LOCALadk Magazine

LOCALadk He took small steps, but didn't stop until reaching the summit. His daughter Beth Hesseltine accompanied him, and they took in the views together. A feeling of great satisfaction, awe, and accomplishment spread through him. He stopped training on the railroad bed and turned his energy, sweat, and stopwatch toward the slopes of Mount Pisgah. Many days, Beth used her lunch break from Upstate Auto to join him. One day she suggested they climb other mountains in the area. They began tackling them on the weekends while continuing to train on Mount Pisgah during the week . When sitting on the rock ledges of Roostercomb, Ron looked off at the blue peaks and said, "Lets climb Giant." At the age of 75 and with his 76 birthday approaching, Ron got an idea and a new phrase was coined, "Adirondack 76er." He thought instead of aiming to become an Adirondack 46er, a feat he began in his twenties, why not become an Adirondack 76er? (That is climb all the Adirondack High Peaks mountains over 4000ft, after the age of 76.) "I thought it was a great challenge and 76er had a nice ring to it," Ron recounts. The journey began December 11, 2010, on Cascade and wound to completion on September 21, 2012, when Ron and Beth stood atop a socked-in Mount Skylight. They posed for pictures, holding a congratulatory sign that read, "We did it." It was a team effort, and they were with each other every step of the way, sharing 46 hard earned summits together. "Beth and I started hiking and rock hopping together when she was ten. Forty years later, we're still rock hopping. She's the best hiking partner I could ever have. I wouldn't have done this without her," says Ron. While he was climbing the High Peaks, Ron read about a man who was 72 and regretted being "too old" to climb a High Peak. The article saddened Ron. "I'm hopeful people do not limit themselves based on age." This past winter, for example, Ron Hesseltine at the age of 79 participated in the art of butt sliding—a technique used in the winter to descend mountains, which he'd associated with the young and hardy. (Imagine a water park slide with four feet of snow packed into a chute careening down stands of balsam and birch.) He was descending Dial on an ominous day with his granddaughter Allie Hesseltine when she suggested the idea and volunteered to go first. She sat down and zipped out of sight. Ron followed and laughed the whole way, exclaiming he hadn't had that much fun playing in the snow since he was a little boy. "We can surprise ourselves," he says with a large grin. Ron and Beth sit atop Hopkins Mountain and look westward at the High Peaks. The wind is light and just enough to keep the black flies at bay. The jagged edges of Sawteeth fall away to the shores of Ausable Lake and the sharp peak of Colvin rises from the opposite shore. Ron identifies the peaks of the Dix Range and recognizes the faint summits of Marcy and Algonquin. He pops a few grapes into his mouth, enjoys the last bite of a peach jam and peanut butter sandwich and takes another look at the High Peaks as the sun passes behind a cloud. "Spectacular," he says. It's all he needs to say, because Ron Hesseltine is a man who hikes for the joy of hiking. To him, the mountains are good friends who've given him strength, courage, and inspiration over the years. He climbs to visit them and say thank you. Ron's Wisdom • Adversity happens—embrace it and you'll get strength from it. • It's not what the doctors say or how bad the lab results are—what matters most is what you believe. • Don't let age stop you. Surprise yourself.

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