The title of this post along with the content below was penned by Redline Guide Mike Maciel (followed by his photos). With him on this varied adventure, a many-time returning guest. So, without further ado, take it away, Mike, and tell the tale.
These are three key functions of our jobs as mountain guides:
- We work with our guests to put together a plan that makes sense based on their goals and abilities, minimizing risk and impact while also maximizing fun and learning.
- We continuously assess changing variables to determine if our plan still makes sense.
- We pivot as needed to achieve our number one goal of getting our guests down safely.
Our long-time guest and I had put together a fun plan: a late summer two-day southbound Presidential Traverse with a night at Lakes of the Clouds. Car spots, food, gear, quality/quantity gummy bears (her responsibility, and yes, the innocuous kind), etc. were all squared away. Then the weather report took an ominous shift… 30s, 40s, sleet, freezing, hail, drizzle, wind chill, exposure risk, were some of the keywords… deteriorating conditions we call them. I’d rather have it be -20 in winter but dry, than have it be 35-45 degrees and raining. To me, it is sneakily the most dangerous weather we deal with. Time to reassess. We pivoted to a northbound traverse giving us more protection on Day 1, hoping the forecast ended up improving for Day 2. In case it didn’t, I also asked the Bossman if he and Rosie the Dog would be on standby in case we needed to bail Thursday — they would be and just like that, we had an insurance policy.
By the end of Day 1 our guest had summited Jackson, Pierce, Eisenhower, and Monroe. She had visited Mizpah Hut. She hardly had any views. Her rain shells were soaked. Her feet wee wet. We were definitely descending into the category of Type II Fun. She would be stoked to see the hut coming down from Monroe, but she could barely see me a few feet in front of her. We rolled in around 4:30pm, changed into some dry clothes (heavy duty trash bags inside the pack > pack covers), and warmed up with some hot tea. All day long while it may seem we were having regular conversation, I am also assessing. The conditions, her comfort, and energy levels, gear choices, and our plan. Each time we got to a sign/junction, there was an opportunity to pivot, if needed. Do we bail down Crawford Path after Pierce? (No.) Do we go over the summit of Eisenhower? (Yes.) Do we go over the summit of Monroe? (Yes, but she considered the option of staying low on the AT and possibly going out/back first thing tomorrow morning.) I say “we” because it’s a modified democracy out there. My guest gets one vote, but in this system I get one-and-a-half. I will almost always ask and listen to her input, but ultimately it is my call to make.
Throughout the evening soaked and chilled people stumbled in from the Northern Presis. Some of them were likely in the early mildly hypothermic stage. They all stuck to their original plans. Not sure how much assessment was going on, but there clearly wasn’t any pivoting. Late leftover dinners, in-group bickering, pack covers that have failed and left them with nothing but a bag full of wet clothes. I asked if they were ok, offered to get a warm drink, and silently wonder if they would’ve made the same choices again if given the chance. Thankfully they all seemed ok, albeit miserable.
On the morning of Day 2 the forecast was even worse. Because we communicated and assessed throughout the day before, we already know the answer: our guest didn’t think she had the Northern Presi traverse in her. We pivoted. After breakfast we’d head up to the summit of Mount Washington and then we will bail down the Cog right-of-way. Mike C (a.k.a The Bossman), and Rosie (a.k.a The Bossman’s dog), picked us up at the Base Station. It was 60 down there.
Up top it was in the mid-30s, it was windy, sleeting, and there was barely any visibility. The rocks were wet. Someone who stayed at the hut passed us with no pack. He said he was just going up for a quick out-and-back. Down on Base Station Road we gave an AT thru-hiker who rode the train with a bum knee a ride to the Highland Center. A little later we’d learn another person never made it down the night before. We’re all saddened to hear this, but we’re also not surprised in such tricky weather. If I’m being honest, based on what I saw out there, I’m in disbelief that it doesn’t happen more often. Rest in peace. —Mike M.
Note: The ordering of these photos is not exact.