Cosmo
01-04-2013, 22:15
I had an interesting hike last week. We got a good dumping of really nice snow just after Christmas--first of the season. After the holiday whirl, I needed to get out of the house for a while, so I decided to head up to my Trail section to see how things were. I packed the usual day hike stuff, plus a sandwich and snack, an extra set of socks, hat and gloves--and a thermos of hot chocolate in addition to my quart of H2O.
Because of other items on the calendar, the allotted day was kind of gloomy, cold (mid 20's) and breezy. Took my snowshoes, since I expected some pretty nice powder. The Pine Cobble "approach trail" was well-packed, but not icy, so I ended up strapping my snowshoes onto the back for the first 1.8 miles. The Pine Cobble Trail, in typical New Englad fashion, just goes up the hill by pretty much a direct route--about 800ft of elevation gain--to a popular lookout. For guys like me who spend much of their time behind a desk, this results in some heavy breathing and sweaty clothes. You know, they say you should avoid sweating on winter hikes, but I just don't see how this can be done. After the lookout, the trail goes more gently up another half mile to join the AT. Snowshoes were definitely needed. Even though the snow was only about a foot or so deep, it was soft and post-holing for the rest of the hike was not the plan.
Once I reached the AT and my section ( I maintain the northernmost 3 miles or so in MA), I had the distinct and rare pleasure of making the first tracks of the season on that part of the AT. It comes at a price however. You know how they talk about 'flotation' with snowshoes? This is not really the case. They are more like post-hole preventers, especially in the really great powder that was up there last week. It was slow going and windy, I was sweaty and cold at the same time. Took more than an hour to cover the 1.3 miles to the border through that fresh snow. It was beautiful. Lots of snow still stuck to some trees, a bit of rime ice here and there, and a real sense of being away from the rest of the world. In fact, the sense of isolation was so intense, I was getting a little freaked--sweaty wet clothes, the west side of me quite cold, the very slow rate of travel, heading further and further away from what's referred to as civilization. An interesting sensation, because I really crave and enjoy the sense of detachment I experience on the northernmost part of this section.
I finally arrive at the border, dust the snow off of a log and get out my lunch. 15 mins later, I'm suddenly shivering and struggling with the small motor skills necessary to get packed up and moving again. Sweaty clothes, overcast skies and a steady breeze (and maybe a bit of a head game) had me as nervous as I've ever been out in the woods--especially on such familiar ground. This summer I had a morning trying to out-hike a thunderstorm on a ridge between Front Royal and HF--that was a pretty adrenaline-charged experience, too--but different than this. Still, I was able to see my situation from an outside perspective. Here's a guy, a little out of shape, who got a little careless and is starting to get himself in trouble--kind of embarrassing, actualy.
Well, it's obvious I made it back OK. In fact the walk out on the trail that I'd previously broken was pretty quick. I also had the sense (finally) to put on my rain coat to deflect the wind a bit from my soaked fleece and polypro layers. By the time I was about halfway down the Pine Cobble Trail, I was wondering if things had really been as bad as I had thought. Was I overdramatizing my experience? Maybe, since I'm writing a story about it. Still, a good reminder about how things can go awry, even on familiar, nearby trails. It sure was pretty, quiet, and remote-feeling out there, though.
Happy trails indeed,
Cosmo
Because of other items on the calendar, the allotted day was kind of gloomy, cold (mid 20's) and breezy. Took my snowshoes, since I expected some pretty nice powder. The Pine Cobble "approach trail" was well-packed, but not icy, so I ended up strapping my snowshoes onto the back for the first 1.8 miles. The Pine Cobble Trail, in typical New Englad fashion, just goes up the hill by pretty much a direct route--about 800ft of elevation gain--to a popular lookout. For guys like me who spend much of their time behind a desk, this results in some heavy breathing and sweaty clothes. You know, they say you should avoid sweating on winter hikes, but I just don't see how this can be done. After the lookout, the trail goes more gently up another half mile to join the AT. Snowshoes were definitely needed. Even though the snow was only about a foot or so deep, it was soft and post-holing for the rest of the hike was not the plan.
Once I reached the AT and my section ( I maintain the northernmost 3 miles or so in MA), I had the distinct and rare pleasure of making the first tracks of the season on that part of the AT. It comes at a price however. You know how they talk about 'flotation' with snowshoes? This is not really the case. They are more like post-hole preventers, especially in the really great powder that was up there last week. It was slow going and windy, I was sweaty and cold at the same time. Took more than an hour to cover the 1.3 miles to the border through that fresh snow. It was beautiful. Lots of snow still stuck to some trees, a bit of rime ice here and there, and a real sense of being away from the rest of the world. In fact, the sense of isolation was so intense, I was getting a little freaked--sweaty wet clothes, the west side of me quite cold, the very slow rate of travel, heading further and further away from what's referred to as civilization. An interesting sensation, because I really crave and enjoy the sense of detachment I experience on the northernmost part of this section.
I finally arrive at the border, dust the snow off of a log and get out my lunch. 15 mins later, I'm suddenly shivering and struggling with the small motor skills necessary to get packed up and moving again. Sweaty clothes, overcast skies and a steady breeze (and maybe a bit of a head game) had me as nervous as I've ever been out in the woods--especially on such familiar ground. This summer I had a morning trying to out-hike a thunderstorm on a ridge between Front Royal and HF--that was a pretty adrenaline-charged experience, too--but different than this. Still, I was able to see my situation from an outside perspective. Here's a guy, a little out of shape, who got a little careless and is starting to get himself in trouble--kind of embarrassing, actualy.
Well, it's obvious I made it back OK. In fact the walk out on the trail that I'd previously broken was pretty quick. I also had the sense (finally) to put on my rain coat to deflect the wind a bit from my soaked fleece and polypro layers. By the time I was about halfway down the Pine Cobble Trail, I was wondering if things had really been as bad as I had thought. Was I overdramatizing my experience? Maybe, since I'm writing a story about it. Still, a good reminder about how things can go awry, even on familiar, nearby trails. It sure was pretty, quiet, and remote-feeling out there, though.
Happy trails indeed,
Cosmo