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Sunday 9/99

Dear Friends,

Egads and Oh-Mys. Bears, lightening and one eye!

After several weeks of buying all new gear, backpacking on the treadmill (Remember the 40 lb. bag of salt?), a practice hike up Gowands Mountain (sporting firewood in my pack to simulate the weight of a real hike) and ample opportunity to break-in my NEW boots… The time had come. The real enchilada. In preparation for my backcountry trip to Yosemite with the Boys, I was on the verge of embarking on my first backpacking trip. An over night in the Adirondack, High Peaks Region with Roger.

Thursday. Following Abigail's swim meet, I picked up Roger about 8:00PM. We drove north 3 hours to his camp on the Raquette Flow, just north of Tupper Lake. Upon our arrival, we reviewed and consolidated our gear and food… I could barely sleep. The excitement was thick. The moment of truth was here: "Could I really carry all that new cool gear, a liter of wine and my hard cover version of Into Thin Air?"

Friday morning came quickly. We loaded up the Civic and stopped at the Lumberjack for the NO.2:

2 poached eggs on top of 2 pounds of corned beef hash

2 pounds of fresh home fries

2 pieces of grilled homemade marble toast

2 drinks (coffee and orange juice) - PS… Dad, this will be our first stop on the way

to canoeing the Saranacs in September!

After breakfast, we drove directly to the Adirondack LOJ (LOJ? Apparently the Dewy Decimal guy believed in trying to simplify language by advocating "whole language," and due to his relationship with ADK (the Adirondack hiking club), the lodge used his phonetic philosophy for spelling LODGE… Well, that's what Roger said…).

First, we hiked 3 miles along the moderately strenuous Indian Pass trail. We were cruising at 25-minute-miles. I was thrilled.

Next, to satisfy Roger's need (Why? Who knows...) to view Wallface Mountain (a popular, but closed, rock climbing face), we dropped our packs for a 2-mile round trip excursion to see the view from the summit at Indian Pass. (A view that turned out to be an overstatement of nothing.) Upon returning to our packs, I bent over to grab mine and caught a pine tree branch in the face. Problem 1: From this point forward… EVERYTHING was blurred in my left eye!

Eye, shim-eye. There was too much hiking ahead. So, with an eye to the west, we bared left at the fork, and began the 3.3 mile Algonquin Pass to Colden Lake. Easy? Try, three hours straight up and then straight down. Oh, I forgot one little detail… As we approached the summit, a thunderhead that had been groaning and rumbling in the distance caught up with us!

In what seemed to be an instant, rain, thunder and lightening crashed down on us. Our steep decent became treacherous due to slippery footing and the potential for a lightening strike on the ol' beaner. Roger and I moved cautiously and rigorously down the slope over rushing water, moving mud, rocks the size of VW bugs, and roots reminiscent of twisted steel.

At one point during our hasty decent, we ran into a coed cowering deep under some pine tree branches. She was dreadfully afraid of lightening and (rightfully) believed her aluminum hiking poles were actually ADK lightening rods in disguise. She was asking… Us… Roger and I… The Homer Simpsons of backpacking… "So what's advised in an electrical storm… Should we stay-put or hike down?"

Our thinking: "GET THE HELL OFF THE MOUNTAIN!!!!!"

On the way down and following every crack of lightening, our temporary hiking companion (Karen) would fiercely throw her aluminum poles to the ground. Roger and I would later conclude that there must have been some quotient in the equation of lightening safety unknown to us: Lightening strikes… Then… you drop your lightening-rod-hiking-poles. Now, you're safe. (?)

Exhausted from carrying what seemed like a case of wine over the last summit, we reached Colden Lake. At the precise moment in which our tent was established, the rain began. Our relief with having shelter at the onset of rain was short lived. We were approached by a most friendly ranger who offered the following: (1) "The bears are eating well so protect your food;" and, (2) "You have to move your tent 50 feet up the road (we were too close to the river)."

After dinner we hung our food about 100 ft from our 4 pound, two-person tent (designed for one). At 1 A.M. I abruptly awoke to bear whistles and dogs barking from various lean-tos and campsites around us. Then… We heard the moan. The rustling of leaves… And then… ("Where's my whistle!") The incredible ripping of thick, rip-stop nylon! Oh! Was it my new backpack! Did a bear find my toothpaste mistakenly left in my NEW pack? Was it our food bag dangling from a branch? Would there be a snack left for us in the morning? (Problem #2)

Peering through a porthole in my miniature tent, Roger and I scoured the woods with our underpowered, mini-flashlights… Searching for… A bear! Whistle-less and unable to deter a bear with a loud noise, Roger and I were highly ambivalent about wanting to see what was tearing into our food bag. (Good thing we could hide behind the armor of my tent skin!!!)

When it was quiet. We ventured cautiously outside (in our underwear) to search our packs for our whistles (Gotta have noise!) and extra batteries for my flashlight. It was very dark and still. We anxiously searched the surroundings for an animal and any remnants of our food. At any moment I expected to be surprised by the quiet sound of a nearby bear... Enjoying OUR breakfast! Disabled with having vision in only one eye, fear, excitement and adrenalin pumped furiously through my veins. I wanted this night to be over! (REALLY.)