It started out as a disappointment, but it was perhaps one of the most fortuitous disappointments in all my experiences. Time, money, and commitments forced us to scrap plans for Wyoming and then Scotland and Wales. We were left with the need for an inexpensive climbing trip and the Adirondacks fit the bill nicely. Isn’t it strange how some of life’s best experiences aren’t planned?
(more…) We reached the highest massif of Rocky Peak Ridge and looked outwards at the lunar landscape of Giant’s eastern face, the tarn of Mary Louise, and much further on, the drowsy Champlain valley. We reached the Peak after first climbing Giant from Route 73.
It's the anticipation and restlessness before a trip that drives me crazy.
written by Geoffrey Johnson, May 2008 Trees were not alwaysAs they are thusSwaying languidly in tranquil dazeLong ago they were ferociousAnd roamed wild through the landsFeet of root and strong leafy hands Army of wood: Oak, Maple, TeakCedar, Beech, Birch and PineThen one day under a Mountain PeakThe trees grew weary and lay supine Yet mountain it was ancientPowerful and not complacentAnd while all the trees…
It was a sluggish beginning. A yawn and a stretch led to motivation and the ritual of dressing: a step into the polypropylene, followed by wool pants and a sweater. I go downstairs for something to eat and a conscious thought of food for the trail. Into the pack goes my rope, a few tubular webbing slings and carabiners, an ice piton, 60 cm ice axe, North Wall hammer, and crampons. Goretex parka, more clothes and especially water follow. Don’t forget the headlamp. Finally a trundle into the ole automobile and on the road to the Giant Mountain trail head.
Nothing foils the lead climber more than the zen belayer. So picture two climbers up a route on a crag. They are hundreds of feet off the deck and the lead climber is off on the next pitch. His faithful belayer is tired and certainly ready for a break …