Lawn Sale
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I’m not going to write about Jackson, my 48th peak, because it was uneventful. Instead I’ll write about the day prior, March 12, 2010, when I hiked solo to get Bond and West Bond.
I left home in midcoast Maine at 3:15 in the morning, the drive out was uneventful and I arrived at 7:15, this is when things started to go wrong. I realized I left my hiking clothes on the kitchen table, but luckily I keep spare shirt in my pack, so I changed and was boots to trail at 7:30, but with no spare dry clothing. I met up with Fran Maineri in the parking lot, and walked with him until the Black Pond cutoff since he was hiking Owl’s Head. I brought my pulk thinking I could make some time on the Wilderness Trail by hauling the pack on it, and I was right, until it snapped it almost in half on a stream crossing.
I abandoned the sled, donned the pack and hit the trail once again. I wore my trail runners, but the Hillsound Trampons didn’t like to stay in one place, so I was always adjusting them, and I also wore some new EMS gaiters because my OR Crocs are just worn out. They didn’t like to stay up on my calves, so I was hiking them up like a pair of socks with no elastic for most of the day. Adjust-adjust-adjust, fun-fun (not). The trail soon split and I took the better defined left track, only to find out it was a bushwack, where the snow became very deep (5-6 feet) and my GTX shoes were soon soaked, but at least my feet were warm from the exertion. I donned my snowshoes and soon arrived on the main trail, only to find severe blowdowns, and while the trail was packed and solid, weaving and ducking around them made for slow going. I was doing fine until about a ½ mile from the Bondcliff summit, where a stick poked me in the eye. I covered my eye immediately with my hand and noticed blood when I drew it back, and it hurt to open it. It made me nervous since I had no cell signal, was 9 miles into the woods, and there was no one else around.
I wiped the blood away and couldn’t see anything except light out of my eye, but it didn’t feel like there was any debris lodged and soon it was tearing profusely. Not having a mirror handy (there is a tiny one in my first aid kit, but too small to look from one eye into the other), I put my digital camera on macro mode and took a picture of my eye, then blew it up on the screen. It felt worse than it looked, so I had a power bar and water, then rested to decide what to do. In a few minutes I decided to head to Bondcliff and reassess the situation. Once there, I decided I could do the 1.2 miles to Bond, where I knew from FOT48 I could get a cell signal. My vision was improving greatly by then, so I posted online what had happened and continued to West Bond, not wanting to have to wait another year to finish the list since I was within a mile and so close. At the trail junction I met 3 other people grabbing West Bond from Zealand, so we chatted a bit and I was relieved just to meet up with anyone. By now my vision was completely back but my eye still watering greatly, which I saw as a good sign, so I grabbed West Bond and headed back to Bond. I was amazed at how many friends were willing to come to my aid despite being so far into the woods and them living in various states. It made me realize how great the hiking community is and how appreciative I am for my friends. I changed socks for the return trip and hoofed it back down to Bondcliff since the weather was starting to worsen.
All was going well despite the usual face and arm slapping from the blowdowns, until I broke a snowshoe binding. I hauled out my repair kit, fixed it, and was back on trail in about 5 minutes. At one of the water crossings I decided to go across a snow bridge, which I thought was safe since I saw large rocks underneath. I was wrong, it collapsed and now my feet were soaked. I booked it back to the Wilderness Trail and found the sled remnants, which I cobbled together to travel, and put the pack on it. With the pack tied in place the sled kept rolling over, which was really ticking me off, so I adjusted the poles to pull from different angles and it stopped tipping over. At dusk, which was long after I hoped to be finished, I put on my standard Tikka Plus headlamp. I had taken the never used, freshly charged batteries from the pouch where I keep them and put them in the headlamp before I left. I neglected to realize how fast AAA batteries degrade from just sitting, and in 10 minutes was without a working headlamp. My normal headlamp uses AA batteries, but I wanted to go lighter to shave some weight and thus time. Back into the first aid kit I go, where I dug out my emergency lithiums, and put those in so I had light again. At this point I had a nasty headache, my arms were cut and bruised, my feet and shirt soaked, the sled broken, my eye still watering a little and throbbing, and I was tired. I stepped up my hiking speed a notch, to 4-5 mph, or just shy of a run and by the time I arrived back at the car, 11 hours and 23.2 miles later, I also had blisters on my feet from the wet shoes.
I packed the car, changed socks and shoes, changed into my traveling clothes, and grabbed one of the hard boiled eggs I’d saved for the ride home. Upon cracking and peeling it, I noticed a shimmer in the reflection, so I turned on the interior light to find the egg covered in blood. It turns out a dry crack in my thumb had burst open and was now bleeding profusely. I honestly contemplated not driving home, but luckily the trip home was as uneventful as that morning. It was certainly the hike of hikes for me and one of the worst days I’d had, but the mountains were done and I was glad for it.
I left home in midcoast Maine at 3:15 in the morning, the drive out was uneventful and I arrived at 7:15, this is when things started to go wrong. I realized I left my hiking clothes on the kitchen table, but luckily I keep spare shirt in my pack, so I changed and was boots to trail at 7:30, but with no spare dry clothing. I met up with Fran Maineri in the parking lot, and walked with him until the Black Pond cutoff since he was hiking Owl’s Head. I brought my pulk thinking I could make some time on the Wilderness Trail by hauling the pack on it, and I was right, until it snapped it almost in half on a stream crossing.
I abandoned the sled, donned the pack and hit the trail once again. I wore my trail runners, but the Hillsound Trampons didn’t like to stay in one place, so I was always adjusting them, and I also wore some new EMS gaiters because my OR Crocs are just worn out. They didn’t like to stay up on my calves, so I was hiking them up like a pair of socks with no elastic for most of the day. Adjust-adjust-adjust, fun-fun (not). The trail soon split and I took the better defined left track, only to find out it was a bushwack, where the snow became very deep (5-6 feet) and my GTX shoes were soon soaked, but at least my feet were warm from the exertion. I donned my snowshoes and soon arrived on the main trail, only to find severe blowdowns, and while the trail was packed and solid, weaving and ducking around them made for slow going. I was doing fine until about a ½ mile from the Bondcliff summit, where a stick poked me in the eye. I covered my eye immediately with my hand and noticed blood when I drew it back, and it hurt to open it. It made me nervous since I had no cell signal, was 9 miles into the woods, and there was no one else around.
I wiped the blood away and couldn’t see anything except light out of my eye, but it didn’t feel like there was any debris lodged and soon it was tearing profusely. Not having a mirror handy (there is a tiny one in my first aid kit, but too small to look from one eye into the other), I put my digital camera on macro mode and took a picture of my eye, then blew it up on the screen. It felt worse than it looked, so I had a power bar and water, then rested to decide what to do. In a few minutes I decided to head to Bondcliff and reassess the situation. Once there, I decided I could do the 1.2 miles to Bond, where I knew from FOT48 I could get a cell signal. My vision was improving greatly by then, so I posted online what had happened and continued to West Bond, not wanting to have to wait another year to finish the list since I was within a mile and so close. At the trail junction I met 3 other people grabbing West Bond from Zealand, so we chatted a bit and I was relieved just to meet up with anyone. By now my vision was completely back but my eye still watering greatly, which I saw as a good sign, so I grabbed West Bond and headed back to Bond. I was amazed at how many friends were willing to come to my aid despite being so far into the woods and them living in various states. It made me realize how great the hiking community is and how appreciative I am for my friends. I changed socks for the return trip and hoofed it back down to Bondcliff since the weather was starting to worsen.
All was going well despite the usual face and arm slapping from the blowdowns, until I broke a snowshoe binding. I hauled out my repair kit, fixed it, and was back on trail in about 5 minutes. At one of the water crossings I decided to go across a snow bridge, which I thought was safe since I saw large rocks underneath. I was wrong, it collapsed and now my feet were soaked. I booked it back to the Wilderness Trail and found the sled remnants, which I cobbled together to travel, and put the pack on it. With the pack tied in place the sled kept rolling over, which was really ticking me off, so I adjusted the poles to pull from different angles and it stopped tipping over. At dusk, which was long after I hoped to be finished, I put on my standard Tikka Plus headlamp. I had taken the never used, freshly charged batteries from the pouch where I keep them and put them in the headlamp before I left. I neglected to realize how fast AAA batteries degrade from just sitting, and in 10 minutes was without a working headlamp. My normal headlamp uses AA batteries, but I wanted to go lighter to shave some weight and thus time. Back into the first aid kit I go, where I dug out my emergency lithiums, and put those in so I had light again. At this point I had a nasty headache, my arms were cut and bruised, my feet and shirt soaked, the sled broken, my eye still watering a little and throbbing, and I was tired. I stepped up my hiking speed a notch, to 4-5 mph, or just shy of a run and by the time I arrived back at the car, 11 hours and 23.2 miles later, I also had blisters on my feet from the wet shoes.
I packed the car, changed socks and shoes, changed into my traveling clothes, and grabbed one of the hard boiled eggs I’d saved for the ride home. Upon cracking and peeling it, I noticed a shimmer in the reflection, so I turned on the interior light to find the egg covered in blood. It turns out a dry crack in my thumb had burst open and was now bleeding profusely. I honestly contemplated not driving home, but luckily the trip home was as uneventful as that morning. It was certainly the hike of hikes for me and one of the worst days I’d had, but the mountains were done and I was glad for it.
