This post was started in late August of 2009.

Somewhere in the Adirondacks

by Rob

This past weekend I tried to keep a promise.

Actually, it was a promise that I made to Nate last summer, after he finished his first-ever week of "out-camp" at Camp Fowler. He had spent the week backpacking through an area north of Speculator, near an area know as the West Canada Lakes Wilderness. He was bouncing when I first saw him on the day that we arrived to bring him home. "Daddy, Daddy," he said, "we are going backpacking next summer, and I am going to take you to the most beautiful place." He went on to explain the route and length of the trip that we would take. His enthusiasm was extreme, even by Nate standards, and I was flattered. The idea that his first thought was to plan to take me out on the trail so that he could share what he had seen was both unexpected and touching. So, moved as I was, I promised that we would go out on the trail this summer.

Unfortunately, I had no trail experience, and at that point, Nate had only one week. This weighed on me right away, since it was my intention to keep my promise, but it seemed obviously foolish for the two of us to head into the wood for four days and three nights with barely a week of experience between us. At that point, I began trying to figure out how to keep my promise without placing us at risk.

So for the last year, Nate has been talking about our hiking trip. He would remind me about the details of the location and the supplies that we would need, and he often reminded me that we needed to schedule our summer carefully in order to be sure that we would have a block of time available to make the trip.

As Nate continued to plan, so did I. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that we would need to take along someone with more experience. Choosing that person was fairly easy, since Eric Barnes, one of my closest friends, has lots of trail experience. His availability was always another issue. He was careful not to promise to make the trip with us, but said that he would try. At first we thought that late July would work, but eventually, that time frame became less than ideal for both of us. We decided on late August instead.

Next issue: Gear. Obviously, I needed to buy decent shoes, but the rest of the equipment I intended to borrow. Again, Eric to the rescue. Nate made a list of all that we would need, and we sent it to Eric. He had nearly every item, including an extra pack for me to use. On a fluke, we also found a pack for Nate in a thrift store that cost us only $6.00.

Our final plan was to set out for a three day, two night trip. Eric would be with us for the first night, and Nate and I would go it alone on the second. So we met at the trailhead last Friday at noon, and headed into the woods.

Our first leg was about 6 miles. When we found an available leanto, it seemed like a better option than tenting, since there was rain in the forecast for the evening and next morning. Packing a wet tent the next morning and then hiking another 7 miles to our next leanto seemed like a poor option. Right on schedule, by 8:00 PM on Friday, the wind was picking up and it started to rain lightly. By midnight, the wind was gusting, the temperature was dropping, and the rain was much more steady. It was hard to sleep that night, but at least all of our gear was dry, and we were able to stay warm in our sleeping bags.

By 6:00 AM, we were all up. It seemed as though the rain might be stopping, which was also what had been forecast. After pulling me aside to assure me that he was comfortable with Nate's level of knowledge and experience, Eric left us. It was was 7:00 AM.

By 7:30, Nate and I were packed and ready to head back out on the trail. By 8:00 it was raining. By 10:00 it was pouring. When we reached the West Canada area it was about 11:00, so we decided to find a leanto to warm up and eat an early lunch. Within minutes, Nate began to tremble from the cold. For me, anxiety quickly set in, and I began to worry. At this point, we were at least 10 miles from the car, we hadn't seen any other people, we were wet, our gear was all getting wet, and I realized that building a fire might not even be possible, since there wasn't any dry wood or bark anywhere. Add to that, the air temperature was in the 50's, and it was the middle of the day. I thought, "What if it keeps raining? What if it gets colder?"

At that point I decided that we had to get as close to the car as possible. I figured that even if we did end up spending the night on the trail, we needed to be able to get to the car in as little time as possible on Sunday morning. I rushed Nate through his lunch, and we got back on the trail by 11:30. Our goal was to reach the Sampson Lake leanto about 3 or so miles away. About an hour later we found a directional sign that indicated that we were 2.5 miles from Sampson, 6 miles from Pillsbury. This meant that we were still about 8 miles from the car.

Nate was onboard with the the idea that we should head for the car,

8/25/2012

I never finished this post.  Of course that's why I never published it to the blog.  But I know that what I would have written next was too raw and vulnerable at the time.  I couldn't finish it, much less share it.

The story ends with us reaching the car late that afternoon.  What transpired in between is something that will remain a strong memory for me.  It was one of the most challenging and anxious experiences of my life.  The rain never let up, and as we struggled through those 8 miles I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it to the car because my feet and back were killing me.  I remember that eventually every step hurt.

At one point we found another leanto site.  It was down a long, steep embankment, and getting there was hazardous.  When we finally reached the empty leanto, it was wet inside with a gushing stream flowing underneath it.  There wasn't any firewood prepared and everything nearby was soaking wet.  Having struggled down the hillside, I was concerned about trying to get back up it to reach the trail.  As cold and tired as we were, I felt helpless, but I still suggested to Nate that we needed to stop and try to hold out in that location.  His response was clear and calm.  "No, Dad.  We can't stay here. We need to keep going."

And so we did.  And that day my son led me out of the woods.  Every part of me wanted to stop and try to wait it out, but he just kept encouraging me and leading the way.  It took several more hours and a few stops, but we eventually found a leanto where a group had set up for several days of camping.  They offered us hot drinks and let us warm up by their fire.  Then we headed back out.  Those last two miles took forever, and my knees had now joined the chorus of screaming joints.  But we reached the car before dusk, and were soon on the road headed home.

Phew.

For the next couple of days, I couldn't talk to anyone about what had happened without becoming emotional.  I'm sure that's why I didn't finish writing this entry.  I had been quite scared, because with no one around to help us, I had no idea what I would have done if he had gotten an injury or severe hypothermia.  But the leftover fear wasn't why I was so emotional thinking and talking about it.  It was Nate's response to the whole situation and to me.  And it still chokes me up.  He never wavered.  He never complained.  And even though I'm sure I was totally unable to mask my anxiety, he never showed any fear.  That was one of the most challenging days I can remember.  It was also one of the best days I'll ever have.  I wouldn't trade the time I had with him that day for anything.

He left for college a couple of days ago.  I'm okay, but it's hard not to think about him and remember things, which is why this post came to mind.  I'm hopelessly sentimental, but I needed to revisit this memory, even though it makes me miss him all the more.