On My Peakbagging Project

In September of 2021, I moved from Tennessee to Vermont, and when I got there I met up with a friend and went on a hike of the Kinsman range in New Hampshire - a hike that I had started but never completed nearly two years prior. The hike was wonderful, and I had a great time reconnecting with my friend, but there was something we found at the summit of North Kinsman that troubled me. When we got to the top, we saw a group of more than fifty people hosting a party at the summit: there were beers, there was music, and the vibe seemed to be pretty upbeat. In the center of it all was what appeared to be a flagpole erected by a boyscout troop, and flying on that pole was an American flag. An odd site to be sure, but my friend and I shrugged it off as probably some local boyscout troop hosting a hike with family - something you see from time to time. It was only when we got to the south peak of Kinsman that we saw a nearly-identical sight. From the better view, we could see the four main peaks of Franconia Ridge, and I could make out at least two flags flying just above the profile of Liberty and Flume. Suffice to say, this was an odd sight indeed, and my friend and I hiked down without thinking too much of it.

It was only on the drive back that my friend and I realized that we had been hiking on the twentieth anniversary of 9/11, and that the supposed boyscout events we saw at each summit were actually a coordinated effort to erect an American flag on top of each of New Hampshire's 48 4000ft peaks on the anniversary of the attacks. The family events we though we were seeing were actually nationalism parties that were being thrown on nearly fifty different mountains in the state all at once.

Needless to say, I found the spectacle insensitive at best and offensive at worst. I understand the initial reaction other US Americans have when seeing thousands of people being killed with no warning, and the desire to try and uplift ourselves in the wake of that undeniable tragedy. However, most of the victims of 9/11 weren't from the few thousand US Americans killed the day off, but from the millions of people in the Global South who were killed in the wake of these attacks and the tens of millions more who had their lives upended by American imperialism - particularly those living in Iraq and Afghanistan. There is a direct link between the type of nationalism that was used to justify those wars of imperialism and the nationalism that inspires people to hold American flag parties at the tops of mountains to commemorate 9/11. As if that weren't enough, I must point out that the summits of each of New Hampshire's 4000fters lie on stolen Abenaki land, and that the United States is the direct political successor to the colonial state that stole that land and committed genocide against the Abenaki people. 9/11 was a tragedy, no doubt, and while I don't know the right way to introspect and reflect on that tragedy, I know it's not waving a symbol of war, imperialism, and genocide upon stolen land.

I'm known on occasion to be a petty person, and one of the things that bothered me about this event the most was that I knew that the kind of person who would attend/support an event like that is also the kind of person that would get really pissy if queer people tried to do anything similar during June as a part of pride month. Wanting to piss that kind of person off, I briefly considered trying to organize my own queer version of this, but quickly decided I didn't have the organizational capacity to do something like that.

However, what I lack in organization I make up for in dedication, and I quickly found something that would work a lot better for me. See, I had spent the previous two years pursuing various peakbagging projects, and I knew that I was fully capable of taking a pride flag up each of the 48 myself. Naturally, if I was going to do something like this solo, I would need to one-up them, so I decided that the best thing to do would be to take a pride flag up each of the 115 4000fters in the Northeast of the US. I had already climbed around 90 of these mountains, so I would need to redo a lot of them. I figured that I could dedicate the following summer to this project and see if I could get any local news coverage to publicize what I would be doing. Clearly the liberal media wouldn't be keen on publishing my unfiltered political opinions, but I figured even a feel-good fluff story about being dedicated to pride could do a lot of good for queer visibility in the outdoors. So I made up my mind.

The only problem is that I made up my mind several months before I would be able to start this project, and that time allowed my mind to be filled with many worries. On a political level, I was worried that antiquated notions of mountain climbing being a quest to "conquer" peaks would be a bad look on stolen indigenous land, because even if I didn't use that language, those notions are so deeply ingrained to our culture that they might be the default reaction of someone who sees my projects - a troubling thought, to be sure, considering I think of myself as opposed to things like that. On a personal level, I was early into my transition and I was well aware of how trans women under media spotlight get treated - especially when they don't pass. And on a practical level, I wasn't even sure people would care enough about a project like this for the concern over popular harassment to be an actual issue - people might just not give a shit over what is ultimately a niche sport.

My original plan was to do this project with a rainbow pride flag, as I wanted it to be a project that would appeal to a broad audience of queer people. A couple things made me decide to hike with a trans pride flag instead. Firstly, I was early into my transition, and I was terrified that if I put out over a hundred different photos of myself sweaty, muddy, and unkept, I would be sure to eventually post photos where I wouldn't pass. The idea of someone seeing me as a cis gay man as indicated by a rainbow flag was not something I was at all comfortable with doing. Secondly, there was an onslaught of anti-trans legislation that was pushed around the country during the first few months of 2022, and I was being reminded daily that the part of my queer identity that was most under seige was my transgender identity, and that it would be more personally meaningful for me to take up a banner of transness than a more general banner of queerness. But the thing that set me over the edge was seeing a news report of a trans girl in Tennessee, the place I started my transition, get detained for truency after being essentially banned from her school. After seeing that video and letting the rage fill me up, committing to this project was the only thing for me to do.

I have many trip reports, social media posts, and even an entire project page dedicated to the story of what happened next on my Northeast 115 project, so I won't repeat all of that here. My project didn't go viral, but it did get a fair amount of attention, including an article in an online queer publication, as well as an article in an Adirondack local newspaper. I tried to get an article written for when I ended the project, but none of the half-a-dozen news organizations I contacted in NH seemed interested, so I shrugged and moved along. Nevertheless, I had done it, and I was eager to do it again. I thought about taking the flag up the Saranac 6 in New York that fall, but decided instead to hike in the high peaks. That december, I was originally planning on knocking out the Catskill 3500ft peaks, but instead took the opportunity to take the flag up the most prominent peak in Texas. Overall, it was a slow several months, but I took the time to buy a van and build it into a mobile-living space in preparation for my next project

Climbing the 5000fters in the Southeast seemed like the natural successor to climbing the 4000fters in the Northeast, and once I graduated from college in March, I headed down in my new-to-me van. However, my original, and then my backup lists for climbing in the south fell apart, and while I still managed to take the flag up 202 mountains from Alabama to Pennsylvania, it lacked the coherence of my previous 115 project. Maybe that's why none of the nearly two-dozen news and queer organizations I contacted to try and run a story about climbing every 6000fter in the South responded to me - or maybe it's because of something else. Needless to say, I was disappointed by the lack of attention this time around compared to the last, and that while that would improve on my subsequent project of the New Northeast 131 which involved climbing every fire tower in New York, overall it seems like the novelty of what I do has worn off - at least in the east.

Yet I've done these projects for long enough that my ideas of what my project is and why I do it have evolved over time. What started out as a middle finger to a bunch of nationalists has evolved into the main thing that I dedicate my life to, and because of that I no longer view my projects in the same way. Put simply, my first project was an attempt at a publicity stunt, while my more recent ones are focused far more on the peakbagging than the flag - though clearly both still play a role. I've climbed every 4000fter in the Northeast, every 6000fter in the Southeast, and almost all the 2000ft prominence peaks in the Eastern US. In total, at the time of writing in the summer of 2024, I've taken this one flag up over 500 different peaks and points. I'm aware of other trans hikers and mountaineers who do impressive things in the outdoors (Erin Parisi gets brought up a fair amount - and for good reason!), but I've yet to see an example of someone doing the sheer quantity that I do. With a reasonable degree of confidence, I can say that no one in the world has taken a trans pride flag (or possibly any pride flag) up as many peaks as I have. Being perhaps the most prolific person in the world, even in an admittedly very niche thing, is honestly so cool. (And as always, if you know someone who's done this more than me, please let me know so I can credit them!) Because of that, I've largely contented myself with recognition, as the time and energy I dedicate to these climbs should tell you: I would be doing this stuff without a flag, and the flag, at this point, simply provides an additional meaning and value to this stuff.

As for the future, I've saved up enough money over working the last year or so to fund at least 3 seasons of peakbagging projects, and I intend on starting by spending a season this fall hiking in the Southwest. As for the specifics of which mountains and in what order, only time will tell, given how variable these things are. Looking forward to the seasons afterward, it seems likely that i'll dedicate myself to climbing as many state highpoints, ultras, and fourteeners in the continental US that I can, along with a myriad of other mountains along the way. Perhaps I'll focus on popular ranges to make my project have a broader reach, or perhaps I'll opt for the solitude of mountains more sparsely climbed. Who knows? And honestly, who cares? Anyone who looks at my website can see that I dedicate a lot of time and energy to these projects, and that I've already established myself in what I do by doing it over 500 separate times. So regardless of where I take myself going forward, or how I choose to characterize my projects, I hope that it carries meaning for those who choose to follow along and read long-winded pages like this one :)