Mt Baker - Day 44 (Storm Clouds Ahead - Conclusion, part 2a)

So there I was on the edge of the mountain trying to figure out what weather to expect in the next hour or so. A bad forecast would certainly be a call to seek shelter rather than brave continued climbing. My anxiety level was skyrocketing to heights well above the readings of my never-used altimeter hanging by a lanyard by my side. Slide Mountain is not exactly the Lohtse Face in the Central Himalayas. But there beneath the darkening skies, it was not exactly my usual warm confines of the Harvard Club in mid-town Manhattan either. I had never before been to this highest peak in the Catskills. For almost six hours, I had been hiking to what I initially thought was the highest ridge on the mountain.With the sun now disappearing behind ominous clouds, the usual clues as to direction of travel were no longer available. How did I get to the remote spot in which I then stood and how to return to where I came? There were no familiar clues as to my location; no trail head marker, no familiar trees, vegetation, geologic formations, no previously heard earthly sounds, nor any ready made street signs. Was I headed east away from my waiting Jag at the northwest trail head? Maybe I could pray for a southern direction and at least be a little closer to the nearest turnpike back to Pound Ridge. Better yet, pray for a direction which would lead to a welcoming mountain inn, a hot meal, and a full glass of shiraz? For awhile, my climb had been interspersed with brief intervals of descent as if I had been heading towards a valley between Slide and a neighboring unnamed peak. Did I even know whether or not I was on Slide Mountain at this point? I suddenly felt like an eternal time traveler arriving for a fleeting moment in some dark mysterious land. The only hope was to soon be transported to another more forgiving new age. In short, I was hopelessly lost. To make matters worse, was there now a brewing rain storm ahead that would leave me miserably drenched and shivering? The now prevalent balsam firs intermingled with rough hobble bush suggested I was well above three thousand feet, perhaps only a few hundred feet from the summit. I sat down on one of the sandstone boulders on a relatively level part of a now questionably discernible path to collect my thoughts. My watch said 5:20 PM. In a few hours, that day's light would be only a remembrance, a brief moment among my ever increasing faded memories. I silently cursed that Xanax did not grow in the wild, no easy pluck like some golden eliptical huckleberry hanging from a leafy bough. Its sweet nectar would instantly be a harbinger of my soon to be experienced mind's calm.

I had spent many hours reading and rereading Chapter 27 of Mountaineering:Freedom of the Hills on indicators of approaching storms. It was now the moment to test my knowledge. Perhaps, this was the moment the ever-changing poster on the 6:50 AM train from Katonah to Grand Central had divined. My obsessive compulsive nature had dictated that the relevant pages be memorized word for word. The chapter describes four key elements from which to draw necessary conclusions regarding dire weather ahead: changes in cloud cover, changes in air pressure, changes in both wind-direction and wind speed. However, one of these elements were not to be realized. In my haste to start the climb, I had inadvertently left my handheld barometer recently bought at Eastern Mountain Sports on the front passenger seat of my Jag. I had learned that pressure decreases recorded on the barometer of as little as 0.08" can signal immanent winds with speeds greater than 40 miles per hour; a clear sign to move to a protected area. Were such pressure changes now in the works? I had spent a lot of money on the little gadget to assure myself of being well-informed. It was money suddenly wasted; its message not to be revealed. Even my all knowing iPhone could not be a substitute;no app to be downloaded to provide a barometer's clues. Steve Jobs, are you reading this? The winds suddenly felt stronger, more intense, their sounds more resonant as they rushed through gaps in the towering boulders above me. I had also learned that it was important to gauge wind speeds upwind of a gap before climbing to the gap location. Winds within these higher rocky passages may be twice as strong as ones experienced at lower altitudes; again a signal to stop climbing and return to a more sheltered location. (to be continued)