The Bonds Traverse

on Frostnip, Fresh Snow, and Follies..

In the early period of the relationship between my partner Jessica and i, we went on a hike. just some weekend in september or october, any old weekend. our relationship was initiated on a mutual interest in self supported hiking, so i wanted this trip to be interesting and unique. i had been getting frustrated about the fact that all the common hiking spots, local to the philadelphia area were, to me, little more than guided, albeit strenuous, nature walks, with a clearly defined routes, and established routines. less exploration, more point-to-point forced march. maybe you know the feeling, maybe not. anyhoo, in the great state of pennsylvania, there exists allegheny national forest, over 500,000 acres of wilderness, full of woods, elk herds, and most importantly, as i learned from a hand-made photocopied guidebook that i'd recently been pouring over, a system of seldom used, but compiled off-route destinations, most of which required using topo maps and possibly compass, to access. bingo! we were now set for adventure! this would be a memorable and powerful bonding moment in our budding relationship, fer sure!

So we packed up, left after work on a friday evening, drove the 6ish hours to the parking area we'd chosen, got our gear together at the trailhead, and started out, off trail, near midnight. our route was to follow a creek most of the way, crossing it numerous times, but where we crossed and when would be all up to us, as would navigating our way around terrain and obstacles as they presented themselves. without those silly blazes or signs at intersections, or really any indications of human tread on this patch, we gained the self-determination that i was looking for(maybe not Jessica, so much), though we lost any indication of how far we'd gone, distance wise. one of the other trappings of modern hiking culture that i eschewed, along with blazes and clearly defined trails, was any form of gps device. i should know how to read a topo maps, even a crudely photocopied ones the size of a postcard. folded in the middle. after a sizable chunk of time, friday night and most of saturday, we came out onto a high-tension line clear cut. where i thought we should be, 6-8ish, accounting for the navigational and terrain handicap, miles from the trailhead, there was no high-tension line, just the one.. that we never actually passed yet.. on the map.. just a few miles from the trail head.. what gives?! we were both experienced hikers, should've been able to log more miles than that.. can't be right. right?

first light. still a bit overcast.

I'd thought about that trip quite a bit, a few weeks ago, february 1st, as Stephen and i were thwarted from the summit of Mt. Guyout through a combination of deep, drifting snow, lack of any indication of our position or indeed, the trail's position, on the windswept ridge. through some very crude math, independently undertaken in both our heads, factoring in visual clues, last sighted blazes, time of day, and the always slippery 'perceived effort index', we were sure we'd already passed Mt. Zealand, and had just stepped over a buried summit sign, perfectly possible, and were nearing the summit, and major trail intersection, surely clearly signed, at Guyout. in truth, we had committed a version of the common wilderness explorers folly, 'the compass must be broken/the map must be wrong, i know where i'm going', and based our location, and very well some of our positive waves about the day, on our gut feelings. a few hundred unbroken, tree-holed, gusty yards, later, the Mt. Zealand sign, pretty as a penny.

to Zealand hut.

Our initial plan, when setting out from the van at 4:15 am, was hike in from the Zealand campground on 302, past the hut, over Mt. Zealand, Mt. Guyout, head south and hit both Bonds and Bondcliff, finally descending the Bondcliff trail along the east branch of the Pemigewasset River to rt. 112, where we'd hitch or call a cab back to the van. an ambitious plan, fer sure, at 21+ miles of distance through probably the remnants of the winter storm we'd been hit with on the midcoast earlier that week. through a trail report we'd found, we'd read a larger party with dogs, had made the same trip in 11 hours the weekend before, so we figured, even with deeper drifted snow, we'd be fine shooting for it in one day.

this is after the trail was broken.

It was a beautiful day, windy for sure, but light fluffy clouds in the sky and beautiful views from the ridge. we were still in good spirits as we pressed on past the now established Zealand peak, until we'd completely lost the trail near the peak of Guyout, and turned back. at that point our nearly 3 mph pace from the car to the hut, had been reduced to a slogging .5-.75 mph when we hit the deep snow, and now time was starting to be an issue. not wanting to hike too long in the dark on the other side, we needed to be able to make tracks along the exposed portions of the route, and duck back below treeline in good time. also, my phone had died early on, and with it, our only option to identify and order a cab to grab us at trail's end. hitching at the trailhead on a sunday night, after dark, seemed more and more like a last-ditch option, highly improbable.

the Presidentials, from Zealand.

We decided that the safest and smartest thing to do was backtrack most of the way back to the hut, and take a consolation prize side trip to summit Mt. Hale, which was on our way back to the van anyway. on the walk back, past the spots where every tree hole fallen-into now needed to be walked around, every steep pitch and cornice, busted, now needed to be glissaded down safely, and in real-time recognition of the power of the wind, several sections of previously broken trail were re-drifted over and needed re-breaking. acceptance of a failed attempt and necessarily changed plans had a palpable effect on the mood of the day, though where as before, in times like this as in the Allegheny trip mentioned above, i'd've been more prone to anger and negativity, i now try to dwell on the positives. it was a beautiful day. neither of us were hurt, we'd managed to allign our schedules and make it out to the whites at all, and lessons were learned. all good things. and we'd seen the trail up Hale when we took the spur towards Zealand, and it looked like smooth sailing..

That packed, defined trail lasted to about a half-mile from the summit. 2 miles in. in sight of the peak, we were in danger of being repelled from another summit by the same conditions that plagued us on the adjacent ridge! who would've thought?! of all the choices we'd made that day, attempting to summit Hale was the only one that i could consider foolish. it was 4 hard miles(there and back-tracking) that we really could've done without. we were both pretty beat, and i was already starting to feel a bit nauseous as we started that climb. coming back down, we were both in pretty sour moods, knowing that we still had 7ish miles of back-tracking to get to the van. so we did the only thing you could do; put our heads down and marched. we made it back to the van a bit past 7pm, giving us just about 15hrs on the move, and over 26 miles of  travel. we both felt pretty spent at the end, but relieved to be back in the van. next stop: the nearest gas station for a junk food binge. well earned.

wicked frostbeard.

So. what was gained? certainly not notches on our ice-axe shafts. no, the peaks yielded nothing to us this day, though i think we learned more about ourselves and our limits. we both wound up feeling nauseous towards the end of the day, and that must mean a reevaluation of our food is needed. i came out of this trip with frostnip on my fingers, and a new appreciation for the potential applications of hand- and toe-warmers. that speaks to additional necessary glove discipline when we stop for water boiling and food. that's on me.

big red coat. pretty sweet.

smooth operator.

In addition to testing the viability of melting snow for water, i got to test some new gear! i had mentioned here that the boots i had borrowed from Stephen last time, railed my shins into a tender pulp, and felt that a pair of padded ski socks might remedy the situation. i was able to take my new Lowa Civetta boots out for a real test, and i'm pleased to say the worked brilliantly! unlike the boots i'd used previously, which had a plastic tongue, these boots had leather across the front of the ankle, which negated the pressure i'd felt before, resulting in zero pain. in fact, i can report zero pain in toto, anywhere on my feet, which was a pleasant surprise! even 3-season hiking boots have a break-in period.. this combined with Lowa's knowledgeable and helpful customer service, i can't recommend these boots enough! sweet deal!

the boots. so nice.

 As mentioned, i'd acquired my own pair of Black Diamond Mercury Mitts, so i can now stop soaking Molly's pair in snot, and they worked excellently, just as expected. i also got to try my new(old) L.L.Bean red down parka for rest stops, and that was worth every penny. big ol' hand warmer pockets, big ol' hood, packs into a little ol' stuff sack. my Outdoor Research face mask was fine, if a bit small, and in the wind chill, my breath froze it into a piece of rawhide, though i can't fault the piece for that. just an observation. 

The essayist and high philosopher Tim Cahill wrote that 'An adventure is never an adventure when it's happening. Challenging experiences need time to ferment, and an adventure is simply phisical and emotional discomfort recollected in tranquility.' well put. i feel it takes time, also, to learn the lessons gained from an adventure. it's taken me a long time, but i think one of the biggest lessons i've had to learn is about redirecting where my satisfaction is gained. should i need to start here, and wind up there and tick off a checklist along the way to gain joy from my pursuits? or can i take stock in not just what i've accomplished, but what i've attempted and what i've not lost? i can try, i s'pose. as long as we can all walk out under our own steam, that seems like a pretty good day, right? right.

-josh robeson