There's nothing I love more than a crisp, warm, blue-skied day...but let's not kid ourselves, not every day on the trail can be so lucky. One thing about when things go wrong- it is sure to create a lasting memory. I've hiked in so many different places that sometimes, memories of each specific hike blur together. When the weather goes to c**p, though, you better believe I remember exactly where I was, who I was with, and when I was hiking!
A few times that really stand out to me:
- Pikes Peak, Colorado. For anyone who has spent a lot of time hiking 14ers, you know that afternoon lightning storms are a very common occurrence and pose a very serious risk. I had started my Barr Trail ascent at 4:00am, long before sunrise, guided by only the beam of my headlight. The ascent was gorgeous- not too hot, cool breeze, enough clouds to keep the sun from beating on my skin for too long without being overcast. I was taking me time on the summit, enjoying a beer and donut and reveling in the views of the beautiful day. At 14,000 ft. though, weather can change in a blink, and boy did it! I noticed the immediate drop in temperature first. When I stood up, I was blasted by a powerful gust of wind, and with the wind came big, ominous storm clouds. The weather was sneaking in much earlier in the day than I anticipated, which meant it was it time to move. I quickly packed my things and started hustling down the mountain. I usually prefer trail running on my descents so I began with a light jog. When hail started falling around me, that jog picked up to a steady run. My speed ensured I made it below tree line before things really got nasty. At that point, my momentum just carried me and I never stopped my run for all of the 13 mile downhill. My knees were toast by the end, but it was worth it to outrun the storm.
- South Bubble Trail, Acadia. Acadia is one of my favorite national parks. It holds so much diverse and unique terrain in a small, easy-to-access area. The hikes are super fun and challenging with incredible views of the ocean. Not to mention, the variety of local summertime blueberry beers are worth the trip in itself. A few years back, my family traveled from all over to meet there for a few days of camping and exploring. Everything about the trip was near perfect, and we all look back on it as one of our all-time favorite adventures together. We had a rough idea of the trails we hoped to do each day, and I think it was day 3 that we had planned for the South Bubble Trail from Jordan Pond. It's only a 3.5 mile hike, so we had 2 other trails picked to follow. It was a breezy, gray morning, but on the coast of Maine, this isn't exactly unusual. A few sprinkles started to fall as our group set off on what we expected to be a quick, easy jaunt. A half mile in, and it had worked itself up to a steady downpour. We were so caught off guard by this weather, and so underprepared because it was such a short hike, that my father was literally wearing jeans. Most of us at least had rain jackets in our packs, but none of us geared up the way we would have for a longer, more strenuous trek. By the time we had made it to the base of the Bubble itself, it was a straight-up typhoon. It was raining so hard with such strong winds that half of the group didn't even venture to the summit. The route requires some rock scrambling and climbing via old metal rungs, so I don't blame them. For those of us who did head to the top, we were clinging for dear life to the surrounding boulders. We were in gale-force winds and soaked to the bone. To communicate, we were screaming at the top of our lungs, and still the sound was barely carrying. When we finally made it back to the trailhead, every single one of us was the most utterly drenched we've ever been in our life. It felt like I had jumped into a pool with all of my layers on, my hiking boots, and my full pack. Everything was soggy. Every. Single. Thing. Even my phone, which was in a waterproof Otter Box at the time, was swimming in a layer of water inside the box. When we made it back to our campsite, we discovered the storm hadn't only wreaked havoc on us, but also all of our stuff. It was cold, wet, and miserable....and it is still one of our most beloved family adventures.
- The Ring of Kerry, Ireland. This one is a bit of a different type of tale, but it certainly lives rent-free in my mind. I was making the drive around The Ring of Kerry, starting out of Killarney and looping through the southwestern part the country. It wasn't so much of a hiking adventure as a sight-seeing trip, but with plenty of stops along the way with short walks mixed in through the day, I think it deserves a place in this list. Now, rain showers and gloomy skies are just part of the Emerald Isle experience, but halfway through the day, I met a surprise I never could have anticipated. I won't pretend to remember exactly what town we were near, but we pulled off to take some pictures of the cliff-laden coast. With the lush green hillsides behind us, and the sharp rock faces dropping into the beautiful blue waves crashing below us, the wind was really howling. The instant I cracked my door- and it really was just that, no more than a crack- to get out of the car for a closer look, the wind blew so hard it snapped the door right off its hinges. It all happened so fast. One second my hand was on the handle, the next the entire passenger side-door of my tiny European rental was laying flush with the front half of the car. Thankfully, rental car companies are surprisingly easy to deal with. It was a wild experience, but it didn't dampen the trip!
What about you? Any crazy storms you've been caught up in while out on adventures?
I'd love to hear them! Stay dry, friends!
So this isn't a 14er, but I reached the summit of Mount Saint Helens at 8800 feet and got slammed by a massive snowstorm with high winds. I was only 1,000 feet from the summit. But I was scrambling up a slick rock plate incline, my hands were numb, and it was getting dark.
I finally reached the summit, where I had to put on my snow shoes and try to assemble my tent. I finally put the tent up, covered it with two tarps, and climbed inside. The wind was rocking the tent. I was too tired even to eat, so I inflated my mattress, climbed into my sleeping bag, and went to sleep.
I woke up at 3 am to a deafening silence. Snow had caved in the back side of my tent and was leaning on me. Against my better judgment, I put my clothes on and walked outside. I knew there were other campers around, but I felt seriously isolated. The snow was caving in my tent. So, I got my headlamp and swept around the base. The moon was half-in and half-out, and the clouds were clearing.
I never went back to sleep. I lay there in the tent until the sun came up. I looked around and took in the summit views, snapped some photos, and started packing up. The thick bed of snow allowed me to glissand down the mountain at twice the pace of scrambling up.
When I got to the bottom, I found the nearest restaurant and had a big breakfast.
@adventurejunkie Whoa! Great share!! Sounds like the big breakfast was well-deserved!