LOCALadk Magazine

LOCALadk | Event The 6er Sisters 32 l on g , w et , sn ow y m iles in May Mark Kurtz Photography Saranac Lake, NY. By Bethany Garretson A fter two hours of wading through icy rivers, trekking up Haystack and McKenzie in six inches of snow, and barreling down narrow trails overhung with frozen tree branches, my foot catches on a jagged root and I face-plant into the slushy mud. The bone numbing cold springs me to my feet and I whip my arms back and forth, sending the Adirondack soil in all directions. I look up the trail and catch a glimpse of pink. "Good job, Mallory!" I cheer. I run in place. I need to keep moving—six of my ten toes are numb. A few minutes later, Mallory is by my side. I study my younger sister with concern. Her fists are clenched, red, and swollen. Blood trickles down her right knee. Her pink Patagonia fleece is soaking wet while her teeth chatter behind purple lips. "Mallie, are you OK?" I ask. "I don't want to talk about it," she snaps. "I just want to get down this damn mountain." I don't press her to say more. I jog ahead and give her some space. The best thing for us is to keep moving. It's May 25th, 31 degrees, and wet snow is falling from the sky. Welcome to the Saranac Lake 6er. Earlier that morning, Mallory and I registered with roughly 60 hikers at Berkley Green to take part in the Saranac Lake 6er challenge. We huddled under the wooden gazebo while rain poured from the dismal sky. I felt the chill of the air and knew it would be a great motivator to keep moving. In February 2013, Saranac Lake created the challenge to attract more hikers to the region. Six mountains were selected; Ampersand, St. Regis, McKenzie, Haystack, Scarface, and Baker. Similar to the 46ers, people who climbed all six mountains would earn the title of Saranac Lake 6ers. Mallory and I ducked under the awning of a nearby store and began stretching our long limbs. We scanned the crowd with curious eyes. Who would be #1? Who would complete the six mountain, 32 mile challenge the fastest? Would it be the young cross country runner in black leggings? Or the veteran mountain climber with super human calves and trekking poles? Would it be us? At 8 AM the gun went off and we sprinted to my car. We slid into the hatchback with the excitement of being in a car chase. Every second 34 LOCALadk Magazine Summer 2013 counted. As we drove toward Lake Placid, a red car adorned with a roof rack and decorated with stickers pulled up behind us. Wherever we turned, they turned. "I think they're in the race," I said. I checked the rear view mirror every few seconds. I could feel my adrenaline building. The feeling of being chased was so primal. I found an empty parking spot near the Jack Rabbit trail and pulled over. The red car kept driving, stopped by the trail head and a lean man in black leggings and blue rain jacket jumped out of the passenger seat and sprinted up the trail. In a flash he was gone. My mouth hung open. "Whoa," I murmured. "What?" Mallory asked. "A guy just flew out of the red car," I explained. "What?" Mallory whipped her head toward the trail. "I don't see anyone." "Exactly," I laughed. We grabbed our gear and ran. I locked the car, pocketed the keys, and began chasing the Phantom from the red car. Two and a half hours later, we scramble back into the Mazda. We are both bruised and battered and Mallory is showing early signs of hypothermia. McKenzie was hell. I am not even sure if we'll finish this thing. I scold myself for overlooking the power of nature. I blast the heat and music. My husband made a CD of pump jams for the race. I skip ahead to number one—Macklemore's "And We Danced." The music pulses through the car and instantly lifts our spirits. We refuel on peanut butter and Clif bars, gulp down some water, and Mallory pulls some dry tops from our "self aid station." Extra under layers, poly tops, fleece sweaters, hats, and gloves are neatly folded and stacked in their own category. We also have extra shoes and socks. Our food is in a simple grocery bag. For the race we have two of Nori's finest bean burritos, a bag of sweet potato chips, two Clif bars, two Luna bars, a jar of peanut butter, and multiple prepackaged bags of trail mix. Mark Kurtz Photography Saranac Lake, NY. I pull into the Scarface parking area and there it is. The red car. The Phantom is here. Mallory changes her top layers and a new surge of energy overtakes us. We dart out of the car and hit the trail. Our pace is quick. Our feet are happy. We laugh and praise how amazing the soft pine needles feel under our running shoes. Even the rain has stopped. I marvel at how quickly one's attitude can change on trail. We are going to finish this race. It's hard to tell what place we're in. I know there are two racers ahead of us—the Phantom and superhuman calves guy. And that's only our side of the race. What about hikers that started at St. Regis or Ampersand? Fifteen minutes in, we spot superhuman calves guy. I slow down. Like a deer, I do not want to startle him and send him sprinting away. I'd

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