SUN JOURNAL • July 1, 2025
I remember sitting on Joe Lelansky’s porch and listening to all his stories: about perilous hikes along the mountain’s deadly Knife Edge; about encounters with moose or bear up on the mountain; about eating bean hole beans or beef stew at Chimney Pond en route to the high peaks. I enjoyed talking to Joe immensely at the time and we became fast friends. But I also had no real appreciation, back then, for what he was telling me. Why so much joy over a single mountain? Why so much passion for this dense patch of wilderness that practically bordered on romantic love? I get it now, and I kick myself for not having a taste of that mountain before Joe died so that we could talk deeper into the night about that wild and wonderful place. Every single person you encounter there has some kind of story to tell, and those stories are always worth listening to.