Waving the White Flag on the White Mountains Direttissima

I’ll rip the bandaid off and say it right from the get-go: The Show and I have officially ended our Direttissima thru-hike. I’m writing this from my couch, utterly exhausted and defeated, yet knowing in my gut that this was the correct decision. It was made heavily but made within all of the proper contexts it had to be made within. I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation as to why. But in the name of self-reflection I’m going to give one. I’m still processing the unexpectedness of the past nine days and this should help me do that. 

I’m a very stubborn person. Quitting something is usually a last resort for me, after I’ve explored all other options. It’s safe to say they were explored on this trek. We waited out weather. We tried literally tackling it from a different direction. If you missed my last two posts and don’t know what I’m talking about, you can read them here and here. We tried our best and did everything in our power to make this hike happen. In the end it wasn’t meant to be and couldn’t be forced. That’s why the word “surrender” is fitting. It’s not simply giving up or failing. It’s relinquishing personal control, admitting that greater forces are in the works, and making peace with that fact.

Context is Everything

Our main rationale for surrendering came down to the context of what the Direttissima was to us within the grand scheme of our long term plans and goals. It was intended to be a training hike for our primary objective: the Continental Divide Trail. While it would have been a tremendous accomplishment to finish the Direttissima, we questioned what cost it would come with.

Would our bodies be physically weakened or beat up and thus overuse-injury-prone at the start of the CDT? Could we get seriously injured enough that our CDT plans would become null and void this year? Should we keep going at the risk of draining our mental batteries past the point of bouncing back to power us through a long distance trail? 

None of those risks were worth continuing. The Direttissima is an enormous accomplishment and I tip my REI trail cap to anyone who completes it. It’s honestly some of the most challenging hiking I’ve ever done. And to those who FKT this thing… I cannot even fathom how you did it. Unbelievable, truly. But the Direttissima doesn’t captivate or hold my heart like the Triple Crown does.

The Triple Crown has been perhaps the most significant goal of my lifetime; it’s what I want to accomplish more than anything else. In that context, I simply cannot risk any detriment to my physical or mental health prior to the CDT. I need to be at the top of my game going into such a long hike. I’d be devastated to fail at that because I refused to fail at this, chain-of-events-wise.

5 Mistakes We Made & What I’d Do Differently

Mount Washington in the distance as seen from the top of Little Haystack, still snow-covered from the nor’easter three days prior.

1. Not Making it the Main Event

A thru hike needs to be the number one priority at the time you’re doing it. If it’s not, you likely won’t have a strong enough “why” to continue it at all costs. It’s a classic case of if something’s really important to you, you’ll make it happen. The Direttissima was a means to an end for us, a way to get in shape for the CDT, and not the end goal.

If I ever try to do it again in the future, I’ll make it my singular goal in and of itself, with no other bigger goals looming on the horizon.

2. Having a Time Crunch

I’ve always believed that giving yourself an extensive timeframe to complete a thru-hike is key. You just never know what curveballs will be thrown your way. It’s ideal to have a buffer in case you need time to heal an injury or navigate unexpected weather or trail conditions.

Our Direttissima hike came with a hard end date, occurring a few days before our flight out to Montana for the CDT.  Around Memorial Day weekend was the earliest we felt comfortable starting. We wanted to be sure the winter snowpack would be melted out enough and temperatures would be warm enough for hiking to be efficient and camping to be comfortable. That left us with a narrow month-long window to complete it and not a lot of wiggle room for anything to go wrong.

Were I to do it again, I’d put no time limits on it. I would wait out bad weather and hike shorter days through the more difficult sections. I’d treat it the way I treat a long distance trail and allow myself to make progress as slow as needed so I wouldn’t burn myself out.

3. Wrong Season

In hindsight, spring wasn’t the most ideal season to do this. Although, I will say, weather is so highly variable year to year in the White Mountains. Last May was significantly drier and warmer here. Maybe it could have been much more doable then. We had a colder and rainier May this year coupled with a freak late season nor’easter right as we attempted to start the trail. I’ll chalk that up to some plain bad luck.

But if I went for it next time, maybe I’d try to go for an August/September timeframe. That way it would be (ideally) summery but heading into fall, warm yet starting to cool a bit. There wouldn’t be snowpack hanging around from the past winter and months of trail work would have already been completed (aka less blowdowns). I’d be able to bring all my ultralight gear and clothing and not need any snow equipment, so my pack would be significantly lighter.

4. Improper Hydration

I don’t think I’ve ever been so sweaty in my life as I was on the two warmest and sunniest days on the Direttissima. That’s saying something, considering I used to do hot power yoga at a studio that prided themselves on being the hottest around (115 degrees) and currently do almost daily saunas in 185 degree heat. I felt like I was sweating 90 percent of the 10-12 hours we were hiking. I also noticed I was peeing infrequently and low in volume compared to what’s normal for me. At one point it had been a full six hours between pee breaks. Hydration was a serious challenge, more so than it’s ever been for me.

Trying to fit our miles in had us hesitant to stop for water as much as we knew we should have. I also packed far fewer electrolytes packets than I needed. Dehydration compounded and I ended the trail thirstier than I had ever been. On our hike out to go home, the thirst sensation kicked in almost as soon as we started hiking and didn’t let up until I had consumed a whole liter of water with LMNT.

Not having a time crunch would likely solve this for a future attempt. If I’m not trying to hike excessive miles I won’t be overexerting myself and would have a lot more time for ensuring I’m drinking enough water. I’d also pack double the electrolytes, at least two packets per day.

5. Not Having Trail Legs/Lungs

For the record, The Show and I did attempt to train for this. We didn’t just go out there and wing it. We’ve been strength training and going on weekly day hikes of increasing mileage with increasing weight in our packs since mid-February. I’m certain this helped a lot, but I’ll admit it still wasn’t enough for a hike this difficult, at least not for the 12-17 daily mile itinerary we had planned. 

If attempted again, I’d rethink our training plan. It would have to involve more hiking than once a week. Or, if we don’t want to train excessively, it would need to be completed on the tail of another thru hike. If we were to hypothetically, do the AT, finish it in August, and still feel mentally and physically strong and motivated to keep hiking – that could be the time to do this. I can’t think of a time I had better trail legs and lungs than I did immediately following the AT. Mentally, however, I was DONE hiking post-Katahdin. So I’m skeptical whether this perfect scenario is realistic. I did, however, complete a trail marathon with zero training immediately following the PCT. That’s where I’m pulling the inspiration from. 

Reaching the finish line of my first marathon in Stowe, VT in October 2023. Photo courtesy of Joe Viger Sports Photography

A Blow to the Ego

Even though surrendering was the right decision, it doesn’t make it any less of a blow to the ego. I’ll share a secret. There’s a judgmental part of me, one I don’t particularly like, that looked down on people who quit thru-hikes. I was up on a high horse, because I’ve never been forced to quit before. I’ve always been able to manage my expectations, pivot around obstacles, and mentally push through hardships on my three thrus. The decisions I’ve made were sound and the luck I’ve had was good. I never thought I’d get to a place where I’d actually quit one myself, and only nine days in. 

The fact that I’ve been off and on considering ending this hike since the very start sent my negative self-talk downward spiraling. I questioned my identity as a hiker. I couldn’t comprehend how I could finish the AT (in only 4.5 months) and finish the LT – two trails that include rugged northeastern terrain – but I couldn’t finish this. I’ve completed the NH 48 list and am a local to the Whites. This should be familiar territory. I beat myself up for mismanaging my expectations of how truly arduous this would be.

On top of all that, it was far from lost on me that I’m blogging this hike in front of thousands of strangers on the internet. Of course the first hike I decide to blog is the one I can’t finish (you could argue couldn’t even really start). What are people going to think of me? Will anyone want to follow my CDT hike now that I’ve branded myself as a quitter? I’m usually a good hiker, I swear!

A collage of all of my hiking accomplishments as photo evidence that I do, in fact, usually finish my hiking goals successfully. Top Left: AT, Top Right: PCT, Bottom Left: LT, Bottom Right: NH 48

A Positive Spin

As I’m wont to do, I turned these thoughts around. A lady we spoke with on Mount Moosilauke told us she knew someone who had completed both the Triple Crown and the Direttissima, who told her the Direttissima was the hardest one. I clung to that. It made me feel better. I reminded myself that most people wouldn’t even attempt this hike, let alone finish it. And anyone who’s going to judge me for quitting it either has no idea what this hike is, or is sitting in front of a computer in their mom’s windowless basement covered in Funyun crumbs, or is just a meanie, or all three.

I’m proud of us for giving it a try and for not giving up at the first setback, or the second. I’m prouder of myself for being brave enough to blog this in front of the whole internet in real time, with no guarantees of a successful outcome. If anything, it I hope it shows that I’m just a human and sometimes I fail at things. And that it’s okay and a normal part of life. As I’ve said to the Show, “we succeed together and we fail together.” I’m so grateful to have him as my hiking and life partner to share in all the ups and downs of our thru journeys.

The best partner <3 Left Top & Bottom: finishing the LT and PCT together, respectively. Right: from our wedding in October 2024 – photo courtesy of Dreamlove Photography

Vagabondaggio

We still have a few weeks before we depart for the CDT. After the grueling death march that was the Direttissima, we’re inclined to pivot to something oppositional. Shortly before we decided to call it quits, we passed a group of day hikers splashing around in the water at one of the stream crossings along the Falling Waters trail. I felt a pang of jealousy as we slogged past, wishing I could be as carefree as them, instead of forcing myself to climb yet another mountain. I want to bring that joy back to backpacking. 

On our way out to head home we stopped at the exact spot we saw the day hikers playing in the water the day before. We sat on some dry rocks in the middle of the stream and made a ramen hot lunch. It was a symbolic and satisfying change of pace.

I asked ChatGPT to come up with another Italian word to call our pre-CDT journey going forward. One that means the opposite of direttissima, or “the most direct path.” Specifically, something that means more like “aimless wandering.” Turns out, a word for that exact concept exists.

YES, ChatGPT. Nailed it.

Our Vagabondaggio will consist of everything we enjoy about backpacking. Going wherever we want at whatever pace we want. Traveling a comfortable 10-ish miles a day, for three or four day stints. Returning home in between to regroup and clean up and relish in the Great Indoors. Taking lots of breaks and swimming in all the swimming holes and only going out on nice days and doing dinner and Netflix in our sleeping bags.

Tent views from Liberty Springs campsite on our last night on the Direttissima. We didn’t get to camp until 7:45PM, but we were still able to catch the sunset through the trees. This picture doesn’t even come close to how vibrant orange it looked in person, or show the pink-underbellied clouds above it. You’ll have to use your imagination with that description. I want more of this, and less mile-crushing.

A picture that captures the essence of “vagabondaggio” for me. One of the most whimsical moments we experienced on the PCT. We swam in the icy turquoise waters of the McCloud River in Northern California. Swarms of butterflies were flying all around us. Can you spot the yellow one caught on camera?

We’ve got one backpacking trip in mind already for next week. I’m excited to see what else we’ll fit into the time we have left at home. I think this will be just what we need to recharge before the CDT. I mean, what is the point, of any of this, if it’s not on some level enjoyable, right?

For more thru-hiking content (and other miscellaneous life updates) follow me on Instagram @keljens