Cliff: The Swamp Mountain

Hike distance: ~15 miles
Peak: Cliff

As times goes on my trips to the ADK's with Allie and Brian have become less frequent, mostly due to scheduling issues.  That is a reason to be a bit sad, but at the same time, the reason that scheduling is becoming more difficult is that we're getting closer to the end.  The days of driving up in the morning, hiking a peak, crashing the night and leaving the next morning are over.  There's nothing left except 17 mile trips or longer, requiring us to stay two days or more.  Once again, the downside is that we're hiking less often, but on the up side, when we do hike we summit 2-5 mountains per trip, not too shabby.

Getting on the trail with my friends for the first time since March was an awesome thrill, almost from the second I laid foot on the trail.  The mission for the day was Cliff and Redfield, two remote peaks that require a 17 mile hike to bag them both.  After a sleepy drive up (see pic at the bottom) we were ready to hit the trail.  Hiking out of the ADK Loj requires an 8 mile hike before the climb even begins.  It was about then I realized how remote these peaks were and began contemplating whether we were going to have enough day light to summit both.  The day was cloudy and a bit ominous because of our terrain. The trail was a swamp, no I don't mean wet, I mean swamp.  I didn't think swamps existed above 3,000 feet, but it was a day for learning.

Navigating the trail was a mixture of acrobatics and luck.  The trail snaked along the most shallow portions of the swamp, with 6 inch wide log bridges allowing you to avoid outright wading through the muck.  I would have bet every penny to my name that Allie was going to fall face first into the grime, shortly after a series of shrieks and "Nooooooo!" (Her balance is notoriously and hilariously awful).  Somehow we all managed to avoid swamping ourselves...sorta.

Neither Cliff nor Redfield have maintained trails to their summits, just heard paths where past hikers have climbed.  Once at the junction for the climb we decided to take on Cliff first, given the fact it has no views (another peak below the 4,000' mark, but was mis-measured decades ago).  The trail up Cliff was miserably muddy and claustrophobic.  Branches reached out and touched you from both sides of the trail at practically all times.  The march was made so much better by the mud that was knee deep in spots.  After about an hour we were on what clearly seemed to be the summit.  There's only a small and faded trail marker indicating the summit, which was impossible to see in the clouds.  Eventually I had Brian pull out his altimeter as we started going down in elevation again. "3,890 feet" he said.  "Turn the hell around!" I shouted.  We had descended dozens of feet and the mountain is only 3,900 odd feet tall; we walked up and over the summit.

After what was the most lackluster summit ever, we began the march back.  I had the misfortune of slipping knee deep into the grossest mud ever.  After unleashing a torrent of obscenities and grunts Allie was kind enough to break the post-rant silence with "That's what she said, all of that, even the grunts."  I was slightly less irritated after the laugh.  The march back was chilly as it began to rain and the wind joined in.  Unfortunately, I was correct and we didn't have enough time for Redfield, no matter though, we were camping next to a BBQ joint that was going to eliminate all of our pain.  Now, it's a given that you're going to smell after a long hike, however this was freaking stunning.  We've never held quite a stench as magnificent as this one.  I blame Brian.  The car ride back involved rolled down windows despite the rain.  A bit later, showered and starving, we begin chowing down on Memphis burgers (pulled pork on a half pound burger) and fries with Maple syrup dipping sauce (don't knock it tip you try it).

The night ended the way all nights should end, drunk with friends and laughter.  Allie and I became reacquainted with our favorite black man (other than me), Guinness, while Brian nursed a Canadian, Labatts.  For a second we were at a loss for drinking games, until it was discovered Allie had never played the most common one under the sun, Kings.  She was thrown into the fire, as Brian and I were more than happy to interject bizarre rules and not explain the normal rules all that well.  Eventually she got the hang of it and produced my favorite moment of the entire trip.  Brian and I both broke a rule, making it so we both had to take deep sips of our beers.  First she called out Brian, then after her realization I had broken a rule too, Allie leapt to her knees, took a deep breath, pointed at me like she had just discovered the body of Jimmy Hoffa, and shouted "BOTH OF YOU DRINK!", before falling back to her butt and nearly falling over into the wall of my tent.  I can't remember the last time I've seen excitement with such reckless abandon...giggling followed.

Bonus picture of Brian sleeping like a fool!

The next day we took on another peak, but I'll save that for my next post.  For now I leave you with the words of Sublime, whose music was playing in my internal soundtrack all night.

Love's what I got

Don't start a ri-ot

You'll feel it when the dance gets hot

First Steps: Appalachian Trail, Great Barrington MA - Springfield CT

Having been an avid hiker, Bill Bryson fan, and one to romanticize absolutely everything, it has always deeply bothered me I had never been on the Appalachian Trail.  The AT extends some 2,000 miles, running between Maine and Georgia.  One will summit the distance to Mount Everest several times while trekking its entire length, as several hundred hikers do a year (called thru-hikers).  Given my chaotic schedule it's always made more sense to hike it in chunks (called section hiking).  For the first time in the years I've been imagining it, I did it!

My hiking trips normally come out of two places.  Firstly, a genuine love for everything outdoors; secondly, and not necessarily as dreary as it sounds, to clear my head.  Hiking will save you hundreds or thousands in shrink fees and you'll get a much more fulfilling result.  As are many of my hiking trips, my mission on the AT was motivated by a bit of both.  After a long and ultimately unsuccessful job search (more on this later) my mood was not the greatest.  Syracuse has a way of feeling like you're living in a lung, every couple weeks the walls start to breathe and close in on you with every inhale, exhaling the stale stench of mediocrity and lost opportunity; I want to choke it to death.  I was in one of these moods when I decided to take a three day weekend and hit the AT.

Hiking the AT can be a complicated task when doing it in sections.  Getting to and from the trail either requires a friend to drop you off, a fellow hiker on an internet forum who doesn't mind picking you up, or some stranger benevolent enough to grab a hitchhiker from the bus station; I was lucky enough to find the last.  After a couple of miles of walking from the bus stop a pickup truck pulled along side me, rolled down its window, and a young man asked "Appalachian Trail?".  After a quick nod I hopped into the truck bed and was whizzing down the road, but not after the man who picked me up commented on how soaked I was from the torrential downpour, and implied I was silly because it was New England and "They pick up hitchhikers here."  I was never so greatful to get a ride, despite the fact that hitching felt wholly and completely weird to me; I guess I've see too many horror films.  No matter though,  I was on the trail!

My feeling of awe, aimed at both the trail and myself for deciding to walk 50 miles in the woods, by myself, in a part of the country I had never even laid eyes on, was interrupted not even five seconds later by my first trail friend, Lauren.  Lauren, who I greatly regret not taking a picture of, was a friendly Southern Bell that majored in Classics at a top-notch university.  We walked together for nearly half the day, with her entertaining me with her fluent Latin and tales of Greek tragedies.  I think I showed a bit too much interest as she would not stop talking after every question I asked.

The trail in Southern New England is generally flat, a bit rocky, and takes you past many farms and country roads.  The sights were gorgeous, but the morning storm turned the trail into a swamp.  I was getting sick of the puddle hopping and mudslinging.  Just as I was about to get annoyed, Lauren and I made our first assent up a steep hill.  Looking at Lauren one would be surprised to know she has run marathons or would attempt the AT, but she stuck with my above average pace all morning.  After the first climb though, it became apparent I was going to have to leave her.  After giving a friendly wave good bye, I was on my own.

I started flying from there, wanting to make up a bit of lost time.  The trail was incredibly slick at the higher elevations; moss, limestone and a hiking pace close to a jog was not a good mix.  As I bopped from hilltop to valley back to hilltop, I must have slipped 20 times, some falls worse than others.  The day had cleared a bit around noon, but at five the clouds rolled back in.  While admiring the erie scene I had put myself in, I took my worst spill of the day, jamming my finger into a jagged boulder as I was trying to slow my fall.  I'm writing this post a month after my trip and I can still see where the chuck of my finger had been ripped off.  At this point I was 25 miles in for the day, soaked, muddy, and still 7 miles out from the shelter I wanted to camp at.  After adding "bleeding badly" to the list, I was completely sick of the trail.  I had no choice but to trudge on though.  I summited the Connecticut high point, just to read the plaque marking it and verbally reply "I don't give a s***."  After being almost completely defeated by a midget 2,200ft high "mountain", I was finally at my destination, Brassy Brook shelter.

Sleeping by myself in the middle of the woods was the part of the trip I was least looking forward to; I thought I would be creeped out and uneasy.  Oddly enough, I was right at home, only bothered by the occasional scurry of animals I couldn't identify.  I woke up the next morning feeling proud of myself, not only for having no fear of the night, but for having no fear at all.  I felt a lot of things on the trail,  but fear was never one of them.

My initial plan was to take on the Connecticut Challenge and hike the entire CT section of the trail in a single grueling day.  Given the trail condition, I knew that was impossible.  I cut off the trail early and headed back to NY on foot.  My trip back to Syracuse involved a 130 mph trip in a Maserati, two trains, and a hippy bus.....no, I'm not making any of that up.  Hitchhiking and mass transit is an adventure in its own right, but that's another story.  In the first days coming off the trail, I had had it with hiking for a while. Hiking 30 trail miles and another 20 on the road, all in 36 hours, had me feeling pretty adverse to even walking, let alone climbing.  I knew it wouldn't last long though, and I'm already planning my next jaunt on the AT.