Neil
Well-known member
- Joined
- Apr 26, 2004
- Messages
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In spite of the fact that we are pack animals, hard-wired to do things (like hunt and gather) in groups, I believe it is good for us all to spend some time alone. I ended up spending 11.5 hours alone yesterday while being in the great outdoors getting life-giving exercise at the same time.
Tom dropped me at St. Huberts at 8 and after signing in for Sawteeth and the Loj I strolled up the road and began hiking once I reached the Weld Trail. It was chilly but nothing even close to what the forecast predicted. Hence, I was a bit overdressed and because I was lugging a 28 pound pack instead of my usual 15 I ascended the trail at a measured pace. Nevertheless, by the time I was part-way up Sawteeth my hat was off, coat wide open and sweat was trickling down my face. Microspikes sufficed to the summit (no problems at all with the steeper pitches) but gave way to snowshoes (Tubbs Flex Alps on loan from Alistair) once I had gone 100 yards down the Shanty Brook Trail. (I went in past my knees a few times.) The steep descent became icy and dicey within a few hundred vertical feet and I was glad when the trail eased off. Little Brown Mushroom’s tracks were long gone. After the steep pitch it was a long easy downhill stroll through open sunny hardwoods to the Shanty Brook. Time to Saw was 2h30m, time to the brook from Saw 1h30m.
From the crossing to the junction with the Bartlett Ridge trail 1000 feet up took me about an hour in warm sunny woods. However, a 5 minute fueling stop and a more gently graded lower Snowbird Trail put a chill in me and mitts, hats and hood came back on. 90 minutes past the junction I stepped onto the Range Trail. The final 500 feet of ascent to the Range Trail was tough. Our tracks from Saturday were covered in fresh snow. The 750 feet up to the Haystack junction had 8 inches of new snow so with my 28 pound “insurance policy” pack I was getting a very thorough workout.
I followed fresh tracks from the junction, over Horse Hill down to the Phelps Trail and broke trail again up to the Van Ho. I was pondering my next move before heading up Marcy and decided the best strategy would be to stop half-way up towards the Van Ho to drink and eat, switch over to a dry base layer, Prima-Loft jacket, fresh mitts, put on my face mask etc. The second half of the ascent would warm me back up again. However, I was too obtuse to follow my own excellent plan because I was really enjoying the rhythm I had going so instead I did all that at the Van Ho junction. It took forever to do it all and by the time I headed up to Marcy my hands were frozen and my finger-tips stung like hell. (putting already cold and damp hands into mitts at 0 degrees F is a heat sink- you better get moving ASAP) My shell froze instantly into a block of ice and I had to pummel it vigorously to get it into my pack.
It was extremely cold going up Marcy with a wind chill in the neighborhood of negative 92 but I sucked it down and when I got back to the Phelps junction I swapped my snowshoes for microspikes for the ride home. This seemed to take forever and by the time I got a hustle on I my hands were chilled again. Down at Marcy Dam I sent an OK message to Tom on my Spot and he had a warm car waiting for me in the deserted HPIC parking lot. Back at his place, in dry clothes, by the fire with a mug of freshly brewed French roast in my hands I sure wished I wasn’t driving home and getting up at 5:30 for work the next morning.
Tom dropped me at St. Huberts at 8 and after signing in for Sawteeth and the Loj I strolled up the road and began hiking once I reached the Weld Trail. It was chilly but nothing even close to what the forecast predicted. Hence, I was a bit overdressed and because I was lugging a 28 pound pack instead of my usual 15 I ascended the trail at a measured pace. Nevertheless, by the time I was part-way up Sawteeth my hat was off, coat wide open and sweat was trickling down my face. Microspikes sufficed to the summit (no problems at all with the steeper pitches) but gave way to snowshoes (Tubbs Flex Alps on loan from Alistair) once I had gone 100 yards down the Shanty Brook Trail. (I went in past my knees a few times.) The steep descent became icy and dicey within a few hundred vertical feet and I was glad when the trail eased off. Little Brown Mushroom’s tracks were long gone. After the steep pitch it was a long easy downhill stroll through open sunny hardwoods to the Shanty Brook. Time to Saw was 2h30m, time to the brook from Saw 1h30m.
From the crossing to the junction with the Bartlett Ridge trail 1000 feet up took me about an hour in warm sunny woods. However, a 5 minute fueling stop and a more gently graded lower Snowbird Trail put a chill in me and mitts, hats and hood came back on. 90 minutes past the junction I stepped onto the Range Trail. The final 500 feet of ascent to the Range Trail was tough. Our tracks from Saturday were covered in fresh snow. The 750 feet up to the Haystack junction had 8 inches of new snow so with my 28 pound “insurance policy” pack I was getting a very thorough workout.
I followed fresh tracks from the junction, over Horse Hill down to the Phelps Trail and broke trail again up to the Van Ho. I was pondering my next move before heading up Marcy and decided the best strategy would be to stop half-way up towards the Van Ho to drink and eat, switch over to a dry base layer, Prima-Loft jacket, fresh mitts, put on my face mask etc. The second half of the ascent would warm me back up again. However, I was too obtuse to follow my own excellent plan because I was really enjoying the rhythm I had going so instead I did all that at the Van Ho junction. It took forever to do it all and by the time I headed up to Marcy my hands were frozen and my finger-tips stung like hell. (putting already cold and damp hands into mitts at 0 degrees F is a heat sink- you better get moving ASAP) My shell froze instantly into a block of ice and I had to pummel it vigorously to get it into my pack.
It was extremely cold going up Marcy with a wind chill in the neighborhood of negative 92 but I sucked it down and when I got back to the Phelps junction I swapped my snowshoes for microspikes for the ride home. This seemed to take forever and by the time I got a hustle on I my hands were chilled again. Down at Marcy Dam I sent an OK message to Tom on my Spot and he had a warm car waiting for me in the deserted HPIC parking lot. Back at his place, in dry clothes, by the fire with a mug of freshly brewed French roast in my hands I sure wished I wasn’t driving home and getting up at 5:30 for work the next morning.
