Samantha Homan (she/her) and Nicole Fyvie (they/she) completed a single calendar-year grid of the Belknap Range on March 1, 2024, in 306 days, 23 hours, 22 minutes, and 53 seconds.
When the project began on April 29, 2023, we had no intention of setting an FKT. In fact, we didn't even intend to grid the Belknaps. That day's traverse was the back-up plan to a back-up plan, decided upon when the weather and conditions around Mts. Carrigain, Tom, Field, and Willey were too unfavorable. The grid started as a joke: "You know, we only have to hike this 11 more times to get the patch." We're both suckers for a hiking patch, so a project was born that day, and we hiked all 12 peaks in the Belknap Range in each of the months that followed, averaging 18 miles, 4,500 feet of elevation, and 10-12 hours per month.
When we realized an FKT hadn't been set, determination doubled down. It was a lofty goal - not only for new friends, but average hikers. We're not ultra-athletes, but we're persistent, we're committed, and we really love hiking.
The summer months were filled with heat, humidity, and bugs. We shared hydration tips and made time for post-hike ice cream. Fall brought cooler temperatures, fewer bugs, and ideal trail conditions that made the long days feel easier. We'd hit our stride by then. The route became second nature, including a monthly summit selfie atop Major. We knew all our favorite places and landmarks on the range, like the candy corn-colored arrow on Gunstock, the Anna summit sign, and the clearing before the Mack summit, where we regularly stopped for sandwiches. We'd come to know each other well, and when the chatter quieted for too long, one would shout, "Marco!" A "polo" in reply meant, "I'm ok," and it became our way of checking in with one another.
Then Fyvie broke her left wrist on a winter hike in the White Mountains. Fortunately, the November hike was already finished, but December loomed as they experienced intense pain and mobility hindered by a cast. They couldn’t fasten pack straps or open a water bottle and had difficulty opening protein bars and fruit jerky - essential hiking snacks. A bout of Covid made things even worse, and despite not feeling their best, they were determined to keep hiking. Samantha tied Fyvie’s boot laces, fastened their pack straps, opened snacks, and convinced them to use a reservoir instead of water bottles. It wasn’t easy, but FKTs aren't meant to be easy. We were thrust up against the reality of how difficult this challenge was and how determined we were to make it through.
Fyvie’s cast was replaced with a splint at the end of December, and their pain improved. Winter had finally arrived by then, and January's hike brought frozen water hoses, frozen toes, and icy ledges. Prepared for winter conditions in February too, we were met with beautiful, almost spring-like weather, and thus, a full sufferfest. It was a relief to strap our snowshoes to our feet halfway through and alleviate some of our pack weight. Ideal snowshoe conditions lifted our spirits and made for a late but enjoyable end to the day.
And then came March 1, circled in red months in advance. We had both taken the day off and hoped for great weather - and what a gift of a day it was. Friends joined us throughout the day, and sun, bluebird skies, and a light breeze felt like rewards for a project to which we'd given so much over the previous 11 months.
Trail conditions were spring-like, including ice, bare rock slab, and leaf cover, and we now each have a new pair of rock spikes. We reminisced and shared our inside jokes: Orange slices and yoga on Mt. Rowe, cairns named Karin, sandwich o'clock, and the Jefferson of the Belknaps. As we approached the final peak, West Quarry, we sent our friends ahead and made a quiet promise to continue making cockamaime adventure plans together.
That is what we will take away from this adventure: A deep and powerful friendship built on a foundation of supporting one another. It is the best kind of adventure.