The ADK Tool Co. Team wasn’t always the confident alpinists you see today. In fact, we’ve failed to summit nearly as many mountains as we’ve successfully climbed. Every misstep taught us something, but few lessons were as lasting, or as humbling, as those we learned on our very first winter hike.
Our passion for the outdoors started early. As kids, we were perpetually outside - getting lost in local woods, building makeshift shelters in the backyard, and paddling down nearby rivers. So, when we finally earned our driver’s licenses and steady paychecks, planning a “real” outdoor trip felt inevitable.
We began with summer hikes in the Catskills and day trips to Indian Head in the Adirondacks. But comfort breeds restlessness. Before long, we wanted more...more challenge, more uncertainty, more glory.
That desire led us to Mount Marcy, the tallest peak in New York State. Still, elevation alone wasn’t enough. We wanted to experience the mountain at its most demanding. We chose January 21st: early enough in the winter to ensure harsh trail, and cold enough to command respect. It was an hour before daybreak when we stood at the Van Hoevenberg Trailhead, staring down the 14.6mile round trip with equal parts excitement and naivety.
From the start, conditions were bleak. Clouds blanketed the sky, snow fell steadily, and our confidence wavered. Three to four inches of fresh snowfall and downed trees threatened to erase the meager trail before us. We pressed on anyway, carefully following the faint impressions of a hiker who had passed through days before.
Against our expectations, we reached treeline with relatively few issues. But by then, the reality of winter hiking had set in. The cold was relentless. Our fingers burned with numbness, calories were running low, and every step demanded focus and resolve. Still, momentum was our ally. As the clouds began to break, we made the decision to push for the summit.
Reaching the top of Mount Marcy—New York’s highest 46er—was unforgettable. The photo from this article was taken there, but it fails to capture the full experience: the exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, and the overwhelming desire to do it all again.
The descent, however, proved just as memorable...for all the wrong reasons.
Confident and fatigued, we assumed the hardest part was behind us. All we had to do was follow the frozen trail back to Marcy Dam and the parking lot was just a hop, skip, and a jump. But then, about halfway down, one of us began to slow, and we made a decision we now recognize as reckless: we separated, planning to regroup at the dam.
I pushed ahead, barely stopping to breathe, and reached the dam quickly. Minutes passed. Then half an hour. Then nearly an hour—with no sign of my partner. Anxiety set in. I asked every hiker coming down the trail if they had seen someone matching his description.
“No,” they said. "We haven't seen anyone."
Eventually, a park ranger arrived. As we spoke, I mentioned I was waiting for my friend.
“You know,” the ranger said, “separating from your group is the number one way hikers get lost out here.”
That was all it took. I headed back up the trail, calling out and questioning anyone I encountered. After what felt like an eternity - but was likely half a mile - I found my friend. He had taken a wrong turn, and unknowingly hiked a mile in the opposite direction before realizing the mistake and correcting course.
A few hours later, we made it home safely.
That day taught us more than any guide ever could: the importance of preparation, weather forecasting, proper nutrition, navigation, and - above all - sticking together. We’re grateful to God and the High Peaks for allowing us to return safely, and we carry those lessons with us on every adventure since. They shaped not only how we hike - but inspired the foundation of The Adirondack Tool Company.
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