Periwinkle
Active member
I think it’s now official. I’ve confirmed that I am in fact hiking obsessed. And a little crazy. 
Solo night hiking to Bondcliff probably qualifies me as certifiable.
Why would anyone do such an insane trip? Because I wanted to go to tree line. I’ve been missing it since last fall. Since I work a lot, scheduling doesn’t readily work out. So, when a last minute opportunity came up, I impulsively decide to go for it. My buddy Mike was hiking the Twins and Bonds with his dog, Goliath. He offered to take my pent-up black lab with him so Chappy could hike too. I would leave after work that night and meet them on Bondcliff. That was the plan.
We’ve pulled off quite a few crazy last minute agendas, from my first 4000’ footer to Mikey’s last, and lots of hair-brained schemes in between. This, in retrospect, was the mother of all half-baked ideas.
I’ve always wanted to night hike in. I’m not a morning person (understatement of the century). I’ve done more than my share of headlamp hiking coming out, something of a night stalker: Elvira, Queen of the Night Trail. Why not head in?
So, I started up the Lincoln Woods trail at 10 p.m. Saturday night. I wasn’t too worried about it. From prior personal experience night hiking, I now know that the Boogeyman does not live in the WMNF. I refuse to succumb to baseless anxiety. What’s the worst that could happen? Trail head bandits and critters bigger than me wanting trail right-of-way. There was nothing to fear but fear itself.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t completely oblivious to the dangers. If something went wrong, there would be no chance of help from passersby. I was on my own.
Right off, I was scared spitless. I kept thinking about an encounter last week when a bear and I scared the crap out of each other. And here I was in a similar scenario, hiking along a noisy river, reducing my chances of hearing or being heard by a bear. Bells were jingling along as I walked, headlamp blazing. What I hadn’t figured on was the ground fog from the river reducing visibility. Not good. Nor was having my headlamp blink as it switched to battery backup. Finding my backup light missing and having to change the headlamp batteries holding up a cigarette lighter wasn’t much fun either. I tightened the headlamp straps to be sure it wouldn’t fly off and break if I tripped. Having to bivy in the woods with no light would have been a complete horror show.
When I reached the turn-off sign for the Bondcliff trail, I was thrilled; hoping that as I started to climb the fog would be left behind. Since I hadn’t hiked the trail before, I stopped to read a copy of the trail directions again. Moths besieged me. To keep up a little noise and vent more than a little frustration, I cussed them out, “I’m going to kill you all you little mother &*@%#!$. Come here so I can kill you” and so on. Loud tirade complete, I set up onto the trail in better spirits.
The Boncliff trail was surprisingly easy to follow for a wilderness trail. I actually rather liked it. The first two water crossing were easy enough. The little bit of world surrounding me had become bigger as I finally left the fog behind and the clouds from an earlier thunderstorm dissipated. It was comforting to be able to see further ahead up the tunnel of trail and catch a brief glimpse of the moon.
Even more comforting was finally hearing another human voice. At 2 a.m. I radioed Mike as planned. I’ve never been so happy to hear someone’s voice. I had been feeling so alone, limited to the bit of world I could see, and frankly still a little scared. It was comforting to know there was someone else out there with my last worries ahead of me.
As it turned out the only “tricky” section at the third crossing wasn’t that bad. For once, I was grateful to see flagging tape left behind to follow, especially where the trail directions didn’t seem to jive. After that, a toad hopped across the trail, the only creature I would see all night. None to fearsome. All that was left to worry about was the infamous ledge. I found even it wasn’t the monster obstacle I’d envisioned. It was a breeze, even for my stumpy little legs.
At 4 a.m., I popped above tree line. I’d made it. I was back.
A deep blue sky greeted me. A hazy moon glowed, the first natural light I had seen in hours. Color was returning to the world. I switched off my headlamp and looked up the wide open rock face. It was all remembered and even more after hours of darkness. As I meandered up the ridge, familiar bird songs heralded morning. Soon enough, streaks of pink tinted the clouds as the sky lighted to pale blue. The sun was rising. The long night was over.
With the comfort of morning light surrounding me, I gratefully succumbed to a two hour nap. The smell of coffee woke me. Mikey had hiked enough water over from Guyot to not only refill my depleted supply, but ply me with my requisite two cups of java. I was good to go.
We headed back down the Bondcliff trail. The ledge proved to be no problem with the dogs. Mike’s fearless St. Bernard bounded down vertically. My phobia-ridden lab whimpered, then followed the very faint west bushwhack. From there on in, it was a leisurely stroll out with frequent rests at the stream crossings.
One of the lightest moments of the day came when we meet up with three women at the junction of the Wilderness Trail. They had camped nearby the night before. Around midnight, they had heard strange ringing sounds and faint muttering in the distance. Mystery solved. It had been me and my bear bells, cussing out moths!
From there, it was an easy hike out with a refreshing but bracing swim in the Pemi. Back to reality.
All in all, it was an awesome trip. Would I do it again? I don’t know. Probably not, but maybe. Was it a wise choice? Not really. I know that.
I did learn a few things:
P.S. I feel this post should have a disclaimer. I’m not suggesting anyone else should do this unless they also have done a good deal of night hiking and are very comfortable solo. Even then, it really wasn’t the best of ideas.
P.S.2 Well, I think I’ve made up for not posting in ages with this tome. However crazy it was, it was good to be back out on the trail to tree line, and good to be back here too.
P.S.3./Edit: Just read this after posting and saw my old signature quote line on it. LOL. That takes on new meaning now.
Solo night hiking to Bondcliff probably qualifies me as certifiable. Why would anyone do such an insane trip? Because I wanted to go to tree line. I’ve been missing it since last fall. Since I work a lot, scheduling doesn’t readily work out. So, when a last minute opportunity came up, I impulsively decide to go for it. My buddy Mike was hiking the Twins and Bonds with his dog, Goliath. He offered to take my pent-up black lab with him so Chappy could hike too. I would leave after work that night and meet them on Bondcliff. That was the plan.
We’ve pulled off quite a few crazy last minute agendas, from my first 4000’ footer to Mikey’s last, and lots of hair-brained schemes in between. This, in retrospect, was the mother of all half-baked ideas.
I’ve always wanted to night hike in. I’m not a morning person (understatement of the century). I’ve done more than my share of headlamp hiking coming out, something of a night stalker: Elvira, Queen of the Night Trail. Why not head in?
So, I started up the Lincoln Woods trail at 10 p.m. Saturday night. I wasn’t too worried about it. From prior personal experience night hiking, I now know that the Boogeyman does not live in the WMNF. I refuse to succumb to baseless anxiety. What’s the worst that could happen? Trail head bandits and critters bigger than me wanting trail right-of-way. There was nothing to fear but fear itself.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t completely oblivious to the dangers. If something went wrong, there would be no chance of help from passersby. I was on my own.
Right off, I was scared spitless. I kept thinking about an encounter last week when a bear and I scared the crap out of each other. And here I was in a similar scenario, hiking along a noisy river, reducing my chances of hearing or being heard by a bear. Bells were jingling along as I walked, headlamp blazing. What I hadn’t figured on was the ground fog from the river reducing visibility. Not good. Nor was having my headlamp blink as it switched to battery backup. Finding my backup light missing and having to change the headlamp batteries holding up a cigarette lighter wasn’t much fun either. I tightened the headlamp straps to be sure it wouldn’t fly off and break if I tripped. Having to bivy in the woods with no light would have been a complete horror show.
When I reached the turn-off sign for the Bondcliff trail, I was thrilled; hoping that as I started to climb the fog would be left behind. Since I hadn’t hiked the trail before, I stopped to read a copy of the trail directions again. Moths besieged me. To keep up a little noise and vent more than a little frustration, I cussed them out, “I’m going to kill you all you little mother &*@%#!$. Come here so I can kill you” and so on. Loud tirade complete, I set up onto the trail in better spirits.
The Boncliff trail was surprisingly easy to follow for a wilderness trail. I actually rather liked it. The first two water crossing were easy enough. The little bit of world surrounding me had become bigger as I finally left the fog behind and the clouds from an earlier thunderstorm dissipated. It was comforting to be able to see further ahead up the tunnel of trail and catch a brief glimpse of the moon.
Even more comforting was finally hearing another human voice. At 2 a.m. I radioed Mike as planned. I’ve never been so happy to hear someone’s voice. I had been feeling so alone, limited to the bit of world I could see, and frankly still a little scared. It was comforting to know there was someone else out there with my last worries ahead of me.
As it turned out the only “tricky” section at the third crossing wasn’t that bad. For once, I was grateful to see flagging tape left behind to follow, especially where the trail directions didn’t seem to jive. After that, a toad hopped across the trail, the only creature I would see all night. None to fearsome. All that was left to worry about was the infamous ledge. I found even it wasn’t the monster obstacle I’d envisioned. It was a breeze, even for my stumpy little legs.
At 4 a.m., I popped above tree line. I’d made it. I was back.
A deep blue sky greeted me. A hazy moon glowed, the first natural light I had seen in hours. Color was returning to the world. I switched off my headlamp and looked up the wide open rock face. It was all remembered and even more after hours of darkness. As I meandered up the ridge, familiar bird songs heralded morning. Soon enough, streaks of pink tinted the clouds as the sky lighted to pale blue. The sun was rising. The long night was over.
With the comfort of morning light surrounding me, I gratefully succumbed to a two hour nap. The smell of coffee woke me. Mikey had hiked enough water over from Guyot to not only refill my depleted supply, but ply me with my requisite two cups of java. I was good to go.
We headed back down the Bondcliff trail. The ledge proved to be no problem with the dogs. Mike’s fearless St. Bernard bounded down vertically. My phobia-ridden lab whimpered, then followed the very faint west bushwhack. From there on in, it was a leisurely stroll out with frequent rests at the stream crossings.
One of the lightest moments of the day came when we meet up with three women at the junction of the Wilderness Trail. They had camped nearby the night before. Around midnight, they had heard strange ringing sounds and faint muttering in the distance. Mystery solved. It had been me and my bear bells, cussing out moths!
From there, it was an easy hike out with a refreshing but bracing swim in the Pemi. Back to reality.
All in all, it was an awesome trip. Would I do it again? I don’t know. Probably not, but maybe. Was it a wise choice? Not really. I know that.
I did learn a few things:
- After six hours, a firmly affixed headlamp will produce a colossal headache (apply bandana head padding).
- Always check emergency gear sack to ensure essential items are there (like back-up light)
- A second headlamp is key. If I do ever do this again, I’ll carry my old Petzl headlamp so I don’t have to worry so much. Even if I had the mini-mag backup light, it wouldn’t have been sufficient to navigate by in fog.
- The world is smaller without light, lacking color and clarity – although I can hike faster without distractions, so much is missed. Too much.
- Most importantly, the mountains are always there, waiting -- when I finally reached Bondcliff, it was just as I remembered it. Even if I had not continued on, it still would still be there, serene and stunning.
P.S. I feel this post should have a disclaimer. I’m not suggesting anyone else should do this unless they also have done a good deal of night hiking and are very comfortable solo. Even then, it really wasn’t the best of ideas.
P.S.2 Well, I think I’ve made up for not posting in ages with this tome.
However crazy it was, it was good to be back out on the trail to tree line, and good to be back here too.P.S.3./Edit: Just read this after posting and saw my old signature quote line on it. LOL. That takes on new meaning now.
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