

We sat there longer, savoring the sun’s warmth. “No”, Erin said, “let’s go to Poplar.” We pulled ourselves up, threw on our packs and hiked the 3 miles up to Poplar Hut. We had the most restful evening reading by the woodstove and ended the day with another early bedtime. 

Monday morning we hiked back to the Airport Trailhead in the heavy snowfall. We hugged goodbye and shared how happy we were about the trip.

There’s always going to be something pulling at us, telling us we should be doing this instead of that; a voice that says we should be checking things off our to-do list rather than taking time for ourselves, for our well-being.

Erin and I aren’t the only ones with busy lives, feeling these sorts of tugs. I wonder if there was a bird sitting out there with us that afternoon. It probably got a kick out of our conversation, the back and forth.

But as we headed up the trail, continuing our trip, I hope we made the bird smile after we chose the opposite of what our culture tells us. We chose our rare time together to enjoy each other’s company outdoors. We were joyful that, in the end, we chose doing something that makes us happy on the inside. 

Sindo was locally grown in Millinocket. Her love and appreciation for the outdoors took off after college when she hiked numerous mountains with her brother, Nick, including her first ascent of Katahdin. Sarah left her desk job eight years ago, stepped into seasonal work and hasn’t looked back. She bounces back and forth between Millinocket and Kingfield and looks forward to sharing her adventures and encouraging others to step into their hiking boots.