Biggest D'oh "That Was Stupid" Moment

We've all had them. Something we know but forget or ignore like hotspots on your heel. We think, I knew that. For years I've known that. Why didn't I know that today?

To start off here's mine.

Hiking up the Glencliff Trail. My heels were lifting on the relentless uphill. We stopped from a break on the south summit and I followed my friend's example by tightening up my boots between bites. Off to the true summit and while my friends were enjoying the view, naming different peaks, I suddenly announced I (we) had to go because my feet were freezing. Freezing with a capital F. Down the Carriage Trail to the intersection. Walking was becoming difficult. Down the Glencliff Trail, each step was torture. I began to think of ways I could be carried out without calling for a rescue. Many unpleasant thoughts were rushing through my mind. They were stronger than the winds had been on the summit.

One of them was, when had I felt this pain before, as it seemed vaguely familiar, like I was walking on a sword blade, sharp side up. It hit me -cross country skiing about 8 years ago when I had not brought my Superfeet. My solution that day had been to tie my laces too tight for added support.

Same feeling. Same problem. Same solution. In about 15 minutes after loosening the laces, I was walking as though nothing had been wrong.

How about you?

I've had a couple.

Realizing 5 miles in on a winter ascent of Allen Mountain in the Adirondacks that I'd forgotten my lunch (I had plenty of snacks with me, I was able to successfully summit and return without any complications).

Realizing 5 feet in at the start of a 5 day trip in the West Canada Lakes Wilderness Area (also in the Adirondacks) that I'd forgotten to bring any sort of fire-lighting implement. I debated driving back to speculator to get a lighter for about 30 seconds, then remembered that I had a full jar of peanut butter with me, and continued into the woods anyways. The peanut butter was my dinner for four nights.

Lugging a giant pack up the trail toward JBL on a splendid October 1997 Saturday morning, destination Slant Rock and Haystack, and discovering, after two + miles, that my car keys weren't in my pocket. I hid the pack in the trees and raced back to the now filled-up Garden, finding my keys right where I left them, dangling from the door lock.

Every hike has a moment like that. Here are two, my first hike & my last hike, both coindentially involving Greylock.

Spring 1992, a humid Memorial Day 1st hike, flannel shirt & jeans but the moron moment was running the last 100 yards or so to the car (back when you could park at the AT crossing 1/2 up the road) one down tree about a foot off the ground, managed to lift my foot 11"

Last hike, getting ready to go, put my headlamp in my sneakers as I get dressed so I don't forget it. (I forgot it) Got home, I had put the headlamp in my wife's sneakers, not mine

I normally put on my Koflach boots and gaiters before I leave the house, yet for Karen’s 48’s finish on Moriah I decide to drive in my crocs instead. Once I reached the parking lot and started putting on my boots I realized I forgot my gaiters. All during the hike the snow would cling to my socks and then melt because of my body heat and the water would then run down my leg and collect at my feet. By the time I finished the hike I could no longer feel my feet. It was the first and last time I would forget my gaiters in winter.

I grabbed my boots from the closet early one morning and wore sneakers for the long drive to the trailhead. I didn't realize I had grabbed two left boots until I'd already put on the first one. I received some funny looks that day hiking in one boot and one sneaker. Now I keep my old backup boots in a separate place.

Forgetting my food when I hiked from ADK Loj to Marshall and back.

Good calorie burnin' day.

Showing up in Ellenville, NY for a hike with Ted Rippley Duggan to the real Ice caves on a Saturday with Snickers, to find out that the hike by Ted was Sunday....


D'oh. And it was a permit area too so we didn't have the permits... Fortunately, we ran into an AMC hike that we tagged along with..

Jay

In younger days when I lived outdoors a bit more....

I was living at a place that I could wade to at low tide... one day I was impatient to wait for low tide.
I looked at the cliff behind me saw a way I could climb it go across and there was this long cable that I figured I could use to make my descent.

However I soon realized that as I made my way down the steel cable had many, many rough splinter like spurs on it...and I had no gloves or anything to wrap my hands with.

It was Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! all the way down...duh... it looked so easy in the movies !

(place I was living at the time... a picnic table)

Camping at Blueberry L/T, we rose early to spend a leisurely day doing
Seward 1st, then Donaldson, then Emmons,returning the same way.
Got to the top of the first Mountain and the summit sign said Seymour.

Probably last month

Taking my son winter touring while wearing my brand new touring ski boots. Unbroken, unfitted ... they were too narrow. I has bruising my arches all the way up to a point when I could not walk anymore. I thought I would just ski down until I realized it is more painful to ski than to walk. Walked back down in great pain first with unbuckled boots and then only wearing my liners.

Could not walk for 2 days, regained full range of motion in 5 days.

In my first or second year of hiking, I was going up to Carter Notch by way of Zeta Pass. There was a thin layer of autumn snow on the ground, an inch or two. It was just enough to reveal footprints over the fallen leaves.

Going up the Carter Dome Trail for the first time, I made a water crossing and continued to follow a set of footprints further up the ravine. The trail was narrow and in need of a brushing. It was surprisingly steep in spots.

The footsteps in the snow turned back, I kept going. About 30 minutes from the water crossing I cursed out loud that this trail was in horrible shape and why weren't there any blazes.

*ding*

I then followed my route back down to the water crossing to see the acute left turn that I had missed, with the extremely obvious (if you bother to turn your head to look at it) trail continuing that direction.

I eventually caught up to a woman who told me, unprompted, that she hoped I hadn't followed her footsteps, but fortunately she'd turned back after only five minutes.

I've had a few:

I forgot snowshoes on a winter hike in the Dax once. I had to wear crampons all day, which was NOT comfortable! Fortunately, no rangers in sight!

'We' forgot the key to BLM once (half way up) and had to go back to the car to get it.

I was leading a hike in the Catskills once, and we came to a stream crossing. I told everyone to be really careful. They were. I fell in!

Too numerous to count but fortunately most of those were alone and the woods don't talk!

One good one was after a long, or should I say very long, Carrigain spring hike on the monorail. When we got back to the parking lot on 302 I looked at Earl, who had car-pooled up and hiked with me, and told him the unfortunate news. I had looked down at my zippered key pocket on my Columbia pants and it was open and when I reached inside I did not find my Jeep key! These pants have the zipper closing forward and were forever unzipping the valuables pocket when you pushed through brush.

I called my wife Bev and frantically told her that we were going to need a rescue by her. She was beside herself and said she was not driving all the way up north to "some damn mountain" to hand me a spare key! Earl was giving me a bewildered look and realizing it was not going well. Bev said why don't you reach in your @#$% left font pocket where you usually keep them! I did and told her quietly "Thank you, I will see you when I get home!"

Dave's post reminded me of car spotting with a friend. We parked my car at the Benton trailhead and drove in her's to the Beaver Brook trailhead. I was tossing my keys back and forth and my friend suggested I put them in her glove compartment for safe keeping, which I did. It wasn't until we were descending on Benton that I realized my keys were not with me and wouldn't be when we arrived at my car. We decided to take a chance that I could find the spare key hidden underneath, if it was still there, or chance getting a ride back to her car. I had to crawl under my car on my back in a very muddy parking lot, but found them!

I once left my hiking boots at home in PA. Was in Albany before I realized it. Bought new boots. It was a tough week of backpacking with new boots to break in. I really could not afford new boots at the time either; I was starting physician assistant school in a week and needed the money for other things. I also forgot my ski pants for a trip out west and had to buy new pants at the ski resorts $$$$$$$

Ellen, I had a car-spot story too but that was someone else's moment! I got to hitchhike from the Highland Center to Pinkham that day.

My "moments" of stupidity probably add up to hours, but one that comes quickly to mind was on a bushwhack in VT. We got to the top and I couldn't find my Windshirt jacket or my lunch. Had I snagged my pack on something? No, upon approaching the car on our return I found my jacket, lunch, and a few other items I hadn't missed strewn on the ground. Apparently I never closed my pack (and it didn't register in my peabrain at the summit that I hadn't!). Things had fallen out during the first 50 yards of the hike! I had to take some ribbing for that one.

Winter hike to Algonquin, Iriquois and Phelps this past Feb. I grabbed my gaitors to realize I had one of mine and one of my wife's that would not fit. Gaitorless, I had to watch my bretheren spring the spruce traps before me. I could only ausage my guilt that night with a few beers and 12 year aged single malt scotch shared with my stalwart companions.

On a Bonds traverse last August with my son. We went north south. Spotted my truck at LW. Drove Rob's car to Zealand. Had a great day till we hit the suspension bridge and Rob informed me he left his keys in his car. Fortunately we met a very kind man from Hanover who gave me a ride back to Zealand.