Monday, January 7, 2019

Day One on Northville/Placid Trail

Sunday, January 6, 2016

Adirondacks – October, 2018.

We dropped Justin off with our packs at the official trailhead in the woods outside of the town of Northville.  Paul and I drove back to the town and parked his Sprinter in the designated parking lot for thru-hikers and walked the four miles back to Justin.

Day one was all about breaking in our bodies for all-day hiking with 45 pounds on your back.  I worried about my foot, but the problem never materialized.  The terrain was what I expected; rugged, full of rocks, some blowdown and mud, and very little to see.  Much of the Appalachian Trail is described as the ‘Green Tunnel’ because it passes through miles of deciduous forests with no views.  The Northvile/Placid is no different and with the exception of a couple of ponds, we walked in a ‘green tunnel’. 

A woman with two dogs had entered the woods about an hour ahead of us with the plan of camping just beyond Benson Road – a possible location I’d identified to spend our first night as well.  We had gone several miles when we spotted her heading our way.
“I reached a river and couldn’t see any way to cross,” she said.  “It’s wide and looks deep and my one pup here would never be able to make the crossing.  I went up stream about a mile, but never saw any kind of bridge.”

“We’ll help you cross if you want to go back,” I offered, though I had no idea what that would look like.

She declined and we pushed on wondering about the river and what we were up against.  We reached West Stoney Creek and saw immediately what she’d been talking about.  It was over 100’ wide and based on the rocks peeking up at different points, appeared to be at least hip deep in several spots.  I had packed my Teva sandals for just such an occasion and after scouting up and down the river for several hundred feet, finally noticed a cairn on the far bank almost directly across from where the trail had brought us to the river’s edge.

“There is no bridge.  This is the crossing point,” I said, indicating the cairn on the far side.  A cairn is a small pile of rocks in the shape of a pyramid normally standing about two feet high to indicate trail direction in spots where hikers might be uncertain and confused.  They are also found on peaks above tree line to mark safe passage when blazes painted on bare rock face may be covered in snow or a fog may prevent one from seeing ahead far enough to walk without heading off the edge of a mountain side.  I sat down, took off my pack, and began to take off my shoes and socks and put on my sandals.  I was up in three minutes and put my pack back on, but did not cinch the hip strap.  I needed to be able to get out of the pack easily if I went down in deep, fast-moving water so it would not drag me under and drown me.  Better to search down-stream for a wet pack later.  I looked across and determined my best course across and stepped into the frigid water.

“Okay…it’s damned cold…and slippery,” I said as Paul began to follow.  He’s stripped off his pants and was down to his underwear.  I looked once and decided I didn’t need to see that while I was trying to remain upright.

“Seriously…Paul…no pants?” I said, and continued across.

I almost lost it on two or three occasions when the water reached mid-thigh and the current was pushing particularly hard against me.  I had ski poles in each hand though, and they were helping tremendously to keep me on my feet.  I made the crossing in about five minutes with Paul and Justin not too far behind.  I would not have liked to have been carrying a dog in my arms and was happy the woman had declined my offer.

We sat down for lunch on the far side and were there several minutes when Justin began looking for his worn, tattered ball cap.  He failed to locate it.  I had taken his picture during his crossing and quickly pulled it up for review.

“It ain’t on your head at the halfway point which we have me conclude its back on the other side,” I said.

He never even stopped to think about it and plunged back into the river to recover it.  I suppose I’d have done the same if it was my ‘John Deere’ hat.

We traveled about 13 miles before making camp and considering the late start – about 11 a.m. on the actual trail – it wasn’t a bad days effort.

Paul and Justin started going off the rails on day two.  Paul’s back began to bother him and Justin’s knee was in pain and inflamed.  Both were slowing considerably with the last hour seeing only a mile of progress.  I was feeling pretty good; the normal soreness from an all-day hike, but was starting to worry about my partners.  We made camp, cooked and built a fire, and began the process of rest and recovery…for 12 hours.

Day three was their undoing.  The trail was rugged and slow with blowdowns and mud for much of the distance covered.  We made only 12 miles for the day before making camp.  I have hiked with Paul for years and he is always supremely fit, but his back was making each step painful and slow.  I woke in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and could barely get on my shoes I was so sore all over.  I got back in my sleeping bag thinking, ‘what’s the point?  No views, everyone’s suffering and it isn’t much fun’.  I nodded off thinking I’d tell them I was ready to pull off the trail and just go camping somewhere and hike peaks that were more interesting if their and my bodies permitted.

I didn’t have a chance to say anything in the morning before Paul announced he would get off the trail in Piseco, a small town we would be passing through late morning.

“I think I better join him,” Justin said.

I told them what I’d been thinking last night about getting off the trail myself, but after three hours of hiking that morning, I realized all aches and pains were gone and I was feeling fantastic.  We reached the road around 11 a.m. where I announced I’d continue on alone and meet them three days later in Blue Mountain.  They would hitch a ride back to Northville and drive there to meet me.  I gathered the food I would need from their packs, handed off a couple of items to lighten my load, and re-entered the woods.  I was way behind my plan to hike 15 miles a day and was determined to begin making up some of it.  I’d only covered four miles to Piseco and it was already around noon, so I’d have to walk late and hard.  I felt ready to do it.

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