Mt. Marcy

I'd like to think I could walk anywhere, for however long I needed to and for whatever purpose. This is the philosophy I abide by in Denver, especially to and from the grocery store, and in the woods. After 19 miles of hiking and two mountains later, I am reworking this philosophy.

Yesterday, my cousin, a friend, and I ventured into the Adirondack wilderness with the goals of hiking Mt. Marcy, Mt. Skylight, and Gray Peak, the highest, fourth highest, and seventh highest mountains in NY. The underlying goal was to make it back to the car and, eventually, to our campsite.

My friend, cousin, and me at Indian Falls on the way to Mt. Marcy.

I made it up Marcy and Skylight, knocking two more of the 46 high peaks off my list (I still have 41 to go... oh my). The hike was tiring and amazing, goal-oriented, yet picturesque, but towards the end it just became hard. In fact, to be honest with myself, it was probably the most challenging feat I have accomplished with my own two feet. I thoroughly believed we had no more than 5 more miles left when we approached a sign that stated that I was delusional. In fact, we had 6.3 more miles to go. This was so mentally incapacitating, that I immediately ran through my shelter building and fire-by-friction skills. I evaluated how much water we had left and pondered the low temperature of the evening, convinced I wouldn't have the energy to make it out.

Well, long story short, my friend hiked on ahead (he was much faster) and my cousin and I passed the source of the Hudson River (Lake Tear of the Clouds), Lake Colden, Avalanche Pass, and Marcy Dam, finally arriving back to the car. My cousin and I made it out of the woods, headlamps glaring, at 10:15 pm.

Lake Tear of the Clouds, the source of the Hudson River.

However, our adventure was not quite over... we noticed that my friend's car was still in the parking lot (::dun dun dun::). He had not signed in at a trail register since Lake Colden, about 6 miles from the parking lot, where he noted he would call us as soon as he got reception. We assumed that he simply forgot to check in at the other registers, but knew that he should have been out of the woods, in his car, and on his merry way well before 10:15. But, come to think of it, he didn't have a headlamp or a map. Did he have extra clothing? Anything to start a fire with? Food!? The only items we knew he had in his gym bag were two small water bottles and a filtering pump.

I must say that I am a proponent of my tax money being spent on the salaries of NYS forest rangers (if that is, indeed, what my tax money is spent on)! We called the emergency Department of Environmental Conservation hotline, chatted with some optimistic dispatchers ("The low is only going to be 47 degrees! No problem!"), and spoke with the ranger who was charged with the initial search phase (preliminary search at night, extensive search in the morning). Trained professionals would go out into the woods to look for my friend, just in case. What more could we do?

We could eat. Don't you find it disappointing when diners, traditional havens of 24 hour, greasy comfort food, are in fact imposters, not diners at all, but instead... traditional restaurants with normal business hours!? We encountered just such establishments in Lake Placid and Wilmington. At 12:30 AM, my cousin and I arrived back at our campsite, with loot purchased at a 24 hour grocery store (a Lunchables meal, a donut, goldfish crackers, etc.), and ate our dinner in the car.

What a day. It didn't truly end until this morning when I got a phone call from my friend saying that he was alive. The rangers couldn't find him because he had fallen asleep looking at the stars on a flat rock in the middle of a creek. I decided I would ask for details later.

"Magnificent Mud at Midnight," the alternate title of this blogpost.