Run / Hike / Crawl ? A Winter Loop, or, The Whale

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“Call me Ishmael…  I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts… By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.” Herman Melville

“Exactly what I was afraid it would be” Ultra

I frequently borrow from the works of great authors for the purpose of parody, but in this case, my appropriation from “Moby Dick, or, The Whale” by Herman Melville is, well, appropriate. For Herman Melville’s inspiration for the great white whale came while he was staring out, from the windows of his study at the white humpback of Mt. Greylock clad in deep February snows…

In my younger days, I had done much hiking, and a lesser amount of backpacking, on the mountain. I had even spent some off-season time on the mountain, once achieving the summit in the dead of winter, and once during a late April snowstorm. You could jokingly argue that “The Whale” was almost as much an obsession of mine as “The Whale” was for Ahab!

So, at dawn on Sunday, I, driven by my obsession, along with Suds, Ultra, and El Toro, driven by I know not what, embarked on a journey to conquer the mountain. Now, this peak is not a “14er” like the tough climbs in Colorado, nor even as lofty as the Presidentials of New Hampshire. Even the “4000s” of the Adirondack High Peaks stand more lofty. However, any quest, however seemingly humble in objective, can be made more challenging by design and/or serendipity. This was just such an adventure.

The design: A Bimblers’ biggest fear is that a challenge will not be, well, challenging enough. So, I made sure to plan a loop, rather than an out-and-back. I made sure that it was the longest possible loop. We collectively made sure to not get to the trail head too early. Finally, we came equipped to “Run”, not “Hike”, and definitely not “Crawl”. Most of us even enhanced the “danger” by not packing headlamps. All of these preparations worked, flawlessly, to assure that the trip would be sufficiently “challenging”.

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The serendipity: Yes, the weather was “mild”, starting with rain showers and ending with snow showers. That was the extent of our good luck. Our bad luck, or good planning, depending upon your point of view, included the choice of trails, including the AT, that had been used by nobody, for a long time; deep snow, often drifted waist high, and more; and wind gusts of at least 50 miles per hour for part of the journey.

The reality:

The meeting went as arranged. We then proceeded, with Suds’ flawless driving, and my capable navigation, to the Visitors Center. There we studied an impressive 3 dimensional scale model of the mountain and environs. A consultation with the person in charge, who did not seem overly “outdoorsy” to any of us, ended when this kind facilitator indicated that our planned route would take at least 12 hours. We rolled on the floor laughing at this insult to our collective Bimblehood, and proceeded to the trailhead.

Once at the trailhead, we exited the vehicle onto a parking surface so icy, that combined with the prevailing westerly winds, made standing quite difficult. Somehow, we never for a moment thought that this inauspicious start might be indicative of what lay ahead. Such is the unbridled enthusiasm that accompanies any Bimble requiring a lengthy car ride. I do recall questioning why all the cows had stayed in the barn (we were parked at a farm), when they could be out enjoying the weather…

We then proceeded through the fields to the start of the trail. Shortly after leaving the farm fields, we crossed a very nice campground, and eventually entered the woods, along side the Money Brook. Up to this point the trail was packed, with wet snow yielding perhaps 4-6 inches under foot.

The Money Brook Trail was beautiful, crossing back and forth across the brook, mostly on bridges, through dense forest. This is the outflow of The Hopper, the predominant geological feature on the west flank of Mt. Greylock. The snow grew deeper, sometimes reaching the knees. Combined with the slight uphill slope, running became a challenge, but walking was still comfortable, if not quite pleasant.

Eventually, we came to the well marked junction with the Mt. Prospect Trail. This trail leaves the Money Brook, heading steeply north, almost directly to the summit of Mt. Prospect. In very little time, although the snow depth lessened to an average of perhaps 1 foot, it grew icy. This condition combined with a slope that met or exceeded 45 degrees, led to some concern for those with a fear of heights (namely ME!). At one point, after I had wandered off the “marked” trail seeking an easier ascent, my 3 companions disappeared around a rocky spine. I dug through the icy crust with my feet and hands and held on, not wanting to move. Finally, realizing I could not wait at that location for Spring, I inched back to the “official” trail and followed my fellow Bimblers’ footprints. This quickly led to the “spine” of the ridge, which we followed upwards gradually to the actual summit. We reached the cairn, and Ultra’s GPS read the exact same altitude as did the topo map, so we were certain of our location.

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Most of the rest of our journey was spent on the spine of Mt. Prospect, heading north towards Mt Williams, Mt. Fitch, and Mt. Greylock. The snow on the ridge line was wet, but very deep, and with a thin icy crust.Despite our best efforts, we were averaging worse than 45 minutes per mile! We took turns leading, which meant either being first to fall, or being first to sink waist deep in the snow. Around this time, El Toro started leaving a trail of blood for the rest of us to follow. It seems he was a little too exposed around the ankles, and the icy crust took quite a toll. We came to a spectacular overlook of Williamstown at the point where our trail ended at the AT.

As soon as we hit the AT, things improved. The general slope was downhill, out of the wind. Also, since there was substantial evergreen foliage, the icy crust on the snow minimized and we were able to bound through the thigh deep powder for a while. This was a brief respite, as we soon came to an area with significant damage from the December ice storm. We made it to the lean-to at Wilbur’s Clearing, grateful to lift our cold, wet, numb feet out of the snow. I foolishly changed into dry socks, which was a painful process, the benefits of which were indiscernible within 5 minutes of resuming our hike. Everyone had real problems with hands and feet, and we were reasonably sure we could not complete our mission before sundown. Leaving the lean-to, we wandered, seemingly in circles, trying to regain the trail. I couldn’t help but think that this was the point at which the foreboding theme music should start to play…

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Wisely, we all agreed to abandon our summit attempt, and instead take a shorter loop back to the trail head. This put us back on the Money Brook Trail, protected from the wind, with slightly less deep snow. Unfortunately, much of the trail was a series of switchback traverses across the eastern slope of Mt. Prospect. At one point, I watched Ultra start a backslide with a seemingly real possibility that it would continue several hundred feet, unless he was lucky enough (?) to hit a tree! Also on this stretch, I could hear Suds shouting out words of encouragement, to himself. El Toro, feeling this had taken long enough, fairly sprinted down the steep slippery slope. If not for the trail of blood, we would have been unsure of his direction. Every so often, his track was interrupted by a large crater where his upper body had obviously continued forward while his legs were mired in the heavy deep snow. This was, for me,  a memorable part of the trip. We were strung far enough apart so as to just barely see each other from time to time, only infrequently waiting for the next Bimbler to “catch up”. That was OK for me, since this was a time when I very much turned inward, contemplating the decision to abort the trip, and depending on my own mental, not physical conditioning, to see me through to the finish.

Finally, we made it back to the “safe” part of the Money Brook Trail, through the campground, past the farm, and back to the car. We proceeded back to the Visitors Center, informed our naysayer from the morning that she was right, and we were wrong, and proceeded to give her updates on the trail conditions. It turns out that a few other parties were trying to do the same climb as us, except they were taking easier routes, using snowshoes, and requiring 2 days!

On the trip home, after a VERY late breakfast, we reflected on the trip as we watched a full moon rise in the east. The full moon prompted a reminiscence of the F.E.A.R. run during the December full moon. We collectively decided that it is appropriate to not bump up my “lunatic” run schedule to every month, given my 1 for 2 record so far. So, everyone is safe in March. We shall see what lunacy is in store for April… all suggestions greatly appreciated.

Many thanks to my fellow Bimblers for participating in a little lesson in the virtues of both fortitude and humility.