Silver Moonlight

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(Part 1 of a 4-part saga about my September 1981 Adirondack trip. Part 2: “The Banshee Cry.” Part 3: “Ancient Boundaries.” Part 4: “High Slab Climbing.”)
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This was one of the most beautiful – as well as unusual -- nights I have ever spent in the mountains. It was the September Full Moon of 1981, and my objectives on this mini-expedition were Mt. Algonquin via traversing trail and Mt. Colden via its north face slab climb.
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It was to be a lightweight and fast trip with minimal gear. Instead of a sleeping bag I used a half-bag with a parka, both out of good synthetics. No tent, just a 1-pound Gore-Tex bivy-sack, which was really only a water/wind-resistant mummy-shaped sleeping bag cover.
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Starting from the Adirondack (ADK) Lodge Trailhead, I got a very late afternoon start straight up from Heart Lake to the summit of Mt. Algonquin, the second highest mountaintop in the ADK range, and the highest peak of the triple-peaked mountain mass that is also called MacIntyre Mountain.
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Before reaching the Algonquin summit, I stopped to examine the nearby off-trail site where a B-52 had crashed in bad weather into the top of the mountain decades before. An engine-mount is still embedded in a crack.
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On Algonquin’s summit I enjoyed a great view in all directions. It was a beautiful end to a beautiful autumn evening, but the air was fast becoming chilly and the sun was low. On the general summit area I found the only spot suitable for a bivouac, which was a small flat ledge about 40 yards from the summit, to its SE.
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I took off my boots and cooked supper while sitting in my half-bag and parka. As I put my cooking gear away, I watched the sun go down on my right and the full moon rise on my left over Vermont. My feet were pointed south toward Avalanche Pass below and its beautiful lakes: Avalanche Lake and Lake Colden. My next objective, Mt. Colden’s north face, looked very steep and very big. Exhausted from a 10-hour drive and the hike up to the summit, I fell right asleep.
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I woke up at midnight in a beautiful world of silver. There was no color, only shades of silver. I was disoriented at first, not least because the entire world seemed to be below me. The moon was centered in the south, looking me right in the face and reflecting brightly off the lakes below my feet. The whole universe was silver, the moon and sky above me, the mountains and valleys all around me and below me, and especially those lakes and streams below to the south. I saw a small glimmer in the distance that I finally identified as a silver waterfall on some mountainside far below.
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The night was still and peaceful, and this was among the finest moments I have ever had in the mountains or anywhere else. In times like this, my heart aches because I want so much to show such beautiful mountain sights to family and friends. But they never choose to come this way, to make the effort of the ascent. So such beautiful experiences seem to be both the blessing and curse of a solo rambler like me.
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I enjoyed the silver moonlit world around me and below me for as long as possible, trying to keep my eyes open and to sit up. But eventually I fell back asleep.
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(This saga is continued in Parts 2, 3 and 4.)
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-Zenwind.