The Heavens Are Telling

Andy and I hiked Dix this week, elevation 4,857 ft, and the sixth highest mountain in the Adirondack Park with a round trip of about 14 miles.  As I walked through the woods taking in everything the trail had to offer, the opening words from Haydn's Creation, The Heavens are Telling the Glory of God awakened me to the sights and sounds of the forest. When I hike and the trail is easy enough for me to be in a humming mood, I often have this song looping through my head.  The tempo of the chorus fits nicely with the rhythm of my feet and when you are overcome by your surroundings, the song just fits.

The hike started clear and cool with what I wish I could call a rookie mistake, but since I am not much of a rookie, it was just dumb.  I put on one microspike inside out, duh. Problematic because the first step of the trail was straight up and all ice.  I kept slipping and I could not figure out why.  I did make it to the top of the first pitch but it was ugly and had me thinking that I could be in for a very long day!  About 300 yards in, I slipped on some snow.  I instinctively looked at the bottom of one shoe and there were my spikes facing in, hard to get any grip that way.   Took the spikes off, flipped them around and viola' traction.

So back to the Heaves are Telling.  Now that I could begin to enjoy myself Andy and I settled in for the gentle section of the hike.  Beautiful blue ski, fresh air, white birches, perfectly smooth snow.  We traveled from wide open wood to cozy little glades of balsam pine and marveled at the lack of rocks which made the hiking gentle and fast.  After the din of the suburbs I found my senses sharpening and my eyes adjusting to natural forms rather than the angles of urban living. 

The Heavens are Telling the Glory of God.  I once had the opportunity to play the song while a oboist with the New Holland Band and even though I am no longer an active musician, this is one of those songs that has stuck with me over the years and I am happy for it.  As we progressed through the hike, things became a bit more strenuous and it was time to stop humming and focus on the task at hand.  We came out of a clearing to find ourselves staring straight up at a gigantic slide.

Gulp.  Because there are no trees, a slide just lays it all out there for you and what it clearly says is that you will be going up, in a very steep way, for a very long time.  I quickly chewed through an energy bar thinking that I could use the extra help, and up we went.  One foot in front of the other, that is how it goes.  Things got so steep we had to change out of our microspikes and into our beefy MSR snowshoes just to stay upright.  Another hiking party near us did not have the shoes and the only way they could get up was to crawl on their hands and knees. 

The higher we climbed the more windy it got and the mountain was putting on quite a show of alpine extremes.  I stopped for a breather, turned around and was greeted by beautiful snow covered mountains and a wide expanse of wilderness.  Wow, the heavens have spoken!

Nearly to the summit I get the first look of the wilderness around me

Plenty of people climb these mountains, but when you are in the middle of it, the experience feels like yours alone, the rush of energy, the view, and the rawness of the mountain feel as though it is the most exclusive thing in the world.  And maybe it is.  When you power yourself up with your own two feet, carrying your own gear, the experience is uniquely yours. 

In a powerful rush of wind we summited and took it all in.  No songs going through my head this time, the emotion, the joy, and the raw power of being on top of a mountain produces a clarity of mind that forces you to focus on all that is laid out before you.

 Go, go, go,

Anne

Rocksylvania

Bill Bryson correctly writes in his Appalachian Trail memoir A Walk in the Woods, "I never met a hiker with a good word to say about the trail in Pennsylvania.  It is, as someone told a National Geographic reporter in 1987, the place where boots go to die."

Um yeah, and your knees too.  I know exactly what Mr. Bryson is talking about, I live near the Appalachian Trail and spend quite a bit of time on and around its adjoining trails.  There are rocks, rocks, rocks, and more rocks.  The little ones that stick-up out of the ground vertically are my least favorite, and are particularly hazardous.  There is nowhere to actually put your boot with these vertical buggers and when you hit them, you are prone to violently slide off.  Torquing your ankle or knee in the process.  This is usually followed by a good, old fashioned, "&%$#!"

If you are not being pestered by the little beasts, then the other option here in Central PA is the boulder field.  Medium rocks, spread out just so, and again, no good place to put your foot.  You cannot go in between them, they are not easy to balance on, and are spread out in a way where you can't just step, step.  You have to step, consider your options, step.  Miles of this gets maddening and boy does it hurt!

Just so you do not think I am one of those whiny hikers, lets turn once again to Mr. Bryson and A Walk in the Woods, where he describes his experience in Pennsylvania.  

"...mile upon mile of jagged, oddly angled slabs of stone strewn about in wobbly piles...These require constant attentiveness if you are not to twist an ankle or sprawl on your face - not a pleasant experience with fifty pounds of momentum on your back.  Lots of people leave Pennsylvania limping and bruised."

To hike in Central PA, I recommend a very sturdy pair of hiking boots, some knee braces, and a pair of hiking poles for balance.  Then a beer or two when you are done to relax your frayed nerves.

I have probably convinced you to say home.  But don't.  When out on the trail, if you do have a moment to look up from the rocky task at hand, you will notice that our trails are pretty.  If you are a history buff, there is evidence of the Industrial Age peppered through out our woods.  Building foundations, 1,000 steps, blast furnaces, and in one case an abandoned earth mover affectionately known as The General.  Pennsylvania has more rivers and streams than any other state and you know what, those streams can be breathtaking.  With all of that water you find hemlocks.  Gentle, and airy conifers that I always think add a touch of mysticism to the woods.

Here is a photo of some hemlocks on the trail.  See what I mean, beautiful, right? 

 
And you know what, those rocks can be ok too.  A few weeks ago a group of us went hiking, and one of our friends brought his five-year old son along.  The little boy gave me an opportunity to see the rocks anew.  He climbed on top of the tallest ones he could find, and pointed out the wow-factor of each funky shape.  Even lying down in one that wrapped around him like a rock sandwich.   We are Rocksylvania but it is ok, we make it work.

In honor of our rocks, here is a photo of the boulder scree a mile or so from the Appalachian Trail and my stomping grounds whenever I feel like going for a walk in the woods.  I have seen these boulders at all different times of the year and they change with the seasons, and time of day.  I think you'll agree, these rocks are beautiful. Here they are after a snowstorm.

 Go, go, go!

Anne












Photo by Andrew Bale www.balephoto.com