Date: 2009-08-29
From: Bromley Shelter

To: Little Rock Pond Tenting Area
Miles today: 17.8

I'd just like to start by saying, "Sun Mountain? My a*se!"It's not even 'Mildly Pleasant Mountain', or 'Look a Glimpse of Blue Sky Mountain'. I couldn't even go 'Chilly but Dry Mountain' (which would have done) and I guess the marketing men, in all their wisdom, discarded 'Mist Covered Mountain'.For me, and I've been here twice, Bromley Mountain is more like 'Miserable Mountain' but then again I guess that wouldn't have brought the crowds flocking in; and so I assume they simply lied.As you may have guesses the hike up Bromley Mountain didn't turn out to be very sunny. It was misty, rainy, windy, cold and exposed. Additionally, it wasn't much fun. My book promised an observation tower and five state views but the only state on view this morning was my somewhat forlorn and bedraggled state.Most days, once you actually get going, turn out not to be as bad as you initially suspect. Today was the opposite. I had only gone a mile and I was already soaked and decidedly chilly. It was the sort of day that offered no opportunity to pause, to grab a quick bite or to consult data book mileages. So I was more than glad to find a hut on the summit, wasting no time before diving inside to be out of the wind. The hut didn't offer much though, other than wind and watertightness (which I suppose is enough). The views were less than stellar: a nearby JCB; and the top of a ski-lift that serviced Bromley, sorry, Sun Mountain but it did allowed me to eat and plan in relative comfort, and to slowly but surely increase the range of movement in my partially numb fingers.I decided to stage the day, focussing on one destination at a time. First up was the 7 miles to Peru Shelter. I reckoned it would just have to be one long unbroken yomp and mentally I broke it down into 2.5 miles to Mad Tom Notch, 1.5 miles to Styles Peak, 2 miles to Peru Peak and then one more mile to the shelter. That way I hoped to keep track of miles, time and comfort levels.   The plan was made, it was time to go but as I headed out for what I suspected would be a 3 hour slog I really would have preferred to be relaxing by a roaring fire with a mug of steaming hot chocolate. Oh well.Arriving at Peru at 10:30 I set my sights on Big Branch Shelter another 6 miles up the trail. Things had improved a little but it was still cold and on days like these there is often nothing for it but to keep moving. As a consequence you clock up a few miles; no sitting around, no resting, no mid afternoon naps, just miles. However, conditions had started to contribute to a bit of a chaffing issue and so while keeping moving I was also gingerly trying to stop the cold wet fabric of by trousers causing to much damage to my more raw and tender regions.On a good day I think Baker Peak could be a lot of fun. I could see some hills in the foreground, a hint of some more impressive stuff lurking just out of sight and there were some potentially nice steep rocky sections near the top. However, today I would remember it more for being slick, blustery and a little treacherous. It was also the scene of what was to become the days recurring theme - me falling on my ass, on my side, and on my face. I'd come over 1650 miles and fallen twice. Today I was destined to eat dirt on three more occasions.I'd taken a tumble this morning when I overstretched to reach a bog board but the wood was wet and slick and with my weight behind me and an apparently a very low coefficient of sliding friction between boot and board my foot slipped away and I fell to earth. Served me right.Now on Baker I overbalanced a little. No big deal, your momentum, or lack of it, combined with gravity or the weight or your pack exercises its will on you, pushing you slowly in a direction not of your own choosing. But it all happens in a sort of slow motion, you feel it and have time to look around for a nice solid place to plant your foot (sometimes no more than a quick 'dab') to arresting your 'list' and to push off once more with purpose and in the right direction. Only this time I didn't quite dab enough, the slow-mo started to pick up speed, a second attempt to regain control didn't quite hit the mark and suddenly I was tumbling. First sideways, then once prone, thanks to the weight of my pack, rolling downhill I was face down and head down but also stationary. Fair enough, you might say, but then, as the weight of my pack pinned me to ground and given that I'm not quite the fine figure of manhood I like to think I am, I had to struggle (like a girl) to get upright once more.Two warnings really should be enough but then with my destination in sight I lost concentration one last time, this time taking a 'header' into the dirt. I'd been walking with my hands in my pockets (due to that chaffing issues) and so, this time, it took me even longer in my feeble efforts to extricate myself from beneath my pack. No harm done though although now my trousers now offered some additional ventilation where they had ripped down both side seams near to the pockets.It was 4 o'clock. I was ready for bed.