Tim Seaver
Well-known member
December 11, 2007. The Gods may have not been smiling, but they were certainly having a good chuckle at our expense. On my birthday, no less! Perhaps it was to even out the outrageous luck with weather and wildlife that has been thrown in my lap on previous birthday hikes. Not having a great deal of time on this day, we went with the classic ascent of Mt. Washington via the Lions Head trail.
First up in this comedy of errors was a classic: I left my boots at home. So the choice was to abandon a hike up the Lions Head (and settle for something unthinkably wimpish), or to soldier on with a pair of beat-up, lightly insulated, treadless, screwless, North Face Pipe Dragons. Easy choice!
So we hit the trail, happy to see that the parking lot at Pinkham was mostly empty. We had hoped to get to the summit before the tiny high pressure bubble hovering over Washie and the Northern Presis disappeared.
Butt then, disasster struck! Tiny Gremlins within Jon's pack had managed to disconnect his hydration hose at the connection on the bottom, unleashing several liters of Calais Spring's finest all over his vintage 1990 gear, and most cruelly, his hiney!
(The cuplrit turned out to be the goofy lining in his Platypus reservoir tubing, which seems to delaminate from the tube, causing a poor seal when re-connecting the tube after cleaning - my apologies to Tiny Gremlins everywhere!)
Once again, we were faced with a grim choice between adventure in the face of adversity, or giving in to circumstances and calling it a day. Oh the drama! Calling on all of our resources, we implemented a plan for survival.
I offered Jon my spare shirt (with the condition that I may have to take it back above treeline if I got even slightly uncomfortable and/or needed a good laugh at his expense), which took care of his torso.
But a wet behind is truly another matter. No spare long johns accompanied us on this Fools Mission. No cozy tights. No 8000 meter down pants. A grim situation by any measure.
Then, genius struck! A MacGyver Moment, even!
Utilizing a spare pair of handwarmers, we slipped their warming goodness into a pair of light fuzzy gloves, which Jon then slipped into the backside of his....backside, with his pack waistbelt cinching the wrists of the gloves in a manner that allowed the warmers to gently coddle his nether-regions.
Passing the outlet of Hermit Lake ( the summer trail is still in use, BTW), we met another hiker who was properly dressed for the occasion - plastic mountaineering boots and a dry butt. Lacking those, we could only imagine the confidence such items give one on this Killer Peak.
A bit further, we put on crampons, and were soon warmed by the rush of testosterone that invariably accompanies a man accessorizing one's self with sharp metal objects.
We rounded "Windy Corner" and made our way through soft snow, ice patches, and rock. As is usually the case, the wind was raking the slopes below the Lions Head, so we jumped into our wind gear.
Well, sort of.
Jon was having some issues with his vintage 1991 Mountain Equipment bibs, which, while durable, are not the quickest pantaloons going. Constructed of the finest 65-layer Cordura/Gore-Tex/Artillery Cloth/Cement Board of that era, it's actually a two-man job to "mount" them on one's hiking partner. First, one man unfurls the thick, stiff wad of bibs from a stuffsack, a task that on it's own that consumes approximately 800 calories. Then, the pants in question are anchored on the ground at both ends with either rocks, snow pickets, ice screws, or deadmen so that you can proceed to Step 2, which is separating the industrial thickness velcro strips that run the full length of both legs. Having accomplished this, the next trick is to attempt to operate the zippers. I had noticed ( in the winter of 1997, I believe) that the zippers were functioning abnormally well - quite out of character for this garment, so I proceeded to remove the zipper pulls, and treated the full length of the zipper runs with fine-grit abrasive compound in order to restore the proper amount of Mountain Gusto needed to successfully separate the leg sections. This improvement, combined with the robust thickness of the garment's multi-layer construction, requires one person to attempt to move the zipper head with bare frozen fingers, whilst the other holds the two soon-to-be-separated legs in tension, lengthwise, to keep the velcro sections from re-mating in the wind. The proposed dressee is then positioned in a manner to don the pants, by first checking that his partner is standing well back from the area, lest he be struck by one of the 6 pound leg sections flailing in the wind. ( The flapping leg sections are best pointed downwind for optimal safety.)
A mere 30 minutes later, we were ready to continue the hike, and pressed on over the Lions Head proper, catching up for the 4th or 5th time with the properly outfitted gent we had encountered earlier. Conditions here are a mostly rock, tiny bits of snow, and a few water ice patches. The trip up the summit cone was uneventful, without a single mishap, equipment failure, or stupid decision. A few chest-thrusting pictures at the summit, a quick tour of the wind-blasted observation deck, and we were on the descent again. Near the exit of the auto road, we once again encountered the AMC-approved Mountaineer. He was inquiring as to the availability of shelter on the summit so that he could put some handwarmers in his boots. We informed him that the buildings were generally off-limits to those without Special Connections, but that he could probably find a place relatively out of the wind if he hunted around a bit. We wished him well and sauntered downslope.
Unfortunately, the rest of the descent was also marked by an extreme lack of Dumb Stuff, so I have little to add that may interest the reader concerning this portion of our journey. All in all, it was a fine day of chuckling our way through the various mishaps.
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