Adirondack Peeks Summer 2025

is a self-destructive side to the athletic achievements that we tend to glorify. Emulating the BMT made me reevaluate the importance of wilderness adventure. In remote areas, the prudent move is to nourish a reserve capacity as a resource for emergencies, not to extend oneself to the utter limit of capacity.

REFERENCES Marshall, R. (1930, February). The Problem of the Wilderness. The Scientific Monthly , 30 (2), 141–148. Marshall, R. (2006). Adirondack peaks. In P. Brown (Ed.), Bob Marshall in the Adirondacks: Writings of a Pioneering Peak Bagger, Pond-Hopper and Wilderness Preservationist (pp. 64– 69). Lost Pond Press. Nash, R. (1966, October). The Strenuous Life of Bob Marshall. Forest History Newsletter , 10 (3), 18–25.

Ed Harstead, #10184 Bozos on the Range Trail

A familiar plot device in James Bond movies is that, at the end, once Bond has defeated the villain and finally gets some quality time with his Bond girl, bad guys return to spoil it. Just keep that in mind for later in this story. And it is a true story. In January 1992 I recruited two friends, Allen Rush and Brian Gygi (their real names), for a winter weekend backpacking trip in the Adirondacks. I was confident in my experience, having done such a thing already, once or twice. After the drive up from New York City, we humped our full packs from the Adirondack Mountain Reserve up to the Range Trail between Hedgehog and Lower Wolf Jaw Mountains. It was a very cold day, and, as you will see, our trip evolved into a relentless cold-weather learning experience. First the cold penetrated our summer hiking boots, and then our teeth failed to penetrate our rock hard cheese sandwiches (but Pop-Tarts® remained edible). Somewhere on the Range Trail we made our camp. I recall in those days the only restriction on camping in the High Peaks was that it must be done below 4,000 feet. I believe we camped at 3,999 ft. One of my winter camping innovations was to eschew a tent. Even the most ultra-light tent is heavier than no tent at

us, this material would lose all pliability below a certain temperature. When Brian unrolled it, it cracked into shards. As darkness fell, we pulled out our flashlights and learned something about the chemistry of alkaline batteries. We learned that alkaline battery chemistry does not work efficiently below a certain temperature. One by one our lights winked out. Butane lighters also failed. So, we found ourselves in the dark. It didn’t help that our stuff was scattered and now lost in the snow. There was nothing left to do but crawl into our bags. Brian slept on top of scattered pieces of rock-hard foam. After a long night, a bright sun smiled upon us in the morning. We had endured. It’s hard to remember exactly, but I expect our hearts swelled with joy and the anticipation of a hot breakfast and bagging a High Peak. Allen tried to operate his stove, but it was reluctant to function, and, in the process, Allen must have spilled some white gas onto his glove liners. He pulled out his butane lighter (put in his pocket to warm it up—we learned fast), flicked it, and his hands went up in flames.

all, and costs more. Tents are required to keep out rain and mosquitoes, and we expected neither. And tents require space. We just lay down on the trail. So, as the day drew to an early January close, and the temperature dropped further, we spread out our mattresses. I had recently upgraded to the copper colored Therm-A-Rest pad, and I lent Brian my venerable 1980s vintage tan-colored closed-cell foam pad. Unknown to

The author, modeling his outfit in Campmor blue.

Brian and Allen

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