adktyler
Active member
While most normal people were indoors enjoying the warmth and dryness of our American homes, some of us were outdoors hiking in the rain. Two such hikers were hobbitling and I. Here is his story:
I was late arriving to the trailhead. not a little late. A lot late. An hour late!
The reason for this is because...
A. I had to reattach my license plate to my front bumper in the rain before leaving that morning. This was after being pulled over for having a missing plate three times the night before while driving through Tupper Lake! The fourth time I passed a cop car and he pulled out behind me, but before he could put the flashers on I hid in a Stewarts parking lot .
B. I got lost, because the guidebook i have refers to hurricane road as "east mountain road".
So, By the time I got there ADK88 had already headed up Little Crow and big Crow without me. So I figured "oh well, it's a solo hike today". I signed in at the crow clearing trail register and indicated as my destination I would be checking out the leantos before heading up the mountain.
So I stopped at the lost pond leanto, and was eating a snack and drying off, when up walks ADK88, startling me half to death. We both had new rain gear, and so we decided that we would go ahead with our plan and climb hurricane despite the weather, to test our gear.
It had rained almost constantly up to that point, but it began to clear as we climbed Hurricane, and by the time we reached the summit, the sky was almost clear and there were views to be had. But ominous clouds loomed on the horizon, so we headed down. As we descended the storms moved in, and we could hear thunder getting closer. one strike, about halfway down the mountain, was quite close, and motivated us to move a bit faster.
No snow or ice anywhere to be seen. a few early black flies, but they weren't biting yet. They will be soon! great leantos, although the lost pond leanto needs a little maintenance.
Here are a couple of videos from that day: Gulf Brook Lean-to, Summit of Hurricane. Sorry I don’t have any pictures. I took some, but I have a new camera and don’t really know how to use it yet, so the photos give you the impression that you’re a person without your glasses on looking at a 1980s wilderness picture behind 1970s glass.
The second day, Sunday, I had a bit of an adventure of my own. I’m going to write an account of it in first person to, you know, try something different. If it’s rather lame and annoying, I apologize and won’t do it again.
After saying goodbye to hobbitling Saturday evening I start my car and drive off into the pouring rain to find a campsite for the evening. I soon find a new, well-hidden, place right by the river. After parking my car, changing into dry clothing, and having a bite to eat, I snuggle into my sleeping bag to catch some sleep before my next hike.
The following morning I awake to my aggravating alarm. It is raining, it is cold, it is dark, and I am wondering where I lost my sanity and if I’ll ever find it again. I pack up, drive to the trailhead, eat some food, and dress for a “fine and pleasant misery.” Many bad scenarios run through my head. The weather has created the perfect hypothermia conditions: cold, wind, and wet. The temperature is 45 degrees and the wind is howling as I begin my hike. I am surprised to find no trail register, and am a little unnerved at this as I am hiking solo at 5 in the morning. “Oh well, several people know of my plans, and I’ll be careful” I think to myself as I slog off into the dark drizzle.
The Blueberry trail up Porter Mountain in the Adirondacks doesn’t goof off. Within a few minutes I am hiking up a steep trail covered with sharp stones and slippery soil. In 20 minutes I hit the cloud line, and the little view I had fades below me, replaced by a misty land of brutal weather. After an hour I reach the summit of Blueberry, and run along the open summit yelling into the wind at the top of my lungs. This helps my moral I bit as I forget about my cold hands and drenched legs.
The real fun now begins. Below the summit of Blueberry Mountain the trail turns into a river. I say turns into a river, not becomes like a river, because it does just that: turns into a river. The path lies below 2 feet of water at points, and it takes all of my maneuverable ability to even move 10 feet. My pace becomes excruciatingly slow, and soon my feet become so drenched from constantly slipping into the water that I can feel my toes squish-squishing with every step.
A video of the "river trail," for your pleasure
As I gain altitude, the temperature drops and the wind picks up. Soon I become hungry, and stop for a snack. As I stand there admiring the mud, it begins to sleet. “Awesome!” I think to myself. This ends very shortly, however, and is replaced by another phenomenon: The trees above me are apparently all iced over, and as the wind picks up, it begins to break the ice off, which falls down and hits me in the head. “Even better!” I say out loud, as I start hiking again.
A video of the ice and wind, for your enjoyment
I pick up my pace as ice begins to pelt my face. Before long I reach the summit of Porter. Everything is socked in, and views are completely non-existent. I decide not to hike to Cascade, but to go back to my car and hike some other mountains not quite as high with not quite as nice views. The returning hike is equally un-enjoyable, and I arrive at my car in only 20 minutes less time than it took me to hike up to Porter.
My next stop is Baxter, a small peak that sees very little use from its southern route. Since the rain ceased part of the way down Porter, I am somewhat dry now and in a little better spirits. The hike up Baxter takes 30 minutes, and I am greeted with amazing views for a change. The thick clouds hide most of the High Peak summits, but the low lands are quite visible, and I receive a lovely panorama of the quaint houses of Keene Valley. My original plan is to hike onto Roundtop, Baxter’s close trailless neighbor peak; however, I am actually partly dry by now and don’t feel like becoming drenched by bushwhacking though the wet tree limbs. So I decide to hike down and try some other peaks.
After filling up my hydration bladder and grabbing the rest of my food, I begin hiking up towards the summit of Roostercomb. This trail is heavily used and well maintained, so I am able to make good time. Within an hour I reach the last leg of the climb, just as it begins to snow. “Sleet? Wind? Face-pelting ice? And now snow! Perfect!” I yell into the sky, as I do my best to cruise up Rooster. When I reach the summit, some excellent scenery greets my tired eyes. It is a very unique experience seeing snow blowing over fresh vegetation.
By this time I am near drenched by a combination of rain and sweat. I am also becoming very tired, and my body reminds me what happens when you don’t do any serious hiking for a month. When I arrive back at the trail intersection I feel as though I have enough in me to hike up Hedgehog, which is only 1.1 miles further. After about 10 minutes of hiking I hit my final wall of the day, as my stomach cries out from its lack of food. I eat my final pop-tart, which does very little to fill me up, and grab some fern fiddleheads to cap my snack.
I have never been so hungry in my life. There is a difference between sitting-at-home hunger and on-the-tail-without-enough-fuel hunger. The second kind plagues me as I trudge along, debating whether to turn back or not. In the end it is Uncle Neil’s fault that I decide not to, as his Hiking Guideline “No matter how tired you get you always have something left to burn” line pops into my head. In what seems like an insufferable amount of time I reach the summit of Hedgehog. I am freezing, dog-tired, soaked to the skin, dizzy… and there is no place on earth I would rather be!!!!
A video of the summit of Hedgehog, for your gratification
With renewed vigor I practically run down the mountain, overjoyed that I have persevered though and though. Within an hour and a half I am back in Keene Valley, beaten up considerably, but overall content. I sign out at the trail register, take off my boots, and drive home to the hot shower and warm meal that have been beckoning me for the last 3 hours.
In retrospect it really wasn’t that hard of a climb: 5 “mountains,” 8,000 vertical feet, 20 miles, 10 hours. But being on the side of a small peak in less-than-desirable conditions by myself made it a whole new experience. In the end, I will still say, God Bless the Adirondacks in May!
I was late arriving to the trailhead. not a little late. A lot late. An hour late!
The reason for this is because...
A. I had to reattach my license plate to my front bumper in the rain before leaving that morning. This was after being pulled over for having a missing plate three times the night before while driving through Tupper Lake! The fourth time I passed a cop car and he pulled out behind me, but before he could put the flashers on I hid in a Stewarts parking lot .
B. I got lost, because the guidebook i have refers to hurricane road as "east mountain road".
So, By the time I got there ADK88 had already headed up Little Crow and big Crow without me. So I figured "oh well, it's a solo hike today". I signed in at the crow clearing trail register and indicated as my destination I would be checking out the leantos before heading up the mountain.
So I stopped at the lost pond leanto, and was eating a snack and drying off, when up walks ADK88, startling me half to death. We both had new rain gear, and so we decided that we would go ahead with our plan and climb hurricane despite the weather, to test our gear.
It had rained almost constantly up to that point, but it began to clear as we climbed Hurricane, and by the time we reached the summit, the sky was almost clear and there were views to be had. But ominous clouds loomed on the horizon, so we headed down. As we descended the storms moved in, and we could hear thunder getting closer. one strike, about halfway down the mountain, was quite close, and motivated us to move a bit faster.
No snow or ice anywhere to be seen. a few early black flies, but they weren't biting yet. They will be soon! great leantos, although the lost pond leanto needs a little maintenance.
Here are a couple of videos from that day: Gulf Brook Lean-to, Summit of Hurricane. Sorry I don’t have any pictures. I took some, but I have a new camera and don’t really know how to use it yet, so the photos give you the impression that you’re a person without your glasses on looking at a 1980s wilderness picture behind 1970s glass.
The second day, Sunday, I had a bit of an adventure of my own. I’m going to write an account of it in first person to, you know, try something different. If it’s rather lame and annoying, I apologize and won’t do it again.
After saying goodbye to hobbitling Saturday evening I start my car and drive off into the pouring rain to find a campsite for the evening. I soon find a new, well-hidden, place right by the river. After parking my car, changing into dry clothing, and having a bite to eat, I snuggle into my sleeping bag to catch some sleep before my next hike.
The following morning I awake to my aggravating alarm. It is raining, it is cold, it is dark, and I am wondering where I lost my sanity and if I’ll ever find it again. I pack up, drive to the trailhead, eat some food, and dress for a “fine and pleasant misery.” Many bad scenarios run through my head. The weather has created the perfect hypothermia conditions: cold, wind, and wet. The temperature is 45 degrees and the wind is howling as I begin my hike. I am surprised to find no trail register, and am a little unnerved at this as I am hiking solo at 5 in the morning. “Oh well, several people know of my plans, and I’ll be careful” I think to myself as I slog off into the dark drizzle.
The Blueberry trail up Porter Mountain in the Adirondacks doesn’t goof off. Within a few minutes I am hiking up a steep trail covered with sharp stones and slippery soil. In 20 minutes I hit the cloud line, and the little view I had fades below me, replaced by a misty land of brutal weather. After an hour I reach the summit of Blueberry, and run along the open summit yelling into the wind at the top of my lungs. This helps my moral I bit as I forget about my cold hands and drenched legs.
The real fun now begins. Below the summit of Blueberry Mountain the trail turns into a river. I say turns into a river, not becomes like a river, because it does just that: turns into a river. The path lies below 2 feet of water at points, and it takes all of my maneuverable ability to even move 10 feet. My pace becomes excruciatingly slow, and soon my feet become so drenched from constantly slipping into the water that I can feel my toes squish-squishing with every step.
A video of the "river trail," for your pleasure
As I gain altitude, the temperature drops and the wind picks up. Soon I become hungry, and stop for a snack. As I stand there admiring the mud, it begins to sleet. “Awesome!” I think to myself. This ends very shortly, however, and is replaced by another phenomenon: The trees above me are apparently all iced over, and as the wind picks up, it begins to break the ice off, which falls down and hits me in the head. “Even better!” I say out loud, as I start hiking again.
A video of the ice and wind, for your enjoyment
I pick up my pace as ice begins to pelt my face. Before long I reach the summit of Porter. Everything is socked in, and views are completely non-existent. I decide not to hike to Cascade, but to go back to my car and hike some other mountains not quite as high with not quite as nice views. The returning hike is equally un-enjoyable, and I arrive at my car in only 20 minutes less time than it took me to hike up to Porter.
My next stop is Baxter, a small peak that sees very little use from its southern route. Since the rain ceased part of the way down Porter, I am somewhat dry now and in a little better spirits. The hike up Baxter takes 30 minutes, and I am greeted with amazing views for a change. The thick clouds hide most of the High Peak summits, but the low lands are quite visible, and I receive a lovely panorama of the quaint houses of Keene Valley. My original plan is to hike onto Roundtop, Baxter’s close trailless neighbor peak; however, I am actually partly dry by now and don’t feel like becoming drenched by bushwhacking though the wet tree limbs. So I decide to hike down and try some other peaks.
After filling up my hydration bladder and grabbing the rest of my food, I begin hiking up towards the summit of Roostercomb. This trail is heavily used and well maintained, so I am able to make good time. Within an hour I reach the last leg of the climb, just as it begins to snow. “Sleet? Wind? Face-pelting ice? And now snow! Perfect!” I yell into the sky, as I do my best to cruise up Rooster. When I reach the summit, some excellent scenery greets my tired eyes. It is a very unique experience seeing snow blowing over fresh vegetation.
By this time I am near drenched by a combination of rain and sweat. I am also becoming very tired, and my body reminds me what happens when you don’t do any serious hiking for a month. When I arrive back at the trail intersection I feel as though I have enough in me to hike up Hedgehog, which is only 1.1 miles further. After about 10 minutes of hiking I hit my final wall of the day, as my stomach cries out from its lack of food. I eat my final pop-tart, which does very little to fill me up, and grab some fern fiddleheads to cap my snack.
I have never been so hungry in my life. There is a difference between sitting-at-home hunger and on-the-tail-without-enough-fuel hunger. The second kind plagues me as I trudge along, debating whether to turn back or not. In the end it is Uncle Neil’s fault that I decide not to, as his Hiking Guideline “No matter how tired you get you always have something left to burn” line pops into my head. In what seems like an insufferable amount of time I reach the summit of Hedgehog. I am freezing, dog-tired, soaked to the skin, dizzy… and there is no place on earth I would rather be!!!!
A video of the summit of Hedgehog, for your gratification
With renewed vigor I practically run down the mountain, overjoyed that I have persevered though and though. Within an hour and a half I am back in Keene Valley, beaten up considerably, but overall content. I sign out at the trail register, take off my boots, and drive home to the hot shower and warm meal that have been beckoning me for the last 3 hours.
In retrospect it really wasn’t that hard of a climb: 5 “mountains,” 8,000 vertical feet, 20 miles, 10 hours. But being on the side of a small peak in less-than-desirable conditions by myself made it a whole new experience. In the end, I will still say, God Bless the Adirondacks in May!
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When are you coming down to the Catskills to show 'em who's boss?
