Took a walk today. Blackhead Mountain in the Catskills, 3960'. (Now I don't have to do any more winter ascents for my 3500 Club badge, yeah! Just seven summits to go.)
At least I think it was a walk. It wasn't really long enough to call it a 'hike' - 2.5-3 miles in, the same out. But it had about 1900 feet of elevation gain. I brought all the gear needed for an overnight bivy on a Northeast 4k in winter, because I remember how a couple of years ago, two hikers died of hypothermia on that mountain for no better reason than that one guy turned an ankle, the other went to get help, the temperature dropped, and neither had adequate shelter. I also brought microspikes, poles, ascent snowshoes, full crampons, and ice axe. I used everything but the microspikes. I think it's just about the heaviest pack I ever carried for a day trip.
I couldn't quite call it climbing, either, because we didn't need to rope up. But I don't think that "it's just walkin'" quite covers it.
Winter ascent uses a totally different set of muscles from ordinary hiking. On the approach trail on the way out, I wound up falling over when I got a leg cramp so bad I couldn't put weight on it, and spent about ten minutes just writhing in the snow trying to stretch it out. (Dear spelling checker: I meant 'writhing'. Please don't suggest 'writing'. I did that when my bladder got full.
) I also got my first heel blister in many years. (Memo to self: When using newspaper bags as a vapor barrier between your liners and socks, don't forget the rubber bands to hold them up so they don't bunch!) To add injury to insult, I lacerated a shin by tripping over a posthole and falling onto sharp rock. (Please, please, don't posthole - see below.) And now I can hardly walk. Well, if you don't come back with your arse kicked once in a while, you aren't having enough fun.
My longsuffering hiking partners wanted to try for three peaks (and we'd done probably 70% of the work, since getting up on the ridge is a big part of it). But I knew at the summit of the first that I couldn't take it, and they were disappointed but accommodating. As it was, we were just running out of twilight when we got back to the trailhead. I was hobbling slowly.
I got to shout some phrases that I hadn't used in many years: "Clear chute!" "Ready to glissade!" "Glissade away!" "En glissade!" I even showed that I remembered some technique. At the bottom of the chute (400 feet or so of descent in a quarter mile, got to work up some speed! :D) I didn't heel-brake the way my partners had, but rolled to one side, self-arrested with ice axe, and stopped right next to where they were sitting. Jon, the trip leader, had been instructing Chris (who was on his first winter ascent) in self-arrest, and simply said, "Like that, Chris!" After nearly forty years of nearly no practice, it made me feel proud.
I didn't do much photography at all, because I was tail-end Charlie (well, tail-end Kevin, I suppose) the whole way and didn't want to slow things down even more by fussing with a camera. Jon the trip leader did rather more. Once he sends them to me, I'll post some and blog a trip report. In any case, there were no views. The mountain was socked in by snow and cloud the whole time we were up there.
At least I think it was a walk. It wasn't really long enough to call it a 'hike' - 2.5-3 miles in, the same out. But it had about 1900 feet of elevation gain. I brought all the gear needed for an overnight bivy on a Northeast 4k in winter, because I remember how a couple of years ago, two hikers died of hypothermia on that mountain for no better reason than that one guy turned an ankle, the other went to get help, the temperature dropped, and neither had adequate shelter. I also brought microspikes, poles, ascent snowshoes, full crampons, and ice axe. I used everything but the microspikes. I think it's just about the heaviest pack I ever carried for a day trip.
I couldn't quite call it climbing, either, because we didn't need to rope up. But I don't think that "it's just walkin'" quite covers it.
Winter ascent uses a totally different set of muscles from ordinary hiking. On the approach trail on the way out, I wound up falling over when I got a leg cramp so bad I couldn't put weight on it, and spent about ten minutes just writhing in the snow trying to stretch it out. (Dear spelling checker: I meant 'writhing'. Please don't suggest 'writing'. I did that when my bladder got full.
) I also got my first heel blister in many years. (Memo to self: When using newspaper bags as a vapor barrier between your liners and socks, don't forget the rubber bands to hold them up so they don't bunch!) To add injury to insult, I lacerated a shin by tripping over a posthole and falling onto sharp rock. (Please, please, don't posthole - see below.) And now I can hardly walk. Well, if you don't come back with your arse kicked once in a while, you aren't having enough fun.My longsuffering hiking partners wanted to try for three peaks (and we'd done probably 70% of the work, since getting up on the ridge is a big part of it). But I knew at the summit of the first that I couldn't take it, and they were disappointed but accommodating. As it was, we were just running out of twilight when we got back to the trailhead. I was hobbling slowly.
I got to shout some phrases that I hadn't used in many years: "Clear chute!" "Ready to glissade!" "Glissade away!" "En glissade!" I even showed that I remembered some technique. At the bottom of the chute (400 feet or so of descent in a quarter mile, got to work up some speed! :D) I didn't heel-brake the way my partners had, but rolled to one side, self-arrested with ice axe, and stopped right next to where they were sitting. Jon, the trip leader, had been instructing Chris (who was on his first winter ascent) in self-arrest, and simply said, "Like that, Chris!" After nearly forty years of nearly no practice, it made me feel proud.
I didn't do much photography at all, because I was tail-end Charlie (well, tail-end Kevin, I suppose) the whole way and didn't want to slow things down even more by fussing with a camera. Jon the trip leader did rather more. Once he sends them to me, I'll post some and blog a trip report. In any case, there were no views. The mountain was socked in by snow and cloud the whole time we were up there.
I'm not lost. I know where I am. I'm right here.
