For one reason or another, humans have always searched for meaning through the most meaningless of activities. It seems the closer we come to truly doing something for "no reason," the closer we come to finding meaning in the activity. My search for this kind of meaning led me to The Catskill 3500 Club. The club has an intense mission: Climb to the top of all the mountains over 3500 feet within the Catskills park boundaries. Don't be fooled by the patch of honor given to successful "aspirants" who complete the goal. There could be nothing more pointless than peak-bagging. It is for this reason, I've made it my first priority.
It's freshly February, so I'm jumping right in. The holy committee at the 3500 club has ordained that one must climb 4 specific mountains in the winter months: Balsam, Blackhead, Panther and Slide. I have stood atop 3 of these but never in the middle of winter. I'd need some new gear. Any purchase can be justified by safety and the boy scout motto, "always be prepared." I quickly order an ice ax, a balaclava and some damn warm gloves before I can think about what it's costing me. The biggest gear question is traction. The trails of the catskills were laid out by an absolute sadist, so you never know when you'll be scaling a 15 foot section of near vertical rock. In the winter these spots are usually coated with a layer of ice, making it very tricky to go up and especially down.
The brown slime.
It's the morning of my first hike. I'm late. I'm always late. 2 miles into the park, the road starts turning brown. First a line in the middle of the lane forms up. Then it slowly takes over the entire surface of the road. The further into the park I go, the thicker the layer of brown slime on the roadway. I do not know how this substance forms. I suspect it's from the same family of slime as the coating formed on one's floors after a houseparty with too many guests.
This brown slime seems composed of snow, ice, salt, gravel and mud. The brown slime is mostly harmless, but once in a while it becomes completely ice or completely gravel, which could be catastrophic to my efforts to remain upright. This slime has me feeling very uneasy. I pull hard on the brake lever several times with varied results, sometimes grippy, sometimes slippery.
I am not in a rush so I slow way down. Blinkers on, riding near the shoulder slow. I'm on one of my favorite backroads, Ulster Rt. 47. I have ridden it a dozen times. It's fast and twisty as it follows rivers though frost valley. Riding along at 25 mph. The bike starts to levitate. No longer atop a 600 lb bike, at this speed, it feels more like riding a very fast bicycle, with an immaculate powerplant and great suspension. A wonderful feeling. I go even slower. I can hear the flow of the river and a bird chirping. The ride to the trailhead takes over two hours at these speeds.
The parking lot for the trail to Giant Ledge and Panther Mountain is in the eye of a downhill hairpin. The brown slime has formed thick here and I take the corner at 5mph and pull into the icy lot. There is a man getting into his car in the spot next to mine.
He glances over and asks, "how do you FEEL riding in this weather."
"Stupid" immediatley pops out of my mouth.
"I'm asking because I used to ride a lot in this weather.... fell a lot."
He doesn't say anything else, gets in his car and drives off. A real charmer.
It takes me forever to strip out of the motorcycle gear and get into the hiking gear, but eventually I'm on my way. The trail is snowy and slippery and I have to immediately stop to put on crampons. On the ride here, I noticed that the mountains all turned white at a certain elevation. Very beautiful. I've just discovered that the white color is caused by a layer of ice that is hanging on every branch leaf and rock. The weight of the ice pulls the branches down into the path smacking me in the face with shards of ice.