Neil
Well-known member
- Joined
- Apr 26, 2004
- Messages
- 3,434
- Reaction score
- 487
I was staring out into a featureless white wall trying to figure out where I was. I was totally convinced that south should lead upwards but south was facing way, way down into white nothingness. Something was obviously very wrong and I sat atop a cliff with views below of spruce trees falling steeply away into the purest white cloud and I pondered my next move. I had no inkling of where I was (beyond somewhere on Panther) and I had no inkling as to where to go. I pulled a spare compass out of my pack and verified that it gave the same reading as the one I'd been using all day, which goes to show just how messed up I was.
I took stock of my situation, as described above and considered my navigational resources: a map, a compass, the lay of the land and a very fallible brain. There were no visuals. I knew the brain I had with me was fallible because I didn't know where I was. I stood there and thought my options through as completely as possible and finally, I dialed SW into the compass and proceeded to stick to that bearing like glue and see where it took me.
Earlier on that day I turned my alarm clock off at 5:30 because it was dark outside, rain was pelting down and I was tired. I dozed til 6 and then drove to the Santanoni trailhead. I had already decided to truncate my hike by omitting Henderson North and then I sat in my car, warm and dry, and read a book while the rain kept on coming. It had rained all night and now bushwhacking a high peak didn't seem like a good idea any more. One of my options was to drive home to Montreal but that would mean throwing $50 into the atmosphere for nothing.
Finally, at 7:30 I began a very leisurely stroll up the Santanoni road with no intention other than enjoying the colorful woods without being rubbed by “car-wash” spruce branches. I still wasn't sure about bushwhacking Panther but thought I just might stroll to Duck Hole and back and call it a day. But gradually, I warmed up, my step became firm and decisive and I gained resolve. Before I knew it I almost walked past the turnoff to the trail.
Fast forward to stepping off the Bradley Pond-Duck Hole trail. I was north of and roughly 500 feet below the lean-to. The woods were extremely wet but it wasn't raining. I suddenly realized I couldn't possibly do the whack while wearing glasses and then I remembered I had a pair of contact lenses from last winter in my ditty bag. The fluid had all evaporated and the lenses resembled chips off of dehydrated potatoes so I sucked water from my hose and spit it into the plastic wells that held the lenses and sat and waited for them to hydrate.
From the Lean-to down to where I was the trail made the Bradley pond trail we all love to hate seem like a golf course. As soon as you pass the LT it becomes obvious that in spite of how bad the trail up to the LT seems it obviously gets a lot of work done on it. After the LT the “trail” is a complete and utter joke. The 500 foot drop was a lot of hard work. In retrospect, bushwhacking would have been a lot easier.
For starters, my bushwhack goal was a bump on the north end of the ridge that leads away from Panther Peak, which according to my map was due west of my estimated position. From the bump I would turn south and follow the ridge half a mile to the summit and do a victory dance. Easy peasy.
It didn't take long before I was fighting the compass and I fought the damn thing for nearly 3 hours until I hit the ridge. It was a real puzzler because going due west meant side sloping into a white pillow of nothingness that dropped away to nowhere. I must have checked the map 10 times to try and understand why west wasn't up but I never figured it out. But, rather than obey the simple law of up I elected to fight and stick to that 285 mag bearing. What made it tough was having no visuals whatsoever. But I was curious to see what west would bring me so I did my dogged best to stick to that bearing. Nevertheless, I made sure that every step I took increased my elevation.
It took me nearly an hour longer to hit the ridge than I had anticipated but with bushwhacking that happens all the time so I didn't think anything of it. Along the way I passed through areas of great and subtle beauty and the rumpled landscape was entirely hidden within the topo map's contour lines. Small wonder when you think that one million square meters are represented by 16 square centimeters on the map. As a puny human slowly making my way through it I reflected on how the scale of things changes so dramatically when after looking at it on a computer screen one is actually on the ground and only able to see only 20 yards in any given direction.
So, once I had hit the ridge I looked around a bit but all I saw was a wall of white so I turned to my map for guidance. It indicated that the summit was 600 feet above me due south so off I went and before long found myself in the situation described in the first paragraph of this report. I was wishing I had one of those i-phone apps but I didn't so I crossed my fingers and stuck blindly to that aforementioned SW bearing because that led upwards and southwards. To my total surprise, after 30 minutes I heard people talking. This caused within me a most bizarre sensation of total disorientation until I understood I was at the herd path less than 2 minutes south of the summit. I had overshot it a mere 50 feet below. I whipped out the map and everything clicked into place with brutal suddenness. I'll let you figure it out, although looking at it now it's ridiculously simple.
When I got to Times's Square there were 15 people milling about. They appeared strangely dry to my eyes. One guy looked at me at said, “You're all wet, where were you?” I was also filthy. I stood around amongst the crowd pondering my two options and decided not to go out via Santanoni. I got back to the car at 5:30 for a ten hour day.
I took stock of my situation, as described above and considered my navigational resources: a map, a compass, the lay of the land and a very fallible brain. There were no visuals. I knew the brain I had with me was fallible because I didn't know where I was. I stood there and thought my options through as completely as possible and finally, I dialed SW into the compass and proceeded to stick to that bearing like glue and see where it took me.
Earlier on that day I turned my alarm clock off at 5:30 because it was dark outside, rain was pelting down and I was tired. I dozed til 6 and then drove to the Santanoni trailhead. I had already decided to truncate my hike by omitting Henderson North and then I sat in my car, warm and dry, and read a book while the rain kept on coming. It had rained all night and now bushwhacking a high peak didn't seem like a good idea any more. One of my options was to drive home to Montreal but that would mean throwing $50 into the atmosphere for nothing.
Finally, at 7:30 I began a very leisurely stroll up the Santanoni road with no intention other than enjoying the colorful woods without being rubbed by “car-wash” spruce branches. I still wasn't sure about bushwhacking Panther but thought I just might stroll to Duck Hole and back and call it a day. But gradually, I warmed up, my step became firm and decisive and I gained resolve. Before I knew it I almost walked past the turnoff to the trail.
Fast forward to stepping off the Bradley Pond-Duck Hole trail. I was north of and roughly 500 feet below the lean-to. The woods were extremely wet but it wasn't raining. I suddenly realized I couldn't possibly do the whack while wearing glasses and then I remembered I had a pair of contact lenses from last winter in my ditty bag. The fluid had all evaporated and the lenses resembled chips off of dehydrated potatoes so I sucked water from my hose and spit it into the plastic wells that held the lenses and sat and waited for them to hydrate.
From the Lean-to down to where I was the trail made the Bradley pond trail we all love to hate seem like a golf course. As soon as you pass the LT it becomes obvious that in spite of how bad the trail up to the LT seems it obviously gets a lot of work done on it. After the LT the “trail” is a complete and utter joke. The 500 foot drop was a lot of hard work. In retrospect, bushwhacking would have been a lot easier.
For starters, my bushwhack goal was a bump on the north end of the ridge that leads away from Panther Peak, which according to my map was due west of my estimated position. From the bump I would turn south and follow the ridge half a mile to the summit and do a victory dance. Easy peasy.
It didn't take long before I was fighting the compass and I fought the damn thing for nearly 3 hours until I hit the ridge. It was a real puzzler because going due west meant side sloping into a white pillow of nothingness that dropped away to nowhere. I must have checked the map 10 times to try and understand why west wasn't up but I never figured it out. But, rather than obey the simple law of up I elected to fight and stick to that 285 mag bearing. What made it tough was having no visuals whatsoever. But I was curious to see what west would bring me so I did my dogged best to stick to that bearing. Nevertheless, I made sure that every step I took increased my elevation.
It took me nearly an hour longer to hit the ridge than I had anticipated but with bushwhacking that happens all the time so I didn't think anything of it. Along the way I passed through areas of great and subtle beauty and the rumpled landscape was entirely hidden within the topo map's contour lines. Small wonder when you think that one million square meters are represented by 16 square centimeters on the map. As a puny human slowly making my way through it I reflected on how the scale of things changes so dramatically when after looking at it on a computer screen one is actually on the ground and only able to see only 20 yards in any given direction.
So, once I had hit the ridge I looked around a bit but all I saw was a wall of white so I turned to my map for guidance. It indicated that the summit was 600 feet above me due south so off I went and before long found myself in the situation described in the first paragraph of this report. I was wishing I had one of those i-phone apps but I didn't so I crossed my fingers and stuck blindly to that aforementioned SW bearing because that led upwards and southwards. To my total surprise, after 30 minutes I heard people talking. This caused within me a most bizarre sensation of total disorientation until I understood I was at the herd path less than 2 minutes south of the summit. I had overshot it a mere 50 feet below. I whipped out the map and everything clicked into place with brutal suddenness. I'll let you figure it out, although looking at it now it's ridiculously simple.
When I got to Times's Square there were 15 people milling about. They appeared strangely dry to my eyes. One guy looked at me at said, “You're all wet, where were you?” I was also filthy. I stood around amongst the crowd pondering my two options and decided not to go out via Santanoni. I got back to the car at 5:30 for a ten hour day.
