46 Sandwiches

A 46er, as defined by the Adirondack Mountain Club, is someone who has climbed all 46 of the Adirondack High Peaks (mountain peaks at 4,000 feet or higher). A 46er, as defined by me, is someone who has hiked 45 mountains too many. Really, after the first one you’re just showing off.

            Then there are folks who can’t leave well enough alone and hike all 46 High Peaks in the winter (cleverly known as winter 46ers). For all I know, there are probably people who hike them in alphabetical order (ABC 46ers), or only when the moon is full (mooners).

            It should come as no surprise to regular readers of this blog that I am a None-er (rhymes with funner, not boner). Meaning I haven’t climbed a single High Peak. Not in the summer, not in the winter, not in a box, not with a fox.  And I’m fine with that because I prefer living my life closer to sea level.

But on a recent trip to Lake Placid I discovered Big Mountain Deli and Crêperie on Main Street. Their menu includes the 46er Sandwiches; 46 sandwiches named after each of the 46 High Peaks in order of height. The menu ranges from #1 Marcy (Roast turkey, cranberry horseradish sauce, cheddar, apple and cracked pepper mayo), the tallest mountain in New York State, to #46 Couchsachraga (basically a design-your-own sandwich), the shortest of the High Peaks.

I decided on a #13 (Corned beef, Swiss, apple onion relish 
and horseradish mayo). You order by number instead of the mountain name, which is good because I really didn’t want to say Nippletop out loud. It was not only a delicious sandwich, but it gave me a delicious idea. Forget climbing the 46 High Peaks, I was going to eat all 46 of them.

As soon as I announced my plan to my family, I realized I should have done a little more research. Sure, all that hiking can be tough, but eating #28 Esther (Liverwurst, provolone, red onion and cracked pepper mayo) or worse, #29 Upper Wolf Jaw (Creamy egg salad with sprouts) would be every bit as challenging for me. I briefly considered asking one of my family members who like liverwurst or egg salad to eat them for me, but I realized that would be akin to driving up Whiteface (#5) or paying someone to carry me up Algonquin (#2). It was clear I had my work cut out for me.

But I caught a break in my quest to become a gustatory 46er when I discovered that Simply Gourmet, the sister store of Big Mountain Deli, offered the same menu of sandwiches. Even better, it was practically next door to the Whiteface Lodge, where I was staying. So every day at noon I donned my hiking boots (still looking as new as the day I bought them two years ago) and hiked the tenth of a mile to the shop to order my lunch.

I decided to start out with the higher peaks, saving the smaller peaks for days when I might not be as hungry. I sampled #5 Whiteface (Cracked pepper turkey, provolone, avocado, sprouts and mayo), #7 Gray (Roast turkey, sopressata, provolone, roasted red peppers & pesto mayo), #9 Basin (Roast beef, smoked cheddar, red onion, bbq sauce and cracked pepper mayo), and #8 Iroquois Peak (Chicken salad of the day with sprouts and cracked pepper mayo). As I headed out of town on the last day of my vacation, I grabbed another High Peak sandwich to take with me so I could enjoy it at home - #34 Seymour (Roasted vegetables, fresh mozzarella and pesto mayo). How many of you hikers can do that with one of the actual mountains?

I hate to brag, but I was able to eat every one of those High Peaks sandwiches without once using my feet. Has anyone hiked the High Peaks without using their feet? Yeah, I didn’t think so. And after conquering six High Peaks in six consecutive days, I’m happy to report that I wasn’t the least bit sore. Although my waistband did feel a bit more snug.

Six High Peaks down, only 40 more to go. Piece of cake. Mmmmm. Did someone mention dessert?

The Latest Scoop on the Appalachian Trail

Those of you who know me know I’m not a fan of hiking. Although hiking is basically just walking, it’s usually done outdoors (so hiking from one end of the mall to the other doesn’t count) and the very word “outdoors” precludes any possibility of “indoor” plumbing. To make matters worse, hiking is often done in the woods, and we know what lives there:

People who are really hardcore about hiking aren’t content just hiking, say, a hundred yards or so, either. They like to go really far, as in Appalachian Trail far. That’s 2,175 miles far, which is a lot of hundred yards, but don’t ask me to do the math. Thru-hikers (those who complete the trail in one season) have plenty of time to do those calculations in their heads during the hike.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail (AT) would require a lot of conditioning and training. That, and the whole outdoor, in the woods, math issue, not to mention that the Adirondack Mountains aren’t a part of the AT, made me pretty confident I would never attempt such a hike. That is, until I learned about the ice cream.

Turns out, there’s a challenge among AT hikers when they reach the trail’s midpoint in the Pine Grove Furnace State Park in Gardners, Pennsylvania. There’s a general store at the park that sells half gallons of Hershey’s ice cream and hikers purchase the flavor of their choice and attempt to eat it at one sitting. I may not have what it takes to thru-hike the AT, but who knew I’ve been training and conditioning myself for the half-gallon challenge for years.

One hiker reported feeling “heavy and lethargic” after finishing her half-gallon of cherry jubilee. Yeah, well heavy and lethargic is a way of life for some of us. AT hikers may have me beat when it comes to the hiking endurance part, but as far as the half-gallon challenge goes, I could take them with one spoon tied behind my back. Another hiker, who goes by the trail name “Jukebox,” finished his mint chocolate chip in 40 minutes and moaned, “I’m gonna die, bro.” I can only assume that he means die of embarrassment that it took him a whopping 40 minutes o finish it off. And “Lemur,” who chose chocolate, reported, “Two months on the trail, and this is one of the worst days.” Seriously? After spending approximately 60 showerless days in the wilderness, sleeping in lean-tos and eating only what he could carry in his backpack, sitting down to eat some chocolate ice cream qualified as his worst day. I think “Lemur” needs to get some perspective.

Hiker “Bearbait” said, “I don’t know what is harder – eating a half gallon of ice cream or hiking a trail.” Okay, it seems pretty clear to me which would be harder. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised by her lack of certainty on this issue, given her lack of good judgment in picking the trail name “Bearbait.”

All this talk of ice cream is enough to tempt me to adopt the trail name “Blister Magnet” and take to the AT myself. Better yet, maybe I could start an Adirondack half-gallon challenge somewhere along the Northville-Placid Trail. Or best of all, I’ll just drive to Lake George and eat an ice cream cone at Martha’s every day during the month of July. Oh wait. If it’s something you’d normally do anyways, I guess it doesn’t qualify as a challenge. Never mind.