Trip Advisors: Beth and Kate
Students and co-leaders: Anna, Eileen, Erin, George, Ian, Jen, Joe, Kristy, Mike, Sarah
Sara, Me, Beth, Erin hidden, Joe, Ian, Kate, Kristy, George, Mike, Jen, Anna taking pix
Click on pix to make them bigger.
I'm in borrowed blue and green gaiters, probably from the 70s, and wearing an orange pack.
We gather round and Kristy and George, today's co-leaders, instruct us to walk out silently, space ourselves so we have some reflective time as we hike the path out to the road. I move through the brush and wait for reflective space. As I place my first step onto the path, tears wash my cheeks. Conflict of leaving wells up when just hours earlier I couldn't wait to get out of hell. Now, I don't want to leave! What have I done here this week? I want answers before I leave. Did I appreciate the sacredness? Did I make friends with the mountains? Friends. What about friends? Well, friends can test you and I surely was. But despite the tests, you can still want to be with friends. There is goodness and pull beneath the testing. So, maybe I have made friends with the mountains. They tested me and now I don't want to leave. My metaphor works in the moment and I can feel the tears without a sense of panic but rather relief. I bend down with my lighter pack and let the cold stream waters run over my hand. I want to take the sensation with me. I look around with intent. I feel the release and some sense of joy in the knowing.
We hike up the road to the Fish Hatchery where the van is parked. We crack open the trailer, get clothes and throw in our packs. We all stink. Anna comes by all wet and fresh looking and gives me the idea to wet my hair again and do a little wash. The icy stream is invigorating. I feel deeply cleansed by mountain water in mountain woods. I sit in the trailer and pull off my wet boots and plastic bag vapor barriers that kept my socks and feet dry. I'm the driver today and look forward to street clothes and the experience of driving a 12 passenger van with a trailer. Sarah Maney grabs shotgun so it's a rockin' ride home. I feel satisfied smiles cross my face as I drive and sense my own and our shared accomplishment. Bring on breakfast!
Saturday, 11/14 Day 7 down from Mt. Cabot and east along Bunnell Notch Trail
Anna and Erin are co-leaders
No idea what I ate but it's gettin' low
My feet were wrapped anew before we left the cabin but as soon as I took a few steps I knew they were a problem. Stopping to undo and re-wrap was not an option. I kept telling myself on the descent that I'd be able to take care of them when we got into camp. We're on the last full day of hiking and we need to keep moving. Sarah, Ian and I had a conversation about medicinal pot and otherwise. Sarah wrote a paper on pot so was a fount of information. I was moving slowly because of my feet and knees which were long done with all the descending. The clouds threatened rain but held off. We pulled off the trail to have lunch.Not one to wear hats even when it's cold, I've discovered the secondary benefit--cover your bad hair. I still don't like the look on me. I'd thought about wetting my hair to get some curls back but hadn't done it. Beth, Kristy, and Erin had pulled off the trail and we could hear their shrieks as they dunked their heads in the icy stream. Feeling like I missed a shared moment, Beth pointed to the same stream running by our lunch spot. Well, yeah. I can still have my own moment. I dunked my hair and felt the shocking refreshment of cold on my head. My curls would dry, or freeze, and I'd be some semblance of my pre-hat self. Kind of a backcountry spa.
Scenario or real? Meanwhile, Beth is getting hypothermic with efforts to create a litter and at Beth's suggestion, a tarp is raised because rain kicked in just about at WFR time. Someone else suggests that we feed her and Kate says slowly and lowly, "All I've got is Beth's chocolate bar." I take that as a suggestion and grab the bar, breaking small pieces so as not to choke her. I put one into her mouth and I realize my mistake just as she chokes. I yell that we need to turn her to her side and someone else says sweep her mouth. I stick my finger into her mouth to sweep the chocolate successfully but wonder how bad my finger tastes given that I was sucking tuna from it at lunch and who knows when I last washed them. Backcountry hygiene. A few more feeble attempts and finally Beth calls an end to the game. She notes how no one touched her to do a head to toe exam. No one checked for bleeding. She potentially had a TBI given that she fell so I shouldn't have fed her. And she noted I swept her mouth without a glove so appreciated my blind trust in her good health. And, she let the chocolate slide down to her throat so she would choke for real.
"Oh, and who sacrificed their down parka to warm me? It felt great!"As she shakes and puts on a jacket, she says, "Do you think this is perceived or real hypothermia?"
Oh, it's real.
I say to her, "Beth, you're hard core!"
"I want my students to learn," she says emphatically, "and the only way they'll learn is if it's real."
We get moving fast so Beth can warm up. It was a kinder, gentler scenario than in WFR training. Beth: They're killin' me!
The rain is coming down steady now and we're getting soaked. My boots, dry all week despite stepping through streams and getting sucked up to my knees in mud, are now completely wet in just an hour of steady rain. My toes and knees are hurting more and my clothes are soaked through. This is the misery Beth promised and hoped for so we'd see what it's like. We finally decided to make camp. We put up tarps but feeling hypothermic, I tried to find dry clothes to put on. I couldn't figure out why my down parka felt wet--I sacrificed it in WFR. Point taken. I was called twice to come out because we were meeting for a presentation and other discussion. Totally annoyed, I threw my water bottle and stomped over to the group. We did a hypothermia dance to get the blood pumping. And then there was the required bear hang to be accomplished. I had yet to do one but I also can't throw the rope high enough into the tree. Ian, the former pitcher, had our best shot. And, it was an exercise 'cause the hang was likely not necessary.
Back in my tarp, I got into my sleeping bag and bivy and never came out the rest of the night. In tears again, I was sure I was a lightweight who couldn't hack it as soon as the rain dumped. I can't wait to be done with this F'ing trip. We had doubled up our tarp with Jen and Anna so the debrief of the WFR was held under our tarps in the pouring rain. Again, I never left my cocoon. Everyone left to make supper and it was Kristy's turn to cook. I told her to cook what she wanted and I would cook my comfort food--garlic mashed potatoes that I would mix with the dried vegs, Sloppy Joe mix and the brown gravy mix. Kristy changed her mind, likely in support, and said it sounded good to her. It wasn't. It was the worst meal that week. We agreed that I owe her fresh baked cookies when we get back.
The group gathered back again for the general debrief and last Hot Seats, all a challenge to hear given the popcorn rain on the tarps. I began to feel human again and could begin to participate. George was cold so I lent him my Nalgene hot water bottle for his hands. One of my Hot Seat questions, "What would my sons say were pet peeves if asked?" I said I'd come back to that 'cause I was coming up blank but knew there was possibly a deep pot. I checked in with Kurt and Russ when I got home and they both said that sometimes I leave long voice mail messages. That's it? Don't hit the bees nest too hard.
We finished up by 8 o'clock and there was group relief to get to bed early. I wasn't moving in the rain so hoped I wouldn't have to get up to pee--fat chance. I wasn't enjoying the sound of rain as I normally would but I kept listening for its ebb and when it did I took advantage and came back to sleep again. Beth told us, depending on weather, there's a technique to keeping your bivy dry, no matter how well it's rated. Leave an opening near your face so that your breath escapes rather than creates condensation. And, it's helpful to unzip and let body heat and steam out so that you and your stuff don't sit in a puddle. I'll bet this description makes tent die-hards say no thanks.
Friday, 11/13 Day 6 south to Mt. Cabot OR bagging 3 peaks in 1 day
Jen and Mike are co-leaders
The usual for breakfast, PB&J for lunch and maybe a bite of cheese, something pasta for supper
Did I mention that this is my first ever backpacking trip? Consequently, I've mainly focused on putting one foot in front of the other so I don't trip on rocks, roots, or get my feet sucked into the muddy sink holes which are unavoidable. So looking around at the British Soldiers or the boreal forest, or trying to catch a glimpse of a phantom moose has been low priority. I make efforts to do map checks but sometimes the best I can do is pull my maps out of my gaiters and hope someone knows where we are. Not a shining example of outdoor leadership. British Soldiers
Before we head out, I say that I need to check my feet because I think I have hot spots. What I really have are two bruised toes from banging into my boots on the downhills. Beth wraps them and it helps a lot and gets me through the day. We move on and find another pond that has a thin layer of ice and our only way across is over a beaver dam. While we walk one at a time, Beth goes off for a bio break and returns to tell us she saw a moose. The moose saw a human so slid back into the woods. Later on the trail, someone spotted a rack of moose antlers and Ian tries them on for size.
The 3 bagger day was a killer and because I wasn't paying attention to the maps, I didn't know the plan until after we bagged #1. Mt. Horn is 4000' plus and the first of the three. I make a point of not looking up when we climb because I need to live in the present--my feet in front of me rather than anticipating the steepness ahead. Kate was teaching us the rest step used by climbers of Everest. It takes some practice and patience to learn but has merit. This was the longest climb I'd ever done and there was nothing to do but move forward. And up. When I thought of it, I would meditate. "I am stronger than I know." "Awakening, Activating, Inner Powers" "Victory after struggle." Sometimes I just did what I had to do and listened to the random conversations in front or behind me. Kate told me we were getting close to the summit. It was one of those encouraging lies to keep you moving.
Eventually we did summit Mt. Horn. What I saw shook me after the long forest trails. "Oh, it's beautiful," I wept. This is why I climbed." Tree covered peaks spread out in front of me as far as I could see. Mike called "Eileenie" and I saw that he, Beth, and others had climbed up a fat tower of rock and were having lunch. Heights or no heights, I didn't come all this way not to get to the top. I grabbed my lunch out of my pack and Erin showed me the easier way up. At the top of the rock, there was a 360 degree view. Beth pointed out the Presidentials and the tower that incongruously identifies Mount Washington. Another view has long rolling hills that stretch out to the north. Tears came intermittently as I took in the beauty and the vastness. Beth gave me a cup of the best hot pea soup I ever tasted."It's Lipton's," she laughed.
At this moment, it's the best I ever tasted. She followed it up with some frozen Nutella chunks. . .she has a knack for treats at just the right time.
This was a working lunch and we all have green pen marks on our maps as we did more triangulation on different peaks. It was then that I learned that today we would bag The Bulge #2 as well as Mt. Cabot #3. Jen pointed out the peaks and I remember my disbelief but it was possibly lessened by the fact that our 30 minute working lunch was over and we needed to get on our way. Oh, but I could have stayed for hours! I had finally found the sacredness and wanted to feel and imbibe and be healed. But these trips are not meant to be personal trips as such though they are such personal challenges for me. While they aren't races, they are about moving. Always moving. Sometimes retracing to get back on track. There really hasn't been time to write in our required journals never mind sit in sacredness on a mountain top. I get up and leave, heavy, with a vow to return with a pace that allows for other kinds of movement.
More climbing to The Bulge that has no vista and then on again to Mt. Cabot that has just enough vista to appreciate the sunset through the trees. And, we can spend the night in Cabot Cabin just 50' from the bio potty. We hold our debrief in the cabin and I claim time to share what I've determined about myself and my recent struggle. I tell them that months ago when I was undecided about whether or not to do the program, I told Austin I was worried about not being able to keep up. He said our purpose is to teach people how to lead the general public. Part of our learning will be developing patience. Prior to the program starting, I could be comfortable with playing the role of general public. But once in the program, I have never felt that comfort and strive to be anything else. But Beth's question, 'Who are you trying to be?' made me think on it again. "Now, we all know that on level ground and if I'm fired up, I can set a pace," I laughed, referring to leaving them in the dust when I was angry about being the slow one asked to set the pace. "And I realize that I'm happy enough with that ability. And, it's a fact that I'm one of the slow ones on the ascents and descents. I think now I can be the general public as I continue to learn in OLP. I'm your peer and I'm your general public and I hope you learn patience or whatever you need. Use me!"
I also take time to acknowledge Jen and to pass on "the medal." The medal was given to Mike for an extraordinary feat--I forget exactly how Beth phrased it, the morning that he tasted Moose poop. After my climb at Devil's Hopyard, Mike passed the medal to me. I appreciated his gesture but felt conflicted about accepting it. I realized a couple of days later that I still had it and wanted to pass it on. Today was the day. Jen was co-leader and she easily holds people to task, no nonsense. I told the group that she was setting a steady uphill pace that would keep us together as a group. I was not quite keeping up with her, though, so she was often on her own, ahead 10' or 12', uninvolved in the conversations behind her. That can be a lonely trail and it made me think about the lonely place that leadership can sometimes be. So I passed the medal to Jen.
Sarah Maney was wearing her medal that Beth had given to all of our group on completing the Raquette River trip and I asked if I could borrow it. I told people that in the morning I had been rushing, last again, and Sarah had stopped to ask if she could help me. We walked out together to catch up with the rest of the group getting water. In my rush, I noticed Anna sitting on the ground tying her boots, but I continued on, assuming she would be along soon. Sarah was more perceptive, though, and asked Anna if she was alright. That made me turn around and I saw that Anna was in tears because her hands were getting cut up trying to keep her new double plastic boots tied. Of course I went back to her but it was Sarah who had taken time to notice. Sarah was doing what we had all been tasked with--"You're not ready until everyone is ready." That's good Expedition Behavior. I wanted to acknowledge her caring leadership and her medal came back to her with new meaning attached.
Thursday, 11/12 Day 5 route change: bushwhack back to the KRT and south to North Peak and Rogers Ledge Campsite
Anna and Sarah are co-leaders.
Oatmeal and raisins, tuna and cheese, pasta with cream sauce and beef
I was functioning out of my funk in the morning until I was late again for circle-up and my funk came crashing back. Damn. It was determined that we would buddy up for the day and by design or luck, Sarah was my buddy. I was grateful. If anyone can help pull me out of this funk, wild and crazy Sarah can. But we were bushcrashing again so that helped to maintain the funk. And I was particularly sensitive to what sometimes felt like patronizing care. I think we got somewhat lost today and had to do some triangulations to find out where we were.
By the debrief, I had worked out of my funk and acknowledged and apologized for it. Jen said I needed to stop apologizing. (Jen's Mom has been a great role model, empowering Jen in many ways.) I also said that I struggle to accept help from people and am working on that but that care is a fine line this side of patronizing and that I would not appreciate.
This may have been the night of the very smoky fire when Ian and Sarah were avoiding the smoke and not close enough to be warm and developed early hypothermia. Beth said they had the mumbles. After the nightly leadership self-evaluation and group evaluation, we faded toward our tarps and sleep. It was an ugly place and no one was sad to leave. We got water on the way out in the morning and the muck sucked my leg up to my knee.
Joe and Ian were co-leaders. Oatmeal--again. Tuna and cheese. I cooked veggie lasagna in one of those dried pouches--just add water. Not bad.
So, today's hike was up to the Devil's Hopyard. Anyone know what a hopyard is? It felt like a long trail, gradually uphill, lots of large rocks to scramble through and over. The cascade that falls in the hopyard runs underground down along this trail and at some points you can hear the water rushing below. I've been using my trekking poles for balance most of the trip and they've saved me numerous times from falling one way or another. On this trail I need to put them aside at times to do the scrambling. And then, we look up and read the posted sign--"Trail Ends." That's it. Trail Ends at this box canyon-like place that I read about in horse books when I was a girl. The wild horses would be stampeded into the canyon to be caught. Walls surround us except for the trail in. So, Joe and Ian send a few scouts out to see what our options are because no one is thrilled about going back the way we just came. Beth heads off to the right and comes back saying that the climb is totally doable. . . with a few caveats. Since the climb is so steep, we need to stay low and hug the climb so our 50 lb packs don't pull us backwards. Oh, and there's pervasive moss, make sure you test your steps because your foot could go through thick moss into a black hole. Joe and Ian are torn. Were they on their own, they'd do the climb in a minute. They're not at all comfortable leading a group up. But no one really wants to retrace and Beth is sure we can all do it. She wouldn't say we could do it if she didn't really think we could, right? Mike asks me what I think and I cast my fate to the wind since everyone seems ready to go. "F it, let's go." I've been dropping the F bomb a lot lately.
The group moves out fast through the brush to the base of the climb and some are already scrambling up 25' before I even find a path to take. I'm basically following Joe and Ian but my first step shoves through the moss into nothingness. I'm frightened and turn back through the brush to find a different way. But I can't get through easily and there are only a few packs still in view, the rest having moved out of sight up the climb. My little kid self starts to break and I feel left behind and alone. Where can I go? The route I already tried proved dangerous with the first step. Metaphors race through my head as I realize that the rest of them found ways up and I have no choice but to try again and find my steps. . . or hang out with the devil. So, with 50 lbs on my back beckoning gravity, I cling as I test each step before setting my weight down. My pack is pushing my headforward so I can only see about 3 feet up ahead of me--when my hat isn't sliding over my eyes. Every once in a while I feel the tears start again, angry at Beth for making us go this route so we can test ourselves, angry at everyone for leaving me behind. And, behind anger is fear. At some point Joe slows and starts talking me up the climb. "Take a step to your left. There's a good handhold above your head on the right. Contour over to the left. You're doing great." Then we reach the scree, loose rocks to get through. From somewhere above I hear Beth call down trying to lighten me, "So, Eileen, what's harder, climbing or childbirth?" She referenced that it was 34 years ago that I had given birth to my first son and I could never then imagine being on the White Mountains today. Now I just muttered under my breath, "F you." Beth called again. This time I hurl the F bomb good and loud. Joe chuckles and continues to talk me up the mountain. Joe is my leader. Beth tells Joe he's doing a great job coaching me up. Every now and then I feel the tears well and then I blink them back knowing they will rise when I get to the top.
The group is sitting, waiting, talking, packs off but I sit outside the group, spent. Beth comes over, gives me a hug and a kiss on my head as my tears fall and says to join when I'm ready. She wants to debrief about leadership and the decision to climb, talk about what we all gained and what we would have lost had we not taken the challenge. She is artful and insightful as her leadership envelopes us with reason. When she's finished, I speak through my tears about how I felt left behind (my little kid was still angry) which was completely counter to my repeated assertions that I don't want to hold the group back. I said I was angry that Anna could feel it was a great climb and challenge, and acknowledged that I also want Anna and everyone to feel good about their climbs and challenges--oh, my adult self showed up! I say it's a no-win situation but I had to at least talk about it to get rid of it. Beth reminds the group that I have a fear of heights and at some point I hear Beth ask me, "Who are you trying to be?" As I wrote in my journal, "Very tough day and then I acted like an ass." We pack up, move on and I step about 15 feet and trip, cut my shin deeply and roll to my side, vulnerable like a bug on its back. Beth hauls me up by my pack which was to happen again at least a few times. I stayed in a funk the rest of the night, even during the debrief at the fire. I tried to pull out but couldn't. I just wanted to get to sleep and hope I'd wake up renewed. More night train whistles.
Tuesday, 11/10 Day 3 north along the Mill Brooke Trail to Rogers Ledge
Erin and I are co-leaders and start pretty close to the right time although we're still behind. It's cooler than yesterday and we plan to hike 4+ miles on trail. Seems simpler than yesterday's leadership needs since there's no need for bearings.
On the trail, I mentioned that it was my son Kurt's birthday. "Who'd have thought then that 34 years later I'd be hiking the White Mountains in the Outdoor Leadership Program. . . because it is, after all, not about my son's birthday but, rather, about me. Beth made a point periodically to ask if hiking in this moment was harder than childbirth.
Erin chose to entertain herself and others with a riddle game that I thought had shades of Monte Python. She secretly assigned a trigger word to Mike who, when he heard anyone say it, would respond "I'm a naughty little school girl." Eventually Sarah figured out the connection and received her own trigger word and phrase. Beth eventually asked Sarah not to repeat her phrase as it was triggering in its own way. Erin amused herself all day, Ian's hemorroids sometimes bringing her to the point of tears. She has a creative brain, that one!
At some point Beth told Erin and I that we had been shooting from the hip in terms of our leadership and needed to be more intentional and informative. I know I needed to be more directed in my leadership. I had talked briefly with Erin in the morning about direction but her sense was to be more laissez-faire. To borrow a line from Erin, I didn't want to be the ass. I've been trying to let go of my need for control and understanding the big picture, and to become more able to go with the flow. But leadership requires more planning and maybe even a Plan B. When my instincts feel right, I need to pay attention and push myself to speak up. We were fortunate that the day went rather well, the most notable being the riddle game. After Beth's caution, we started talking more to each other and the group in terms of decisions. But we became the example of needing to check in with Beth and Kate the night before to talk about the next day's plan, route, etc. Each day the co-leaders learned something from the mistakes of the previous co-leaders. Learning--that's a good thing. One thing I felt good about was choosing a safe and solid place to cross a stream. The rocks at this point were large and spaced well. Erin had handed it off to me and it was the most definitive I had been in decision making. We all crossed safely and dryly and camped 100 yards away.
LNT and natural history presentations:
Ian: "Disposing of Waste Properly"
Kristi-"Leave What You Find" and "Peaks of the White Mountains"
Jen: Tamias, or "Chipmunks"
Set up camp in the dark, again.
Monday, 11/9 Day 2 (first full day) north to Deer Mountain and Rogers Ledge
Kristi and George are co-leaders; we started 2.5 hours late because the group didn't pull it together in the morning. Start the morning with my daily oatmeal and raisins and digging a cathole. Thankfully, some things are consistent. Lunch was tuna and cheese on flat bread. Dinner, Mac'n cheese, dried veggies, tuna, nutritional yeast--use up the heaviest meals to carry!
Mild, NW winds--"Winds bring change," says Beth hopefully. Mild weather won't give us the learning misery they've promised.
Before we head out, I give my presentation on moose facts complete with laminated text and pictures; moose habitat, how to identify tracks, seasonal scat differences, moose browse on its favorite trees, etc. I split the group into threes and give them separate topics to read, scout the area and then bring info back to the group. Beth makes a plan with Joe and Anna and calls us over to a pile of scat. She picks up a piece, inspects it and puts one in her mouth, shares with Joe and Anna, extolling the benefits as they chew. Mike follows suit quicker than Beth can stop him, he unaware that the other 3 are chewing chocolate. Beth gets Mike to spit out the pellet before he chews. "You're killin' me, Mikey!" shouts Beth, everyone laughing in disbelief, including Mike. Mike is a full participation kind of guy. My presentation goes well and I'm happy to be done early in the trip rather than at the end as I did in the Raquette River. I hoped in vain that we'd spot a moose but, while we saw plenty of scat and tracks on our trails, a dozen trail-hiking, bush-crashing humans are quite unlikely to spot moose. 
Planning our route in a classroom may as well have been in a vacuum since we couldn't know the realities. Because we had such a late start and made such little headway, the leaders conferred and decided that we should head down to the trail rather than up to and across Deer Mountain ridge. Hopefully this tactic would help to get us back on track and to Rogers Ledge the next day.
So, it was decided that to keep the group together, one of the group goals, the slower hikers should set the pace.
"Hey, Eileen. How about if you come up front and lead?" Annoyed, I gave in with an expletive under my breath.
"Okay," I thought, "you want me to set the pace? I'll set you a pace."
On this level trail, I set a pace that left them in my dust. Not at all good Expedition Behavior (EB) but it both surprised and satisfied my need to be more than a drag. Beth caught up with me and said with acknowledgment, "Hey, Eileen. You done being a lion?"
"No," I said emphatically, wanting to keep moving.
When we continued on, I got called back again because the pace truly wasn't working for the group. Okay. Point made. I'll be a good EB groupie again.
We had a tough time finding a campsite along the trail in the dark and Jen's knee was hurting and she was feeling nauseous (the nausea may actually have been on another day). Beth told her that nausea can come from built up toxins from all the hiking we did and that it could pass once she can clear it out of her system. We scouted around and finally found land that could accommodate bodies and gear in some reasonable manner, then set up camp in the dark. My night to cook dinner, I decided to lighten my pack and cook the heavy mac 'n cheese with dried veggies and tuna and added nutritional yeast.
The night was clear with a balmy wind as we held our debrief. I suggested that we start "hot seats" again as we did on the Raquette River so a couple of people volunteered to start.
The night was so warm that I sweated most of the night in my brand new bivy that had high ratings for its ability to stay dry, and my real selling point was that it had 2 side zippers that zipped to my hips so hopefully I wouldn't feel like I was in a top loading casket. Just before I closed my eyes, the starry starry night made me smile with sweet reward. Woke at 2:30 a.m. to distant train whistles.
Sunday, 11/8 Day 1 York Pond
Left GCC at 10:30 in the morning rather than 9 a.m. because Jen's car broke down driving from Worcester. Joe drove the van and Mike rode with George following us in his car. Weather is anticipated to be 50s/30s most of the week. . . probably much to the dismay of our instructors. We dropped off George's car at South Pond as an emergency vehicle then drove to York Pond.
After a short briefing from today's co-leaders Jen and Mike they talk about the challenges of being the first leaders and it being a driving day and that maybe they should have talked more in advance despite being able to pull it off. Mike gives a presentation on camping/hiking on durable surfaces and then we hike in about .5 mile to set up camp in the dark.We did our first "river crossing"--a little stream, and I felt so unbalanced with my ill-fitting floppy 50 lb pack.
Tonight we set up camp in the dark--the first of 3 nights in a row. Kristy and I are tarp/cook buddies and after we set up our tarps, Kristy cooks first--pasta and fresh peppers with parmesan cheese. I add tuna from a packet for protein and since Kristy isn't into tuna, I save the rest for tomorrow.
I begin filling in the journal we are required to keep and I note that my level of challenge today is easy. My pack doesn't fit well and needs adjusting in the morning.
I'm very tired and ready to zip up in Beth's borrowed 5 degree mummy and my new bivy that hopefully won't feel like a casket.
So far, pictures are by Jen and Anna but there were other cameras shuttering, too.
Saturday, 11/7 Day before we leave
All sharing co-leader responsibilities; Erin and I have Day 3. Fully expecting not to have adequate food comforts, tonight I bought my last supper--a tub 'o mac 'n cheese, bottle of chocolate milk, and a pint of Barts ice cream--Chocolate Mousse w/Raspberries. I'll drool over Barts knowing it waits for me when I return.
When talking with Char last year about her backpacking trips, she laughed, "Oh, the Whites are a whole different beast!" Tomorrow I embark to meet the beast and without the training I had envisioned. We had our gear shakedown yesterday and my pack is supposedly well packed but heavy. I don't have as much dried food as I could and I'm figuring I'll bring a couple of hard boiled eggs to have something fresh early on.
The overriding tenor of this trip is that it will be quite possibly the toughest of the year. We will be doing cold river crossings in water shoes unless we bought a pair of double plastic boots with removable liners to keep tucked in our sleeping bags at night. If we didn't manage to purchase the plastics and our leather boots get wet and freeze, well, there's a morning dance to make them flex and warm before we get out hiking again. Cold and potentially soaked, we'll be miserable and ready to snap at each other. The million dollar question of the trip--will we also develop trench foot along with our potential new skills? And, still more shopping 1 day out. . . .
Need to do some heavy duty reframing. Like, I am so grateful to be going on this trip tomorrow so that I can fully participate in life. And, I am grateful. And fortunate. Oh, and Char also said that the mountains are sacred. And Kris told me to go make friends with the mountains. Two wonderful new ways of anticipating my next week. Making friends in sacred space. This is the energy I need and will bring with me.
Week Prior to leaving
Much prep. Last minute gear buying. Trip planning seems pretty much a done deal with permits having come through. Several weeks ago, both groups split up duties to plan our trips. It was our foray into the nuts and bolts required for a group backcountry adventure; itinerary, transportation, emergency protocols, vehicle and emergency vehicles, etc. The process felt fairly disjointed so I think the biggest lesson learned is to find a better way to make it more seamless next time around. Not sure what that would look like.
More recently we've been going over risk management with a lesson not unlike the game Clue--solve the mystery in a certain allotted time, with lots of people talking at once, equals chaos. I suggested we try to bring some order to the chaos. A few seconds of silence and then it resumed. Oh, of course. Slow to the game and the point. Make sense of differing opinions and understandings. The lesson moved on to the Deerfield River accident several years ago. We read the scenario of the near drowning and dissected the event to understand what went wrong and what might have been done to avoid the tragedy.
Planning on getting lost while we're out? Remember to Stay Put and Stay Dry. And then there were the horror stories of those who kept moving and got wet. One guy went out to pee at night and fell onto an icy bobsled run and disappeared down its drainage hole, never to be seen again.
Later in the week Sarah L, having spent several weeks on a NOLs expedition, gave a lesson on male and female hygiene in the backcountry. As potential leaders, we all need to be able to talk comfortably about bodies and their functions with all ages of folks we could be leading. It gets especially sensitive with adolescents. Sarah led us through descriptions of ailments and remedies, including menstrual issues and diva cups. Menstruation. Jock itch (ringworm of the groin). UTIs. Vaginitis. Number twos. How to wipe. Like so many taboos, say it enough and it's no biggy. Good times.
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