Climb High

When the Sun first crests the eastern ridge around mid February the time is right for kicking your boots into crusted ice & on snow in the high country. I spent much of the weekend before sharpening my piolet (axe) and crampons points, with a glee matched only by Steven King's novel about Jack being an unhappy boy.

Let just say the neighbors were curious.

I pulled into the lot about 1:30 in the am after visiting 2 separate family members in hospitals earlier in the day. The drive up helped shake off much of the days concerns and although tired, I knew I would not sleep that night. By 2:30 the car's interior had reach equilibrium with the outside temperature ~ 6 or 7 degrees, but there was no wind in the car so I guess it was ok. I tossed & turned until I folded into a light drift not awake but not really asleep. I was just relieved to be free from concern or worry for a few hours.

By 5:30 I was suiting up, it would take me the next hour ++ to get ready and by then the sky was glowing azure ember in the east. I kicked off at around 6:40 and crossed the bridge moments after that. The trail was largely obscured by the snow and duffel, but the markers were clearly visible and I knew the path although steep would be recognizable.

The first difficult stretch is a spiral rise on a steep slope into deeply shaded and cold cavity, a virtual colure. In this case it was a desperate & lonely Catskill hollow, known far & wide as the last solitary place on earth. This loneliness pervades the region despite the 12 million + people who live within a 2 hour drive.

The next mile + & 450 ft of gain came slowly as the snow was in a deep drift and post holing step by step was brutal. Each lift of the leg included the normal weight + the 5 lb boots, 3 lb crampons, 1 lb gators & who knows how many pounds of snow & mud caked to my boots. All told this equates to approximately an additional 25-30 pounds in my pack (so much for the light weight solo).

By the top of the rise I was post holing up to my thighs and sweating bullets in 12 degree weather, which is always fun. The wind was starting to pick up. I shucked my mid layer and was quickly chilled to the bone before seeing the sun brake free beyond the distant hills. The winter clarity and quality of the air was comforting. I quickly amped up the pace and this stoked the furnace with in. There is a delicate balance between freezing and boiling in the winter and far too little middle ground between the two.

At a point not long after the ground gave way and the mountain seems to sheer off to the abyss on my left, in the summer it would be hardly noticeable but a single poorly chosen step would commence a steep, precipitous & painful fall. In this situation you monitor ever step and carefully test each placement & hold. I relish the demands and required focus which allows me to put aside my concerns for a time & happily this time there were no mistakes.

In the first open clearing after the spring water pipe you will find 4 bolts which protrude the snow in an eerily sinister manner (be careful not to step on or pierce your foot with them they are rusty and if there was another foot of snow who knows I might have missed them. I think they were the anchors for the old lookout tower; the newer one is a few hundred feet beyond this in a wide open clearing.

Although the steps to the tower were barred by a grate on the way up you could not go much further this day as the wind was in full howl by this point and although only 30 or 40 mph it was enough to make me anxiously head for the tree line.

The trip down was equally pleasant and the car never felt better or the heated seats warmer. The coco at the dinner was pretty good as well.