DT Active Life 050617 for web-REVISED

set before starting again toward Hunter
Mountain.
However, do not assume that we
were not competitive. Far from it.
Nearing the shoulder of Hunter, we
passed a group that was also hiking
the whole way from Prediger Road that
we began referring to as “that family.”
Perhaps some of our midnight visitors
that started four hours before us?
We did not know for sure, but this is
what we assumed, and as we passed
we were filled with the excitement and
arrogance that comes with making up
four hours on another party in only 12
miles. Maybe it was this sense of adequacy
that led to our decision to add
the extra 3.2 miles to bag the
true summit of Hunter.
Dude, what if we add this
extra peak, and we pass
that family again?! So that
was our plan. Coming off
Hunter, the extra miles felt
like nothing, but when we
stopped at the intersection
to sit down a minute, I realized
the soles of my feet
were burning. This sensation did not
improve on the featureless descent toward
West Kill, which seemed to take
an eternity. Jack was now leading, and
I was getting flashbacks to the Plateau
descent because, once again, I was
running out of water.
We passed two refill locations, but
Jack hadn’t packed his battery charger
and the UV filter we had been using
was dead. Coming into the falls,
we ran into “that family” once again,
this time lounging on the other side
of the bridge by the water. “Did you
guys make a wrong turn?” they asked
self-assuredly. Then, I turned toward
them, and I said deliberately “Nah, we
felt like nabbing Hunter too. See yah.”
I savored the words. They felt good.
Despite my proud moment, it was
here, at this very intersection,
that we began on a wrong path
that would take us an hour and two
miles out of our way, as well as nearly
defeat our spirits. The worst part was,
After ages we were at the lookout
just below the summit. The views
east were spectacular and we got
a good look at the ravine leading
us the wrong way...
“that family” might have corrected us,
but I was cocky. After realizing our
mistake (thanks to a kind couple that
lent us a map) I took a sip of water
from my hydration pack and felt the
ominous puff of emptiness. We would
not make our 12-hour goal, but hey,
maybe we’d pass that family again! It
was like this that we began our ascent
of West Kill—the longest climb and
our last for the day.
Somewhere about halfway up we
split the last two GUs as well as drank
the last of Jack’s water. I slowed our
pace to a crawl to conserve precious
H2O—we definitely were not going to
see that family ever again. Luckily,
this part of the trail had some of the
most walkable miles, but time was
dragging. After ages we were at the
lookout just below the summit. The
views east were spectacular and we
got a good look at the ravine leading
us the wrong way: it just kept losing
altitude and going south.
Passing a cairn marking the true
wooded summit, we began our final
descent toward Spruceton Road, the
end of our journey. I was hungry,
but would eat nothing other than the
M&M’s picked from Jack’s trail mix to
avoid salt, lest my thirst be further realized.
I went pretty internal here, and
zoned out for a long time. Our conversation
had also been dead for some
time, so I had to check to make sure I
wasn’t losing it when I began hearing
a metallic clanking. Jack heard it too.
We saw some shady figures through
the trees. Maybe the DEC was nailing
up signs? Rounding a bend, we came
upon a couple banging their trekking
poles together as they walked. They
told us they had startled a bear, and it
had run up the trail. Great. I pulled my
ancient Polish utility knife out and we
Mosy of the views are off
the main trail but they’re
definitely worth it. Of course,
there’s not much time to
take them in when you are
pursuing your personal FKT.
26 | DACKS & TOGA activelife