[Journal entry for January 23-24, 2013; Overnight at Surebrook Mountain Shelter, Harriman State Park]. Weather predictions were favorable for the night being cold and clear, so I pack up for my annual winter camp-out in Harriman State Park. I selected Surebridge Mountain Shelter this year. I have been working my way through photographing all of the Park’s eleven shelters (Bald Rocks, Big Hill, Brien, Cave, Dutch Doctor, Fingerboard, Surebridge, Stockbridge, Stone, Tom Jones and West). This is the penultimate; I have only Cave left.

Overnight parking is always dicey in Harriman State Park, both because of security and because one doesn’t quite know what is acceptable to the police. I therefore tend to reuse a few sites for which I have had good luck in the past. The Lake Skannatati lot, off of Seven Lakes Drive, is one of these. I arrived there about 3PM on a cold (15F) and partly clear afternoon. I chose a somewhat complicated route, in order to keep the distances manageable in the scant two hours that I had before sunset. I walked Seven Lakes Drive north to the Hurst Trail (blazed in blue), westward, then the Appalachian Trail (blazed in white), southward, to Surebridge Road (an unblazed woods road), northward and the Long Path (blazed in blue), southward, to the shelter. My estimate of about ninety minutes to hike the two miles, booting it over thin snow, proved accurate.

I had ample opportunity to admire three of the Seven Lakes, Skannatati, Ascoti and Tiorati) as I walked along Seven Lakes Drive. All were covered with ice, with interesting patterns where the warm weather that we have had over the weekend had melted the overlying snow. Tiorati was the most beautiful, as the melting had produced large circular features in the mid-lake. I also admired the many ice formations that had formed where springs emerged from joints in the rock cliffs on the west side of the Drive. I joined the Hurst trail just as I passed the southern end of Lake Tiorati and took it westward, up onto Fingerboard Mountain, a long, skinny north-south oriented ridge. I passed Fingerboard Shelter, a three-sided lean-to beautifully made of fitted stone and located just east of the ridge crest. It was uninhabited this evening. The open, highland area atop the ridge is very enchanting. I poked around for a few minutes, climbing up a little knoll to get an eastward view. Several White Tail Deer walked past me.

I then joined the Appalachian Trail, taking it “southward” (really westward), down off the east side of Fingerboard Mounatin into Surebridge Valley. The trail is steep in places, so I had to tread carefully to avoid mishaps. At the bottom, I forded Surebridge Brook by steeping from stone to stone. The brook is flowing modestly, and mostly covered with a thin layer of ice, lit up in evening pastels. I joined Surebridge Road, a one land woods road, just east of the brook, and took it northward, past a phragmites marsh as far as the Long Path crossing. The Surebridge Shelter is a quarter mile or so “southward” (really westward) on the Long Path.

Surebridge Shelter is a three-sided lean-to made of corrugated steel, with a raised wooden sleeping platform within. A handwritten sign proclaims it “Codpiece Hut”. I think this an off-color pun, made to emphasize its minimalist construction, for a codpiece is the medieval version of jock strap. The hut is built on the hillside, a little below a rock ledge that overlooks to the north. I climbed up and watched sunset. Upper Cohasset Lake, in the Arden Valley to my north, and the hills beyond it, were already in shadow, but the sky beyond them had pretty, pastel-pink clouds. The setting sun, off to the west, was only visible through the trees. On my way back to the shelter, I carried a few dead-fallen branches down from the overlook, to use as firewood.

Back at the shelter, I set up camp in this austere, but perfectly functional, camp site, unpacking my gear, inflating my sleeping pad and unrolling my heavy-duty Mountain Hardware sleeping bag (rated to fifteen below). I dusted snow and dead leaves off the fire ring, located a little downhill from the shelter, and hunted around for more firewood. It was plentiful this year, on account of Hurricane Sandy. In addition to picking up many small branches, I cut six three-inch diameter logs from a dead-fallen beech tree, which I hoped would burn slowly during the evening. I stacked all the wood in the fire ring, leaving room for a tin can crammed with dry leaves and doused with gasoline – my usual fire starter. By this time, the evening was getting rather dim and the temperature had dropped into the single digits Fahrenheit.

I set up my kitchen, firing up my MSR Whisperlight Stove. Gasoline-fired stoves such as this one are one of just a few options for winter hikes. Stoves that use a propane-butane mix function only poorly when this cold, if at all. As it was, I had trouble stating the stove; my fingers were very cold by the time I fixed several minor problems. I rewarded myself by heating up a big pot of hot chocolate. While sipping the chocolate, I boiled water for couscous. After I took it off the stove to simmer, I fried up a thin piece of steak and an onion. Before starting dinner I donned my heavy down suit, a NorthFace Himalayan primarily made for technical climbing at high altitudes. It always keeps me warm while sitting around camp, even in the coldest weather I’ve ever experienced. I then lit the bon fire and ate my couscous and drank my hot chocolate, sitting on the edge of the platform of the shelter, and watching the flames. I sang a few songs while the evening progressed. I also listened carefully for animals. I could occasionally hear faint barking to my east, though I do not know whether it came from coyotes or dogs. The moon was shining and lighting up the snow, so I had a good view of the surrounding woods.

I went to sleep about eight o’clock. I looked around a couple of times during the night. The moon was still shining, and the constellation Orion was adjacent to it in the sky. My sleeping bag did its job; I had no trouble with chills during the night. I arose at seven AM. The sun was still below the eastern hills, and the shelter was still in shadow, though I could see sunlight slowly creep down the hills to the north. Finally, at around eight, the sun’s rays reached the shelter. The temperature when I awoke was about zero Fahrenheit. The cold morning slowed me down considerably, for I did most of my chores wearing think clumsy mittens. I cooked a breakfast of eggs and ham, having kept the eggs warm in my sleeping bag during the night. I had put water in my pot in the evening. It was frozen in the morning, yet I was able to easily (if not quickly) thaw it using my stove, and thus make more hot chocolate. After packing up, I headed back, retracing yesterday’s route across Surebridge Brook and over Fingerboard Mountain. Surebridge Valley was particularly cold! The crest of the mountain was in sun and very pretty. While not exactly warm, the rays of the sun felt good on my face. Once again, I sighted several deer.

I was pleased that my car was intact and unticketed when I arrived back Lake Skannatati – and that it started in the cold. It was now about ten o’clock and though the sun had been shining for several hours the car thermometer read only ten degrees Fahrenheit.

About sixteen hours.