My wife and I and our 100lb puppy Bernese Mountain dog drove up 12 hours from Virginia to a trailhead in the middle of The High Peaks of the Adirondacks. In the parking lot there were clumps of people standing around everywhere and way too much activity. When I checked in at the Ranger Headquarters, they tell me that three climbers have been lost on the side of Mt Marcy for over three days. The snow is still deep up there, he explains. When we had saddled up and were heading out across the parking area to the trailhead up Indian Creek, a TV camera crew runs up to us and breathlessly asks if we had seen any sign of the lost climbers. We keeep walking and I said over my shoulder, “we’re just heading out and we’ll keep an eye out for ‘em”. We laughed. The deep snows up high were steady melting thru May and the creeks were high and fast. It was raining fine but steady as we hiked and the trail was a muddy pool most of the way. We had to step carefully from rock to stump or sink in up to our knees in the deep, raw mud of the trail. We were in a northern forest just exploding with the first intimations of Spring. There was a three sided Adirondack style shelter not far up ahead and on the other side of the creek. I had been to it before. It faced the creek in a quiet spot under the trees and only about 50 ft from the water. It had a wooden floor and a long overhang over the open front underneath which a picnic table sat relatively covered from the rain. It was idyllic, really, for a backpacker, anyway.
Maybe a little over two miles in through the tedious, flooded trail, we came upon three guys and one was laying back with his left leg up in the air. I asked what happened and they said that their buddy had broken his lower leg when he sunk into the mud and fell over on it. As he was talking, I could just about hear the bone snapping - I could well understand the possibility of this happening, having just hiked on the same trail for over two miles. They were pretty well freaked out and he was obviously in pain. My wife Jana’ and I slipped out of our packs I found some good sticks and used a big roll of ace bandage to make a pretty good splint. As I was wrapping up his splint good and sturdy, a group of about five Boy Scouts came trotting by - whoa, I had a hard time stopping them, more or less having to block their path, I grabbed the guy’s pack and swung it onto the back of the biggest boy scout even as he stood there complaining about it. I strapped it on quick and I told him to just deal with it and drop the pack off at the ranger station when he gets there. I told them it was only two miles and the least they could do for another outdoorsmen. I sent the Boy Scouts on their way. Jana’ and I had almost been at our shelter by this time so I told these three guys to help their buddy, one on each side, and ease on down the trail, assuring them that it was no more than about two miles. Jana’ and I hiked on and quickly came to the shelter. The creek was up to our thighs, wide and fast.
I had to throw our 100lb baby on my back and carry him across and then Jana’ and I brought our packs across and we were - thank god - the only ones at the shelter. It is really a treat to have a shelter to yourself especially in such a great location. I left my pack there and Jana’ to unpack and set up camp and went back after the three guys. They hadn’t gotten too far and we all took turns shouldering the guy until we were maybe ¼ mile from the parking area and they all told me to take it back, seeing how it was my Anniversary and all! I managed to get back to our shelter, once again having to cross the river, and after which it was hard to keep the boots dry. There was just no way to cross that river without boots on. But we were glad to have this shelter. It was high enough to stand up in, there was a relatively dry picnic table, always valuable in the wilderness, and we loved being perfectly dry while a constant rain drummed pleasantly upon the roof of our little log shelter all night long.
That was just the first night of a six night backpacking trip through the high peaks region of the Adirondacks, starting by continuing up and crossing over Indian Pass, still covered with a foot or so of hard packed snow. Our dog Bear often had to be carried and once we had to rig up a rope to his doggy backpack and raise and lower him up and down a 100 ft cliff. But I think that he enjoyed it as much as we did ourselves. I still remember him sitting down underneath of his doggy pack panting. Bear rested every chance he got. I got a lot of those pictures, Bear looking up, “what, can’t a guy rest?”
Besides having to deal with a foot or so of hard packed snow up on Indian Pass, the rest of trip lacked the excitement of the start. That first night Jana’ showed a lot of faith in me just by taking it in stride.