The Misogi Challenge

The Pemi Loop was a spontaneous decision—a hike I had yearned to undertake for years, reimagined as a misogi challenge. The term "misogi" translates to “water cleansing” in Japanese, but my intention wasn’t merely to stand beneath a waterfall; rather, I sought to redefine my relationship with life itself.

During a difficult period marked by divorce, I encountered Jesse Itzler—a serial entrepreneur, author, and husband to Sara Blakely. At a conference, he advised, “Identify something that frightens you, schedule it, and take the plunge.” Jesse adapted the Japanese tradition of misogi into a framework that encourages us to realize our vast potential, often constrained by our own minds and environments. Engaging in a misogi challenge provides an intimate glimpse into our true capabilities.

To unlock that potential, one must embrace the unimaginable.

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” — T. S. Eliot

I’ve been captivated by such challenges in recent years. Though I’ve embarked on many thrilling adventures, the prospect of facing knee-buckling miles without adequate training and a daunting elevation gain of 10,000 feet was particularly enticing. To truly grasp the essence of misogi and its relevance in my life, I packed 30 pounds of essentials and set out on a solitary hike above the Franconia Ridgeline. Battling through a 3,100-foot ascent of melting snow and rugged terrain felt like stepping into a scene from “Lord of the Rings.”

After reaching my second summit in just four hours, I paused to reflect on my achievements.

Section 1.1: Reflections at Mount Liberty

Atop Mount Liberty, a refreshing breeze enveloped me as clouds rolled in over the ridgeline, signaling it was time to search for a campsite. While descending 0.3 miles to Liberty Springs, I pondered the lengths I was willing to go—mentally and physically—over the next 36 hours to better myself. The Pemi Loop was a test of my resolve in the face of uncertainty, and the more challenging the experience, the deeper my self-discovery.

This personal quest was unlike any other I had undertaken as I approached my forties.

Knee-Shattering Rocks

Awakening to a light drizzle, I packed my gear and prepared for the next segment of the loop. A mere 3.5 miles stood between me and Mount Lafayette, although the trail included a steep, short climb to the summit. The ridgeline offers some of the most breathtaking views in the Whites, entirely above the treeline. On clear days, one can see the entire Appalachian range. However, heavy clouds obscured the view during my ascent, a minor setback since I had summited these peaks on previous hikes.

As I surveyed the miles I had traversed on the Appalachian ridgeline behind me, I descended into the woods to face challenging terrain, spring snow, and muddy paths. Though only a 3.7-mile trek remained to the next peak, the elevation changes and post-holing snow were enough to leave my feet swollen with blisters.

The crux of my journey lay ahead, and each mile felt heavier.

After navigating through the snow, I faced a 0.5-mile scramble to the summit of Mount Garfield, standing tall at 4,413 feet. My legs quaked with fatigue, prompting me to remove my boots to allow my feet some respite while I admired my efforts.

Trust became vital as I allowed myself to embrace the pain, ceasing to resist the physical and mental challenges ahead. There was no retreat at this stage; only determination to continue.

Though the distance to Galehead was not far, the terrain was relentless, filled with ups and downs and melting snow, prolonging my journey. Upon reaching the AMC hut at the base of Galehead, I found a much-needed respite; my body needed recovery if I was to summit South Twin.

Resistance Strengthens Those Who Push Through Challenges

Rising at 4 AM the following day to tackle the final stretch of the loop, I taped my blistered feet, enjoyed a warm cup of oatmeal, and set my sights on the Twins and Bonds. The granite staircases and a grueling 1,200-foot elevation gain over 0.8 miles made me deeply appreciate my physical capabilities. Enduring such pain can fortify both the mind and body in ways previously unimagined.

As I caught the sunrise atop South Twin, I savored my achievement, though over 13 miles still lay ahead.

The descent was equally arduous, with two miles of post-holing through mud and snow saturating my boots. This was my purpose: to extend my boundaries and tap into my latent potential. Skipping Zealand, I pressed on to Bondcliff. As the weather warmed, I was greeted with stunning views along the Bondcliff Trail.

At Bondcliff's summit, every peak was visible. I took a moment to appreciate the hard work that brought me here. From the 4,265-foot summit, the trail descended into a steep rock scramble before leading me home.

With the toughest segments behind me, the remaining 6.2 miles back to my starting point became a mental challenge as I navigated through the Pemigasset Wilderness, eventually reaching an old, abandoned railroad for an additional 2.9 miles.

At 4 PM on Sunday, nearly 50 hours after I had set out, I finally arrived at my car.

Misogi experiences are liberating. Reflecting on my journey, I realize how it has reshaped my perspective on life. While some may argue that recounting my experience contradicts the rules of misogi, for me, it was a necessary challenge, and writing solidifies the journey I have undertaken.

This adventure wasn’t solely about success or rewards; it was about narrating a story that invigorates my spirit. It was a journey that terrified me yet pushed me to my limits, reminding me that I can achieve anything when I commit myself fully.

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