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[This is part II of a series of me doing the "easy" peaks and getting in touch with why it is I hike in the first place]
Great day for a hike. I drove up with Val, who was climbing the Trap Dyke with Nancy (Highonlife) and a local guide/climber Jesse. Ed (eddogg) was going to meet me at the information center parking. I waited until 7:15 and no Ed. I tried to retrieve my voice messages. My cell phone gets a bar of reception in the parking lot but can't transmit.
Before leaving I introduced myself to Ron (RTSPoons, a.k.a. "Iroquios Ron") and Jim (catman). They were heading in the other possible directions (Gray, Iroquois respectively), so I left 'alone'. I commented about how hiking alone in the high peaks takes a lot of extra effort. You have to start where there's no trailhead and end on a truly trailless summit. I don't know of many mountains left in the high peaks that fit that description, and only a few I could think of worth the effort to bushwhack them (Jay and Sawtooth range come to mind).
Trail was VERY hard packed. It snowed lightly as I caught up to Val and co at Marcy Dam. We parted ways and I headed up the VanHo. It was my intent to take stock at the Phelps junction, either moving on to Marcy to fill up a long day while Val climbs, or just do Phelps. At the junction (which I made in really good time thanks to a perfect winter trail) I snapped photos of all the Pine Martin tracks and waited a bit to see if I could see one. No dice. The tracks lead right up the trail, almost drawing me onward. Part of the reason I chose Phelps today was to possibly see a martin again. The decision was easy.
2/3 of the way up Phelps I followed a conveyor of Pine Martin tracks along and on the trail. Then the tracks stopped and headed off into the woods. The fresh snow got a little deeper and pushing through the trees resulted in the usual occassional chilly neck (as snow would run down my back). I hate wearing my hood because at my height I'm constantly tilting my head at funny angles to see branches I need to duck under, and to do this with a brim of a hood only adds more contortion to the whole process. By the end of a long hike through overgrown trails with my hood drawn I always have a sore neck.
The sky was mixed clouds and blue. Very light snow fell. As I approached the first of a few overlooks I was able to snap the clearest views I would get, and captured it in a panoramic.
I kept moving forward at a steady pace, though slightly bothered by a nagging knee injury that doesn't allow me to put all my weight on it. It's improving but slowly as is true for most injuries that require you to use the injured part. Although I didn't have a watch I'm guessing I was at the summit around 10:30AM. Dark gray and brown colored clouids were moving in from the West, but there was no wind. I changed into a warmer synthetic liner, pulled out the small piece of insulated foam mat I carry to sit on, and spent about 30 minutes soaking things in. The temps were in the teens and I did start to chill as the first (of many) people I would see that day arrived. They were a friendly and fit group of 3 skiers who had managed to traverse some, what I feel, are tricky sections to get there on skis. I stayed only a bit longer as the cold was finally creeping through my layers. 30+ minutes was easily the longest time I ever spent on a summit in the winter. Unfortunately I only caught some rabbit tracks, evidence that even animals like soaking in the views.
[I realize that we see tracks like these a lot on the summits, but likely because we're a regular (and messy eating) food source for these creatures. I have serious doubts a rabbit knows about or appreciates the grandeur of its surroundings. If anyone's talked with a rabbit lately maybe you could confirm my suspiscion.
]
Heading down was painful. My new boots force all my weight into the top part of my foot. No adjustments I could make helped with this, but they didn't stay sore once I was on flat ground and show no bruising today. I'll probably work on that issue in time. Otherwise the new boots (La Sportiva Evo) worked fine.
One surprise - ED! About halfway down Ed was coming up. He explained why he was late and apologized profusely. I was just glad to see him out, especially after he told me how long it had been since his last hike. We talked for about 15 minutes trailside as many others passed by, often interrupting our conversation to ask the usual questions - "How much further?" and "Are there views" or my favorite "Heading up or down?", which usually follows with one of the latter questions. It seems rude not to pay the passerby any attention, although it being socially rude to interrupt someone's conversation. Maybe hikers transcend the need for those confining socially defined rules of etiquette and rise to something greater - a purely self interested and pointed decorum.
After saying hi to what felt like a thousand other people on my way back to the visitor's center, I managed to stop and chat with several interesting people. It was a leisurely day for me so I didn't mind the opportunity to smell the roses, even under the 2 feet of snow. Another break at the Phelps junction, still hoping for a glimpse of a martin. No fresh tracks and no martin.
Back at the visitor's center Ed stopped in to chat for 30 minutes before heading out. I spent 5 hours reading (A Walk In the Woods) and pacing, listening to non-sense use of hand radios by a member of a skiing group trying to determine how far away one of their members was (who was left alone on Marcy). His motivation was admittedly to know how long until he could eat. No one seemed that concerned about the welfare of the actual skier.
I was about ready to feed the radio to that skier before I realized I could go out to my car and listen to Nine Inch Nails (something more peaceful). While at the car I saw Ron arrive from Gray, about 9 hours after leaving, and chatted for quite a bit before he left. So in a way I'm grateful for the annoyance of the hand radio guy because I may have missed that opportunity.
[This is part II of a series of me doing the "easy" peaks and getting in touch with why it is I hike in the first place]
Great day for a hike. I drove up with Val, who was climbing the Trap Dyke with Nancy (Highonlife) and a local guide/climber Jesse. Ed (eddogg) was going to meet me at the information center parking. I waited until 7:15 and no Ed. I tried to retrieve my voice messages. My cell phone gets a bar of reception in the parking lot but can't transmit.
Before leaving I introduced myself to Ron (RTSPoons, a.k.a. "Iroquios Ron") and Jim (catman). They were heading in the other possible directions (Gray, Iroquois respectively), so I left 'alone'. I commented about how hiking alone in the high peaks takes a lot of extra effort. You have to start where there's no trailhead and end on a truly trailless summit. I don't know of many mountains left in the high peaks that fit that description, and only a few I could think of worth the effort to bushwhack them (Jay and Sawtooth range come to mind).
Trail was VERY hard packed. It snowed lightly as I caught up to Val and co at Marcy Dam. We parted ways and I headed up the VanHo. It was my intent to take stock at the Phelps junction, either moving on to Marcy to fill up a long day while Val climbs, or just do Phelps. At the junction (which I made in really good time thanks to a perfect winter trail) I snapped photos of all the Pine Martin tracks and waited a bit to see if I could see one. No dice. The tracks lead right up the trail, almost drawing me onward. Part of the reason I chose Phelps today was to possibly see a martin again. The decision was easy.
2/3 of the way up Phelps I followed a conveyor of Pine Martin tracks along and on the trail. Then the tracks stopped and headed off into the woods. The fresh snow got a little deeper and pushing through the trees resulted in the usual occassional chilly neck (as snow would run down my back). I hate wearing my hood because at my height I'm constantly tilting my head at funny angles to see branches I need to duck under, and to do this with a brim of a hood only adds more contortion to the whole process. By the end of a long hike through overgrown trails with my hood drawn I always have a sore neck.
The sky was mixed clouds and blue. Very light snow fell. As I approached the first of a few overlooks I was able to snap the clearest views I would get, and captured it in a panoramic.
I kept moving forward at a steady pace, though slightly bothered by a nagging knee injury that doesn't allow me to put all my weight on it. It's improving but slowly as is true for most injuries that require you to use the injured part. Although I didn't have a watch I'm guessing I was at the summit around 10:30AM. Dark gray and brown colored clouids were moving in from the West, but there was no wind. I changed into a warmer synthetic liner, pulled out the small piece of insulated foam mat I carry to sit on, and spent about 30 minutes soaking things in. The temps were in the teens and I did start to chill as the first (of many) people I would see that day arrived. They were a friendly and fit group of 3 skiers who had managed to traverse some, what I feel, are tricky sections to get there on skis. I stayed only a bit longer as the cold was finally creeping through my layers. 30+ minutes was easily the longest time I ever spent on a summit in the winter. Unfortunately I only caught some rabbit tracks, evidence that even animals like soaking in the views.
[I realize that we see tracks like these a lot on the summits, but likely because we're a regular (and messy eating) food source for these creatures. I have serious doubts a rabbit knows about or appreciates the grandeur of its surroundings. If anyone's talked with a rabbit lately maybe you could confirm my suspiscion.
]Heading down was painful. My new boots force all my weight into the top part of my foot. No adjustments I could make helped with this, but they didn't stay sore once I was on flat ground and show no bruising today. I'll probably work on that issue in time. Otherwise the new boots (La Sportiva Evo) worked fine.
One surprise - ED! About halfway down Ed was coming up. He explained why he was late and apologized profusely. I was just glad to see him out, especially after he told me how long it had been since his last hike. We talked for about 15 minutes trailside as many others passed by, often interrupting our conversation to ask the usual questions - "How much further?" and "Are there views" or my favorite "Heading up or down?", which usually follows with one of the latter questions. It seems rude not to pay the passerby any attention, although it being socially rude to interrupt someone's conversation. Maybe hikers transcend the need for those confining socially defined rules of etiquette and rise to something greater - a purely self interested and pointed decorum.
After saying hi to what felt like a thousand other people on my way back to the visitor's center, I managed to stop and chat with several interesting people. It was a leisurely day for me so I didn't mind the opportunity to smell the roses, even under the 2 feet of snow. Another break at the Phelps junction, still hoping for a glimpse of a martin. No fresh tracks and no martin.
Back at the visitor's center Ed stopped in to chat for 30 minutes before heading out. I spent 5 hours reading (A Walk In the Woods) and pacing, listening to non-sense use of hand radios by a member of a skiing group trying to determine how far away one of their members was (who was left alone on Marcy). His motivation was admittedly to know how long until he could eat. No one seemed that concerned about the welfare of the actual skier.
I was about ready to feed the radio to that skier before I realized I could go out to my car and listen to Nine Inch Nails (something more peaceful). While at the car I saw Ron arrive from Gray, about 9 hours after leaving, and chatted for quite a bit before he left. So in a way I'm grateful for the annoyance of the hand radio guy because I may have missed that opportunity.
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