So this weekend, I went hiking and climbed the highest mountain in Massachusetts. Granted, we're a pretty flat state, but that's still 3000+ feet. And it's fucking February.
Saturday morning, after eating tasty waffles, we drove the two hours out to Pittsfield (on the NY border) and set out around 10 AM. I had three layers of socks, two layers of thermal underwear, fleece pants, a thermal top underlayer, fleece shirt, fleece jacket, and waterproof shell. Plus hat and gloves, duh.
Starting out wasn't so cold, because we were on the sheltered side of the mountain, and it was midday. Plus we were taking the steepest hiking trail to the top (3000 feet in just over two miles) so we were throwing a lot of heat ourselves. The only steeper route is a snowmobile trail nicknamed "The Superhighway".
Anyway, those two miles took us forever. We're in decent shape, but hauling a 50-pound pack up a mountain is way different from regular walking. Imagine putting a five-year-old on your shoulders and walking up your basement stairs. 300 times.
We finally got near the top and the wind really started whipping. It must have been well below zero up there. The snow also deepened to about eight inches to a foot. I had to put a bandana over my face to keep my cheeks from getting frostbite. Even so, my breath kept rising up and freezing on my eyelids. There was a nice lodge up there with a fireplace, snack bar, rooms to rent... all boarded up til May of course. There's also a big-ass monument up there to the soldiers who died in WWI. It's basicallt a huge lighthouse on top of the mountain. Apparently, it was originally planned for Boston Harbor, but by the time they got the materials together, someone had already built something there, so they stuck it on this mountain instead.
Anyway, after about ten minutes (during which one of my water bottles got knocked over by the wind and the other froze almost all the way through) we dexided to get the fuck out of there. The only open down-trail we could find was a ski trail that no one was using. It was obscenely steep, and we quickly learned that the reason that the skiers weren't using it was because it had iced over. I fell six times in an hour, and falling with 50 pounds on your back sucks.
Finally, we crossed with the Appalacian trail and hiked out a mile or so to an AT shelter. We cooked Velveeta shells and cheese and canned corned beef over a one-burner propane stove. By the time dark set it, it was in the single digits at our campsite. We tried to start a fire, but all the "dry" wood we had collected was in fact just frozen wood, so each time you set a small flame under it, it got wet and put out the fire. Finally we gave up, and at 7:30, I crawled into my 4 layers of sleeping bags.
I don't remember much about the night, which must mean I was comfortable. When I woke up, my bag's brething hole was covered with frost. We got up and bitched our way through packing up camp and eating some half-hot oatmeal, then hiked three more miles over icy snowmobile trails (read: ice fields) back to the car. I fell six more times, and we got lost once, but made it out in one piece.
So I guess I survived. Here are the things I learned this weekend:
1.Sleep with your coat in the tent with you: putting on a block of ice in the morning sucks.
2. Get a backpack with a chest strap of your shoulders will be black and blue.
3. Propane sucks. The valves freeze easy.
4. Carry Power Bars in your INSIDE pockets, or they'll be like rocks.
5. Never trust meat that comes in a can.
That's all for now. Probably an entry about girls within the next couple days.
Saturday morning, after eating tasty waffles, we drove the two hours out to Pittsfield (on the NY border) and set out around 10 AM. I had three layers of socks, two layers of thermal underwear, fleece pants, a thermal top underlayer, fleece shirt, fleece jacket, and waterproof shell. Plus hat and gloves, duh.
Starting out wasn't so cold, because we were on the sheltered side of the mountain, and it was midday. Plus we were taking the steepest hiking trail to the top (3000 feet in just over two miles) so we were throwing a lot of heat ourselves. The only steeper route is a snowmobile trail nicknamed "The Superhighway".
Anyway, those two miles took us forever. We're in decent shape, but hauling a 50-pound pack up a mountain is way different from regular walking. Imagine putting a five-year-old on your shoulders and walking up your basement stairs. 300 times.
We finally got near the top and the wind really started whipping. It must have been well below zero up there. The snow also deepened to about eight inches to a foot. I had to put a bandana over my face to keep my cheeks from getting frostbite. Even so, my breath kept rising up and freezing on my eyelids. There was a nice lodge up there with a fireplace, snack bar, rooms to rent... all boarded up til May of course. There's also a big-ass monument up there to the soldiers who died in WWI. It's basicallt a huge lighthouse on top of the mountain. Apparently, it was originally planned for Boston Harbor, but by the time they got the materials together, someone had already built something there, so they stuck it on this mountain instead.
Anyway, after about ten minutes (during which one of my water bottles got knocked over by the wind and the other froze almost all the way through) we dexided to get the fuck out of there. The only open down-trail we could find was a ski trail that no one was using. It was obscenely steep, and we quickly learned that the reason that the skiers weren't using it was because it had iced over. I fell six times in an hour, and falling with 50 pounds on your back sucks.
Finally, we crossed with the Appalacian trail and hiked out a mile or so to an AT shelter. We cooked Velveeta shells and cheese and canned corned beef over a one-burner propane stove. By the time dark set it, it was in the single digits at our campsite. We tried to start a fire, but all the "dry" wood we had collected was in fact just frozen wood, so each time you set a small flame under it, it got wet and put out the fire. Finally we gave up, and at 7:30, I crawled into my 4 layers of sleeping bags.
I don't remember much about the night, which must mean I was comfortable. When I woke up, my bag's brething hole was covered with frost. We got up and bitched our way through packing up camp and eating some half-hot oatmeal, then hiked three more miles over icy snowmobile trails (read: ice fields) back to the car. I fell six more times, and we got lost once, but made it out in one piece.
So I guess I survived. Here are the things I learned this weekend:
1.Sleep with your coat in the tent with you: putting on a block of ice in the morning sucks.
2. Get a backpack with a chest strap of your shoulders will be black and blue.
3. Propane sucks. The valves freeze easy.
4. Carry Power Bars in your INSIDE pockets, or they'll be like rocks.
5. Never trust meat that comes in a can.
That's all for now. Probably an entry about girls within the next couple days.
venice:
Wow, um, that sounds like... fun. Actually, honestly, it kind of does. I like shitty adventures. I had a boyfriend once who was all into hiking, and I haven't been since then, and I kind of miss it.
monkboy:
If you were hiking south on the AT, the next mountain bigger than Mount Graylock is in West Virginia. A random AT fact I know. Good luck on the AT. Hike your own hike. Enjoy the PUDs. I miss talking trail. Go to Shaw's, Pie Lady sucks.