Snowy Pierce & Nauman, January 30-31

[--M.]

A buddy and I wanted some high-peak fun in the snow, so we discussed options and agreed the weather and conditions just prior to hiking would drive the decision. We ended up with Pierce, with deep snow and people to break it out for us.

Trail conditions are well documented, so I won't waste time on that up front, but we did indeed have yet another outstanding seminar in winter fun, so I thought I'd share a few of my lessons learned.

The given parameters for this trip included two hikers, some first-time experiments, desire for at least one peak with options for more, and a three-day window. I wanted winter tenting experience (been very lucky with lean-tos & needed to learn new skills). Further, using a pre-selected site with level platforms really allowed us to dial in the factors nicely (as opposed to finding an off-trail, "dispersed" spot). Also, I had been to the Nauman/Mizpah site before in summer and knew of its general layout (especially in relation to windward weather). We also knew going in that the snow was deep and route-finding and trail-breaking would be issues. Pierce is the obvious choice for these conditions, and it was amusing how obvious it was to the high numbers of other hikers (and one skier). As far as we know, however, we were the only ones to stay at the Nauman Tentsites Friday night.

Our other options had included returning to the Willeys and staying at Ethan Pond, which would have offered good skiing and snowshoeing alternatives to the more vertical Willey, Field & Tom, with a lean-to option as well as tent-platforms. We eliminated this for the size of the snow-pack and the lack of reports that it had been recently broken out.

We also considered Carrigain, the Hancocks and the Carters, but eliminated each for various reasons when it became obvious that snow-depth would drive the issue. Everything pointed to Pierce.

Problems I wanted to work on for this trip included being rested, fed & ready to roll with time to spare. I did way better than on past trips, but I was nonetheless still packing at 10:00 the night before a 6am drive time. Nonetheless, I got good sleep, been eating & drinking a lot anyway (skiing constantly out the back door) and had most of my gear straightened out by bedtime.

The only stop along the way was for snow stakes (http://vftt.org/forums/showpost.php?p=261512&postcount=14), and I made the trip to Crawford Notch just 20 minutes after my friend, who was coming from New Jersey (!!). We exchanged gear, checked the weather, parking and register at the Highland Center, and hit the trail. It was snowing lightly following last Wednesday's dump, for about a foot of fresh on top of two-to-four feet of base. We counted about a half-dozen people in front of us, either by tracks or meeting them on their descent. One skier must have skinned or showshoed up, but left a tantalizing track on the way down. I kept trying to divine from the characteristics of the track what his/her skill level and style were. Mostly, the track stayed pretty close to the actual trail, and I only found one obvious dump, a mega hole that also swallowed my buddy, right before Nauman. We were grateful for the skier and his/her snowshoeing partner, because they broke all the way to Mizpah and showed us most of the spruce traps.

We were each carrying over fifty pounds (and really, who's doing that on a regular basis?), so the commute up Crawford Path had a definite slog quality to it, especially with the still-swimmable snow. Nonetheless, we made steady progress up the oh-so-gentle path, making the hut just around 4:30, giving us enough time to select a tent platform and get out the stoves. What awesome timing! It was so incredible after that last spruce trap to come around the corner and WHAM there's Mizpah Hut. My buddy and I were stunned by the suddenly open beauty of it in the flat, dusky light, and were elated to be on the one-yard-line. I was immediately at ease and set off to re-find the tent platforms (it had been June the last time, four years ago).

We took the first one we found, which turned out to be the caretaker's platform, occupied last time by a thru-hiking character named "Ballpark." He liked to tell thru-hikers that they weren't hiking the AT, they were trying to hike the AT. I didn't think it'd be a problem for us to stay there, and we also enjoyed a nearby privy (working! with usable toilet paper! And little cedar chips even!) and a level pre-stomped tent surface from previous users. There was also a weather report nailed to a tree: October 10, 2008 (partly cloudy, 40s). I could be wrong about the details, but it was an amusing little tidbit now that relative safety and amenities were at hand.

We set about the evening's duties, with darkness, hunger and fatigue setting in quickly, and it was a race to set up the stoves. I have an old workhorse Optimus, and my buddy borrowed a friend's Whisperlite, and we got them both fired up and working. Yes, it made a big difference to learn the new stove at home.

Side quibble: The Whisperlite instruction recommends relieving the pressure on the gas bottle by unscrewing it: which sprays white gas on your hands. What's up with that?

Both stoves were gas pigs, with wind and snow-melting demands, but they performed beautifully. I love that Optimus, but the advantage this time went to the Whisperlite for wind resistance and boiling time. The optimus simmered better and is a tank, but could have used a beefier windscreen. I knew from experience not to over-windscreen an Optimus*, but it was a tad weak without a wrap (like the Whisperlite). *http://www.vftt.org/forums/showpost.php?p=133992&postcount=17

Once the hard work of humping all that stuff was done, cold management became very important. Puffy coat, keep the mittens on as much as possible, and I kept my snow-shoes on, both to tamp down the campsite, but also to elevate my Limmers off the snow. It's pushing it to use leathers in this environment, but I've done it successfully four times now, and it's a real question of balance. If it had been in the negative teens, they wouldn't have sufficed, but in the single digits were okay.

Another tip that paid off big was the steel vacuum bottle, quart-size. It was still boiling hot after 12 hours and served up both a drink and dinner very quickly. We could then devote one stove wholly to snow-melt and get dinner finished with the other. Having that hot water available really helped keep my toes warm. I also resisted putting anything in the water while in the thermos, thus having for both dinner and a drink.

We got the tent up after letting the snow settle, got the food in, and worked continuously to produce hot water bottles. I use a trick of putting a hot Nalgene into a wool sock and then inside my boots. Each boot then gets a supermarket bag and then goes in the foot of my extra-long sleeping bag. It was a bit crowded in there this time (with extra food, the boots, me, and wipes, too, which I finally remembered to keep thawed!), but the boots don't freeze overnight this way.

I also noticed that I was behind in hydration, so I drank as much as I could before bed and noticed immediate improvement at the next visit to "nature."

We were settled into the tent by around 9:00, and I did fine with the layers I had. I kept the puffy coat nearby in case I needed it, but I didn't, and was mostly warm enough all night. By around 4 or 5 am, I could have used a sweater, but it wasn't compelling, so I snoozed a little curlier and stayed wrapped up.

We were up around 6:30 and, as usual, took for-freakin'-ever to get on the road.

I searched diligently for alternatives for breakfast, but ended up happily with oatmeal (with raisins, brown sugar and real cream!). It was good, as were the little 8oz bottles of left-over French press coffee from home and the cream. I also precooked two pounds of bacon, which we snacked on all day. There was definitely some added weight there, but that coffee was delicious, and when is bacon not worth it?

Other food notes: Pepperoni gets tastier every time I bring it. Perfect trail food. Also Vermont cheddar, Snickers, Gatorade (hot or cold), Planters "Golden Nut" gorp and Cliff Shot Bloks. Dinner was chicken soup. Bring an insulated coffee mug with a lid: keeps you from having to chug your food.

We wanted to ascend Pierce directly, by way of the last leg of the Webster Cliff trail. I had done it on that previous trip and enjoyed it (although I knew it would be steep and difficult with snow). It was moot, however, as I couldn't remember where exactly to pick it up (behind the Hut, I think) and we were wary of both trail-breaking and route-finding in dicey conditions. We backtracked to Crawford Path and met the first of the day's steady stream of hikers.

These two guys were heading up, but needed trail-breakers in front as they had only Stabilicers. We chatted for a minute and then began up in front of them. Since they couldn't help with the trail, I didn't necessarily want them in front of us, and it was irrelevant anyway, as they seemed to tarry for a while. We moved on, now apparently behind the day's first ascenders, a pair of snowshoers.

We eventually met them, two unrelated solo guys. The first popped out around a corner. It was a real peekaboo surprise, and we stopped to chat. It was a meeting of the worlds however, as treeline was hiding right around the corner! Where we were, you could tell it was coming and hear a little wind maybe, but where he had been five seconds up the trail, it was fully exposed and blowing hard.

Continued...

 

[--M.]

...Continued...

He looked pretty excited about the conditions and surprised that we weren't geared up yet, but we really couldn't tell it was right there, so we hadn't stopped yet to don our Darth Vader props. We chatted as we prepared and our friend ("Wolfgang," I recall) descended, just as "Wayne" appeared. We were almost ready to go when he showed up, and he said he had wanted to go on to Eisenhower, but wouldn't even entertain the idea alone, so he had tagged Pierce and was retreating. I immediately offered to team up, hoping for the best and glad for a third hand. He accepted and we went out into the blow.

It was literally like walking through a door (very strange, not progressive at all) as we left the trees behind. I personally think most people don't estimate windspeed correctly, so I won't try, but I would say that we had no difficulty standing, but a little with forward motion. Visibility was variable, mostly around 10-20 yards. Not very good for moving on after Pierce. Would we even make this one?

It was nice having a guide who had just been there, and he beckoned us onward like some Lord-of-the-Rings character as we snaked up the trail. Really, it was nice of him to keep checking that we were back there. I kept doing the same with my friend behind me, as one could hear nothing but the wind. He stopped at an abutment and yelled "The trail goes here, but we'll have to go around!" I agreed when I saw what we'd have to ascend (a wall of snow about eight feet high, versus a ten-yard easy detour).

It reminded me, however, of a question I had considered on the Madison headwall last summer. I had seen the crampon marks of many boots on the rocks near Madison Hut, and wondered how snow & ice protect the oh-so-precious flora from us gorillas in the winter.

The answer is that it doesn't. I saw brush sticking up through the snow on our detour and knew we were fully capable to damaging open areas by off-trail travel. I'm not super-judgmental about it, but on a statistical basis, it means that our growing sport has a winter impact on the plants.

We stood at the top and immediately agreed that onward travel was inappropriate, and descended the way we came.

There was a steady stream all day from then on of people both up and down the trail. We got back to the Mizpah Cut-Off and agreed that packing up & leaving was the play. What alternative? We could explore around the hut and practice route-finding and trail-breaking, but that's just fooling around, and we're very serious people.

We packed up quickly, keeping cold at bay, and were learning about glissading with heavy packs and snowshoes. It's a ton of fun, right up until you lose it and need help standing up again.

We were back at the trailhead and elated with ourselves by 4:00 and decided on Woodstock Station before home. Maybe Fabyan's would have worked; haven't been. The pub was fine (the chili and burgers worked wonders) and we were on the road by 6.

For next time, I'll continue to search for logistical things that can be done further ahead of time (unlike, say, gassing up the car) and will try tenting in the open on randomly-selected spots. I've seen a lot of time wasted finding a good campsite, and need to learn how to do all that side of things.

It was another great trip, with no major injuries or other taxpayer expense, and a lot of good lessons learned. It was also, as usual, a real hoot, and I can't wait for the next one.

Would someone please break out Zealand & Guyot right before Presidents' Day weekend next Friday? Thanks.

--M.