“I’m only 21, aren’t I a little young for my knees to be hurting on a downhill hike?”
Dear Mirror readers, that was the thought running through my head as I descended the irritatingly steep slopes of Velvet Rocks. I had gotten myself into this situation this past Saturday after pledging to go on a hike with my friend Emma. Our goal? To tie up loose ends.
During our very first term on campus, the two of us had set out on an ill-fated quest, along with two others, to finish the Dartmouth Fifty — the laborious hike of Dartmouth’s miles of the Appalachian Trail. Unfortunately, unlike Gretchen — a fellow Mirror editor — we were unsuccessful. After barely scraping past the Dartmouth Skiway, we became hopelessly lost and had to be rescued with only about twelve miles to go. I guess that’s what happens when you send three Floridians and a Brit on a 54-mile hike down the Appalachian Trail.
So, early Saturday morning, Emma and I set out just north of Moose Mountain, on a mission I’ll deem the “Twisted Fifty.” Almost exactly three years since our last attempt, we were aiming to finish those last few miles. Like many things at Dartmouth, though, our hike turned out to be much longer and more difficult than either of us had expected — a six-hour slog of aching ankles and tripping down slippery declines.
On the bright side, though, our long hike meant that we shared hours of conversation. In the midst of a chaotic term, it was wonderful to catch up in a moment of nature-induced serenity. We reflected on how far we had come since that first hike so long ago when we had only known each other for a couple of weeks. We talked about friends that have drifted apart, relationships that have broken up and freshmen selves left far behind in the rearview mirror.
Even after we made it back to Hanover, I continued to think about how much we had evolved since freshman year. Practically immobile that evening after the hike, and a little worried about the state of my joints, I lay in bed and scrolled through old pictures, reminiscing on Octobers past.
I saw our freshman-year selves, smiles wide over bowls of Foco ice cream. Long dinners at Tuktuk, jugs of wine and hungover hikes, a Homecoming bonfire where I rode on the shoulders of a friend who is now my senior year roommate. I remembered a letter I wrote to myself during orientation: “I met someone named Emma at s’mores night. She seems really nice, and I’m excited to get to know her.”
Fast-forward to sophomore year, and I was confronted with a series of my poorly constructed Halloween costumes: the ubiquitous cowboy, a low-effort cow and maybe the most horrible Cruella de Vil costume you’ve ever seen. My bleached hair glares back at me through the phone screen — an impulsive choice during a weekend home. Beyond freshman year’s endless spigot of joy and novelty, I struggled to carve out just who I was at Dartmouth.
Junior year was entirely different: abroad in London, my October took the form of cocktail hours, a solo trip to Paris and a million visits to my favorite Pakistani restaurant. Figuring things out on campus, just to be rudely uprooted — but in the process, I felt myself finally beginning to take form.
Now, I’m looking back at the past month — a visit from my mom, a failed swan song, a highlight reel of “American Horror Story: Coven,” the surreal experience of donning a cap and gown for my yearbook photo. And all of it, the good, the bad and the ugly, bookended with our ceremonial Twisted Fifty, a mission three years in the making.
Looking back over the years, I can’t even recognize the overzealous freshman I once was, but don’t take that to mean that I’m now jaded and a dissatisfied senior. After weathering brutal hikes, bleached hair and bring-your-own-booze Pakistani restaurants, I’m glad for the experiences I’ve had here — appreciating both the mistakes that I’ve made and the growth that I’ve experienced, however scary.
Here at Mirror this week, we’re embracing the spooky spirit of October with a special Halloween issue. One writer stays home in Hanover, seeing how local businesses celebrate, and another illuminates how international students celebrate in their native countries. We also look at how the luster of Halloween can fade, as one writer considers how Halloween can become a chore, and a pair of writers discuss their disappointing trip to Salem, Massachusetts. We creak open the door of the “haunted” Greek house as one writer reflects on moving up at Dartmouth. Finally, we ask our Mirror writers how they feel about Halloween.
Come Thursday, you may be donning your carefully crafted costumes — but perhaps you can use this issue of the Mirror to take off your mask and look towards the inside. Happy Halloween, Mirror!
