Philmont Expedition 727-E1-1994 – 3 August 1994: Trails and Tribulations / Day 7: Hump Day

Trails and Tribulations

After my first hiking experiences, I tended to avoid anything with a substantial hike. But I soon got tired of missing out on things and resolved to go on every campout, regardless of how much it interested me. I was now in a leadership position, it was time to get serious.

On my second trip up Schunemunk, I found that I could keep up with the main group. Though still lagging behind the lead pack, it was like I was almost fitting in.

On my third trip, I could finally keep up with the lead pack. For me, this was quite the accomplishment. It was just normal for most of the rest of them.

Some things never changed though. We always camped in the same spot and we always started off the next day with a search and rescue exercise where we tried to locate a crashed plane and practiced evacuating simulated casualties. And then we hiked back down the mountain.

That part would eventually change. Our usual return path, straight down to the tracks from Dark Hollow Junction, wasn’t popular with most of us. It was long, steep, and dangerous. Too many switchbacks, too much time spent on the railroad tracks. The views of Mountainville, far from our destination, weren’t just not scenic, they were demotivating. In the past, we had seriously contemplated continuing down the mountain in lieu of the railroad path and then calling to get a ride home. It was the worst part of a hike that I was finally starting to enjoy.

So we didn’t do it. In the end, we had the bright idea to just go back the way we came.

It was obvious in retrospect, but tradition can blind us to the obvious. The trail along the ridge was somewhat rougher than the trail through the woods, but it was also a gentler slope and was far more direct. And it offered stunning views of the Hudson River, views that we missed on the way up. Hiking that trail in the morning was inspiring rather than draining and left us relaxed and in high spirits when we reached the tracks.

We had gone up the mountain as a scattered group, pushing ourselves to prove that we belonged. But when we came back down, we weren’t competing with each other anymore. We instead worked together to find a better path. We had nothing left to prove, the challenge had been completed. It was time to find a bigger challenge.

Day 7: Hump Day

“I waxed ’em all!” -Travis, who now clearly was a war movie

The Texans were coming. That’s what we were thinking as we packed up, had breakfast, and prepared to head out after our earliest wakeup of the trek. The Texans were coming and we couldn’t let them get a head start on us. As soon as they came through our camp, we had to be ready to go. And they would be coming through our camp – anyone leaving for the highway underpass would have to. That’s why we chose to camp where we did. Nobody was sneaking past us, not today.

We first encountered them a few days earlier. Initially oblivious to their presence, we soon realized that we were both following the same path. We were sister crews and we would be seeing a lot of each other over the next week and a half.

The conversations started how you would expect. “Where are you from?” They were from Texas, no strangers to expansive wilderness and the terrain of the southwest. When they heard that we were from New York, they were confused. “Where do you go hiking, in the subway?”

We assured them that New York was more than just Manhattan, but the point didn’t seem to sink in. They certainly couldn’t imagine that we had mountains in our backyard. They had obviously never heard of the Hudson Highlands. Explaining wasn’t going to get the point across, we would have to show them that we knew what we were doing in the outdoors.

And today was the day. Hump Day. Figuring that we needed some extra encouragement as the longest and steepest hike with full packs loomed ahead, Joe gave his Hump Day speech. After today, the hikes would get shorter and easier (Baldy aside). But we had to get through this day first, the day equally far from the beginning and the end. I’ve forgotten all the details, but that was the general idea. It was nice and all, but we didn’t really need his words. Because the Texans were coming.

Sure enough, at 6am, the Texan crew came down the trail, happy to have gotten the jump on us. We let them have their lead and took our time breaking camp. There was no need to rush, a few minutes was easy to make up over miles and miles of trails. About 15 minutes later, we left Cimarron River camp and started the long trip north.

Not far in, the trail forked. To the left was a steeper and more direct route. It would be slower going, but the trail would be shorter. To the right, the trail went the long way around the steep terrain. It was a gentler climb, but the detour would add considerable distance to what was already a long hike. By the time we reached the fork, the Texans were out of sight. We had no way of knowing which path they chose.

Their choice didn’t matter though. We were in control of our own hike and we chose left. It was early, we were well-rested, and we didn’t need any extra miles after all we racked up in our first few days on the trail. Motivation came easy when the challenge was right in front of you. It was the long easy path with no apparent end that drained your energy and your will to continue the most. We would face the challenge head on and accept whatever fate that brought.

The challenge was, in the end, far less significant than advertised. We stopped briefly at Santa Claus camp, having seen no sign of the Texans on the trail. After asking around, the reason became clear – they hadn’t been through yet, which meant that they must have taken the other trail. We were now far ahead of them. The race, barely started when we went our separate ways, was all but over still miles from the finish. It no longer mattered, but we still had a hike to complete. We had nothing left to prove, not to them at least.

We arrived at Head of Dean camp after 5 hours on the trail, still with plenty of the day left. Which was good, because this is the day we were scheduled to do our mandatory three hours of conservation work. There was no time to rest up from the hike or gloat over our anticlimactic victory, we had to get to work cutting down trees and clearing brush.

About an hour into our conservation work, the usual afternoon showers made their appearance. Due to the lightning risk, the work was called off. If possible, they would have us come back in the morning to do the other two hours of work. If not, we would just get credit for the full three hours. Now we just had to get cleaned up after all the dirt and pine sap.

Yeah, that didn’t happen. Washing facilities are few and far between at Philmont. And wastewater can only be deposited in the sumps in each site to protect the waterways and avoid attracting bears. Even just washing your hands is a practical impossibility. So I just rubbed some dirt on them to deal with the stickiness and waited for the sap to wear off with time. Time fixes everything and we had plenty of it.

So much that we started worrying about Travis again. After seeming to have recovered from his episode on Tooth Ridge, he was now speaking almost entirely in disturbing lines from military movies, repeating “I waxed ’em all!” among less memorable lines. We probably should have been more concerned, but this was not really that far off from how Travis usually acted. So we made sure he got plenty of water and hoped the situation resolved itself.

As it turns out, he had so much water that the situation resolved itself an estimated 32 times that day.

Baldy loomed ahead; its base camp would be our next stop.

Next: 4 August 1994: Spiked, Set, Bumped / Day 8: Eve of Baldy