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6.13.11
Tall Fail (cont.)
Surrounded by thick
clouds, were weren’t treated to any views. The
drizzle was constant, then turned to a steady rain,
then heavy rain, then the windy blowing sideways
stuff. Soon after Bob had his epiphany. We couldn’t
go down, but up above there would be a cut-over to
the Saddle Trail that we could take to get down. As
we reached the cut-over, we questioned whether we
should keep going. But, not knowing what was ahead
of us, and the beating we’d been taking, we decided
to take it. As we walked along the cut-over, rain
that felt an awful lot like hail smacked us in the
face. As we reached the Saddle Trail and started
down, I was amazed to see the rain – captured by the
wind as it rolled up the slope – was actually
blowing upwards at us.
Hiking down, we passed
a group of people who’d been camping next to us
heading up the mountain. We wished them luck and
wondered if we’d have been in better shape taking
the Saddle Trail up instead. The hike back was long,
wet and painful. The trails were now much wetter,
and there was nothing to do but accept we’d be
walking through deep streams. By the time we got
back to camp, we were drenched, worn and completely
demoralized. We consoled ourselves with lots of beer
and fresh steaks cooked to perfection over a fire.
That night we talked to a ranger who was looking for
that group next to us. It turned out rangers had to
get rescue two groups of people that night, one of
which was our neighbors.
Fail Two
July 10, 2010
We had high hopes for
our rematch with Katahdin. The summer of 2010 was as
dry as the summer of 2009 was wet. It had hardly
rained at all. But in the days before our trip, we
couldn’t believe the weather forecast which said a
system of heavy rain and thunderstorms would be
moving in the night before our climb and move out
the night after. Still, we were optimists, telling
ourselves there was no way to predict what the
weather would really be on unpredictable Katahdin.
The morning of our
climb, we decided to get up at 5 a.m. to try to beat
the weather. Things looked good. The rain that was
supposed to start the evening before hadn’t come. In
fact, the skies above were clear. Myself, Bob,
Smitty and my brother Jason, who joined us in place
of Mike who couldn’t make this year’s trip, headed
out with visions of wrong weather forecasts and a
beautiful clear hiking day. It was clear almost all
the way to Chimney Pond, where we started seeing
dark clouds rolling over the mountain in our
direction. Our optimism waned. As we reached Chimney
Pond, the rain began falling, just as if the
mountain was mocking us.
The ranger said the
heavy rain and thunderstorms weren’t supposed to
arrive til around noon. It was 7:30, and if we moved
fast we could be at the peak in two hours. I started
doing the math in my head. The window before the
storms seemed big enough. But if we could reach the
peak in 9:30 in good weather, how might this
rainfall and unforeseen bad weather slow us down?
And how long might it take us to get down the
mountain, especially if the trail is wet and
slippery? And weather is unpredictable on Katahdin.
What if the system hit a little early? I grew
hesitant the more I thought of that window
potentially shrinking. After talking about it, we
decided to try. Because of the weather, we’d go up
and back on the Saddle Trail instead of Cathedral.
And there’d be no Knife Edge today.
But it wasn’t to be.
Right after we started on the trail, it began
raining harder. Rocks and roots became slippery, and
once again we began falling and smacking our shins.
I worried about someone getting hurt and stuck on
the peak, and about the weather getting worse and
that window shrinking. I didn’t want to get in a
footrace with a thunderstorm coming down the
mountain.
After about an hour
in, as the trail started a steep climb up the slope,
the rain turned into a powerful downpour. We stopped
to discuss it. Bob and Jason wanted to keep going.
Smitty and I questioned if it was worth it.
Considering the weather forecast, it seemed like
we’d only be hiking in this or worse all the way up.
We weren’t sure what to do. Then Smitty said
something magical: “We’ve got steaks and beers back
at the campsite.”
Everyone stopped and
looked at each other, like we could actually taste
the steak and beer at that very moment. The answer
was suddenly so clear, and we all turned around and
headed back.
But Katahdin wasn’t
done torturing us. As we headed down, the rain began
to slow, and we felt sheepish passing more and more
hikers heading up the mountain. By the time we
reached Chimney Pond again, the rain had stopped. We
looked toward the Saddle Trail, and it looked like
the clouds were lifting. The peak remained shrouded
in cloud cover, but around us clouds lifted to
expose the ridges around the mountain.
I said we didn’t know
what it was like up near the peak. It could be
pouring up there. But we all began second-guessing,
saying we should have waited it out another 5 or 10
minutes. Or that we should have kept going, that we
turned around too fast. Maybe we’d been too gun-shy
after last year’s experience. With the info we had,
I argued, it was the wise decision and you can’t
judge these things in hindsight. But, deep down, I
wasn’t sure. Still aren’t.
We headed back to the
campsite and drank beer and ate delicious steaks.
But a cloud hung over us. And it seemed to darken
the more the skies above cleared up. The
thunderstorms never came that day. And by late
afternoon the sky was a clear, beautiful, painful
blue above our campsite.
The next day was
gorgeous. It would have been a beautiful day for
hiking. And on the drive back we started making
plans for next year. We’ll build an extra day in to
improve our chances, we said. We will make the peak.
And when we do, our previous failures will make the
summit that much sweeter . . . I hope.
∞
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