A Giant of a Spring Hike 4/22/15

I recently reconnected with my buddy Justin. He was the random fifth roommate to a group of four of my friends from home. The first day everyone met he was wearing a Phish shirt so we know everything was going to be all right. We became great friends, especially after sharing an apartment together the summer after our freshman year and working together as "mobile frozen dessert vendors". As I mentioned in my trip report for the Colvin and Blake hike, he's the owner and chef of the Amazing Hazelnut Kitchen in Trumansburg, NY so we were treated to a delicious on the night before the hike.

Despite carrying on a bit too late drinking beers, telling stories from college and playing a little guitar, we both woke up early, a bit excited for the day. That early wake up proved to be a really fortuitous. On the drive up we kept popping in and out of patches of thick ground fog, each time it lasted a bit longer. As we pulled off the northway onto 73 the fog lifted just in time to see our destination looming largely to our right.

I was pretty excited for the clear blue skies to start the hike. I honestly hadn't expected very much based on the forecast. Partly sunny with some showers in the morning followed by rain in the afternoon. I chose a hike that would have some views right away in case weather did roll in and the summit was view-less. We got out of the car around 7:30 and were on the first overlook not long after. Really cool views of the Dix range, the great range and all the impressive rock on Round Mountain. At the edge of the Giant's Washbowl, there's a simple two timber bridge over some thigh deep water. It was icy and very slick. We both held our breaths crossing and were quite happy to make it across without any problems. That would've been a bummer.

As we climbed on, back into the woods, there was alternating waves of clouds and blue sky. When we got to the next series of overlooks, we were greeted with a dramatic sight. We watched a storm front pouring over the high peaks and coming towards us. A plume of cloud shot high into the sky as the system hit Dix Mountain. It was a breathtaking and unforgettable moment in the mountains. We were in for some excitement. I had hoped the south-facing rocky path along Giants ridge would be relatively snow free as it has some decent southern exposure. Well the snow was gone but there was a good amount of ice which made climbing tricky for Justin and I but not for Koda. At this point in the hike he'd quickly and easily bypass an obstacle and look down on us with disdain as we struggled up.

Eventually, much higher in elevation than I expected, we began to encounter snow. The spine was supportive though icy at times. In hindsight if we had put on microspikes, the ascent would have definitely been easier. we managed to move along at a good pace though and no teeth were broken so I guess it came out just fine. There were occasional snow showers just to keep things interesting. As we approached the intersection with the roaring broke trail we heard voices. A couple had just come down from climbing Giant and reported decent conditions for the final push.

The ascent went well with some cool views of the impressive slides on Giant. We decided on the way down we'd wear snowshoes to make the slick spots easier. The snow up high stayed supportive all day. As we got on the summit knob we were buffeted by strong winds and snow. We had hike from Spring to winter in just a few hours. On top we got a brief glimpse of the valley floor before the storm dropped the curtain on us. We threw on some layers to enjoy a snack and see if we could catch another peak of the view. It wasn't meant to be so back into the treeline we went to put on our snowshoes. This was Justin's first time snowshoeing and after some getting used to them, he was a natural. He did really awesome on the entire hike. I knew he was fit but climbing these mountains is a little...different than other types of exercise and he took to it very well.We decided that rather than go down the slick rock and over the sketchy bridge, we'd take the Roaring Bridge trail down even though it would add over a mile to our hike. We were able to get much farther down the mountain with snowshoes on then we would have been able to taking the ridge trail down. The trees and primarily western exposure meant deeper snow lower down the mountain.

It snowed during our descent and as we got lower it changed from slush to rain. The trail also changed from snow to patches of ice to mud. Justin got to experience nearly every possible condition the high peaks have to offer. Roaring Brook was doing what it's supposed to do. It was a welcome relief to walk down some more gradual terrain as we approached the intersection. Though I knew we'd be adding mileage, I hadn't realized we'd have to climb 500 ft to get back up to Giant's washbowl. Oof. As we climbed, the skies truly opened up and we just had to laugh. Rough conditions! The pond was quite pretty and we had a fun time noticing all the beaver activity which seemed pretty old at this point. The cliffs as you approach the washbowl and on the other side of the it from the trail are quite pretty and remind me of Japan. Swirling mist made them even more majestic.

 

We followed the shore of  the Washbowl until closing the loop with our approach. The icy bridge was no longer iced over but still looked pretty treacherous and was glad we didn't have to cross it again. The trail sign at the intersection read 0.7 mi to Route 73 which was truly a sight for sore eyes. Though we maintained a very upbeat attitude during the hike it was certainly a challenging one and the dream of being out of the rain and heading towards warm beds and dinners was a sweet one. We paused again at the first overlook and marveled at just how different conditions were. A few switch backs later we packed the car, dried off the dog as much as possible and made our way down to Albany. It was earth day and what a great way to celebrate it. Fully immersed in some dramatic conditions on a truly stunning piece of green earth. My coffee refill at Stewart's was free too which was just icing. It was great sharing the trail with an old dear friend and seeing yet another face awed by the majesty of the Adirondack High Peaks. 

BC Part 2: Garibaldi Provincial Park.

All photographs courtesy of Jeanette Carioto

After emerging from the sacred land of the Stein River Valley, we continued on north then west through the towns of Lillooet and Pemberton on our way to Squamish. The scenery was breath-taking and I think in some ways this was one of the highlights of the trip. Seeing this part of the countryside. It was as quiet and remote in this mountainous region as I could want. The views grew increasingly dramatic. The terrain changed from the dry interior mountains to the lush and snow-capped coastal mountain ranges that British Columbia is famous for. In Squamish, we stayed at a brew pub. Super awesome experience. Who doesn't want to walk down from their hotel room and have a cold beer and a hamburger? Especially after several nights in the woods. We ate, relaxed and got ready for our hike in Garibaldi Provincial Park.

Our new buddy. Rte 99 outside Pemberton

Amazing scenery along the way

View of the Chief from our Hotel Room in Squamish

Beer.

Jeanette was feeling a bit under the weather (we often both spend parts of our big trips sick from the travel) and had a hard time with the start of the hike. Considering we had several miles of switchbacks ahead of us, I could certainly understand the lack of stoke. The forest was certainly gorgeous, with towering pines dotting the slope. The pitch was impressive as was the engineering that went into the trail. They don't build em like that in New York.

The morning climb

 As we got up onto the plateau, the impressive scenery helped Jeanette forget her illness for a little while. This place was as stunning as all the literature suggested it would be. The weather was perfect too. It was crowded though! You could tell this area had a similar use pattern to the Eastern High Peaks. Whereas the Stein Valley hike was maybe more like the Cold River Valley of the Western High Peaks, more of an off the beaten path part of the parks. It was worth braving the crowds though. This is the British Columbia I'd heard so much about. We started out in a mountain meadow full of flowers and pine trees before making our way down to the lake shore.

Wild flowers of every color

Black Tusk is the name of the rock formation

Once on the shore of Garibaldi Lake we were even more blown away by the other worldly scenery. As we crossed the outlet of the lake, trout swam and rose in the crystal blue-green water. I of course thought of my dad, the famous trout fisherman and figured this would have been his favorite part of the trip.

see the trout rise?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We hung out on the Lake shore and took pictures. I couldn't resist taking a swim in the unreal waters with the glacial back drop. It was as cold as it looks. After making our way back down, passing some smaller lakes and a stunning overlook at the volcanic dam that created the lake we return to town and spent the night in a place called the Hotel Squamish. It turns out this was the upstairs of a bar and liquor store. The room was small, hot and kind of crappy hahaha. As it got dark, the bar downstairs got bumping. Really bumping. There was a DJ spinning and the bass was shaking the room! We were pretty pissed. If we knew there was going to be a bumpin bar downstairs we never would've booked the room. I went down and tried to get the DJ to drop the volume just a little. It got so bad I even tried to find another room in town so we could get even a little sleep. We must've gotten some but it wasn't very good. Looking back the situation is almost comical. At the time, laughter was not a part of our evening. So a weird end to a pretty amazing day. From there we'd be starting the next leg of our trip: the drive across Vancouver Island to the village of Tofino and sveral nights camping in Pacific Rim National Park.

The Other One

            I began the journey into the history and the present of the psychedelic movement with On the Road. I'm sure I chose to read it because its on that list of books that make you seem cool if you've read it hahaha. You take that journey with Jack Kerouac and because you’re a novice and because he was writing as a green noob, you start  making the connections of inter-connectivity for the first time with him.  To me, while it was perhaps the easiest to relate to Sal, Dean was the character that captivated. Most are certainly aware going in to the book, that that the main character is Jack the author, and Sal is Neil Cassady. You might have heard legend of this folk song hero of a man who dropped dead counting railroad ties (not actually true). Getting to know him turned out to be my favorite part of On the Road. 

Kerouac and Cassady

Cassady driving in the 50's. Allen Ginsberg took the photo.

            Slightly before that for me, was One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I chose to read it for a book report as a freshman in High School. I can’t remember how much I knew about Ken Kesey before that but the author and the book were more of these volumes you had to read if wanted to be able to participate in the upper level cultural goings ons. The cool parties, the deep conversations, the  knowing glances shared, possibly with girls. Yeah, I was a dork. Yes I continue to be a dork. I got lost in the world quickly, ensnared by Kesey’s prose, not quite understanding what this book had to do with hippies. I couldn’t recognize at the time how psychedelic his style of writing really was. I wasn’t yet awake in that respect. I simply read about the people in this Oregon Psychiatric Hospital and raged at the injustice of it all in typical teenage fashion. I didn’t know at the time that the book was written while Ken Kesey was working at a similar facility. And was taking LSD. He participated in one of the early and now-famous government experiments with LSD.  Kesey quickly realized how vitally important and world changing this substance/ experience was and “liberated” large quantities of it to bring back to his friends. The Merry Pranksters.

Kesey

Kesey and the Pranksters (also Chet Helms on his right).

            It was probably while working on that book report I learned a little more about Kesey and his path. As naturally curious about mind-altering substances as I was, information about LSD certainly wouldn’t have gone overlooked. I probably heard at this point about Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. I finally now had the document I had been looking for reading those other books, here’s what happened, here’s how they opened the door. The stories were so huge, so beautiful, I almost couldn’t believe it... but man did I want every single word to be true. That people could live together like this, to open their doors completely to each other, to want to share it all with the world! The limitless possibilities of humanity if everyone could just turn on. I was shocked to find out the Neil Cassady had wandered out of the 50’s beat scene and right into the pranksters camp. Is it any wonder though? Things were fated. Meant to be. He carried that torch lit by all those early poets, those beat cats with their Benzedrine and their seedy joints, the preliminary explorers.

Kesey and Cassady with the pranksters.

           Now NeilCassady, hero of one generation still had enough fire in him to inspire, and chauffeur the next. He juggled a sledge-hammer, he drove the bus. He talked very fast. He wasn't just in the flow, he was the flow. Who better to drive the merry pranksters across the country? His resume, descriptions of his driving in On The road made him the perfect conductor for this next leg of the journey. So there’s Cassady, now with Kesey. It’s the early 60’s in California. What other forces of culture were changing the world at this time? The Grateful Dead. Through 1965 and 1966 the Merry Pranksters hosted a series of parties known as the acid tests. At these parties all those attending, who chose to, drank LSD laced punch and were given a safe and twisted environment to experience the trip in. Who better to play than the Grateful Dead?

"Cowboy Neil at the Wheel"  Neil Cassady driving further.

           

    
   My dad liked the Grateful Dead. He bought American Beauty and Workingman’s Dead on vinyl when they came out. We had those old white plastic cassettes of those albums in the car and listened to them on trips. My dad loved ripple and always sang along. I always remember the songs my dad sang along to. It was powerful as a kid to see your parents moved to share in the music with the band. Early goose bumps starting to see the power of music. He always sang along to Cecelia by Simon and Garfunkel and Looking out my Backdoor by CCR. So I “borrowed” (he never asked for them back) Workingman's and Beauty from my dad and listened on my headphones. It was the early 90’s and the Grateful Dead couldn’t have been any cooler to a pre-teen/ teenager. I was always drawn to the hip scenes as a terminally unhip kid, whether it was the punks in Op Ivy tee’s and Doc Marten’s or the hippies with their tie dyes and Birkenstock’s or Teva’s (so 90’s, I know). So I bought my overpriced tie dyes and listened to the albums, only understanding the superficial of what the Grateful Dead were.

         My dad gave me some more albums, now on CD, including some live albums. I finally got a bit of taste from releases like the From the Vault series and Without a Net of the Grateful Dead live show. I didn’t get Pigpen tunes yet at all. I didn’t get Without a Net at all. I do remember the Help>Slip>Frank from One from the Vault did catch my ear, especially the iconic Bill Graham introduction. I got that all right. The sound and track selection from spring 1990 (featured on Without a Net), which is now probably my favorite era, didn’t click with what I thought the vibe of the Grateful Dead was all about. What I had heard on Beauty and Workingman’s.

            So I didn’t fall for the Grateful Dead all that hard at the time. Playing and listening to Punk occupied me for a few years. As I got more into jamband stuff, Phish at the end of high school and the Disco Biscuits in college, I collected 10-15 Grateful Dead shows along with the Phish and Biscuits I downloaded. I wanted a well-rounded collection. I certainly dug the 72-73 and 77 stuff I had. I even bought Dick’s Picks 7 on CD at the Borders on Wolf Road. That’s a very time diagnostic sentence right there.

So while I was listening to that stuff I read a few more Kerouac’s and found some new heroes. Kurt Vonnegut very quickly became a favorite. As did Tom Robbins. These guys paved the way for my outlook from college till the time after and taught me how to treat people in the world. Taught me to let go of what was holding me back. To participate fully, to immerse myself in this life. I kept reading the Kesey books, each time more fully understanding them as I did my best to follow Kesey's path in my own way. Sailor Song and Sometimes A Great Notion to me are some of the highest novels I’ve ever read. Each book changed and became a part of me. I ripped through Robbins and Vonnegut books, devouring the tastiness. I made myself savor the remaining Kesey novels, knowing they were much more finite.
    

                                                

            In my early 30's I finally fell much more deeply in love with the Grateful Dead. It started when I realized streaming Dead shows off of archive.org was a great way to make a slow office day pass more pleasantly. I was also working on my winter 46 and taking a lot of early morning solo drives to the Adirondack high peaks. Having a Dead show to listen to kept me alert and attentive and distracted me from over-thinking the coming hike. Pretty soon it was all I was listening to. As an anthropologist, tracking the changes through the years, noticing the patterns in the setlists and thinking about how the band changed and grew with the historic events that surrounded them became a fascinating pursuit. I learned deeper meanings in the songs as I read along with David Dodd's annotated Grateful Dead Lyrics. At the end of Wharf Rat, the man listening to August West seems to  become the next wharf rat himself! Estimated Prophet tells the story of a twisted, spaced out street preacher who thinks he's the second coming. The haunting tale of a poker player who simply can't put down the cards and walk away in one of my absolute favorites, Loser. Such rich tales, so much to get lost in. Hunter and Barlow's words crept into my DNA.

            This leads me to the initial idea that sparked this post: The significance of The Other One. I was listening to the 9/30/80 performance of the Grateful Dead at the Warfield Theater in San Francisco. The band played a string of shows in the fall of 1980 at the Radio City Music Hall and the Warfield Theater. From this famous run of shows that featured an acoustic first set, tracks were used to create Dead Set and Reckoning. I hadn’t spent a lot of time on the run yet and had only done so early on in my adult dead phase so was pleasantly surprised with just how good this show was.  I had  previously left off mid drums so almost put on something different for the drive down to work. I’m really glad I didn’t because the space>The Other One was gorgeous.

All photos The Grateful Dead, Fall 1980.

         A huge piece of the puzzle firmly clicked into place,  falling more deeply in love with The Other One while listening to this performance. Plain as day, this foundational piece of the Grateful Dead repertoire  referenced the psychedelic awakening chronicled in The Electric kool-aid Acid Test and mentions Neil Cassady by name! Further, the bus he drove the Pranksters across the country in serves as a metaphor for the entire cultural movement. I found out reading Scott Allen’s Aces Back to Back Bob Weir, rhythm guitarist for the Grateful Dead and Neil Cassady were even roommates for a time. How deeply intertwined all these people, these pieces of art and this awakening all were! How much was I meant to be listening to this music and how amazing was it that I had been tracing these threads since I was in junior high?!?! Much like a faint trail through the woods, scant traces of the animals or humans who went this way before you, these paths through our media and culture can be followed and yield as impressive fruits for our labors as those paths through the woods followed. Sometimes 20 years of books, concerts experienced, conversations had, and leads pursued, can bring you to one song that really ties it all together.

 The Other One   

Words and music by Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, and Bill Kreutzmann

Spanish lady come to me, she lays on me this rose.

It rainbow spirals round and round,

It trembles and explodes

It left a smoking crater of my mind,

I like to blow away.

But the heat came round and busted me

For smilin on a cloudy day

Comin', comin', comin' around, comin' around, comin' around in a circle

Comin', comin', comin' around, comin' around, in a circle,

Comin', comin', comin' around, comin' around, in a circle.

Escapin' through the lily fields

I came across an empty space

It trembled and exploded

Left a bus stop in its place

The bus came by and I got on

That's when it all began

There was cowboy Neal

At the wheel

Of a bus to never-ever land

Comin', comin', comin' around, comin' around, comin' around in a circle
Comin', comin', comin' around, comin' around, in a circle,
Comin', comin', comin' around, comin' around, in a circle.