Monday, January 17, 2011

Colvin and Blake

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

Having skiied up Whiteface, this was my first real winter 46er experience and Colvin and Blake were a lot more difficult than I expected. Having to climb up over Colvin, then up Blake, then back over Colvin makes for more ascent than hiking Mt. Marcy and the mileage is about the same. Me, and a group of 46ers began the 14.8 mile hike an hour before sunrise at 6:30 and I didn't get back to the car until after dark at 5:00.

The entire day was a blur and due to cloud cover and snow, there weren't really any views. I started out with a group of 7 and two dropped out before we even made it to the trail intersection for Blake. A couple members of the group blazed down the trail at an inhuman pace, and the rest of us played catch up most of the day. The front of the pack would stop every half hour or so to make sure we were still plugging away and then at the sight of us they'd pop back into the woods, not to be seen again for another half an hour.

The trip was pretty uneventful up until the last steep pitch before the summit for Colvin. We all paused at the affectionately named "Colvin Step" and carefully made our way up the crack in the side of the wall. Then we walked over to the summit, saw there was no view, got cold, and kept hiking. Things got pretty quiet as we went down into the col between the two peaks, realizing every foot of steep descent would have to be made up twicefold.

We had to break out the trail to Blake. The snow was light and fluffy so breaking trail wasn't all that difficult, but it did mask the inches thick ice on the steep ledge, making things slow going. Eventually we acquired the ridge and things were pretty flat until we came ot a small opening with no view. There wasn't a summit sign, or even a disk. Just a carving into a tree, taunting us with the fact that Blake wasn't even 4,000' high. Lyon Mountain is higher! What a non-eventful summit.

We stopped for a couple pictures, then headed back at the same relentless pace we started with. Going through the col was pretty rough. My hands were freezing and I had to switch out my sweat soaked glove liners and put in handwarmers. At one point, I butt slid down a steep pitch only to have my snowshoe get caught on a rock or root under the snow and fling me sideways into a tree. And I could feel the toenail on my big toe and the skin on the front nuckles of my feet start to come off from being jammed up into the fronts of my boot.

We were surprised to run into four groups of people in the col. They allowed us to pass first and I imagine they enjoyed the free entertainment of us sliding down steep icy ledges and attempting to stick the landing at the bottom. When we arrived back at the "Colvin Step" things started to get pretty hairy.

The once fearless leader of the pack, stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at it for a while. The problem was we had to somehow climb down the ice covered crack in the rocks and step off onto a very thin ledge with nothing to hold on to. To the right of the ledge was a sheer drop. We all stood there for a while, and then one member of the group took out a piece of rope. We looped it around a tree, so that we could retrieve it from the bottom and one by one we improvised amateurish technical skills down the crack in the rocks, clinging to the rope for deer life.

Needless to say, we all made it and no one fell off the side of the mountain. One of the group said, and I'm paraphrasing out of politeness "now let's get off this mountain!" and we all mustered up heartfelt agreement. When we got back to the lake road, I collapsed onto my pack and took a deep gulp of water. I must have been covered in snow from the tree branches because a member of the group came over and said, "you're looking pretty frosty". I let out and deep breathe and said, "that felt good...".

It certainly wasn't a pretty day, but I think like we all felt like we really earned those two peaks. And masochistic as it may be, we all seemed to really enjoy ourselves. I can't say I'd be up for a repeat any time soon, but for the moment the cuts, bruises and blisters feel a tad bit satisfying, badges of my first true winter peaks. Trial by fire.