Moving Vertically

Moving Down A Rock Face

is not your average style of travel. Yet when an outdoor traveler needs to get to point B but point A is on a shear rock cliff you have but two real options. No! jumping is NOT one of them, you can go around if that's possible or you can climb down.

Rappelling or as my European cousins call it Abseiling is the technique of moving down a fixed rope in a kind of walking or at times jumping action. The tools and methods for rappelling are many and varied but for the most part allow you to do the same thing, slide down the rope.

Rappelling is considered one of the most dangerous aspects of mountaineering. The reason is simple, it is one of the few times you as a climber are solely reliant on your equipment for movement and safety. Never the less, it is fun and a damn handy skill set to own even if you seldom use it.

You never know when you will need to escape a burning high rise or a jealous husband.

To this end, a freakishly warm spring afternoon spawned the strangest of ideas, we'd take a walk to the near by cliff and step off.

Three of us gathered for the trip, my good friend Pat would join me and as a weird form of birthday celebration so would Russ. HAPPY BIRTH DAY BROTHER!

Russ had done some scouting and found a semi friendly out cropping over looking the west side of town. Not only did he find the jump off point, he found the anchor and even cleaned the pitch for us.......damn he's handy to have around.

We dropped two ropes and assorted clanking junk into our packs and converged on the cliff.

While I do love the thrill of danger, I'm not stupid. Here you see I'm waring my official Magnum P.I. safety shirt. While waring this I'm safe from falls and volcanoes.
With loose rock still a threat to safety, we wore rock helmets for the first trip down....just in case! The surface of the rock had very sharp edges that could ruin a new rope and turn a controlled enjoyable trip into a screaming life flashing before your eyes kind of thing, luckily Russ had a jacket we could use to saddle the rope into and keep us safe. With couching from the Birthday Boy, Pats turn was smooth safe and enjoyable.

Russ donned his safety Straw Cowboy hat and hit the wall.

The spring breeze whipped up and soon became a full on wind.

As the designated belayer (safety man) I monitored the speed of descents and prepared to arrest any fall, I also lost my seat gear, it slipped off after Pats jump. All I could do was photograph it for posterity.

Silly isn't he?

A view of The River Bridge as seen from the hillside, the border of New York and Pennsylvania.

A nice day in the sun with friends, what more could you ask for? A cool drink maybe.
Practise Practise Practise.............rappelling isn't like falling off a log you know. it's a bit higher.

The April Fool

TROUT!
The time of year has rolled around again for me to think of Trout and of the places they live. After my scout into the Neversink Gorge unique Area with Russ, I just knew my first casts of the year would settle on these pools and pockets in this part of my beloved Neversink. So on a rainy and cool April first, I set out after my first Trout of the year.

I carried no waders and wore only my hiking boots. I chose a five weight St Crox four piece rod that was a gift from my late friend Frank. He and I took many Trout years ago, before his God called him to cast a line with him. He "left" me the rod to as he put it "take care of for him".

With pride Bro!

As before the hike to the water was two miles from my trusty rusty, but this time I had the GPS to short cut me right to my plotted spot. The RED trail was so easy to follow that Stevie and Ray could have found it, it took a bit of nerve for me to step off into the forest. The trails are so well defined that the carpeted forest floor looked even more foreboding.

And still more trails I decided not to follow.

The rain held off for most of my trip down into the gorge but the sky was a constant grey that told of wet times ahead. The soft moist leaves made little sound under my weight and I liked moving like a local instead of just a visitor in this wild wood.

I crossed the most beautiful mountain stream as I descended. Hidden in the trees and flowing out of cracks in the rocks, the springs emptied into one as they rushed toward the Neversink below. It seemed like a post card, almost too perfect. I sat for a moment to drink it in with my eyes and ears.

The Neversink was just below me and I could smell the air freshening. The breeze that always seems to follow water was cooling things down and making my spirits rise, lets hope the Trout would as well.

River side history, an old hunters treestand still hangs as a skeleton on a tree. The stand is gone and maybe the hunter as well but the hunting still looks good. Time for a SPOT check, I tested my satellite messenger three times in the gorge. Three times it sent strong OKAY massages. Its a nice feeling to have a babby sitter.

At last I made the river, its stones causing the water to crash around making a thunderous hiss. Some of these rocks weighed tons.

I turned my camera skyward to view the other side of the canyon, its walls high and formidable, home to Eagles and Hawks.

I moved up stream into an area where the water calmed and the foam line was evident and inviting. I love pocket water and this trip produced a seven inch Brook Trout from one of these pockets, but I wanted to wonder and the quiet deeper water just seemed to beckon me.

The river was narrower here but the walls on the other side of the gorge seemed to go straight up. Ice hung from the rocks where the Sun's rays had a hard time filtering through. Just under the waters surface I could discern the undercut ledge rock behind the foam line...Trout ville!

Only one Trout this trip and not even a photo for the Blog thanks to a long distance release, but wow what a trip. I had my lunch on a boulder in the rain before starting the long climb out. Old trusty rusty was waiting to coddle my weary rear end in the parking lot. As always the measure of the trip's value is in the quality not quantity.

I'll be back, next time with Sam.....watch out Trout!

THE FOAM IS HOME

Trout Fishermen and indeed Fly Fishers in my region have many options as to where their quarry should be pursued. Many of our local lakes and streams produce wonderful Trout and great opportunity for sport.

I had heard of one particular area not very far from my home that Internet Fly Fishers were whispering about. The Neversink Gorge Unique Area is a six mile stretch (5000 acre) of my home water that snakes through what was until recently, not only wild and lonesome country but Private Property. New York State's acquisition of lands accessing this unspoiled region was only arranged and finalized within the last ten years so the area is by my standards at least, relatively untouched.
The topography of the area is what one would reasonably expect when you think of a "gorge", steep-rocky and unfriendly to the ankles not to mention parking access is two plus miles from this coveted river frontage.

Rumours abound of pocket water and deep pools where big Browns just wait for your nymph to bump by. Some have reported on Eastern Fly Fishing sites that a healthy population of Brook Trout inhabit these waters as well as some of the tributaries that feed it. With mild weather forecast for the next few days and an incurable curiosity, I did what I always do..........I took a walk.

Russell was as usual, accommodating when I asked if he'd like to "take a walk". The idea of marching on new ground is always enticing. With just a few items for safety and little else we set out for the gorge.

The trail in started as a delightful walk of various widths and winds.

Trails..............


All leading down.......

and down some more.........


The lands here are apparently full of Woodpeckers and Coyote and Bears........Oh my.

Sign and scat abound.

Just when the landscape started looking common and predictable we found an uncommon structure. A Wikiup frame sat off the trail in the side of a hill. The frame needed covering and additional support but when finished would have provided shelter to four people. Over sized for my needs but an ambitious project worthy of our time to explore.

Evidently I was not the only one getting tired. This old boy was just nodding off when I walked by.

We had a good idea where the river ways, we just had different good ideas.

At last the distant sound of hissing thunder told us we were close. As we slugged over a soft watery bench in the topography, we could see the Neversink below. The foam lines shining in contrast to the dimly lit shadows of the gorge. If pocket water is the prise I was after, I got the brass ring. This place was just run after run of pockets and holes, the white water and bubbles pumping life into the oxygen rich water. The place smelled of Trout and the promise of fine fishing, great photo ops and many lost flies.

Giving scale to the depth of this gorge, Russell's orange hat can just be made out on the far right bank in the shadows. Steep sided and boulder strewn, this is no place to be after dark or if injured. It's one hell of a climb out. I tested SPOT's reception out of the gorge and was pleased to find it could get out.

The Neversink Gorge turned out to be a trip I'd look forward to doing again and again, if not for Trout then for the beauty of the area. Wild and little touched by outsiders, this "unique" area holds promise for adventure and inspiration.

We booked out before sundown and looked over my maps and GPS way points, discussed the walk and alternative approaches.
A full day, exploring/charting and

hiking on new terrain. Good friends....

What else can you ask for?

Sam just has to see this.