Your best "Worst Trip"

Most hikes work out fine. Sometimes a disastrous trip turns out to be a great experience. You may have missed a peak but overcome a huge obstacle, or helped someone else out of a mess. You may have had all the wrong gear or all the right gear broke and you made do. You may have bitten off too much mountain and learned a valuable lesson. These are the trips we remember.

My best Worst Trip was a family vacation to Busch Gardens and Colonial Williamsburg that was 2 part sit com worthy, at least. Maybe a movie. It involved botched reservations, flooded hotel rooms, stuck elevators, accidental fire alarms, not being able to buy beer , a pool side hurricane, sick children (this was all the first day), medical attention inside the parks, the list goes on, but when my wife and I tell the story well, it's wet your pants funny.

My best Worst Hiking Trips were almost all of my winter boyscout campouts. Like many, I was doing the "Year 'Round Camper" thing, made it at least 2 years, camping at least once a month, every month. This was in the early 70s. Our troop used floorless, canvas tents, no real ground cover, no decent sleeping pads. I had the only down bag in our troop, bought for me at Caldor by my parents for $50 in about 1971. We cooked on open fires, generally a mix of burger meat, tomato sauce and veggies wrapped in foil pouches. Sometimes they burned. Sometimes they broke and emptied into the fire. Sometimes they were pulled out and eaten cold before the first 2 accidents could occur. Standard dress was Snowmobile type winter boots, cotton Hanes long johns, jeans and a heavy winter jacket. We'd sweat all day performing our scout duties and then freeze all night on the cold ground. Daylight brought another round at the campfire trying to boil water for hot Tang and oatmeal. What a pleasure when some teachers in Junior High took a few of us under their wing, drove us to EMS and taught us about nylon, 8R's, sleeping pads and Mountain House.

Give us your best Worst !

Here we go...

OK - this thread has my name written all over it...the one common theme in these trips is - LARRYD was with me

These were all trips that made me say "what the hell do I do this for? this is supposed to be fun..." But soon after the aches go away they all become good memories...

Thoreau Falls Nightmare - a delightful romp thru mellow woods ended suddenly when we realized after the all day pouring rain there would be no crossing of Thoreau Falls without a PT boat -
http://www.vftt.org/forums/showthread.php?t=18437

Madison Gulf/Howker Ridge Nightmare - this was the only time I have ever seen Bobby lose his sense of humor - this is also the trip where Larry stated while studying a blowdown patch "at least the trees were smart enough to kill themsleves"
http://www.vftt.org/forums/showthread.php?t=17508

The Great Cocoa Incident of ‘06 - I was not into this hike and somehow split my head open while drinking cocoa...
http://www.vftt.org/forums/showthread.php?t=15133

Boott Spur Debacle - where Larry developed new profanity - we thought it would be "fun" to rename the huts and Rols could not understand while a middle aged man could not hitch a ride easily after a 12 hour hike while Mike and Larry drank beer on the Pinkham porch...
http://www.vftt.org/forums/showthread.php?t=13264


These days all truly sucked and I would do them again in a second - hopefully I would have learned something...

OK - so Chip and me are the only two hikers who have ever had a bad trip?

The Longest River in Vermont

I finished the Long Trail on August 3rd last year. 18 days of rain, tornado, knee-deep mud, slippery rocks. I'd listen to the weather forecast every night: 3 inches of rain expected tomorrow, 4 inches of rain expected the next day, 2 inches of rain expected the next day, 3 inches of rain expected the next day, 4 inches of rain expected the next day, 3 inches of rain expected the next day, 2 inches of rain expected the next day, 4 inches of rain expected the next day, Tuesday: partly cloudy- oops, wrong, make that 4 inches of rain, 3 inches of rain expected the next day, 4 inches of rain expected the next day, 2 inches of rain expected the next day, 4 inches of rain expected the next day, 3 inches of rain expected the next day, 2 inches of rain expected the next day, etc... I was pretty much the only hiker on the trail. In hindsight, it's a good thing that I was hiking alone, because if I was with anyone sensible, they would have gotten off the trail and I wouldn't have finished.

pressie traverse attempt in 2005 on a cold, wet June day with the the gang that was going to Rainier.

got completely shitefaced the night before, hungover real bad - like really bad. easily tossed down a 12 rack. Was training for rainier, so loaded up my pack with 3 gallons of water to "train". That was dumb. It was pouring rain all day.....

Since I was still probably drunk at wake up time (4am- who knows), I forgot to put my liner socks on. I puked around the valley way tent spot but of course - did this without loosing a beat and kept hiking.

Of course since only those doing a "pussy traverse" (haha) go up the airline to the adams summit, we went up the backside of adams via star lake - by adams summit hot spots forming, but of course I didn't deal with it (bad idea). By jefferson, I had holes in my ankles and decided to finally put moleskin on. Too late... Still pouring rain, pretty sure most of us had beginning stages of hypothermia. By westide trail, I finally dumped my heavy water as I had enough.

We bailed down ammo trail which was a river and headed back to cherry mt road and got shitefaced again that night with freinds and if I recall, Shizzy had burgers and hot cocoa waiting for us all.

Being hungover is great training for altitude as it feels the same... haha

judge as you see fit holy grail hikers - I could care less.

Chip, you seem to have left out that winter hike over the Cannonballs & Cannon a couple of years ago. Just a little memory jog

sapblatt said:

OK - so Chip and me are the only two hikers who have ever had a bad trip?

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Well, you seem to have covered my own personal fiascos quite nicely so I thought anything I added would be redundant!

I suppose mine would be the "Threefer" trips to Maine when I got my car stuck on Caribou Pond Road for three weeks. I still managed to have a good time though. I guess the worst part was I only bagged one peak that I will not have to do again.

For Sale Cheap: tire chains for a Ford Explorer

In mid October 1992 a couple college friends and I hiked up Washington via Ammo.....

Classic mistakes were made.

1. " The weather was fine in Boston"
2. "Who needs raingear??"
3. "Headlamp? We don't need no stinkin' headlamp!"

We got a late start. It poured. We were poorly dressed ( I was wearing jeans and a cotton sweatshirt). We bailed above Lakes when it started pouring. I'm sure we were in early stages of hypothermia, as on the way down we assumed Star Trek characters, and kept saying things like " She can't take any more Captain! I'm givin' you all she's got!" We finished well after dark.

In the early 80's I had a similar experience on a 50 mile hike with the Boy Scouts. Poorly dressed, we got caught in a thunderstorm on the summit of Layayette. We stayed at Garfield Tent site that night, and were all shivering our a$$es off. It was the first day of the trip. On the rest of the trip, I remember all the adults on the trip stopping frequently for cig breaks...

OK I'll give you one.

When I grew up, my Dad lived in Oregon and my mom in Mass, so my brother and I would go out to OR in the summer to see my dad. He remarried and then when I was 10 years old we arrived out there to find out that he was re-divorcing and our nice west coast family was disintegrated. We had previously done a lot of great family hikes and backpacks with five kids aged 11 thru 5 plus two adults... now it was just me, 10, my brother, 12, and my dad. I think he had a lot on his mind.

There is a mountaineering club in the pacific northwest called the Mazama Club, and Dad signed us up for a couple of climbs with them. The big trip was Mt Baker, in northern Washington. Mt Baker a cone shaped volcano 10,800 feet high and almost completely covered by glaciers. The climb was classified as a "B" climb by the Mazamas, meaning not a beginner climb.

So we joined up with the group the day before and packed in to a campsite on the slopes of the mountain. There were about 12 people total on the trip including the leader and an assistant leader. I have no idea what the other participants thought of our little subgroup, but I am sure that all of the others were adults. As I remember, we camped at about 5000' altitude, above treeline. It was dark and cold...and we got up really early.

I think we got up at midnight, with the intention of beginning to climb at 1:00 AM. Now, I was a picky little kid about what I ate, and Dad had forgotten to bring the right kind of Cream of Wheat for me, so I didn't eat breakfast. Maybe I had something... but I remember distinctly refusing what was offered and not having much.

So we began climbing. There were three or four ropes of four people each. We had crampons and ice axes. I was the "anchorman" on my rope. I think my dad was on the same rope and my brother on another one, but I don't think I really interacted with them much. We were spread out on the rope far enough that I was basically in my own little world, not talking at all, just step, step, step, up, up, up. It was dark. The entire way up we were in a whiteout. The leaders had enormous bundles of wands that they would plant in the snow periodically, so we could follow our route back down. It went on and on. It slowly got light. We were in our own little inclined whiteout world, picking our way around crevasses and just going up, up, up.We must have taken rests now and then.

At some point, I ran out of gas. My memory is vague on it, but the leader came down to me and gave me a pep talk and got me to eat some peanuts, and I was able to continue. I really have no idea how long this took, or what everyone was doing while this went on, or what, but I think somehow that this was a real crux in the trip. I was able to continue.

We reached the top. It was more of a blur. It smelled a lot like sulfur. The summit is flat like a classic volcano, with a little rise at the true top. The clouds parted just barely enough to see across the flat top to the little bump we were heading for-- we made it to the true summit, stayed a short while, and then headed back down.

I think it was fairly uneventful descent to the campsite. We had done it. So everyone packed up their tents and stuff and headed back out to the trailhead. Of course our little group was the slowest, and the climb was over, so the leader was done leading, and we were the last to leave camp. It was a little ways straight down down the snow before the trail branched off left into some scrubby trees, and as we walked down we passed the spot--just a little. As my dad tells it, I piped up and said,"Hey, isn't that the trail there?" as we walked by it, otherwise we would have continued right on down into untracked woods. We got on the trail and hiked out to the car and drove home. I have never been so exhausted.

So 35 years later, my brother and I still think about that trip and all the circumstances around it. We made it to the top safely and back down. To this day he doesn't hike much at all... that was almost the last hike he went on. I think it affected him more than me.... somehow I was not turned off to climbing as much as he was... A few days after the trip, it had all just faded into a sort of blur in my mind. The trip remains prominent in family lore... though I don't think I've ever had a "what the ^%&^%$ were you thinking??" conversation with my Dad. He is a healthy 77 year old-- we celebrated his 70th birthday by surprising him in the predawn twilight at the trailhead for an extended family reunion climb of the South Sister.

My kids are just the same ages now. My wife often reminds me not to do what my dad did, and I think I'm doing pretty well-- my 12 year old son is very strong and loves hiking and I try to be gentle and mindful in what trips to go on with my 10 year old daughter, as well as my wife, who didn't grow up hiking. I can't imagine bringing my daughter up Mt Baker. My son. yes, but he has steadily worked up to it and I have no doubt based on may previopus trips that he could do something like that.

The thing about that trip was that it was just so far and away more difficult than other stuff we had done up to that point. The previous summer when the family was together we had done a multi-night backpack, (with a five year old) and we had climbed a couple of Cascade volcanoes like Diamond Peak and the South Sister, which was a real challenge for me. There was not a steady progression of more and more challenging trips leading up to Mt Baker-- we just DID it. I wasn't a particularly active kid during the school year, and not living with my dad anyway he didn't really have a good gauge of my fitness. I ascribe the planning to the personal turmoil that he was going through, with us two kids being all that was left of his family, only with him for a month and a half, wanting to get all he could out of the precious time with his kids who would return to Mass for 10 months at the end of the summer....

I have read the recent thread about Tuckerman kids with much interest and a real sense of trying to gain wisdom into where to draw the line on trip planning and execution.

My best tale of a worst trip:
Age 11 or 12 I went with my summer camp cabin from Lake Ossipee to Caribou Mtn for a weekend overnight.
All the gear was circa late 70's and all my clothing apart from a nylon windbreaker was cotton.

Well our first break was at Kees Falls. I decided to take my Kodak Instamatic up to the top of the falls for a shot looking down. Well I slipped on the slippery rock next to the water flow, and down I went.
Fortunately the spring pool at the bottom was deep enough and I didn't have any abrasions. The Kodak didn't survive.
Soaking wet and not having a change of clothes we made it to the top. I indured a cold, sleepless night at a shelter near the summit.

That's all I got.

Chip said:

My best Worst Trip was a family vacation to Busch Gardens and Colonial Williamsburg that was 2 part sit com worthy, at least. Maybe a movie. It involved botched reservations, flooded hotel rooms, stuck elevators, accidental fire alarms, not being able to buy beer , a pool side hurricane, sick children (this was all the first day), medical attention inside the parks, the list goes on, but when my wife and I tell the story well, it's wet your pants funny.

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Sounds like a perfect candidate for around the campfire at Roger's Rock come July! (I'll wear my Depends. )

Then we'll counterstrike with our '95 or '96 holiday trip to visit my (now) in-laws in Alabama, which involved a furniture-less house, lost moving truck, crotchety 90-year-old grandfather (my wife's), hours of unending boredom and a "bartender" who was incapable of making a cocktail with more than two ingredients.

And Christmas dinner at the Waffle House.

Good times.

hands down winner for me:

Slide - Kilburn - Sentinnel - Stewart traverse, in the rain, alone.

In short for those unaware, it's alot of bushwhacking near Lake Placid.

In one knarly place, I reached to my pocket for my map and found the spruce had stolen it. I grabbed the #1 back-up and put it in my pocket. Later I reached for the map and my pocket was gone - literally torn off by the spruce without even knowing it! I got out on the #2 back-up map and was quite carefull from that point on. There was one section of about 1/2 mile that took 2 hrs. Tougher than Barren, The Sawtooth range, and E Lily bay (but that one was close)

At the end I got to the road and had to walk back to my car - no rides
The insides of my thighs were rubbed raw and oozing a slime in defense to the abrasions. For me, it was one of my toughest hikes, and choosing that particular day was not a good one.

Then there was the time I put all the important backpacking gear such as knife, lighter, utencils, etc. in a bag and then left it at home.

Italian Alps, I was pregnant with Sage and Alex was 18 months old.

My husband, who is a double-amputee, and I decided to do a hike up a mountain and into a beautiful valley where wild horses roam. We figure we'll see them from afar....

Hike up went well. Then we descend into a valley where we are approached and encircled by 13 wild horses. I had just taken Alex out of her backpack before the encounter....which is lucky, because one of the horses came up and bit through her pack. Must have had a cracker in it or something...it wouldn't let go. I remember looking up and seeing another horse bite my husband's pack. All the horses were coming up to us, sniffing, some rearing upward, it was very frightening. My husband yanked his pack away from the horses and I dropped the baby-backpack (Alex was in my arms). Horses pounced all over that pack, creating a space for us to get away. I remember saying, "don't run, don't run" to my husband and we walked through the horses and got a distance of 100 feet or so away. We turned, they were ripping the hell out of that pack.

We continued on our way, and decided to take a shortcut through a cowfield to get to a road. This shortcut (and pasture) was marked on our map as a viable hiking trail...by this time, my husband was in a lot of pain (walking for miles isn't all that easy for him). We hopped over a low electric fence (I could easily keep Alex over it), made our way 20 feet through the field when we noticed a bull heading our way. We put our hiking poles straight out in front of us, in a defense posture, and made our way back to the fence. Climbed back over it, walked around it.

Problem was, to walk around it meant walking on a serious incline next to impenetrable scrub. Had to walk against the fence at times -- didn't bother my husband in the slightest because he couldn't feel the shocks, but I certinaly got my fair share of electricity that day.

We made it to the road, stuck out our thumbs, and no one would pick us up. My husband was about to take off his legs and sit there for dramatic affect and hopefully a mercy pick-up, when a television crew from Britain decided to stop. We went with them, watched them film a commercial for a motorcycle, then rode with them back into the town in which we were staying.

Strangest, most surreal hike either of us has ever done.

lattinhill said:

Chip, you seem to have left out that winter hike over the Cannonballs & Cannon a couple of years ago. Just a little memory jog

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That was just a poorly planned, late start, carrying too much gear, nerve wracking, night falling, family waiting, muscle tearing, 911 calling, cr@ppy winter solo hike and ice slide on skis down Cannon. No "Best" there, except I did make it back to the Beacon in time for the play-offs !

Best Worse Trip

TrishandAlex said:

Strangest, most surreal hike either of us has ever done.

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That trip should be published in the next "Worse Case Scenario Book for Hikers". Your family was very lucky to get out of the situation.

And I thought the ponies at Assateague Island were scary.......

Little D

TrishandAlex said:

Italian Alps, I was pregnant with Sage and Alex was 18 months old.

Strangest, most surreal hike either of us has ever done.

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YIKES!! and I've been scared of meeting bears...

Kahtadin

Ok...so this isn't the worst story out there...but it surely sucked for us

Hubby and I had planned since JANUARY our time to hit Kahtadin...by the time our vacation and reservations at Chimney Pond Campground came around...the forcast was...rain. Lots of it (late Sept). We figured, ok...so we hit the summit quickly and by the Saddle trail only just so we can say "done it". Besides, it's just the two of us, hiking, nice lean to...we'll bring a tarp and keep dry.

At the Togue Pond gate...the ranger says "oh...I've been told the water is knee deep in places"...sigh...we talked as we drove to Roaring Brook...and talked some more. Still...we have raingear and dry cloths to put on before we summit. Ok..up the trail we go. Chimney Pond Trail follows a nice brook. Ok...it actually is a brook in the spring...or, when raining hard and for several days! Sigh...we have rain gear...we're fine.

We hike...about when it gets steep (by the rock slide and bridge)...there's a nice detour! UP the rock slide...UNDER a nice tree...ok...not under...how about over? Can't do that with our 50lb (!!!) packs on. So...off with the packs...over the tree...back ON with the packs...and UP the slide!! that detour sucked!! (we found out later that right where they had created this "detour" there is a junction to ANOTHER trail that, if followed all the way, comes out right BEFORE Chimney Pond Campsite!!!)

FINE!!! we finally made it to the campground...we were SOAKED and tired and frustrated. We figured...heck, let's change, have a quick bit and hit that summit!! We get to our leanto...TRASHED!! cloths...trash...piss in a bottle...really nice. We knew how strick Baxter Park is...so, we figured let's find a Ranger and let him/her know this isn't ours so we don't get stuck being fined for this mess!! Well...it's Ranger change day!!

SIGH AGAIN!! By the time we got this straighted out...it was 11:00 (still plenty of time to summit) but...we are VERY wet, tired, just not in the mood to do this climbing thing anymore! We figured...ok...let's cut our losses for today, we still have tomorrow. A quick summit before we head home.

The day actually got better...stopped raining, sun peaked out...by 1:00 pm, we were back in the mood to summit...but, it was now too late (being ones who actually FOLLOW park rules). Sigh...the night was a winna! 50 mph winds, sideways rain...didn't sleep a wink. but still...summit tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes...yea!! Looks ok...only raining a little...and a little windy. Oh Oh...here comes the ranger..."sorry ma'am...they summit has been closed due to Hurracaine IKE..."

We didn't cry...but were close.

Wow, you guys have had some bad hikes!

My best "bad" trip was to Katahdin this fall.

I went up Katahdin in a rainstorm. It was the last remnant of a tropical storm that had started in the Carolinas and worked its way up the coast.The rain gauge at Chimney Pond said 7 inches fell while we were hiking. I doubt it was actually a full 7 inches, but it was a heck of a lot.It was awesome though. Our group was really solid -4 of the 6 people were from my pre-o backpacking trip.

We camped at Roaring Brook the night before so that we could get an early start. It started raining hard when we got close to Millinocket and didn't show any signs of letting up. I woke up at 5 am to thunder and torrential rains.

We talked the situation over during breakfast. The rain was here to stay, views were gonna be non-existent, a ranger told us that a bridge below Chimney Pond was out and required a detour, and there was no guarantee that we would be allowed to go past Chimney Pond. Needless to say, we went up Katahdin.

We signed the trail log and started up the trail, a row of headlamps in the dark. Visibility was no more than 15 or 20 feet with headlamps and zero without. After 40 minutes, it started to get light, and I put mine away. It was raining hard, but it wasn't that cold. Our shells were completely soaked through long before we got to Chimney Pond. I took off my hood after two hours because I was overheating with it on and was already wet to the bone. It was actually quite nice to feel the rain on my face. I also had better peripheral vision and spotted a young moose that was grazing 15 yards off of the trail.

Oh, and did I mention we added a few miles to the trip by going the long way to the Pond? Remember how that bridge was out? Well the ranger told us that there was a marked detour that would take us past the bridge and plop us back on the trail 200 feet further down. Unfortunately, he didn't tell us exactly where it was. When we got to the bridge in question, we searched for the alleged trail but couldn't find it, so we backtracked until we saw a promising looking trail. However, instead of a short detour, we took the trail to the base of Hamlin Ridge. Nobody realized it until we came to a junction and were faced with the options of going to Hamlin Peak or Chimney Pond. That was a real downer. We kept truckin' and finally made it to Chimney.

When we got there, we weren't the only ones in line to sign in. A group of about 20 was walking around in plastic ponchos and tennis shoes and carrying Poland Spring bottles and cotton sweatshirts. There was another large group that I could have sworn was a school group. Some serious dudes were about to head up, and some random middle-aged guys were milling about. So much for crappy weather keeping the crowds away.

Renny went to the ranger station to sign us in while the rest of us invaded a leanto to change layers. I took off my wet stuff which left me soaking wet, cold, and standing there in hiking boots and running shorts. There is a picture of this somewhere and I need to find and destroy it. When I went to dig out my spare baselayer, I discovered that, in my rush to get my stuff together, I had forgotten to line my pack with a trash bag. Everything was soaked. After wringing out my shell (yes, you read that correctly) and all my spare stuff, I took stock.

My wicking t-shirts, technical base layer, both pairs of socks, rain shell, hiking pants, rain pants, and running shorts, gloves, and hat were all wet. The rain pants were repelling water just fine but were not breathing at all and had more water inside than out, leading to the wet hiking pants. The dry things were a softshell vest and my Arc'T softshell hoody. My boots weren't too bad, so I sqeezed most of the water out of my socks, blessed the sheep they came from, and put them back on. Meanwhile, Renny was getting a lecture on how Katahdin was like Everest and K2 and how the risks were exactly the same. Renny thanked the ranger and we set off up the Saddle. In the end, I headed out wearing the hiking pants, vest and hoody.

The wind picked up when we got to the Saddle and suddenly my legs went from damp but comfortable to freezing cold. Ditto for my hands. When we got to the summit, the mist was swirling and we were too cold to stand around and pose for a group picture. Sam thought that the Knife Edge would be passable, and we unanimously voted to go for it.

Knife Edge was AWESOME!! The mist hid the big drops on the sides, but we knew they were there. Also, we had no sense of distance or our progress along the ridge. It was great, imagine scrambling along a ridge that appears to have no end. I was basically in heaven. The rain slowly shifted to wind-blown mist, and made any smooth surface incredibly slippery. We were getting close to Pamola and I was feeling pretty pleased with myself since I was the only one who hadn't fallen yet. Unfortunately, my luck ran out and I slipped off of a rock, banged up my knee and tore up my palm.

I taped my hand as best I could and we hoofed it down the Dudley Trail. The mist lifted about a third of the way down, but the top was still stuck in the clouds. Back at Chimney Pond, we stopped to collect the gear we had deemed too wet to bother carrying and left in the leanto. We were tired and didn't care to repeat the trip out to the base of Hamlin on our way back to camp, so we went down the Roaring Brook Trail. The bridge was completely passable! The top layer was gone in a few spots, but the lower cross braces were rough cut logs and easy to walk across. We were pissed.


This trip, despite being wet for most of it, cold for a long stretch, gouging my palm and ruining my favorite pair of light gloves, is one of my favorites. I prefer peaks with views, but there is something to be said for hiking in fog. Come to think of it, on all three hiking trips I've done with the BOC, it's been rainy.

Wringing out my socks when we got back to Chimney Pond

I slipped somewhere near here

Best "views" of the day

woodsxc said:

Wow, you guys have had some bad hikes!

My best "bad" trip was to Katahdin this fall.

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Sounds like the weekend we were there...how come YOU got to go up...I'm jealous!