Robbi Mecus

By Pete Nelson

My wife and I have an inholding deep in the High Peaks, the northern border of which lies along an historic survey line. Part of the Old Military Tract, it was first surveyed by John Richards in 1812, then remained untouched until 1921, when surveyor A.H. King reran the line, finding some of Richard’s own marks and “boxing” them for identification. I’ve bushwhacked part of the line, but not the part where these old survey marks might yet be discovered. Richards’ blazes are no doubt long gone, however King’s, made a century ago, might still be visible to the trained eye.

There are a number of fellow history buffs who share my interest in old survey lines, but rooting around for fading marks at 3,500 feet, in dense montane forest and miles from a road, struck me as very likely to be a solo endeavor. Well, I was wrong: it turns out that looking for old survey marks, especially in hard-to-find places, was one of the passionate interests of NYS Forest Ranger nonpareil and Adirondack polymath Robbi Mecus, 52, who died April 25 while ice climbing in Denali National Park.

Robbi and I had known each other for several years, so she was familiar with the location of our land, though I didn’t know of her surveying interest until she sprung it on me in an excited burst of conversation one afternoon, right in front of her house, which we pass on the way to the trailhead we use. “I really want to get up there and follow that line,” she said, “plus there are some survey marks behind Round Mountain I’d love to go hunt down with you… it’d be great!” I was more than game, but Robbi was a pretty busy woman, so it took a while to carve out an opportunity. Earlier this spring I emailed her to set a June date for a backwoods sojourn.

Robbi was a casual friend and colleague. We hiked together here and there. We ran into each other on a regular basis. We worked on Keene’s inaugural PrideFest together. But I was not a close friend, not part of her intimate circle, nor a member of her climbing community. That’s exactly why I felt compelled to write this tribute. I don’t know if Robbi knew how much she meant to me, how much I liked her and viewed her as an inspiration for a meaningful life well lived. But I do know this: Robbi is in the Adirondack firmament. She was the caliber of person that ends up having things like mountains named after her. She made the Adirondacks an immeasurably better place, both for people who knew her and for people who will never know her. She’s not done, either: her legacy will continue to have a beautiful and meaningful impact on the Adirondacks for years to come. Robbi Mecus was, in a word, exceptional.

No one needs to be convinced of Robbi’s prowess as a Forest Ranger. She was as good as it gets: superbly skilled, dedicated, and indominable. In March, she was featured in the New York Times for a rescue on the shoulder of Mount Marcy, in deep snow, well off the trail. Fading boot tracks led her to a nearly frozen hiker who was immobilized along a treacherous stream basin (by coincidence, I’ve been in the exact place, in winter, researching for an article about source waters, and its mighty tough terrain). She saved his life. She saved lots of lives. That’s the job all rangers do, bless them.

It’s not appropriate to merely say that Robbi was an ally in the work to help the Adirondacks become more welcoming, inclusive and equitable, to be a place of greater belonging for all. Robbi was an exemplar, not just an ally. As a proud transgender woman, Robbi was a leader and role model for all who would work to better human society. She had unimpeachable integrity and courage, which she illuminated every day simply by living in this world on her terms. She was a brilliant example of the best of what a community of belonging can be. With transphobia and virulent discrimination on the rise these days, I cannot imagine the challenges that were presented to her, but she was above all of them.

Robbi talked about how her employer, her co-workers and her community embraced her when she came out. So many things were right in Keene Valley: we had her back, and she had ours. How can we not make progress together with people like Robbi to show us the way?

I love my community more and more every year, but I know that something beautiful is missing, and we will have to strive to compensate for the loss. I love the Adirondack backcountry and have ranged it with confidence for decades. But I know my margin of error has just been reduced. The Adirondack wilderness has lost something valuable. Robbi is gone.

Then again, when we’re in the heart of the forest or on a high buttress, places where we come to terms with the most important parts of ourselves, places where a word like “timeless” actually means something, maybe not. –Originally published, April 30: AdirondackAlmanack.com.

Pete Nelson is a teacher, writer, essayist and activist whose work has appeared in a variety of Adirondack publications. Pete is a founder and coordinator of the Adirondack Diversity Advisory Council, which is working to make the Park more welcoming and inclusive. When not writing or teaching mathematics at North Country Community College, Pete can be found in the backcountry, making music or even walking on stilts, which he and his wife Amy have done professionally throughout the US for nearly two decades. Pete is a proud resident of Keene, and along with Amy and his dog Henderson owns Lost Brook Tract, a 40-acre inholding deep in the High Peaks Wilderness.