Adirondack Peeks Winter 2024

Cooking was initially done on a smelly Primus kerosene stove. We soon changed to a cleaner and hotter but more volatile gas stove. Melting snow to make drinking or cooking water was laborious and the final product was un palatable unless disguised with cocoa or drink mix. We relied on many canned food items for dinner, e.g., Dinty Moore Beef Stew or hash. Later my father’s “glop cakes” were a favorite. He would make goulash and freeze it into separate servings that just needed to be heated to be eaten. A special favorite were cans of Mandarin oranges. Huddled in your sleeping bags you would spoon out your appointed number of segments or por tion of juice under the watchful eyes of your fellow starving, freezing companions.

Going to Be Faster Going Down!

In the early days, various homemade aluminum and steel snowshoe crampons started to appear. These could be at tached to the bottom of your shoe. The same debate rages today—too much crampon going up increases the risk of a wet and embarrassing face plant on the way down. We did have and use ski poles, but they were always down hill “castoffs,” which could be cumbersome and limiting in tight quarters. Often the baskets weren’t big enough in soft snow, which could result in some unexpected falls. The ad justable poles of today have been a positive improvement and are in use year-round. It was not until the 1970s that I purchased my first set of crampons. We were able to make do with our snow shoes and makeshift crampons. But I must admit that I didn’t climb the Upper Range in those early years. I’m sure the icy cone of Little Haystack or the cliffs of Saddleback would have quickly taught me the importance of placing some sharp spikes on the bottom of my boots. The final traveling concern hasn’t changed in the 50+ years that have passed—the oft-feared spruce trap. To the uneducated, the spruce trap develops in areas where the spruce trees are four to ten feet tall. During major storms the light, powder snow falls and covers the trees. At the bottom of the trees and between the branches pockets of air are trapped. If the unsuspecting climber steps onto one of these pockets, they will plummet into a welter of spruce boughs well below the surrounding surface. Both foot and snowshoe are now entangled in the branches be low. Much like a porcupine quill, once injected, removal be comes difficult. Churning is to no avail and escape usually requires taking the snowshoe off, removing your foot and then reaching down to retrieve the snowshoe, all a consid erable effort and an energy burner. This exercise inevitably moistens the climber, either from snow entering at collar and cuffs or because of the additional perspiration gener ated by the struggle. This process taxes one’s good humor if it occurs repeatedly. In unconsolidated areas climbers have literally been six feet or more below the surrounding surface. At that point a climber must use whatever means available to build a ramp of some kind to reach more solid

Lunch was a continual process during the day. Pea nut butter, jelly, and honey mixed in a reusable Gerry Tube was a favorite on crackers. Eating often and “fueling the furnace” then, as now, was a must. Probably the biggest mistake made was the lack of emphasis placed on hydrat ing. Obtaining liquids and keeping them in liquid form was always a concern, and our knowledge of the importance of hydration was limited at that time. Today, climbers heat liquids in the morning, utilize electrolyte replacements, and store extra liters in water bottle parkas deep in their packs. Metal snowshoes were unheard of during the 60s. Initially my father had given me his 8” x 60” snowshoes with a turned-up front. I still use these today when breaking out the XC ski trails in my backyard. They offer great flota tion and are fantastic on descents but frustrating when at tempting tight, off-trail climbs. After explaining this problem to my father, he came home one night with a pair of “bear paw” snowshoes. I should have known there might be a problem when I noticed they were “Swenson and Swen son” brand and “made in Japan.” They also had nylon rope for webbing instead of gut or rawhide lacing. This ensured that snow would clump up when they became wet. Early snowshoe bindings posed another prob lem—during the day the rawhide got wet and would stretch. This meant losing your shoe, shedding your pack, making new holes in the strap, re-attaching the shoe and hoisting your load before continuing. Eventually the strap would break and then you were faced with attaching the shoe with rope. Naturally this never happened to two hik ers at the same time and could upset the progress of the group as the day wore on. Fussing with bindings back then always involved bare hands, which then became wet and cold. The sense that a binding was loosening filled the climber with foreboding for each step. Fortunately, a fel low 46er came to everyone’s rescue. Bruce Beck, #195, started selling neoprene snowshoe and crampon bindings. Although wrinkled and dried out I still use some of his early bindings today. Traction could be a problem with steep climbs.

WINTER 2024 | 27