Giant Mtn: A [successful] crash course in backpacking

Note:  Giant, our first peak in our pursuit of the 46, is ranked #12 of the 46 high peaks in elevation, at 4627 feet.  A full collection of our photos from the venture can be found here.

You’re probably best served to read Chris’s earlier post before this one, because I’ll skip the parts that would be redundant.

A crash course…

It can be tough to pick up a new skill from someone to whom it’s second nature – someone to whom there’s a Right Way and a Wrong Way to pack a pack (only one of the former, and many, many of the latter).  It can be hard to figure out which parts are the real imperatives, and which parts are idiosyncratic habits.  Not that my husband has any of those.

Through most of the planning and packing, I watched and absorbed, closely enough that I think I could now pass Trip Prep 101 (but probably not 201, the honors version).  When we got out of the car and I wiggled into my [dad's] pack, though, I couldn’t just watch anymore – it was time to do (because, as the sage Yoda once said, there is no try).   

It took quite a while to figure out how to ascend without spending so much time looking at my feet and the ground (replete with roots/rocks/other obstacles) as to forget to enjoy the views, and how to descend with bigger strides, using gravity to my advantage instead of resisting it.  It also took a while to figure out what “2 miles” (or 3 or 7) means, when that “2 miles” is as the crow flies – not what a pedometer would (even remotely) read. 

As we climbed, it reminded me very much of my first 5-hour-long swim practice – I might have been 13 or 14 then.  Each hour seemed successively longer than the last, just as the summit seemed to move further away, the closer I got to it.  There were times when I wondered why I had agreed to such a cockamamie scheme.  They have ski lifts for this, don’t they? 

Then we got to the summit.

 I’d heard from people who have done it, that it would be the views from the top that would be intoxicating, addicting.  And they were beautiful, don’t get me wrong…

But it wasn’t so much the views per se that have me shopping packs designed specially for women’s hips and shoulders, and planning how, on subsequent trips, we can do more than one peak in a single trip.  (Colvin and Blake, for example, will probably be combined.)  It’s more a feeling of doing something – something cool, that a large percentage of the population won’t ever get to, mostly because they aren’t blessed with being surrounded by people who are so nuts passionate about doing it themselves.  It was more about doing something that at times was a little scary - going up a steep and rocky incline, wondering how I’d get back down it with the weight of a pack, and coming out OK – a little stronger, a little smarter on my feet for it.  Like swimming a 5-hour practice, I’m sure eventually it’ll get easier, both mentally (as I do more) and physically (as I get further from the summer that almost lost a fight to the bar exam).  Already, though, I can see that the rewards are great - and you can bet I’ll be coming back for more.

 And did I mention those views…

-jmt

And now for the gear review portion…

Nalgene Bottles

Aside from the tried and tested uses (namely, water), I discovered (much to Chris’ chagrin) that Nalgene bottles are also great for bringing in enough cabernet sauvignon to add flavor to complement our dinnertime beans & rice.  I’m told this is a very strange luxury item to bring, but hey, whatever gets you to the top, right?  It was worth its weight in my pack.

After our water scare on the first approach, we stopped at Keene Valley’s own Mountaineer and bought two extra bottles with the 46 peaks and their respective elevations printed on the side.  Nothing like a little motivation as you stop for a water break mid-hike!

On the note of water, MSR’s MiniWorks

I’ve been told that I don’t want to know about drinking iodine water.  I’ve been told on even stronger authority that I really don’t want to know about beaver fever (don’t worry, I’ve mastered vicarious learning).  We bought the MiniWorks to minimize both the amount of water we needed to carry at any given time, and the amount of iodine water we’d need to drink.  We’re sold.  This water filter rocks – it screws right onto the top of a wide-mouth Nalgene bottle, so there’s no mixing up clean and unfiltered water hoses, goes for trip after trip without needing the ceramic core replaced, and the water tastes really quite good.  Definitely worth it’s weight in, well, the pack!

Techwick

Just get some.  Seriously.  I think it’s the most comfortable material known to man.

EMS’ bear resistant canisters

We rented one of these bad boys for the grand total of about $6.  As it turns out, they’re great in theory, not so phenomenal in practice (in the Adirondacks).  Turns out, we must have the smartest stinkin’ black bears around.  When we were hanging around EMS while in the planning stages for the trip, we learned that they aren’t renting them to anyone headed to the Marcy Dam area because a momma has learned to open them to try to feed her cubs.  We figured, cool – we’re headed for the Giant Mountain Wilderness; we should be fine, right?  Wrong.  While we were fine, and woke up to our unscathed packets of tasty instant oatmeal, others weren’t so lucky.  When we returned the canister to EMS on Monday, we found out that 15 canisters had been broken into by black bears this weekend; many of which were in the Johns Brook area (way too close for comfort; only a couple miles away).  Since the bears have also figured out bear bagging, we’re going to need to get creative in the future…

Boots

I did the trip in a new (one week of breaking in) pair of Asolo’s Stynger GTX hiking boots.  They were great – two straight days of hiking without any major blisters to speak of.  My ankles are notoriously weak, and if there’s a pebble or grain of sand (much less a root, rock, or uneven ground) to be found to roll an ankle on, you can bet I’d find it.  As you could see in some of our photos, though, I went up and down slides, piles of rock, and rooted paths without a hitch, even earning the nickname of “Mountain Goat,” descending from the peak. 

Consumables

Just trust us on the deviled ham/chicken spread products…