Neil
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- Joined
- Apr 26, 2004
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Glen and I were making slow progress on the Macomb Slide. It was past sunset and the wind was whipping the pouring rain into our faces. We were soaked to the bone and exhausted from already having done Marshall earlier in the day.
We would kick in a snowshoe, plant our axes, take a single labored step, then lean over and wait 5 seconds before repeating. I was freezing and would have changed into warm clothes but our packs were down in the Slide Brook Lean-to.
The wind was keening and I thought I heard a tree trunk snap when suddenly Glen's headlamp beam behind me pointed straight up in the air. I whirled around and saw that a huge piece of the snow covered ice had given way under Glen and instinctively I planted my ax and swung my hiking pole, which Glen grabbed a hold of. He was leaning way back and water was gushing down the slide under the ice. Glen was nearly knee deep and I could see that if he fell he might get wedged in between the rock and the ice, which had been carved out from below by the water.
He had a good grip on the pole but then it began telescoping and the segments parted with an audible pop. Glen catapulted backwards and his back smashed into the black edge of the ice. He lay on his back with water flowing over his face so I threw myself down into the cavity, got purchase with my snowshoes on the rock and with my last ounce of strength rolled him onto the snow. I took off my mitts and ran my hand up and down against his back. The shoulder blade was in pieces and he cried out in pain when I touched it.
The wind picked up even stronger and I said, "Don't worry Glen, I'll get you down".
"Are you crazy?", he roared over the wind. "We're only an hour from your 43rd summit. We have to keep going." Just then he lost his footing and I watched him tumble out of sight down the slide.
Then I heard a buzz. It was my alarm clock. I sat bolt upright in bed. I was in a cold sweat and I was shaking like a leaf. It was 2:45 am. I padded down the hallway to the kitchen to make coffee and then I drove to Upper Works to meet Glen for our hike. The weather forecast was calling for rain and wind.
Because the forecast was looking wet and wild this was an interesting hike to plan for. I had food and gear all over my basement but got it all packed up into neat and logical order. The plan was to do Marshall first and then Macomb so that we wouldn't get flooded on Herbert or Calamity Brooks.
As it turned out it barely rained on Marshall except half-way back down Calamity it began to drizzle. As we ascended Marshall it got windier and colder and we bundled up nice and warm for the final few hundred feet of vertical.
We got back to Upper Works in just under 6 hours (headed out at 7) and I made a complete change over to dry clothing, restocked the food and water larder in my pack, and attached an ice ax to it. I strung a clothes line up in my car and hung up certain items I wanted to use on the next hike and put a bunch of food and drink on the passenger seat.
Just as Glen and I were getting ready to drive away in our vehicles Nathan and Dani emerged. They had been shooting footage fro the great peakbagging documentary I plan on starring in. I said, "See ya at Elk Lake" and Nathan asked me where that was. He and Dani kicked off their snowshoes and soaking wet, jumped into their car to follow me and we all drove like rally drivers to Clear Pond.
I wanted to start at 2 and be down off Macomb to the marked trail by 6 but we didn't get away until 2:30. Gérald was coming out from Macomb just as we pulled in so we ate up time socializing and getting real-time beta.
The road (and summer lot) was plowed out so the road walk went quickly and easily. I had eaten and drank so much protein drink and water on the drive over that I had a mild gut-ache. Glen had 2 packs of M&M's, one for each mountain.
20 minutes in from the summer TH we met up with Charlie from Montreal who had just done Macomb and attempted South Dix but he said the spruce traps and total lack of a trail of any sort turned him back close to the summit of South.
By the time we were nearing the slide base the wind was positively roaring and it was raining a bit more. You could see treetops swaying to and fro through the deepening gloom. The vegetation was soaking wet but we wore rain gear. I had a pack cover on my pack, an industrial grade plastic bag that completely fills my pack and most of my spare clothing was in Sea-to Summit dry bags.
The slide was easy to climb in other people's snowshoe tracks. The wind was not too bad because the slide is somewhat grooved between its sides. We made the summit at 5:30 and did not linger. Descending the slide into the darkness was my favorite part of the day. It took 100 minutes from the marked trail to the summit and 50 back down. The butt sliding was a real knee and quad saver and speed was easy to control with or without an ice ax.
Once on the marked trail we sauntered and got out in gently falling rain at 8:30. My car was all neat and tidy when I left home but when I returned it looked like a bomb had gone off in it.
We would kick in a snowshoe, plant our axes, take a single labored step, then lean over and wait 5 seconds before repeating. I was freezing and would have changed into warm clothes but our packs were down in the Slide Brook Lean-to.
The wind was keening and I thought I heard a tree trunk snap when suddenly Glen's headlamp beam behind me pointed straight up in the air. I whirled around and saw that a huge piece of the snow covered ice had given way under Glen and instinctively I planted my ax and swung my hiking pole, which Glen grabbed a hold of. He was leaning way back and water was gushing down the slide under the ice. Glen was nearly knee deep and I could see that if he fell he might get wedged in between the rock and the ice, which had been carved out from below by the water.
He had a good grip on the pole but then it began telescoping and the segments parted with an audible pop. Glen catapulted backwards and his back smashed into the black edge of the ice. He lay on his back with water flowing over his face so I threw myself down into the cavity, got purchase with my snowshoes on the rock and with my last ounce of strength rolled him onto the snow. I took off my mitts and ran my hand up and down against his back. The shoulder blade was in pieces and he cried out in pain when I touched it.
The wind picked up even stronger and I said, "Don't worry Glen, I'll get you down".
"Are you crazy?", he roared over the wind. "We're only an hour from your 43rd summit. We have to keep going." Just then he lost his footing and I watched him tumble out of sight down the slide.
Then I heard a buzz. It was my alarm clock. I sat bolt upright in bed. I was in a cold sweat and I was shaking like a leaf. It was 2:45 am. I padded down the hallway to the kitchen to make coffee and then I drove to Upper Works to meet Glen for our hike. The weather forecast was calling for rain and wind.
Because the forecast was looking wet and wild this was an interesting hike to plan for. I had food and gear all over my basement but got it all packed up into neat and logical order. The plan was to do Marshall first and then Macomb so that we wouldn't get flooded on Herbert or Calamity Brooks.
As it turned out it barely rained on Marshall except half-way back down Calamity it began to drizzle. As we ascended Marshall it got windier and colder and we bundled up nice and warm for the final few hundred feet of vertical.
We got back to Upper Works in just under 6 hours (headed out at 7) and I made a complete change over to dry clothing, restocked the food and water larder in my pack, and attached an ice ax to it. I strung a clothes line up in my car and hung up certain items I wanted to use on the next hike and put a bunch of food and drink on the passenger seat.
Just as Glen and I were getting ready to drive away in our vehicles Nathan and Dani emerged. They had been shooting footage fro the great peakbagging documentary I plan on starring in. I said, "See ya at Elk Lake" and Nathan asked me where that was. He and Dani kicked off their snowshoes and soaking wet, jumped into their car to follow me and we all drove like rally drivers to Clear Pond.
I wanted to start at 2 and be down off Macomb to the marked trail by 6 but we didn't get away until 2:30. Gérald was coming out from Macomb just as we pulled in so we ate up time socializing and getting real-time beta.
The road (and summer lot) was plowed out so the road walk went quickly and easily. I had eaten and drank so much protein drink and water on the drive over that I had a mild gut-ache. Glen had 2 packs of M&M's, one for each mountain.
20 minutes in from the summer TH we met up with Charlie from Montreal who had just done Macomb and attempted South Dix but he said the spruce traps and total lack of a trail of any sort turned him back close to the summit of South.
By the time we were nearing the slide base the wind was positively roaring and it was raining a bit more. You could see treetops swaying to and fro through the deepening gloom. The vegetation was soaking wet but we wore rain gear. I had a pack cover on my pack, an industrial grade plastic bag that completely fills my pack and most of my spare clothing was in Sea-to Summit dry bags.
The slide was easy to climb in other people's snowshoe tracks. The wind was not too bad because the slide is somewhat grooved between its sides. We made the summit at 5:30 and did not linger. Descending the slide into the darkness was my favorite part of the day. It took 100 minutes from the marked trail to the summit and 50 back down. The butt sliding was a real knee and quad saver and speed was easy to control with or without an ice ax.
Once on the marked trail we sauntered and got out in gently falling rain at 8:30. My car was all neat and tidy when I left home but when I returned it looked like a bomb had gone off in it.
