A long time ago, I had been part of a church group who ventured up to the High Peaks area every Memorial Day and climbed for the weekend. I had bagged a bunch of the High Peaks, but have forgotten exactly which ones... and it was a long time ago. A couple years ago, I climbed Whiteface Mountain, which is one of the top 5 of the 46 High Peaks. People who climb all 46 are known as 46ers. I decided I would aspire to be a 46er. Towards that end, I spent the last year looking forward to knocking off the 4 Seward Range mountians: Mts. Seward, Donaldson, Emmons and Seymour. The plan was to climb Seward, Donaldson and Emmons one day, and Seymour the next before hiking back to the trailhead to be picked up.
That was the plan.
(I apologize in advance for some of these pictures. I left the good camera at the camper and was using a Kodak EasyShare for almost the fist time. I didn't count on slow shutter speeds and such varied light and image quality from a single camera. - none of those are compliments.)
Anyway. . . the morning of Day 1, I was up bright and early, eager as a kid on Christmas. The weather looked good, and the forecast said 40% chance of rain. 40% is my own personal cut off at home for deciding whether to ride my bike to work or not. At 40% I let the radar decide - usually I bike. I was bereft of radar, and the sky was sunny.
As Mrs. Yugoboy was driving me to the trailhead, it began to sprinkle a little. Not much, but I should have paid attention. They let me out of the big truck, I loaded up my pack and drinks, slapped on some DEET and began hiking.
This photo doesn't show the large puddle I stepped around just to get to the register. More about the register later. (Again, sorry for the blurry.)
It was not long before the sun came out and the day became quite pleasant and enjoyable. The hike to the lean-tos and actual trail up the mountains was pretty flat, but the puddles and mud were freakin' everywhere.
This is the fork in the trail. Foot traffic goes left, horses go right. Supposedly the horse trail meets the foot trail later, but when I got to that junction, it said the trail was closed and the trail looked completely unused.
This is the left fork after you make the turn.
Just some of the mud and puddles. Apparently, I'm some kind of stubborn moron, because I didn't take the hints.
Look! More mud! This was relatively solid, in that you could walk through it and only the first inch of your boot got covered in mud.
This is where 2 trails intersect. Those going to the Seward Range &/or Duck Hole go straight (Duck Hole is a lean-to associated with the Santinoni Range, which I'm thinking of trying next year... because I"m stupid like that.)
This is the scene to the left of the intersection (it's private land):
Told you:
Only 1.2 miles in. I'm doing OK. My feet are still dry and I haven't gotten lost. Might be a good day. Do notice the sunshine in the sky and the general beauty of the day. It's not yet 9 a.m. The actual trail up the mountains is somewhere between the Ward Brook truck trail and the lean-to.
This creek had to be negotiated to continue. Nothing major, but in retrospect it was a hint I never got. See, the trail continues dead ahead. So does the creek.
The creek sure was pretty, though.
Another pretty creek. Obviously, I'm feeling perky, and the hike's going well, so far. Still sunny!
This opening in the woods is just gorgeous. Especially when it's sunny. What isn't obvious until later is that this opening is essentially the beginning of beaver territory. There's a fairly substantial beaver pond coming up in a couple pictures.
Please notice the blue to the right of dead center in the next picture. That's a rain poncho someone left hanging in a tree. One of the smarter things I did all day was take it. My wife had suggested I take ours, but ours is so heavy you could roof a porch with it.
More mud.
Not sure why I was taking so many pictures of mud. Maybe my subconscious brain was trying to tell me something.
This next picture shows the beginning of a stretch of like a 1/4 mile of rocks and boards established over and through the mud. Yup. That mud exists year round such that rangers have installed aids for hikers.
One of the first views of the beaver pond. It's like 100 feet or more away through the woods.
More beaver pond.
This log bridge was set up to help get across this creek. Apparently, it's very old. Look closely. 2/3 of the bridge have collapsed.
The view of the creek from atop the bridge.
The other view from the bridge.
Upon reaching the other side, one notices that maybe stopping for pics wasn't so bright an idea, as the final log is pretty well decayed on this end.
A better view of the bridge's component pieces as they exist today.
Shortly after this bridge is the Blueberry Lean-To. Let's try to remember that it is closer to the parking area than Ward Brook . . . Lord knows I didn't.
Another view.
Just a hop, skip and a jump later, the turn onto the Ward Brook Truck Trail. It seems the mud is about to be left behind!
In the next image, notice the part where you can't read how far Ward Brook is. It's not like I spent much time contemplating these things. It was a sunny day, and the trail was drying up.
This is what is meant by "Truck Trail". It's literally a trail trucks used to use, and is still wide enough for that task.
A little further on, I reached this bridge. That's my backpack upon the bridge. It's not real easy to see the gaps between the boards, but they're there. This is important, because while the pack was off, I decided to put on more DEET. I had a small bottle with a pump top. The pump top proceeded to fall off, roll between 2 boards and disappear into the creek below. I do not know why I don't get these hints.
Calkins Brook:
At the far end of the bridge is the cairn marking the beginning of the Seward Range Trail. This trail is easy to follow, but completely unofficial. There aren't tree markers to follow. If you get off the trail, you may not get back on. Cairns play an important role I'll get to in a bit.
Better view of the cairn and the trail. Looks good so far.
At this point, I suppose I should thank the authors of this hiking blog post. Their detailed explanation of their hike was good enough to help me follow the trail the couple times I had questions. This was one of those times, and the directions were good. The trail is immediately after the bridge.
Mud again.
Root steps between the trees. The path was pretty easy to follow.
The hole below is the first time my foot was completely engulfed in mud. It would NOT be the last.
The brook sure is pretty. It also appears to be really clean. I'm still very glad I asked for iodine tablets for Christmas.
The trail crosses the brook twice. It also crosses several tributaries. Each major crossing has a cairn on it erected by some kind people. If you try to climb, you'll find that every time panic begins to set in that you might be lost, somebody's set up a cairn. (Not in this picture... in the next one.)
Look carefully, the cairn is next to the log about dead center in the pic.
Another couple of cairns. When I began the hike, one of my goals was to photograph every cairn as a helpful guide for hikers who follow my path. For reasons I'll get to, I abandoned this quest.
The climb began steep, and didn't really let up. The view here is back at where I'd been.
This is the view uphill from the same spot.
I forget why I shot this next one, except maybe to show how easy the path was to follow. Do notice the sun is still out.
Still climbing. . .
This spot is really pretty. The brook spends a little time in a nice clear pool (next picture). Great place to fill any empty water bottles (use iodine tablets!)
Sure is a pretty brook. This, by the way, is your last major pool for water. There's more streams uphill, but they're smaller and have no pools for easy filling. Also, those streams may or may not have been fed from prior rains, so they may not be there for your hike. Bring enough water, or at least bottles, for 10-12 hours of hiking.
The rocks begin innocuously enough.
Another cairn. In part because the trail, for now, has ceased to be a herd path through the forest, and has begun being a climb up a rock fall. Maybe a mile or more of this. Regardless of the weather, this is the hard, miserable part of the climb, especially if you're not used to climbing with a pack. I'm not. I'm usually pretty quick in the mountains, leaping from rock to rock, and traveling maybe 30% faster than usual estimates. The pack brought me down to earth quick. I'm going to be avoiding the pack in the future, if at all possible.
Brief respite from the rocks. Nice little glade. Do notice the sun is still shining. It won't be for long.
Another cairn. It's an easy path to follow, even without plastic tree signs.
The first break in the trees. Pretty skies, and the break lulls you into thinking maybe you're near the top. You ain't.
Another cairn. More rocks to climb.
The view downhill from atop those rocks. The route is very direct - go uphill until you're going downhill.
Now this cairn is a little excessive, I think.
Another cairn. More rocks. Another blurry pic.
A better deceptive look through the trees. It's scenery and it's pretty. See the clouds? Do you see any blue sky? No problem (yet). BTW - at this point, I'm stopping every 4-10 steps. It's the steepest thing I've ever experienced and I'm still wearing the freakin' pack.
Another cairn. Another stop for oxygen.
It's between these two pics (the one above, and the one below) that I hear the first thunder of the day. The rain is not far behind. At first it's a little sprinkly and quite refreshing.
A few more booms of thunder and the rain stops about the time I reach the summit of Seward. I'm damp but not uncomfortable. The clouds are not breaking up.
See the little yellow disk? This means I've reached the summit of Seward! See the lack of view? Sure am glad I got those pics earlier.
Been there, done that, let's get to Donaldson.
As
I passed the marker and prepared to get to Donaldson, the rains really
started. I hadn't yet put on the blue poncho. I wanted to be able to
move freely, and I was still clinging to the 40% number... the rain had
to end sometime. Didn't it?
Oh look! Clouds.
Fortunately, the rain wasn't thick enough (yet) to obscure the next couple of mountains. I was no longer taking unnecessary pictures, however. There was another, although shorter (but still problematic) rockfall on the down slope. [sarcasm] That was fun.[/sarcasm]
Look! Clouds and enough rain to obscure any view. Guess where that crap is headed? Yup. Dead straight at me. It did not take long, either.
This little thatch of whatever counts as a handhold. Do notice, the standing water and the dry patches.
Somewhere on the side of Donaldson, this was the view:
A couple more for good measure. The rain is heavy and hard and does not look like it was stopping. It wasn't. I wasn't about to quit, however. When the thunder started on the way up Seward, I looked down at the rockfall and realized there was no way I was ever climbing that rockfall again. Ever. If I had turned back then, I might as well have ended the 46er quest right there. Plus, I wasn't (at that point) convinced it was going to last. So I soldiered on. I clung to the 40% like a talisman.
It was about the time I reached the summit that Mrs. Yugoboy decided to take our niece on an extensive journey along the dirt roads and barely passable passages in an effort to rescue me. Somehow, I was signed out in the register at the beginning of the trail. I am pretty sure it wasn't me, but it prevented the ranger who checked the register form even trying to look. It also suggested to my wife and niece that I might not be on the trail and to look pretty much everywhere else. That tale is hers, and I'll let her tell it sometime, if she wants.
Rain rain go away, come again some other day...
Somehow, in all the rain and misery, with my head bowed watching my step to keep from breaking anything important, I didn't see the Donaldson marker. I'm claiming it, because I never left the trail and I got to Mt. Emmons, as evidenced by the next pic.
This was the last shot of the day. I whooped for joy and then began the long trudge back to the first cairn and the truck bridge.
It was here that I finally put on the rain poncho. I was soaked through, but figured it would be helpful in retaining body heat. A few times I cursed it, but eventually I got the hang of hiking with it on. I was very glad I had grabbed it. The rockfalls on both sides of Seward had become full-on waterfalls. Had I tried to climb up or down the center of either rockfall, my footing would have been seriously compromised by heavy rushing water. I realized when I reached Seward again that it had a wooden sign like this one, not just the yellow disk. At that point, I didn't care.
On the return trip I discovered that the mud I had (largely) successfully avoided on the way up was unavoidable when the rocks were slippery. I also discovered that it's bloody deep! I haven't been knee deep in mud since before I hit puberty. I splooshed in knee deep more than a few times. I was wet all over and there wasn't one part of me that was dry. I was cold, wet, miserable and getting sorer by the minute. My pack was heavier due to rain, and my thighs were burning. Somewhere on the down slope of getting off Seward I decided Seymour could wait. It can be done in a long-ish day trip, and I was simply too miserable to even think about it.
Somewhere along the way, I lost my paracord bracelet my wife had gotten me for Christmas in case of emergency. Also, I had seen a child's fleece coat on the way up Seward. When I found it, I threw that over my shoulders in an effort to keep as much heat in me as possible. Seems to have worked. I was miserable, but I avoided any medical issues.
At the truck trail, I made the decision to push to the Ward Brook lean-to. I was kind of hoping someone else stupid like me was there and had started a fire. No such luck. It was an all-around poor decision. First, it was way further away than I thought. Maybe a half mile. Doesn't sound like much, but it was now after 9 p.m. I'd been hiking non-stop for about 13 hours. I normally don't like to eat while I'm exercising, preferring to wait until the end. The rain had pretty much washed my hunger away. I was running on caffeinated cranberry drink mix and iodine-treated stream water.
When I got to the lean-to and unpacked, I discovered a very very happy thing: because of the way I had packed the backpack, the only dry thing was the blanket. I had a fleece blanket that I was planning to sleep under and it was dry. I haven't been that happy to snuggle with a blanket since my Linus-like days of dragging the same one around with me. I hung up everything in the vain hope that it would dry, or at least drip lighter, ate some pop-tarts and energy bars and crashed. Due to all the clothes being wet and hanging, I was pillow-less on the hard wooden floor of the lean-to, but I honestly didn't care. I woke up a bunch of times (whenever my thighs moved I was woken by sharp pain), and got started pretty early the next day to return to the trailhead to wait for my wife to pick me up.
I took a few pictures the next morning of my clothes and the lean-to I spent that dismal night in. Unfortunately, it was still raining and I had to trudge through the mud to get there.
Even after washing, these socks are still this color.
These boots were awesome on the trail. They never slipped when I needed them on rock faces and other places. Obviously, mud and smaller rocks were not great, but no shoe would have been. These babies are about 1/4 size too small, but that was perfect. They stretched out, and were tight enough that I never even worried about losing them when I was knee-deep in mud. They also caught a heck of a lot of mud.
For posterity, this is the Ward Brook lean-to.
When I reached the trailhead I was about 4 hours early. My wife was planning on picking me up at 2 (remember, I was planning on climbing Seymour this day first). So, at about 10, I was sitting in the trailhead parking lot, wet, cold, covered in a poncho and child's fleece. I know I looked a sight. I just crouched there waiting. About an hour into my misery vigil a van pulled up and disgorged a bunch of young people and a leader. Turned out they were from YMCA Camp Dudley and were going to be heading into the wilderness for some Counselor Training. The driver of the van, Corey, got to talking with me, offered to take me to the beginning of the road the trailhead is on (complicated, I know). As we drove, he offered just to take me to the campsite. What a guy! I appreciated it very very much. When we got there my wife and niece were preparing to leave to pick me up.
After I got home, I emailed the head of Camp Dudley to thank Corey again. I said it in the email, and I mean it... if I ever meet Corey again, I owe him a beer or three.
It was a great hike. It was long. It was miserable. The view sucked. The weather sucked. The mud sucked (literally). But it was an accomplishment I'm proud of. I persevered and soldiered through an unreasonable situation and came out the other side relatively whole. It's kind of like how I've heard boot camp described: great experience; I ain't never doing it again!
No comments:
Post a Comment