Red Horse Creek Fording

Sun penetrates the canopy, glistening off the droplets hanging from the surrounding foliage, leftovers from overnight rains. Birds joyously sing from the tree tops, apparently greeting the dawn of a sunnier and drier day. The Red Horse Creek continues roaring, refreshed from a day of off and on rain. Such is the beginning of my eighth day in the southern Five Ponds Wilderness of the Adirondack Park.

Unfortunately, my thoughts are not of the wondrous window into the natural world unfolding through the entrance of the Trout Pond Lean-to. Oh no! Instead, I find myself awake at six in the morning full of trepidation and dread at the great Red Horse Creek fording before me. This time is no test however, as in a few short hours the real deal will unfold, complete with a backpack full of gear and remaining foodstuffs and boots hanging around my neck.

There is no way to avoid it now. That is, unless I want to engage in a lengthy detour north, which I do not. I think. Maybe.

Section Stats:
Date: July 2, 2015
Length: 0.1 miles (0.1 total daily miles; 34.2 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Easy

From my recollection, it rained repeatedly during the night. The frequent sound of rainfall, combined with the Red Horse Creek‘s roaring and a sprinkle of my own anxiety were enough to rouse me from my slumber repeatedly in the night to relieve myself. Given the off and on rain for the last five days, my chance of the creek water level going down seems very unlikely.

Just my luck too; more water and swifter flow equals even more anxiety. Wonderful.

The temperature is in the mid-fifties, making exiting my warm sleeping bag and preparing to cross what frigid water a Herculean act indeed, especially in early July. I expose my arm briefly to the cool temperatures just long enough to reach out for my cold hiking clothes, pulling them into my sleeping bag so as to warm them to a near tolerable level. Warming up the clothes quickly becomes my newest excuse to stay in my sleeping bag just a little bit longer.

Fortunately, the sky looks partly clear, with ample sunshine, at least, so far this morning. The forecast predicts the current conditions to continue throughout the next two days; fine weather to end my nine-day bushwhacking adventure. Despite the adverse weather for the majority of the days, these last two may just be the highlight weather-wise of the entire trip.

Too bad the anxiety from a sketchy creek fording has to steal their thunder. Ooops, bad choice of words there, huh?

After some more procrastination, I finally emerge from my sleeping bag chrysalis and meet the day. I start by changing into my camp gear (there is no reason to put on hiking clothes until after the fording) and then follow that up with packing up the majority of my gear for a long day’s bushwhack.

Trout Pond Lean-to

When I finally exit the lean-to, I head out for a short jaunt to stretch the old legs before retrieving my food for a hearty breakfast. Anything to delay the inevitable creek crossing! With my camera in hand, I journey down to the trailhead register, where I sign-in just in case I get swept out into Trout Pond later, never to be seen again. As I work myself back to the lean-to, I take some photos of Trout Pond, the chosen fording spot and around the lean-to.

Once back at the lean-to, I retrieve the food bag and begin preparing my breakfast. In no hurry to wade across the creek, I savor every bite, frequently taking a break to pack some more gear. Since I want my backpack as light as possible, I forgo any water filtering, waiting until after fording the creek before replenishing my reserves.

It is nearly half-past nine before my backpack is once again packed up and ready to go. My typical hiking clothes are safely secured within, while my boots are tied together by the laces, tethered around my neck for the big fording. My attire is much like during yesterday’s test run, i.e. rain jacket, bathing suit, Crocs and a hiking pole in each hand, but this time with the addition of my backpack on my back.

Trout Pond

It is inevitable now; fording Red Horse Creek is about to happen.

When I get to the spot I chose to cross, I pause to look across at my destination, a small sandy beach on the other side of the creek. How hard could it be? I did it once before yesterday, so why am I so nervous about repeating the feat?

I steel my resolve, deciding to head for each of the large rocks near the surface as I go, so I can stop and take stock during the crossing. As I take my first step into the creek, I find the water just as cold as yesterday, with the current a tad bit swifter. As I slowly cross, step by careful step, my feet turn slowly numb from the cold, making feeling rocks through my Crocs even more difficult.

When I stumble suddenly, I regain my footing but realize something is amiss. My hiking poles straps are not around my wrists! If I lose my footing again, I could drop one! That could be catastrophic, as it might float all the way down the creek and into Trout Pond, maybe never to be seen again. After I stop and place my hands through the flimsy straps, I resume my crossing once again.

Red Horse Creek

A larger rock provides a place to avoid the current momentarily. It takes some effort to step up on it, but I appreciate it as a temporary respite at about the halfway point. As I step off it, I realize my mistake. The water is much deeper on the far side, and my private parts sink below the surface. A quiet high-pitch screech escapes my lips, as the frigid water touches parts of body that should never encounter such low temperatures.

Luckily, I recover from the experience and the water level slowly retreats on my legs with every step as I start climbing to the far shore. Finally, the sandy beach on the opposite shore is within reach; my pace picking up as success becomes increasingly likely.

Red Horse Creek, I own your ass now!

As my Crocs tread in the sand, the cold water flows out of them, letting my feet slowly warm up. Quickly, I towel off my feet and legs then start changing into my hiking clothes, attempting to increase my body temperature as rapidly as possible. Plus, the clothes keep the black flies off my body, as they are voracious near the creek today; probably also rejoicing for the drier weather today.

Looking back on fording

As I wait to warm up in the early morning sun, I start up my water filter, so as to refill my drinking reserves for the day. While the water trickles through my gravity filter, I plan my next move, setting up a bearing for my bushwhack to Serpentine Ponds, a series of three interconnected ponds that flow into an inland bay of Stillwater Reservoir just south of Trout Pond.

There are only about another half-dozen creeks to cross today. I just hope none require fording like the Red Horse Creek did, as I am not sure my privates can take another frigid dunking.

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