Desolation Shelter, Cedar Brook
Where: Desolation via Cedar Brook
When: March 4-5, 1989
With: Chip & Dave
At long last, Chip and I convinced Dave to join us on another winter camping trip. Both Dave and I had bought -20 degree sleeping bags, so he must have felt safe.
To get an early start, we staged a sleepover at Chip's place on Friday night (Wendy was gone). Seth joined us for the night, leaving open the possibility he might join us on the hike. In an amazing coincidence, Invasion of the Body Snatchers - the film that inspired the famous Pod Song, anthem of the Stupid Society ("Hey ma, the pods won't get me now. Hey ma, the pods won't get me now. My brain is fried, so I'm good inside. Hey ma, the pods won't get me now.") - was on TV in a colorized version.
We organized a rapid action operation to buy food for the camping trip and pizza for dinner and hit the road. Chip and I dropped off Seth and Dave at the pizza place/restaurant and then continued on to the supermarket. We finished in record time and then swung back for the pizza. I waited in the car while Chip ran in. In moments he came back out and motioned me in. Seth and Dave had ordered shots of tequila for us all and they were waiting, lined up, on the bar. We slammed them back, grabbed the pizzas and made it back in time for the movie.
The rest of the evening was spent eating, watching the movie, and making music. Finally we crashed in sleeping bags on the floor. We were awakened the next morning by Chip's automatic coffeepot and soon we were on the road. Seth, as expected, stayed behind, but left a message on a microcassette recorder I'd brought for the trip.
North we went, to the Kancamagus Highway and the Hancock Notch trail. The weather was warm, but the snow was good and in a short time we were on the trail, skiing into the woods. The trail was relatively level and skiable up to the Cedar Brook trail junction, where it started a steep ascent. We were forced to walk, but it only a short distance to the height of land. Some birds wandered close and we held out some food for them. To our surprise, they took it and soon we had them perching on our hands while we ate. I found out later that they were Grey Jays.
We rested a bit longer and then put on our skis and started down. What a ride! The narrow trail twisted and turned, but we managed to hang on most of the time. It became a test of nerves. The longer you stayed up, the faster you went. The faster you went, the scarier it got. Curves were the worst (or the best). You'd see one coming and swear you'd never make it around but you'd try anyway. To your surprise, you would make it, but now you'd be going faster than ever, whipped around by the curve. Eventually you'd just lose your nerve, bail out, and watch the others ski past. It was amazing what we did manage to handle and that no one was hurt, but we arrived at the bottom with bodies intact, though our nerves were frayed.
At the bottom, the trail flattened out for a long easy ski down to the river. We stopped for a bit at the bridge there before heading upstream toward the shelter. A few hours later we arrived and found the shelter occupied. The occupant was not around, but his tent and gear were there. We were setting up camp when he arrived, back from some day tripping. His name was Ed, a middle-aged man with a beard who'd been there all week.
Chip tried his hand at a fire while we got dinner going. An Italian meal...pasta with clam sauce, garlic bread, wine. Later, Ed told us stories of his Navy days before we all went to bed. The three of us climbed into Dave's tent, with Chip sleeping between Dave's and my feet. It was cramped, but warm.
After breakfast the next day we headed back, taking a different route from Stillwater Junction. This was the old Wilderness Trail route Chip and I had taken on our first trip to Desolation, following the railroad track across the river. Once again, this route saved us some time and trouble and got us back to the main trail just fine. After crossing Cedar Brook, the trail became smooth and flat, with a slight downhill, and we made good time down to the bridge. I remember double poling as hard as I could, trying to see how fast I could go.
We stopped at the bridge for a rest and then went up the Cedar Brook trail to the base of the climb we'd skied down the day before. The weather was quite warm and it had started to rain as we climbed. Chip managed to ski the entire way up, Dave skied some and then walked, and I walked the whole route.
Once on top, we rested and then resumed our skiing. Another wild ski down the other side of the ridge, the mountain paying back its debt to us for our climb the day before. This run, though short, seemed to be even faster than the day before. Perhaps we just managed to hang on longer to pick up speed. In any case, we all made it down in one piece, ending in a crash at the bottom. The final part of the trip was an easy ski out to the car. Such a good trip, we made a song about it.
Winter Camping Weekend
Ritz and Bomber captured Dave.
They dragged him off and sped away.
"Why?" he asked. They'd only say,
"A Winter Camping Weekend."
He screamed and yelled, he tried to plead.
Vermont still filled his memory.
Ritz and Bomber laughed with glee.
A Winter Camping Weekend.
They told of cold, they told of pain;
Of broken bones and freezing rain.
They said this trip would be the same.
A Winter Camping Weekend.
They filled Dave's mind with noxious things.
He stopped his screams, his grumbling.
He saw the light, began to sing
Of Winter Camping Weekends.
They packed their packs with pasta sauce,
Sweet red wine and costly Scotch,
Maps so they would not get lost,
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The weatherfolk predicted storms,
But still the men set out that morn.
They left all places safe and warm
For a Winter Camping Weekend.
Seth most wisely stayed behind,
He knew the things the three would find.
He feared that he would lose his mind
On a Winter Camping Weekend.
North they went in Ritz's car,
They traveled fast, they traveled far,
To find a trail long and hard
For a Winter Camping Weekend.
The path was hidden by the snow,
They barely knew which way to go.
The temperature? T'was mighty cold
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The trails, they were steep and fast.
Nerves and legs just couldn't last.
The skiers wound up on their ass
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The shelter was a welcome site,
And Ed was there to share the night.
They built a fire great and bright
That Winter Camping Weekend.
Dinner was a Roman feast.
Pasta, clam sauce, grated cheese...
Garlic bread...so much to eat
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The day was done, to bed they went,
Three men in a two man tent.
Head to feet and feet to head
That Winter Camping Weekend.
They slept the night and up they rose
With foggy brains and aching bones.
They toasted bagels on the stove
That Winter Camping Weekend.
A different trail was taken back,
A bushwhack off the beaten track.
They took a route not on a map
That Winter Camping Weekend.
They finished back where they'd begun.
They'd done the deed for which they'd come.
Mountains challenged, campers won
That Winter Camping Weekend.
Many tales they had to tell,
Of hungry birds and rain that fell.
Of skiing downhill fast as hell
That Winter Camping Weekend.
Out they went and back they came.
There was some cold, there was some pain.
But they all said they'd go again
On a Winter Camping Weekend.
Sleeping outdoors in the cold,
That's a tale that must be told.
Do it and you won't grow old.
A Winter Camping Weekend.
When: March 4-5, 1989
With: Chip & Dave
At long last, Chip and I convinced Dave to join us on another winter camping trip. Both Dave and I had bought -20 degree sleeping bags, so he must have felt safe.
To get an early start, we staged a sleepover at Chip's place on Friday night (Wendy was gone). Seth joined us for the night, leaving open the possibility he might join us on the hike. In an amazing coincidence, Invasion of the Body Snatchers - the film that inspired the famous Pod Song, anthem of the Stupid Society ("Hey ma, the pods won't get me now. Hey ma, the pods won't get me now. My brain is fried, so I'm good inside. Hey ma, the pods won't get me now.") - was on TV in a colorized version.
We organized a rapid action operation to buy food for the camping trip and pizza for dinner and hit the road. Chip and I dropped off Seth and Dave at the pizza place/restaurant and then continued on to the supermarket. We finished in record time and then swung back for the pizza. I waited in the car while Chip ran in. In moments he came back out and motioned me in. Seth and Dave had ordered shots of tequila for us all and they were waiting, lined up, on the bar. We slammed them back, grabbed the pizzas and made it back in time for the movie.
The rest of the evening was spent eating, watching the movie, and making music. Finally we crashed in sleeping bags on the floor. We were awakened the next morning by Chip's automatic coffeepot and soon we were on the road. Seth, as expected, stayed behind, but left a message on a microcassette recorder I'd brought for the trip.
North we went, to the Kancamagus Highway and the Hancock Notch trail. The weather was warm, but the snow was good and in a short time we were on the trail, skiing into the woods. The trail was relatively level and skiable up to the Cedar Brook trail junction, where it started a steep ascent. We were forced to walk, but it only a short distance to the height of land. Some birds wandered close and we held out some food for them. To our surprise, they took it and soon we had them perching on our hands while we ate. I found out later that they were Grey Jays.
We rested a bit longer and then put on our skis and started down. What a ride! The narrow trail twisted and turned, but we managed to hang on most of the time. It became a test of nerves. The longer you stayed up, the faster you went. The faster you went, the scarier it got. Curves were the worst (or the best). You'd see one coming and swear you'd never make it around but you'd try anyway. To your surprise, you would make it, but now you'd be going faster than ever, whipped around by the curve. Eventually you'd just lose your nerve, bail out, and watch the others ski past. It was amazing what we did manage to handle and that no one was hurt, but we arrived at the bottom with bodies intact, though our nerves were frayed.
At the bottom, the trail flattened out for a long easy ski down to the river. We stopped for a bit at the bridge there before heading upstream toward the shelter. A few hours later we arrived and found the shelter occupied. The occupant was not around, but his tent and gear were there. We were setting up camp when he arrived, back from some day tripping. His name was Ed, a middle-aged man with a beard who'd been there all week.
Chip tried his hand at a fire while we got dinner going. An Italian meal...pasta with clam sauce, garlic bread, wine. Later, Ed told us stories of his Navy days before we all went to bed. The three of us climbed into Dave's tent, with Chip sleeping between Dave's and my feet. It was cramped, but warm.
After breakfast the next day we headed back, taking a different route from Stillwater Junction. This was the old Wilderness Trail route Chip and I had taken on our first trip to Desolation, following the railroad track across the river. Once again, this route saved us some time and trouble and got us back to the main trail just fine. After crossing Cedar Brook, the trail became smooth and flat, with a slight downhill, and we made good time down to the bridge. I remember double poling as hard as I could, trying to see how fast I could go.
We stopped at the bridge for a rest and then went up the Cedar Brook trail to the base of the climb we'd skied down the day before. The weather was quite warm and it had started to rain as we climbed. Chip managed to ski the entire way up, Dave skied some and then walked, and I walked the whole route.
Once on top, we rested and then resumed our skiing. Another wild ski down the other side of the ridge, the mountain paying back its debt to us for our climb the day before. This run, though short, seemed to be even faster than the day before. Perhaps we just managed to hang on longer to pick up speed. In any case, we all made it down in one piece, ending in a crash at the bottom. The final part of the trip was an easy ski out to the car. Such a good trip, we made a song about it.
Winter Camping Weekend
Ritz and Bomber captured Dave.
They dragged him off and sped away.
"Why?" he asked. They'd only say,
"A Winter Camping Weekend."
He screamed and yelled, he tried to plead.
Vermont still filled his memory.
Ritz and Bomber laughed with glee.
A Winter Camping Weekend.
They told of cold, they told of pain;
Of broken bones and freezing rain.
They said this trip would be the same.
A Winter Camping Weekend.
They filled Dave's mind with noxious things.
He stopped his screams, his grumbling.
He saw the light, began to sing
Of Winter Camping Weekends.
They packed their packs with pasta sauce,
Sweet red wine and costly Scotch,
Maps so they would not get lost,
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The weatherfolk predicted storms,
But still the men set out that morn.
They left all places safe and warm
For a Winter Camping Weekend.
Seth most wisely stayed behind,
He knew the things the three would find.
He feared that he would lose his mind
On a Winter Camping Weekend.
North they went in Ritz's car,
They traveled fast, they traveled far,
To find a trail long and hard
For a Winter Camping Weekend.
The path was hidden by the snow,
They barely knew which way to go.
The temperature? T'was mighty cold
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The trails, they were steep and fast.
Nerves and legs just couldn't last.
The skiers wound up on their ass
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The shelter was a welcome site,
And Ed was there to share the night.
They built a fire great and bright
That Winter Camping Weekend.
Dinner was a Roman feast.
Pasta, clam sauce, grated cheese...
Garlic bread...so much to eat
That Winter Camping Weekend.
The day was done, to bed they went,
Three men in a two man tent.
Head to feet and feet to head
That Winter Camping Weekend.
They slept the night and up they rose
With foggy brains and aching bones.
They toasted bagels on the stove
That Winter Camping Weekend.
A different trail was taken back,
A bushwhack off the beaten track.
They took a route not on a map
That Winter Camping Weekend.
They finished back where they'd begun.
They'd done the deed for which they'd come.
Mountains challenged, campers won
That Winter Camping Weekend.
Many tales they had to tell,
Of hungry birds and rain that fell.
Of skiing downhill fast as hell
That Winter Camping Weekend.
Out they went and back they came.
There was some cold, there was some pain.
But they all said they'd go again
On a Winter Camping Weekend.
Sleeping outdoors in the cold,
That's a tale that must be told.
Do it and you won't grow old.
A Winter Camping Weekend.
Audio recordings from the hike (and a recording of the Winter Camping Weekend song)
Note: Though we can be heard on the recordings saying we've taken photos, no pictures have been found from this hike.
