Mountain Journal "the Mt Elbert Trip"

9/10/95-Bob and I went to Colorado last week. We spent the first night at the Pan Ark Motel in Leadville. We had a nice room with a fireplace and a great picture window view of Mt Elbert. At 14433' its the second highest mountain in the
continental United States, and our first destination. Leadville is the highest town in the country at around 10000’. We spent some time there, and although at first glance it appears to be kind of a run down place, it definitely grew on me. The people were nice and the food was good!
9/11/95- We arrive at Twin Lakes at 11:20AM. My pack was very heavy, and we decided to lighten the load to one night of camping. At 12:30 we hit the Colorado Trail, and after 3 hours of fantastic scenery, we set camp at 10850’. The site was wonderful, with a nice flat soft spot for the tent and a fire ring well away. It was raining lightly when we arrived, but soon cleared out. The fire was good, we ate lots of food, and there was a stream nearby. Mountaineers paradise!!! No problems with the altitude. Tomorrow we try for the summit.
9/12/95- Slept so-so, but feel pretty rested. A deer walked through camp during breakfast, and a couple from Connecticut paused to say hello. It’s a gorgeous day!! It’s 9:15AM, and we’re heading up. A horseback rider passes us on the trail. At 11400’ we see many small piles of fine loam. I can’t figure out how they got there, since there doesn’t seem to be a hole underneath. There are many tracks around, like deer with rounded hooves. Also there were many, many wildflowers in bloom. I have photos with 4 different flowering plants in a clump. The summit is near. I can feel it! On September 12 at 2PM we stood together on this mighty peek, having climbed it in good time with heavy loads. A truly
uplifting experience…

     We were getting close to the summit of Mt. Elbert. It had been a long climb, but I was so focused on the wonders around us, and the anticipation of summiting, that all the pain was forgotten. To our backs was the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains. The west was blocked by the summit we were trying so hard to reach. As we struggled with the last few steps, the tension and excitement grew. We could sense that, with the final step, the view of a lifetime would open up for us. The hair on my arms stood up. Tears came to my eyes, and I started to laugh. I was at the top of the world. Mountains spread before me in every direction as far as my eyes could see. Wondrous mountains! Unending, overwhelming, majestic mountains. Wave after wave of them. My eyes couldn't take it in fast enough. I felt like I had flown up the mountain. All fatigue was gone. It’s a feeling I will never forget.
                                   
  
    We spent 2 hours at the top. There was no hurry, and neither of us wanted to leave. We met several other people while there, and shared stories and picture taking. It was a wonderful climb. Eventually we headed down, and spent a second night at camp.
9/13/95- Saw a mink while making breakfast. Soon we’ll pack up and head down. The mountain was extraordinary, the weather was great, and the people were nice. We climbed a very large mountain, and decided to try another. So off we went to Mt Massive. With relatively light packs we trekked up to Willow Creek where we bivved for the night. Near this camp we found the ruins of an old miners shack. We poked around there for a while digging and looking. Inside the shack there was an old crate that had been made into some kind of sifter or something. On the side of the crate, still barely legible, was printed “Boston, Mass”. So cool!! That night I wrote in my journal while wrapped up in my bag. It was raining lightly, but Bob had an enormous fire going. There was a thunder storm moving up the valley, but it missed us and we stayed dry that night.
9/14/95- I didn’t sleep at all last night, and we have another big mountain to climb today. We’re starting at 11400’. Ninety minutes and 1000’ later we decided to call it quits. Bob and I are both dragging, and we still have 3 miles and 2000’ to go. I looked longingly at the summit, but it looked so far away. There were 2 specks on the final slope that we assumed were climbers, and they were barely visible, and barely moving. We headed down. It was disappointing, but realistic.
              The variety of plant life in the high meadows was amazing. It was not unusual to see 6 different blooms in a 2’ clump. Many yellows, daisies, buttercups, and many I didn’t recognize. Some fuzzy and some like coreopsis…purples, asters, bluebells…reds, pinks, and white yarrow…many butterflies and very large crickets. We heard coyotes in the night.
9/15/95- We spent last night in a motel. Showers!!! And ate at Pizza Hut! Today we rented mountain bikes at a sporting goods shop in Leadville. The elderly woman who owned the shop drove us and the bikes to the top of a mining mountain outside town. There were abandoned mines all over. We spent lots of time poking around the piles, and collected lots of fools gold…Bob even found a rusty old pocket watch. The ride down was a lot of fun!! I went mountain biking in the Rocky Mountains!!!
    After we were home for a few days, I discovered that I still had a new bike tire tube that we had borrowed from the bike shop, and also realized that we hadn’t paid for the ride up the mountain. I sent a check and got a nice letter back, which I still have.

11/22/96-Now, over a year later, that trip, and even the more recent Rainier climb, feel almost like dreams. Was I really there? The memories and photos say I was, but still, sometimes I'm not so sure. I cleaned up my gear last week, and upon inspection I found pine needles in my mess kit. They were from Cougar Rock campground in the Mt. Rainier National Forest. "I was really there", I thought. I really sat at that picnic table making coffee and feeding the birds from my hand, surrounded by giant firs and cedars, some of the needles of which I still have. A direct and important connection to the most incredible adventure I have had so far.

Mountain Journal

This entry dates back to the time when we rode our sleds down the main trail. This has since been disallowed, and we now sled down the Sherbourne Ski Trail.


February 21, 1994-Bob drove to the mountain this time. We got to Pinkham at
7PM, and started walking at 7:30. There was a half moon shining, and the
temperature was about 30. We dressed very lightly for the hike to Hermit
Lake. We made it to the Huntington cutoff in 45 minutes. I felt great. We kept pushing and got to the Lionhead cutoff in another 45 minutes. That was about as fast as we've done that section of the climb. We thought we might head up the right gully, but
according to the report at Pinkham, there was some avalanche danger. It
turned out that we could easily have done it. It would have saved us from
walking the saddle from Lionhead to the cone. Anyway, we started up
Lionhead at 9:30PM. It was a great climb! The snow was pretty hard in most
places, making axes and crampons mandatory. With full packs it ended up
taking an hour or so to get up to the lip. It was still warm, but the wind
started picking up. By the time we reached the top of Lionhead it was
blowing a steady 80MPH with gusts of 100. The temp was still very moderate
though, and you could stand with your face into the wind without freezing.
It was blowing so hard, you could lean halfway over without falling. We
decided to push on to the cone. The walking was very slow, and would have
been impossible without ski poles. Rather than walk a straight line, we
were constantly blown from side to side by the intense winds. It was very
exciting, and because of the unusual temps was actually very comfortable.
The wind really slowed us down though, and it took us nearly 2 hours to
cover a distance that usually takes 40 minutes. We kept going. I knew the
wind would subside when we reached the base of the cone, and it did. We
started up the first snow field. By this time the moon was settling down
over the other side of the mountain, and it was getting darker. By the time
we got to the split rock it was almost 1AM. We were very tired. There in
the protection of the rock, it was pretty calm. When we tried walking
through the split we were exposed to the wind again. At this point we were
about 30 minutes from the summit. After some discussion we decided it would
be smart to bivouac at the split rock. Bob took the level spot, and I dug
out a spot around the corner. I shaped my sleepspot like a recliner and
spent a very comfortable night. The spot was so steep though, that I drove
my ax in beside my bag and looped a strap around myself inside the bag.
Just a little insurance against waking up down the hill. We slept till 8AM,
and people were already coming up the mountain. The weather was beautiful!
Other climbers were impressed by our bivving out on the side of the
mountain, and this inflated us enough that we made the summit in 30 minutes.
We put our names in the book at 10AM and headed down the right gully. It
would have been a nicer descent if there hadn't been some overly cautious
people in front of us! While sitting at the bottom of Tucks, we watched
skiers, a snowboarder, and some people butt-sliding. I decided I had to try
sliding down myself and left Bob with our packs while I climbed halfway up
the bowl. It was great! Just sitting up there surrounded by the huge white
bowl of snow made the climb worth it! And the slide down really topped it
off. I'm glad I did it. The sled ride down was good except there were so
many hikers coming up that we couldn't go very fast. All in all a VERY good
trip.

Mountain Journal

9/16/93 - Very late with my entry. It's half a year later, but I remember 
that last climb pretty well. We started walking reasonably early. I think by
8:30. We got to Hermit lake around 10 and talked to a drunk guy for a few
minutes. Feeling pretty good, we pushed on and decided to try the right
gully in Tuckerman Ravine. It was fantastic! We're carrying full packs and
it's around midnight, and it was DARK. When I turned my light on Bob, it's
like he's standing underneath me because of the steepness of the slope. We
took a few steps at a time with ax and crampons, and finally made it out
of the gully. The weather was excellent. About 30 above and no wind. We
decided to sleep above the Alpine Gardens, and set up our sacks just beyond
the trees at the base of the cone. It was a great night. Very comfortable.
   The next morning we made it to the summit about 10AM. Another beautiful
day. The walk down was quick! And the sled ride was excellent. All in All,
a very good trip.

Mountain Journal "A Cold One"

1/20/92 4:38PM - What a weekend!! 32 below zero at summit w/ wind chill at
-103 and below. Winds were gusting well over 100MPH.
                 We left Bob's house at 7 Friday night. Had a good ride up
with a little heavy traffic on route 16. When we got to Pinkham Notch we got
out to check the snow depth because from the looks of things in Conway, we
may not be able to use the sleds. There was enough though, and I wanted to
head up a ways and sleep out. Bob thought it would be better to stay in the
truck, get a good nights rest and start early Saturday. I agreed so we
headed back a ways and slept in a turnout. The winds were ferocious, but we had
a pretty comfortable night at about zero degrees in the cap. Had a cup of coffee at Pinkham, and hit the trail about. 8AM Sat.. The main trail was icy so we used our crampons right from the start. Slow going though. We didn't pull into Hermit Lake till noon. By now the temp had gone from 4 above to 8 below, and the wind was whipping
light snow at 50MPH. We opted to stay in a 4 sided shelter with 4 other
guys, three of whom were in their sleeping bags at 2PM. I don't think they
were out of them more than 30 minutes total to cook and pee. Needless to
say we didn't get to know them very well. The guy next to us was a little
more active and seemed to be interested in photography. Well anyway, I
wasn't going into my bag yet, and talked Bob into heading up Lionhead. It
was a lot of fun, and kept me warm another 2 hours. Bob turned back with
sore hips, but I made it to the end of the trees, where the big winds
start. It took ice ax and crampons the whole way up, and I butt slid most
of the way down.
    When it came time to cook supper, I went out to get water. The ranger kept a spot on the stream open by constantly digging it out to expose the running water beneath. When I scooped up a pail it immediately started to freeze. By the time I got back to the shelter it was half frozen. That night we cooked up our chicken and veggies. It was great! Also kept us busy for a while. By 5PM no one had any desire to go
out, so it got pretty boring. After cleaning up from supper, I got into
my bag and puttered around awhile before finally settling down at 7PM.
It was so cold and windy out that no one wanted to go out to pee. There
were a few jokes about empty bottles and such. I went out about midnight
myself. Just couldn't hold it any longer. The wind blew so hard that night it seemed like the shelter would shake apart, and snow found it's way through the front wall and into the small breathing hole in my bivy sack. We weren't the only crazy people there. The ranger told us there were about 18 campers. I'd bet everyone of them asked themselves the same
question. I know our group of 6 did. "What are we doing here?"
    We all started to stir around 7AM Sun., and after some
half serious checking on everyone's' vital signs, all came to the same
conclusion. "Let's get off this iceberg!!" So by 8AM, Bob and I were ready
to head down without even considering a try for the summit. The wind was
still howling, and the temp. was about 10 below, having reached 20 below
inside our shelter that night. We knew there was no chance of getting past
Lionhead and no one was interested in trying even that. The sled ride down
went really well though. We both had good control and made some pretty
long runs. I guess we got down about 8:30AM Sunday. We didn't make it to
the summit this time, but it sure was an experience.

Mountain Journal

From Mt. Washington, we went on to other New England mountains. Steve and I climbed Mt. Mansfield, the highest mountain in Vermont. It was a rainy climb, and we stayed in a hut with several other people. We also climbed Mt. Katahdin in Maine. The first time was another rainy trip, but it was memorable because we saw many moose. While on the main trail up the mountain, in a light rain, we came face to face with a moose and her two calves. We all froze for a minute or two, and then the moose calmly stepped off the trail and went around us. The next day, which was sunny and nice, we came face to butt with a big bull moose. He wasn’t more than 15 feet from us, and calmly turned to check us out while munching on some greenery. I think I actually got a photo of him. A few years later we went up Katahdin again, and spent 2 nights in a lean-to by Chimney Pond. The weather was much better this time, and we got to do the famous Knife Edge trail. It was spectacular!! A real rugged climb with some great exposure and good views. I remember bathing in the cold clear water in a place where the water was studded with giant boulders you could bask on or hide amongst. After a while the mountains began to draw many more people, and regulations were enforced that prevented us from camping where we wanted. Summer climbs just weren’t fun any more, and Steve doesn’t really like the cold. One year we took a young guy from Rotman’s up with us on one of our annual after Thanksgiving climbs. His name is Bob, and he likes the snow. Eventually Bob and I progressed to the point where we could survive anything the mountain could throw at us, and climbed many a winter night.

Mountain Journal

I started climbing with Steve sometime around 1976. Our first climb was up Mt. Washington in the summer. We went up the Huntington Ravine trail and slept by the river. In those days no one bothered us, and we had nice campfires right there on the trail. We took our full packs up to the summit, and I remember what a struggle it was. I think I worked harder on that climb than ever. We stopped every few feet near the end, as people walked past us. Every year we’d climb the mountain 2 or 3 times. We got to know it very well and had our favorite spots to rest, and hang out. There was a place on the ridge between Boote Spur and Lake in the Clouds, where a rock outcropping protected a flat grassy spot, and there was Lake in the Clouds itself. There was the grassy ledge on the way up the Huntington Ravine trail, as well as the campsites further down. As the years went by, we started to climb later and later in the season till finally we were climbing in the snow. The first time we were on the snowfields, we sat on space blankets and butt slid down. I remember two scary times. The first was the time we went up the Huntington trail in the spring, and somehow got on the wrong side of the river. We used to ditch some of our gear at the Huntington campsite and come down the trail to get it. There was a good spring melt, and the river was running fast, cold, and deep. I guess we went wrong up where the river was just a stream. By the time we got to the place our gear was stashed, it was a torrent. We searched for a safe crossing till we were nearly exhausted. Finally we just decided to jump across. We found a stick to pole vault with, and Steve went first. He vaulted across to a big boulder that sloped precariously towards the rushing river and slapped hard against it banging his knee. We both made it over. If either of us had fallen, it could have been disastrous. Another time we were glissading down the cone with our new ice axes, and as we went over the edge of Tuckerman’s Ravine Steve went over a rock bulge and nearly disappeared into a crevasse. I looked down and he was in up to his armpits with both arms out holding himself from falling in. I got to him to try and help, but he insisted I stay back, and he lifted himself up and out. We never made that mistake again. Gaps tend to form on the warm downward side of the rock outcroppings as they melted their way through the winter snow cover. If you fell into one, you could drop hundreds of feet and not be found till the last remnants of ice melted in the spring.

WWII Vet

Joy and I went to the casino last Friday where I saw an old man playing the slots. He was small and thin with a hawk like nose, and was probably 85 or so. He wore a cap that said "WWII Veteran". I walked by thinking to myself that I should be thanking this man. I turned around and did just that. "Sir," I said, "I noticed your cap, and I just wanted to shake your hand and say Thank you". He looked a little confused at first but returned my handshake enthusiastically. I went and told Joy about him, and she went back and did the same.

Sand Hill Crane

Steve and I saw a Sand Hill Crane at our usual kayaking spot yesterday. I spotted him from afar and luckily had my binoculars. Sightings of this bird in our area are quite rare. He was quite majestic... 4 feet tall and powerful looking, with a red cap and long black bill. Under the red cap was a white patch around his eyes that blended into a greenish slate colored neck. The slate continued onto his body where it mingled with mottled patches of a soft rust color, and his tail turned downward at the end. His long thin legs were jet black. We watched him for quite a while, and he showed no fear of us. Eventually we worked our way nearer to him to see if we could invoke some sort of response. At about 50 feet, he became concerned, and lifted his head from feeding in the shallow stream to peer at us. He spread his wings and jumped, lifting his feet in the air in front of him, then started squawking at us. His call was very loud, and echoed off the surrounding trees. When we got back to Steve's, we checked the bird book, and quickly identified him. Unfortunately we had no camera with us, but I'm hoping we'll see him next week. Don't even ask me where we saw him.....

Purple Heart

Today I met a man.
He is 88 years old. His name is Alfred. I did a service call at his home. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the car there had a purple heart on the license plate. Inside the home I noticed a case of medals on the mantel. "Are those your medals?" I asked. "Yes" he said, "but that's ancient history". I just looked at him in awe. He listed the medals for me...2 purple hearts, bronze stars, silver stars, European Campaign.
The hair stood up on my arms.
"I was there for D-Day, and the Battle of the Bulge". "I was shot in the belly, and again in the hip."
More hair stood up.
I am fascinated by these men. I have no love for war, and the idea of shooting someone or being shot at, holds no attraction for me whatsoever, but I still feel sometimes that I missed out on something by not serving in the military. The whole Band of Brothers thing. Even knowing practically nothing about him, Alfred is a hero to me. He survived some of the fiercest fighting the world has ever seen, and lived to tell about it. Not only that, but as far as I could tell he was a regular, happy guy, with a wife of 61 years and at least 1 loving daughter. How does someone go through that and remain sane?

I shook his hand and thanked him for what he did back then. I told him there were still plenty of people who appreciate it.

Count Your Blessings

I like to count my blessings.
I'm not sure why.
Maybe because I have so many.
Surely there are many people with more stuff than me. But I'm not sure anyone is more blessed with good fortune than I. No one could ask for a better childhood...loving parents who are still together...a brother and sister anyone would be proud of. I still see my first friend regularly. I've known him for over 47 years.
I was still a child when I met my wife. We've been married 31 years, and I'd do it all again in a New York minute. We have two sons, both of whom I am very proud. They never gave us a minute of trouble, and they are kind, compassionate people.
How can life be so good to one person? Is it karma? Did I do something good in a past life? Or is life going to dump all the bad stuff on me all at once?
Sometimes I wonder, but not usually.