Sunday, February 23, 2014

Sunfish Pond - Winter

I went back to Sunfish Pond last week, and my goodness was it an adventure!  (See my post from September 2013 for more information about Sunfish Pond, including summer and fall photographs.)

I don't know why, but I was under the impression that despite the recent heavy snowfall the trails would be relatively clear and easy to hike.  I was only half correct, and the mistake was almost very costly.  Follow me on my adventure as an example of what not to do when winter hiking for the first time.

AT beginning.

My friend Mark and I started on the AT to Sunfish Pond without too much difficulty with the snow.  I was, however, far more out of breath than I was comfortable with, probably due to the fact that I haven't done any hiking whatsoever in two months (darn you winter!).  Still, the snow was only about three inches deep on the trail, and as long as I didn't step into the two feet of snow on the side of the trail then everything was fine.

Mark at the Sunfish Pond sign.

The snow got deep at times, but it was fine on the trail, and we made it to the pond in two hours - exactly the time I was hoping to make.

Snow up to the knees off the trail!

Beautiful snow, trees, and sky!



The pond, covered with snow.

At least near the shore, the pond was frozen solid!

After enjoying the pond is when things got crazy.  Mark and I started to get a bit chilly, so we moved on from the pond.  Had we been smart, we would have simply taken the AT back and done the trail in the four hours it usually takes.  BUT NO.  Having taken the Dunnfield Creek trail back in September, I wanted to enjoy its beauty again.  So, we started up the little hill and quickly realized that the trail was very different from the AT.  First of all, there was no definite trail, only two snow shoe tracks providing directions.  The snow was around two feet deep, and every five steps or so we fell through the top layer and into the coldness.  BUT, for some reason that I most certainly cannot explain, we decided the best thing to do would be to keep going.

And that was how we found ourselves too far to turn back, slogging through endless snow, and occasionally losing the snow shoe tracks.  Five hours later the sun started setting, and we were out of food.  We were absolutely exhausted, and our feet were dangerously wet in the below freezing weather.  Dunnfield Creek Trail involves seven different creek crossings, and the snow made it impossible to see where the crossing rocks were, resulting in a lot of falls.  Thankfully the Delaware Water Gap is one of the few places I hike that actually gets phone reception, so I was able to alert some people as to where I was - just in case.

An accurate portrayal of what this trip was like.




A little off-trail trudging to make it back.

Since I'm writing this, it's obvious that Mark and I made it through, but it was eight hours from when we started and well after nightfall (thank goodness I had a flashlight).  It was of course my own stupidity that caused the insanity, but it was a lesson well learned.  My muscles were so sore from dragging my legs in and out of the snow that I actually had to call out of work the next day, something I don't do lightly.  Next time I want to hike eight miles in the winter, I'll do a little research about the snowfall first.  Or bring some snowshoes.

j.r.r. tolkien.
Even in hardship, keep wandering.