Mt. Colden

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Mt. Colden
4,714 ft.  |  Ranked 11/46 in height  |  24th peak climbed  |  22 to go

We arrived at Adirondack Loj around 7:30am, to the pleasant realization that it was a solid 10* warmer than our trip up Whiteface last month.  We parked at HPIC, got into our gear — snowshoes for three of us, cross country skis for the one of us crazy enough to ski up a mountain — and signed in to the trail register around 7:45am.  We were already at Marcy Dam by about 8:30.

Mt. Colden from Marcy Dam

Marcy Dam

 

The trail along the Van Hoevenberg was fairly well broken by earlier risers than us, but still had a fair amount of powder from Friday’s snowfall.

After crossing Marcy Dam, we headed toward Avalanche Lake, stopping to check out the conditions at the Hudowalski and Kagel lean-to’s.  A chickadee flitted around the campsite.

At the junction before Avalanche Lake, now 3+ miles in, we finally started really ascending toward Indian Falls and Lake Arnold.  When we got to the junction with the trail to Indian Falls, we were glad we’d come around by Avalanche rather than Phelps Trail.  The trail from Phelps via Indian Falls wasn’t broken through the powder until we watched a duo come through with fully loaded packs, bound for Feldspar Lean-to.  They were really earning every step of progress.

Lake Arnold

From there the trail up to Lake Arnold was relatively well broken, and was not so much difficult as just relentlessly ascending at a constant rate. When we got to Lake Arnold, it was as quiet and snowy as Marcy Dam had been.

Once we passed Lake Arnold, it became clear that a fair amount of the traffic along the trails must have been bound for Feldspar Lean-to, because once we passed Lake Arnold toward Colden, the snow became much less packed, and much looser powder.  Not as many snowshoes had been through.  It was also deeper.

Trail markers were much closer to the snow surface, and the trail was less well defined.  There were plenty, I’m sure, that we never saw under snow.  In a few places, we had to stop and look pretty hard for the next one — clearly people going before us had too, because there were several choices of footprints in the snow to follow.  It took some care to follow the right ones.

As we went over the first bump and passed the Alpine Zone sign, Adam finally swapped the skis for snowshoes.  Even with skins, it was getting steep and narrow to keep going on skis.

After the bump, there was a quick descent, another small bump, another quick descent, and then up to the actual summit.  From the distance, the drops and gains in elevation looked pretty daunting – all those pine trees between Points A and B!  …Until we looked across and saw a group of three hikers ahead of us, on the actual summit ascent.  They were about three times as tall as each pine tree, or at least, what stood above the snow on each pine tree.  Ah, perspective… mountains buried in snow are much nearer than they appear.

Trail marker!

Bumps behind us, we headed up to the actual summit.  The trail markers above snow depth were few and far between.  It was hard to say where, exactly, the summit was.  I’m sure there’s a benchmark, but it’s probably several feet down from where we stood on the snow.  Finding the summit in winter can be a little anticlimatic that way.  It was windy and cold, but we walked around for a while, content that at some point we stepped over whatever the highest point was.

Even Algonquin was mostly hidden by the clouds and light snow.

We could see Adam’s skis on the bump from the top:  the straight line about midway down the open snow:

On the way back down, we got back under the clouds and got some slightly better views to the north of Tabletop and Phelps.

Lake Arnold – about 1.4 mi. from the summit

The descent went pretty quickly, as 6.2 or so miles go.  Down to Lake Arnold, there was a fair amount of snowshoe sledding going on.  Each step was good for three or four times its normal distance in sliding downhill on the loose powder.  It was worth learning to work with it rather than fight gravity.  After we got below Lake Arnold, Adam went back to the skis and left us all in the dust.  The three of us snowshoed our way easily down.  We hit Marcy Dam again around 3:45, and the parking lot not much past 4:30 or 4:45, with an hour+ of daylight to spare.

I’d expected the day to take much longer than it did.  We did Whiteface, about 2/3 of the miles, in about the same amount of time a month earlier.  But then, almost half of the 12+ miles on this trip were fairly flat.  It made for a great day trip.  All I’d like for the next one is… a little more sun!

Whiteface in Mid-Winter

January  15, 2011:

Whiteface Mountain | 4867 ft. | 5/46 in height | 1st winter peak

Looking for something new and exciting we took our friends Adam and Jen up on an offer to teach us to snow shoe.  Since they live very close to Lake Placid, near the base of Whiteface, and Jayme and I knew the trail from having done it in the summertime, we decided to give it a shot.

Careful gear planning is a must.  EMS sells a Tech-wick base layer (T3 – the heaviest), covered by micro-fleece pants, and then gore-tex rain pants over the top of that kept our legs warm.  Tech-wick layers, then fleece, then waterproof shells (5 layers) on top allowed us to keep from freezing when we stopped, but remove excess insulation when we got moving and our heart rates went up.

The snow shoes were MSR Denali EVO Ascents and I would recommend them to anyone; these shoes were more than enough to keep both of us floating, and had enough grip to keep us from slipping unless the snow was very loosely packed.

We woke up early at Adam and Jen’s, climbed into the Subaru, and were at the trailhead gearing up at 7:45 a.m.  The temperature was a mere single degree.

The first mile of the trail is extremely steep, first down and then back up to the summit of Marble Mountain.  It was cold, but clear and our best views were from the little summit near the beginning of the day. We saw (and heard!) quite a few birds in the barren deciduous trees atop Marble.

The view from Marble Mt.

Where the Wilmington Reservoir Trail meets the Atmospheric Science Research Center Trail

Just past and below the summit the trail merged with the main trail from the Wilmington Reservoir to the summits of Whiteface and Esther.  The second mile was just as steep as the first to where the spur trail to Esther diverged from the main path.  Now into the Alpine Zone (3,500 feet +) the woods took on a new look and winds picked up considerably.

Chris in the Alpine Zone

Jayme doesn't even see the wild Adam coming!

Eventually the trail meets the seasonal Toll Road (closed this time of year) where the tree cover vanishes and the wind begins to howl.  We noticed as we left the shelter of the woods that there was snow falling, and we could see the wind whipping up near the peak.

Jenny exposed to the elements

After a short trip up the road (the foot path was iced over and looking pretty treacherous) we found the castle atop the mountain (a strange and foreboding sight in the trackless winter) and made our slow ascent up the last few exposed rocks just below the summit.

The final push to the top.

Despite -18 degree weather and no way to measure the wind chill, all four of us pressed on, occasionally stopping to break ice off our faces from where the sweat had frozen to our skin.  Goggles will be a purchase in the near future, but even without them we found the top and got our first Winter 46′er Peak!

Jen and Adam on the summit.

Jayme and Chris at the summit.

We didn’t spend long on the summit.  The falling snow cut visibility to about a quarter mile and left me with an unnerving feeling of staring into oblivion.  Winter peaks are beautiful and alien at the same time.  Even though 1:30 is the warmest part of the afternoon, we were starting to get cold eating a quick lunch and made a break back down to the tree line.  Once under the cover of the pines, the wind was much easier to tolerate and we made quick work of the descent, returning to the car by 4:45 p.m.

This was our first winter hike, but won’t be our last – the snow was beautiful and in some ways made the hike much easier since the snowpack was easy to walk on and doesn’t require you to carefully choose where to step to avoid ankle injuries.  The biggest challenge, aside from keeping our faces from turning to ice at the summit, was keeping water bottles from freezing in our packs.  In the future the bottles will be filled with warm water and put into a soft cooler in the backpack.  Camelbacks (with thin tubes that freeze the first time they fill with water) will be left at home.

The Dix Range

September 18, 2010:

Macomb | 4405 ft. | 21/46 in height | 19th peak
South Dix/Carson| 4060 ft. | 37/46 in height | 20th peak
East Dix/Grace | 4012 ft. | 42/46 in height | 21st peak
Hough | 4400 ft. | 23/46 in height | 22nd peak
Dix Mountain | 4857 ft. | 6/46 in height | 23rd peak – halfway to 46!

After last week’s parking lot disappointment, we gave the Dix Range a second try this week, with a few adjustments.   The overall plan was similar, though:  a counterclockwise loop from Elk Lake Trail head, doing Macomb, South Dix, East Dix, back over South Dix, Hough, and then Dix; camping at Slide Brook.

To ensure that we’d get a parking space, we drove up Friday night instead of Saturday morning, arriving at

Golden!, right?  Alas, the parking lot (with its welcoming signs demonstrating tolerance of creative parking)

looked like this:

Get out.  Really?!   At 6:30 on Friday!?

We did manage to snag a space, and saw one other party snag one too, after a group of hikers who were finishing up a week-long traverse came and picked up their car, freeing up a space.  But we also saw one or two parties turn around disappointed — 6:30 on a Friday, and the lot was already packed for the weekend.  Whew.

Memo to Hikers:  NO, you DO NOT need 3+ feet of space between yours and the car next to yours.  We saw it last week, and we saw it again this week.  A Mini Cooper with 4-5′ of space on both sides?  That’s uncalled for.)

We packed in the 2.3 miles to Slide Brook Lean-to, which as you might guess from the state of the trailhead, was occupied.  We pitched our tent along Slide Brook (which was actually not as hard to do in the dark as we were afraid of), ate the sandwiches we’d carried in, and headed to bed.  It was chilly, probably low 40′s overnight.

We woke up shortly before the ~6:30am sunrise, chomped through our instant oatmeal and instant coffee (note to self:  try Starbucks Via next time?), filtered extra water, pulled snacks for the day out of the bear canister (which we now own instead of rent – we are Serious Campers now), and headed off.  We started up the herd path at the cairn marking at 8am.

The morning was misty and cool, with some low hanging clouds and a bright sky behind them.

As we made our way up to the slide on Macomb, the clouds started to burn off, and we could see Elk Lake behind us.

The slide itself, on Macomb’s western face, was a pretty cool feature to climb up.  It’s supposedly about 1/3 mile long as the crow flies, with lots of elevation gained.  Lots of loose rock and soil, but great views.

Above, Chris provides some size perspective on the sheer size of the slide.

Since the route to Macomb’s summit (as with South Dix, East Dix, and Hough) is unmarked and unmaintained, these cairns are all there was to navigate by.  Up the slide, they were just pleasant reassurances that we were going the right way.  At other points during the day they were less helpful – they might point out an intersection, but surely don’t tell you which way to go.

Once we reached the top of the slide, it wasn’t much longer to the top of Macomb, apparently alternatively “McComb,” our 19th peak.  We reached the summit in under 2 hours from Slide Brook, summiting a few minutes before 10am.  After a quick rest and snack on the summit, we headed off over the top and down the north side over to South Dix.

South Dix is being renamed Carson Peak, after Russell M.L. Carson, who wrote Peaks and People of the Adirondacks.  I guess former NY Secretary of State John A. Dix doesn’t really need 3 mountains (Dix, South Dix, and East Dix), the wilderness area, and the whole range named after him.  Fair enough.

South Dix offered some beautiful southwestern views, and some fun boulders just shy of the summit, but the summit itself was unremarkable and easy to miss:  an “x” shaped axe cut in a pine tree at about eye level and a yellow disc high up on the same tree.  Coming from Macomb, it’s immediately next to the herd path, on the right side.  We passed it at 11:05, just over an hour from Macomb’s summit.

The summit on South Dix, our 20th, was kind of a walk-by, and we headed straight on for East Dix.  Like South Dix, East Dix is also being renamed – Grace Peak – after Grace Hudowalski, who passed away in 2004 with the distinction of being the first woman to climb all 46 high peaks.  (Apparently Hudowalski is too hard to say?)

The col between South & East Dixes is considerably longer and deeper than that between Macomb and South Dix.  We got to the top just after noon, and were treated to some nice views to the south and east, and blue skies:

The much-taller Dix was visible over our right shoulders as we hit 21 peaks.

From East Dix/Grace, we retraced our steps back to South Dix, to the unmarked junction of herd paths near the summit.  Of the 3 directions to choose from, the eastern direction heads to East Dix, the southern direction heads to Macomb, and the western direction heads to Hough via Pough (which, at 4,068 ft., would be a high peak but for its proximity to Hough).  Either a compass and map, a clear day to navigate by landscape, or both are necessary to navigate this intersection and the subsequent variety of herd paths that seem to go nowhere up and down Hough.  We had both, and were lucky not to make any navigation mistakes.

Hough was exhausting.  It was fairly steep, with lots of up & down thanks to Pough on the way.  The herd path was easy enough to follow with daylight and no clouds, but I can see how it’s hard with any complicating factors.  We reached the summit at about 2:25, more than 2 hours after leaving Grace.  We stopped for a snack and took our boots off in favor of dry socks while enjoying the western views, now about 8 miles and 4 peaks into our day.

With 4 down, but the biggest to go, we got ready to leave Hough for Dix via the Beckhorn:

That is an imposing looking ridgeline, coming up the right/east side from Hough to Dix.

We left Hough about 2:45, and headed on.  We’d caught second winds, or maybe just a sugar rush from some chocolate on the summit, and up we went.  The Beckhorn offered some huge boulders that were legitimately difficult to get up and over – admittedly more so for the 5’2 member of our party than the 6’2 member.  It was kind of fun, despite how tired I was.  From the top of the Beckhorn (which looks like it might be the top of Dix when you’re coming up, but surprise! no it’s not!), it was a quick run over to the top of Dix.  When we got to the top of the Beckhorn, we saw a trail marker for the first time all day – what a luxury!  Paint blazes and yellow discs marked the way to Dix’s summit, our 5th peak of the day, the halfway point in our 46r quest, and the 6th tallest of the high peaks.

Colvin Range (foreground) and Great Range (background) from Dix

Dix Mountain summit benchmark

Elk Lake & Dix Mountain Wilderness from Dix Mountain

How far we’ve come:  in the foreground of the picture below, the Beckhorn.  The three bumps along the ridge about a third of the way from the right edge – those are, L to R, East Dix, South Dix, and Macomb, where we summited earlier.

Although the views were great, we knew that with a 4:30 summit on Dix, we couldn’t linger for too long.  We opted to take the yellow trail back to the Beckhorn, and then southwest from there toward Elk Lake, rather than the blue trail for Hunters Pass looping down from the northwest side of Dix.  The yellow trail is much steeper, but 2 miles shorter.  We were taking a little bit of a gamble on being out of the steep stuff in daylight, but not too much.  We knew it loses elevation really quickly over the 2.3 or so miles, gets progressively less and less steep as you descend, and that sunset wasn’t until 7pm, giving us between 2-3 hours of daylight left.

The yellow trail wasn’t too bad.  Some big boulders up top, but after that it’s just a relentless straight downward shot.  No real views, just down.  We were glad we were descending such a grueling trail rather than ascending (as you’d do for a clockwise loop) — our ascent had been marked by periodic views of the valley, Elk Lake, the Great Range to the west, and other pretty features, whereas this was just trees and effort.

We hit the junction with the red trail to Elk Lake Rd. about 2 minutes before the 7pm sunset, and 30-45 minutes later we reached for our head lamps.  This section of red trail contained a lot more up & down than the way into camp from the other direction had, and we were exhausted.  We moved carefully but steadily along, past Lillian Brook and on to the Slide Brook lean-to.  Our tent was hard to find in the dark, but we just went to the brook edge and followed it down until we found it.  We made it back about 8:20, over 12 hours of hiking after we’d left.  Dinner was as fast as possible; we were glad to hit the sleeping bags.

In the morning, we woke up around 7 to gray skies.  We ate granola bars and skipped the instant coffee (I was not crushed) for speed, and packed up our mountain house.  A little bit of rain sprinkled on us as we hiked the 2.3 miles out to the car.

One of the rocks in the path partway out to the lot had a benchmark in it that I’d missed on Friday night – who knew?  Never saw one of those not on a summit before.

When we got to the parking lot, chaos appeared to reign.  When we signed out at the trail register, there were nastygrams in the margins with notes like “LEARN TO PARK!”  One hiker resorted to parking another car in, leaving the keys in his car, and a note in a ziploc bag under the parked-in car’s windshield wiper describing the location of the keys so that the parked-in could move the car to get out.  Another hiker opted to leave his Ford Expedition smack in the middle of the lot, figuring everyone else had enough wiggle room to back and maneuver out around him (thank you very little, sir).

The trailhead closes in 2 weeks for hunting season, and it seems everyone wants to get in before it does.  It’s hard to blame them – the Dix Range was a really fun hike; beautiful views, new navigation challenges, and the ability to cover a lot of summits in a short period of time.  It would be nice if the lot were a little bigger – but that might spoil how peaceful and quiet it was there, another plus to the Dixes.

The Art of Happy Redirection

(Or, how to make the best of a weekend without succumbing to the urge to key somebody’s car.)

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Nye Mountain
3,895 ft.  |  Ranked 45/46 in height  |  17th peak climbed  |  29 to go

Street Mountain
4,166 ft.  |  Ranked 31/46 in height  |  18th peak climbed  |  28 to go

We spent most of the week looking forward to a big peak-bagging weekend in the Dix Range.  I went to EMS to rent a bear canister, bought food, and arranged for dog care.  We drove to our friends house (Adam and Jen for those of you following along) in Saranac.  The place is fantastic, it is a camp along a river that they are lovingly converting to a year-round home in the woods.  (That said, we may wait until the bridge repairs are finished before we visit again; be warned that a “Summer ‘Road’” is an oxymoronic concept in case one of the locals tries to convince you otherwise.)  After being treated to steak, local beer, and good company we set the alarms and went to bed dreaming of mountains.

The morning of September 11th we got up at 5:00 a.m., had breakfast, took a look at the river in daylight, and got on the road to the trailhead by Elk Lake.  We were at the trailhead by 8:30 a.m. and there wasn’t enough room in the lot for Adam’s Civic.

Yes, a Honda Civic.  Adam could probably have stuffed it into that monstrous Gregory Whitney 95 on his back, but there was no way in hell it was going to fit in the parking lot.

What really burned me was that had one or two people parked a bit more courteously, we all could have fit without any issues.

After a few moments cursing the dearth of parking space, and the jealously guarded (and frequently tow-truck patrolled) private road over which the State has only an easement, we turned back and decided to head into Heart Lake to try Colden, Street, and Nye.

We arrived at Heart Lake only to find tour buses, mobs of college students swarming the HPIC, and a sign indicating that the parking lot was full.

There was no way we could even think about parking the Subaru in a congested lot, but now it was the Honda’s turn to shine.  Jen found a way to squeeze the little Civic in between two cars in the lot.

That said, parking cost us our early start and we didn’t hit the trail until 11:00 a.m.  Our plan leaving the parking lot was to climb Street and Nye with Adam and Jen, part ways afterward (Adam and Jen have dogs at home that needed their humans home for dinner), and then Jayme and I were going to pack into Marcy Dam, pitch a tent, and hike up Colden the next morning before heading home.

The trail began on the Heart Lake Trail (the same one you use to get to the base of Mount Jo) and continues on an unmaintained trail west onto State Land.  This trail is really pretty pleasant, flat, and easy to follow.  In about 45 minutes (give or take) we made it to a wide stream.  Last Columbus Day this stream was waist deep and raging, preventing us from attempting these two peaks.  This time the stream was much lower and we skipped across some rocks.  After passing a little swamp (in case you’re ever there, don’t bother with the bypass on the left, there are plenty of logs half buried in the swamp to keep your boots dry) we crossed the little brook twice more.

After the third crossing we saw the remains of a little lumber camp off to the left of the trail.  Several fuel canisters, a bottomless washbasin, and something that might have been a wagon tongue or piece of logging equipment are still in place.  The first three miles or so were fairly flat and follow the brook; the last mile is somewhat more steep and there is an odd notch in the trail where it appears to fork.

The first time you come to a place where the trail splits, look to the right side of the trail.  If there is a cairn there, go right.  In fact, if you aren’t sure if you’re at this little notch in the trail, or at the junction, turn right.  If you’re at the notch, you’ll start climbing the steepest last half mile to the junction.  If you were already at the junction, you’ll be at the well marked (albeit viewless) summit in about 8 minutes.

The junction has a tree with an N and an S on it and arrows pointing to the trails to the summits.  Nye is a quick job up and back, but Street was a little bit longer (perhaps forty minutes or so if you don’t stop to rest).

The summit of Street had no views (just a tree with a yellow sign) but just past the summit on the right hand side was a little clearing with some rock and a nice view of the MacIntyre Range to the south.  We had lunch there at about 3:30.

We left the summit a little before 4:00 p.m. and had a pleasant walk back down, arriving at the trail register at about 6:30 p.m.  After Adam and Jen left, Jayme and I cooked dinner on the big rocks by the HPIC before discussing our plans.  We were exhausted (more from long weeks at work than hiking, but tired is tired), hearing stories of groups of 20 people from colleges clogging the trails, packed lean-to’s and tent sites, and considering whether intentionally hiking at night was a good idea.

In the end we decided that it was 8:00 p.m., we’d had a nice day, enjoyed the company of friends, and salvaged two peaks from the vicissitudes of unregulated Adirondack parking lots, but that disappointment at having to change plans did not require us to do something potentially unsafe.

We washed up the pot, packed the Subaru, and drove home with two more flags to pin into our map of the big 46.

Editor’s note:

Jayme expended considerable effort and energy into picking out our family car this past winter.  Finding something that has a separate rear section for Guinness (our lovable but shed-happy Golden Retriever), four-wheel or all-wheel drive, gets decent gas milage, can be parallel parked in downtown Albany, and after all that was still affordable was quite a feat.

There are two trim-lines on the Subaru Forester; the more expensive version has a huge moonroof and heated seats.  Generally we are not “all the bells and whistles” people, preferring pragmatism and thrift to flashy vehicles, but since we found a fantastic deal on a gently pre-owned Forester, we wound up with the better trim-line.

Nothing (and I mean nothing) is quite as decadent as the feeling of heated seats relaxing your back after a day of hiking.  After a quick stop for some water, Jayme drifted off to sleep in the passenger seat – two peaks closer to our goal.

Colvin and Blake

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Mt. Colvin
4,057 ft.  |  Ranked 39/46 in height  |  15th peak climbed  |  31 to go

Blake Peak
3,960 ft.  |  Ranked 45/46 in height  |  16th peak climbed  |  30 to go

Route:  Ausable Parking Lot to Ausable Mountain Club Gate (.77 mi.), Lake Road Trail (2.57 mi.), Yellow-marked Bypass Trail  from Lake Road to Red-marked Gill Brook Trail (0.53 mi.), Red-marked trail to junction of trail to Nippletop (1.23 mi.), stay to the right on Red trail to Colvin summit (0.79 mi.); continue on Red-marked trail over the top of Colvin, down into a col, and then back to the summit of Blace (1.03 mi.).  Return via same route, crossing back over Colvin’s summit.  Day total:  13.84 miles.

We met our friends Adam and Jen at the parking lot, walked through the Ausable Mountain Club, and signed into the trail register at about 9:10 a.m.

From there, we spent less than an hour on the very flat, almost paved, Lake Road alongside a small brook.  The walk was nice, and we chose to take the bypass trail to the Gill Brook Trail since the Lake Road Trail was as well maintained (paved) as we could ask for.

Gill Brook was raging from snowfall and made for pleasant views.  When we got higher up, we noticed a lack of snow and icepack until about 3,300 feet in elevation.  From there, though, the trail was sloppy and postholing slowed the four of us down.

After about two and a half hours we came to the Elk Pass junction, which leads to Nippletop Mountain.  From there, we had a nice walk up a creek (literally as it was frozen to the top of Colvin and stopped for lunch.

Chris and Jayme at the summit.

Adam and Jen at the top

After finding the summit marker (and being duly impressed by Adam’s knowledge of the first ascents in this part of the park, we descended the col between Colvin and Blake to start our assault on Blake Peak.  Little did we know that a 1.2 mile round trip would be marked by steep, almost technical, scrambles over exposed rock faces and trails full of sloppy snow.  It took almost three hours.

Climbing down a crack

The view from the top of Blake was hard-earned and unimpressive, but we made it up and stopped for a sock change.  We moved fast on the way out, but ran into even sloppier (and even postholier) snowpack on the way back.  Then it rained, slowing us down further.  Before we could make it to the Bypass Trail, the clouds and fading sun forced us to use headlamps.  Even better, on the way down the trail we heard what sounded like injured wild dogs or coyotes.  Adam and I were ready to skewer whatever came our way with hiking poles.

Almost all the way back to the Ausable Club gate, we saw sets of eyes in the woods on the side of the road.  Adam and I took our poles, steeled our nerves, and got in front of the girls… protecting them from a ravenous pack of deer.

We meant well anyway.

Two peaks, rain, snowy trails, and lightning outlining nearby peaks as we got in the car, but at the end of the day it was a great hike with good friends.

Gear Review

Microspikes v. Yaktrax

The clear winner to my mind is Microspikes based solely on durability as opposed to performance.

Yaktrax

Last October Jayme and I took a pair of walker Yaktrax up Wright Peak.  These traction devices did just what we expected them to do – keep us from slipping all over ice-coated rock.  They dug into the ice effectively, were very comfortable, fit over the boots well, and were all around a win for the ascent.  Unfortunately, just before re-entering the timberline as we descended from the summit of Wright Peak, one of the straps broke on Jayme’s Yaktrax.

Lest we go further without undue disclosure, we had the walker variety as opposed to the pro (ostensibly built to deal with rougher terrain), but there seem to be fundamental design flaws.

This is the bottom of the shoe - note that the coils providing the "digging" action wrap around the straps that hold them to the boot/shoe.

The first design flaw is that the soft rubber straps that wrap around the boot/shoe are exposed to grinding and scraping against the rock where they stretch across the bottom of the boot and the sides of the boot (who hasn’t turned their foot and wedged it against a rock to ensure a better foothold?).

The second design flaw is that the coil providing the traction wrap around (and therefore can cut into) the soft rubber strap.  This is what happened to Jayme’s on the way down Wright Peak, the metal coil cut through her strap, leaving us with a traction device we couldn’t keep on her boot.  Not fun with ice-coated bare rock slides to descend.

Microspikes

Yesterday we took Microspikes up the same trail (instead of Wright we climbed Algonquin and Iroquois) and found that the design flaws were corrected by Mircrospikes.  All the rubber straps were designed to sit higher up on the boot where they are less likely to see abrasion or grinding.  Additionally the sharp spikes are not in a position to cut into the securing straps; there is a point where metal meets rubber, but the metal is rounded and the rubber is reinforced for good measure.

The red rubber is easy to see and helps alert you to any slippage of the crampon.

Microspikes are built more durable and easier to slip on and off.  The only downside to these  over the Yaktrax is that when walking over bare rock, you can feel the aggressive spike digging into the bottom of your foot.  A slight discomfort, but you know for sure they aren’t going to break mid-hike.

Algonquin and Iroquois Peaks

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Algonquin Peak
5,114 ft.  |  Ranked 2/46 in height  |  13th peak climbed  |  33 to go

Iroquois Peak
4,840 ft.  |  Ranked 8/46 in height  |  14th peak climbed  |  32 to go

Route:  Blue-marked Van Hoevenberg trail from HPIC to yellow-marked Algonquin/Wright/Whale’s Tail trail (0.4 mi.), yellow-marked trail to junction of trail to Wright (3.2 mi.), stay to the right on yellow trail to Algonquin summit (0.9 mi.); continue on yellow/blaze/cairn-marked trail over the top of Algonquin and down the south face to the turnoff (right to unmarked herd path to Iroquois, or left to descend to Lake Colden), follow herd path into col, up over Boundary Peak summit, down into second col, and up to Iroquois summit (1.1 mi.).  Return via same route, crossing back over Algonquin’s summit.  Day total:  11.2 miles.

We signed into the trail register at about 10:20.  It was later than we’d aimed for, but with a couple hour drive and a necessary stop at the Mountaineer in Keene for gear that EMS was sold out of, the time was what it was.

Trail conditions from the HPIC to about 2500 ft. were good for this time of year:  not particularly muddy or wet, and pretty much snow-free.  We wore gaiters, but didn’t need them for this phase.  We moved quickly and easily for the first 2 miles or so.

Probably around 2500 ft., we started seeing the first low-elevation remains of hardpack snow spines along the trail.  Somewhere between about 2500 and 3000 ft., we broke out the Microspikes, a new addition to our arsenal of toys.

Continuing up to the junction with the Wright Peak spur trail, the trail alternated between snow covered and bare, as we weaved through trees (snowy), and bare (where the sun had melted the snow).  The Microspikes went on and off, on and off.  The trail was much easier covered in April snow than it was 6 months earlier, when we went up the same way to Wright, covered with an ice glaze from the Columbus Day weekend rain/sleet/snow/hail.  Well, it was easier technically.  More demanding physically, because the ice slowed our pace in October in a way that the April snow did not.

The trail was reasonably snowy when we reached the junction of trails to Wright and Algonquin, which marked the beginning of new trails for us.

And what new trails those were.  The 0.9 mile from the junction to the top of Algonquin was some of, if not the most grueling sub-mile I’ve ever done.

But for the occasional patches of ice and rocks showing through, long stretches of the snow-covered trail could have been confused for a ski trail – and in fact I’d have killed (or at least traded my chocolate bar) for a pair of skis on the way down.

I didn’t take many pictures because we were trying to make good time, but much of the trail looked like this:

Steep, snowy, and slippery (but for the microspikes), and relentlessly ascending.  The photos look totally benign compared to how it felt.  I imagine it would’ve been even harder without the snow, though.

Near the top, where the sun warmed the rocks, the snow had melted, so we did all the scrambles at the end without spikes.  When we finally made it to the top of our 13th summit, we were rewarded with blue skies and 360 degree views.

Mt. Marcy in the distance

Lake Colden and Flowed Land

Once we made it to the summit, we entered into serious discussions about whether to push for Iroquois too.  Judging from the time, we knew that if we descended at a similar speed to our ascent, we’d probably have to rely on head lamps for the last piece of trail if we went for Iroquois.  Our experiences with finishing after dark are well documented, and not always fun.  We had two head lamps, spare batteries, and knew the part of the trail we were likely to be doing in the dark, though, and really wanted to fit Iroquois in.  It would feel pretty silly to redo Algonquin another day, because the trail to Iroquois passes right over Algonquin’s summit.  So onward we went, keeping an eye on time.

Looking down the south face of Algonquin toward Boundary and Iroquois peaks

This was the extent of the marking for the herd path to Iroquois – a hand written indication pointing in the opposite direction of the trail, which heads down toward Lake Colden.  The entrance to the herd path was shrouded in trees, and might otherwise have been pretty easy to miss.

The herd path dropped down into a col, came up over the summit of Boundary Peak (a 4000+ ft. sub-peak), where a few cairns and blazes marked the way, dropped back down, and then went up to Iroquois.

The path was narrow, and by mid to late afternoon, the snow spines were pretty soft.  It made for careful going.  This was a wider portion, where I had free attention to pull a camera out:

but much of the way the path was narrower, trees were closer, and the top of the snow spine was skinnier.  Microspikes were a big plus, although feet pretty regularly slid down the sides of the spines, and very occasionally post holed.  (That was where gaitors were nice.)  The sliding was mostly a function of how soft the snow was by about 3pm on a sunny day.  The snow was helpful, however, in staying on the herd path, even when it narrowed and was hard to tell from small gaps between trees.  The footprints of hikers before us made it easy to find our way.

I ended up putting a jacket on despite being warm to shield my arms from the balsam fir branches.  They smelled great, but the narrow sections of path were leaving my arms pretty scratched up.

Coming up to the top of Iroquois, there were a few rock scrambles to the top, but nothing too major.  The views were the best of any unmarked trail summit we’ve been on.

14 peaks - Iroquois, with Marcy in the distance

Colden (slides), and Mt. Marcy (snow cap) from Iroquois

Southern view from Iroquois

Somewhat regrettably, we didn’t spend much time on either peak – no peak-top lunches or taking the boots off, just taking a good long look around, a few photos and self-congratulatory high fives, and heading on.  In the back of our minds, we were thinking of the end of daylight.  Our shadows were beginning to lengthen, so we headed back to summit Algonquin again in reverse and head back down the north/west side toward Heart Lake.

Western view from Algonquin

It took a little bit to get the hang of the half hike/half ski-on-shoes routine descending down the steep snowy sections on Algonquin, but the descent was otherwise uneventful – and for being tired, it was pretty quick.  We made it down a solid hour and a half faster than we’d ascended, signing out of the trail register at about 7:50pm, with about 20 minutes of hikeable light remaining.

Sitting on a bench at HPIC taking off my boots and gaitors, I saw the New York State bird for the first time all day:

They seem to be early this year, after the mild winter.  No problems with them on the trails, but the black flies may not be far behind.  We saw a few immature flies testing their wings along the trail.  Fly season can’t be many weeks off!

So there we have it – we’ve now done both of the two 5000 ft. peaks in the Adirondacks, and have finished the one often regarded as the most challenging.  I’d been a little intimidated by it, having seen it from the top of  neighboring Wright Peak (which it totally dwarfs).  It’s probably not the first one I’d rush to re-do, but it would still be fun to do again.  Without tacking Iroquois on, it would’ve been a very comfortable ~7 or so hour day.  Oh, and speaking of Wright – looking at Wright from Algonquin, I finally saw the rusty site of the 1962 B-47 bomber on the side of Wright that we didn’t see when we climbed it:

Wright Peak from Algonquin

Cool to finally see – might be fun to go back sometime and look around a little more.

Wright Peak – Columbus Day weekend, part II

Wright Peak – Monday, Oct. 12, 2009

4,580 ft.  |  Ranked 16/46 in height  |  12th peak climbed  |  34 to go

Picking up where we left off…

After packing out from our Seymour hike, we headed to Lake Placid, where weather.com via my iPhone informed us that we could expect it to be cold and a bit snowy through the evening, but sunny on Monday until evening rain/snow accumulation.  We were cold, a bit wet, and torn — the hard part about getting into the warm car with the heat blasting, was that it was really, really hard to talk ourselves into leaving it.  But, we had dog sitting lined up through Monday, had the time, would at least have some sun, and knew we’d probably regret it later if we headed home.

Our conversation turned to what day trips remained on our 46r mission — we’ve done a majority of the peaks that can be comfortably done as day trips already.  We floated the options of camping at Heart Lake and hiking Street and Nye, camping at Heart Lake and hiking Wright Peak, and packing the 2+ miles into Marcy Dam, camping there, and then hiking Mt. Colden.  In any event, it looked like we were headed to Heart Lake.

As we headed east on Rt. 73, our stomachs now warm with burgers (mmm), the snow flakes started swirling in the sky.  We thought long and hard about tenting in the snow, and even harder about packing into Marcy Dam in the dark to do that.  With concerns that our tent might be wet from being packed, and knowing that it was no more than 30 degrees, we reached an agreement:  we’d head to the Loj, and find out if, by any lucky chance, they had two beds.  If they did, we’d stay wherever they could fit us, and pick a peak(s) to do in the morning.  If not, we would yield to the weather and head home.

We got lucky.

We arrived at 7:40pm, 20 minutes before the front desk closed.  Of the 46 beds in the entire Adirondack Loj, there were exactly two left, and they were even in the same (4-person) room!  I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so lucky or so warm in my life.  We snapped them up, carried our gear in to dry, and reveled in how cushy the next 12 hours would be.  Hot water, coffee and tea in the great room, beds with blankets, bathrooms, breakfast at 7:15 the next morning… and no snow.  It was heavenly.  The rest of the guests looked as though they thought we were nuts, coming in looking like we’d been outside for 2 days.  They were, without exception I think, members of the Long Island chapter of the Adirondack Mountain Club, up for a group event.  They were very friendly, but looked more apt to arrive in jeans with duffle bags than in muddy gaiters with backpacks.  Our beds were only available because two gentlemen who came up on Saturday, didn’t care for the weather and headed home early (thankyouthankyouthankyou).

We settled in and started looking at the maps, and tentatively picked out Street and Nye to do on Monday.  That plan was axed when we heard that the holiday weekend guided hike to those peaks was scrapped because there was a stream crossing that had risen to waist high.  In August, yes; October, no thanks.  We considered Colden, but felt that we’d rather camp at the dam in order to do that one in a day.  So Wright Peak it was.

Heart Lake

Monday morning dawned clear and cold.  Breakfast at the Loj was the best eggs and corned beef hash ever made.  Bar none.  It’s been alleged that they were instant and canned respectively, but I don’t believe it because in my mind they were that awesome.

We stopped at the Information Center for trail condition reports on the way to the trail head, and got the warning that climbing above 3500 ft. was not advised without crampons, because of ice.  We made sure we had our Yak Tracks, and headed out.

It was 0.9 mile on the Van Hoevenberg trail to the junction with the trail to Wright/Whale’s Tail, and then 2.5 miles along the trail to the junction of the trails to Algonquin and Wright, with 0.4 mi. to Wright’s summit.  As predicted, above about 3,000 ft. it was clear that winter was on her way.

Weapons-grade icicles

Believe it or not, these icy rocks were actually the best alternative for getting up the trail at this point.

"WARNING: Weather subject to severe change. Do not proceed beyond this point without proper gear."

There were a few people who did the peak in sneakers.  I was so afraid I was going to see something I wouldn’t want to see happen.  Everyone that we saw made it out ok, but talk about inadvisable…  I can’t imagine that the park was without rescue incident on some peak that day.  I would not have been comfortable trying to summit without the Yak Tracks on my boots.

The approach to the summit reminded me a lot of the final approach to Marcy – same bare type of summit.  The less steep approaches were marked with impressively big cairns.

The summit offered 360 degree views, and was great – but freezing!

12 peaks!  (with Mt. Marcy behind us)

Heart Lake and Whiteface in the distance. The swaths of red maple leaves show pretty well the path of the trail that we'd come up.

Algonquin, from Wright's summit

Initially, we’d hoped to try Algonquin after summiting Wright, but we decided against it as the sky got grayer, and the afternoon got later.  Ascending over the ice had taken more time than we’d expected.  Also, Algonquin is huge and intimidating! – and since it’s taller than Wright, we figured the trail was likely to be icier.  It’s ok – we can do Algonquin just as easily paired with Iroquois as with Wright later.  (Probably by camping at Lake Colden, rather than Heart Lake.)

From the summit, we descended the 3.8 miles back to Heart Lake faster than we’d come up – some of the ice had melted.  We signed out of the trailhead comfortably by around 4:30.

We were glad to have gotten the peak in – although that may be it for the year; more ice doesn’t sound fun.  Before heading back to the car, we went down to see Heart Lake.  After 3 days, and over 20 miles of hiking (half of it with a fully loaded pack), my feet were beat.  I took off my boots to rinse the mud off in the lake, and waded in.  I lasted maybe half a minute before the numbness set in – but it felt great!  Looking forward to next spring’s hikes.  We may not have gotten the 4 peaks this weekend that we’d planned, but we had a great, and unexpected adventure.

Seymour – Columbus Day weekend part I

Seymour Mountain – Sunday, Oct. 11, 2009

4,120 ft.  |  Ranked 34/46 in height  |  11th peak climbed  |  35 to go

The trip we planned:  Sat. 10/10:  Leave Corey’s Rd./ Seward trailhead on to hike in along the Ward Brook Truck Trail to either the Blueberry Lean-To (4.5 mi.) or Ward Brook Lean-To (5.4 mi.) depending on occupancy.  Leave the heavy packs; continue on to the Seymour Mountain herd path, ascend, summit, descend and return to the lean-to (just over 4 miles round trip), and camp for the night.  Sun. 10/11:  hike to herd path to Seward, Emmons and Donaldson, summit each and return to spend Sunday night at the lean-to.  Mon. 10/12:  Pack out at a leisurely pace.  Possible variation:  Seymour on Monday (instead of Saturday).

The trip we took went totally differently.

The plan, in order to fit Seymour in on the first day, was to arrive at the trailhead aggressively early, and reach camp by early afternoon.  Through a combination of unrelated setbacks, we didn’t arrive at the trailhead until late morning.  Discouragingly, it was raining.  Friday’s storms hadn’t quite moved far enough east yet.

Corey's Rd./Seward Mountain Trailhead

Not to be deterred, we piled on the Gore Tex:  rain jackets, pack covers, and gaiters (new for this trip!), and headed off.

Pack weight (dry): 34 lbs. Ooft.

The rain stopped soon into the hike, and we were encouraged by the brighter sky.  The trail was a wet mess — muddy, with so many stream fords that we lost track — but we thanked the someone up there for the genius of Robert W. Gore, et al., and splashed through.  (Gaiters were a MUST.)

Blueberry lean-to was already occupied, with a tent city set up around it, so we continued on to Ward Brook lean-to.  A couple from Montreal was already there, but there was plenty of space to pitch the tent nearby.  We pitched the tent, made dinner, and huddled around the fire.

Ward Brook lean-to and fire pit

Dinner time: Mac & Cheese. Blue Nalgene for filtered water, opaque Nalgene for red wine.

The camp fire was tough going, since it had rained that morning, but among the 4 Americans and 4 Canadians calling Ward Brook home for the night, we were the clear fire stars:

My daddy didn't raise no fire-building fool...

Bedtime found temperatures in the 30′s, and goose down a welcome friend.  We didn’t stay asleep, though — between midnight and 1am, we awoke to the first cold rain shower of the night passing through.  Between then and 6am, the rain came in fits and starts, waking us up with alternating pouring and drizzling.  I was pretty freaked out.  I’d never tented in the rain before, didn’t know how well our tent would hold off the water, and had never tented in such cold weather.  (My 35-degree rated sleeping back was meeting its match.)  Getting soaked was not on the menu.  With each shower that swept through, I woke up, felt around the edges and listened, afraid of finding a puddle.  Miraculously, I never did.

Our tent is the next best thing to amphibious.

Puddles on the footprint, but not in the tent!

After dawn, we bundled up, crawled out, and assessed the situation.  Our tent was a rockstar.  Soaking outside but bone dry inside, the tent was pretty amazing.  We’d pitched it on ground that was at about a 15 degree angle (felt a little like sleeping on a hospital bed), but it worked in our favor, avoiding any major pools.  All the same, it was a confidence shaker for the start of the trip, and looking skyward was really foreboding.  We discussed options, and decided that with the sky looking the way it did, we weren’t comfortable starting on the Seward Range as planned, for a 10-12 hour hike.

Then the hail started, confirming that sentiment.  Small hail, but little bits of ice falling on our oatmeal all the same.

Hey! Who ordered breakfast on the rocks?!

Scrapping the Sewards was looking smarter and smarter.  We considered our options, and packed up the tent and the bed rolls.  The hail relented, though, so with (slightly) brighter skies we opted to give Seymour a shot before packing out, figuring that if we had bad luck with the weather, at least we could summit the single peak and still get back out to the car before dark.

Cairn marking the turn from Ward Brook Truck Trail to Seymour herd path

The herd path was a new experience.  We’ve done peaks before with unmaintained trails (Esther and Tabletop), but this was a new level of minimalism.  The first third was wet, but easy, following and crossing back and forth over the brook coming down from the mountain.  About halfway up, we came to a cascade that marked the beginning of the more difficult climb.  The bald rock in places made it hard to tell where the herd path was, and the mud made it slippery.  Aside from a little hail on the lower portion, though, the weather held, and the sun even came out.  Woohoo!

The middle third was the hardest of the hike (both ascending and descending).  Once we started the approach to the false summit, the climb eased, and heading over the false summit, down, and up the actual summit was very pleasant.  The look of our surroundings also changed – it was like we stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia.

At this elevation, the rain on our tent overnight had been snow!

11 peaks!

A tag on a tree was the only indication of the summit, but the views just beyond the summit were better.

Seward, Emmons, and Donaldson, from Seymour

We had the summit to ourselves, making another opportunity to use one of my backpack luxury toys – my little Joby tripod.  Wrap that puppy around a tree branch, set the camera timer and presto!  We didn’t linger long, though; it was cold up there once you stopped moving!

The hike back down was uneventful – we made it round trip from Ward Brook lean-to to the summit and back in 5.5 hours, including time on the summit.  Back at the lean-to, we changed socks, loaded the packs, filtered some extra water from Ward Brook, and started the 5+ miles back to the car.  Despite the weight, we didn’t take any breaks, and were out in about 3 hours.

By the time we were a mile out, the sky was looking ominous again, and by half a mile out, a few pieces of ice were falling again.  We were simultaneously glad to have salvaged a peak from the trip, glad not to have gotten too wet or cold, and disappointed at the prospect of leaving on Sunday night.  To that end, we agreed that our plan would be to drive to Lake Placid, for some warm food and iPhone service (to check weather.com), and decide from there what to do.

Columbus Day weekend to be continued…

Big Slide Mountain

Big Slide Mountain – Sat., Sept. 26, 2009

4240 ft.  |  Ranked 27/46 in height  |  10th peak climbed  |  36 to go

Route:  Trailhead at the Garden to Big Slide summit via the Brothers (blue trail markers, 4.0 mi.).  On the descent, followed the blue trail back down to the junction with Slide Mountain Brook trail (0.3 mi.); followed Slide Mountain Brook trail down to John’s Brook (red markers, about 2.5 mi.); turned left at the junction with Phelps Trail back out to the Garden (yellow markers, about 3 miles).  Total of about 9.6 miles.

Parking:  We’d been warned that parking at the Garden was limited (to 60 cars), and that to park there (for $5), we’d need to be there on the early side.  We arrived at the lot at 8:40am — not early enough.  The lot was already roped off as full.  Mildly irritatingly, we counted at least two places were our car could comfortably fit, and a couple more where it could less comfortably fit, but nevermind that.  The keeper of the lot had deemed it full.

Not that it was a huge deal.  She directed us to drive the 1.6 mile back to Rt. 73, and down to Marcy Field (about another 2 miles), to wait for the shuttle bus.  13 hours a day, the Town of Keene shuttle bus goes back and forth – roughly every 20 minutes – shuttling hikers for $3/person for a round trip ride.  (Last bus leaves the Garden at 7pm sharp.  Important to note, per the driver, 7:01pm is NOT good enough!)  We parked, shuttled, and were signing into the trail register by 9:20am.

The beginning ascent from the Garden toward the Brothers was through a fairly open wooded area, where we crossed paths with three deer – alas, I was too slow with the camera – but the area was incredibly peaceful.  The ascent was steady, but very comfortable.  After a mile or so, the trees became thinner,

and the rocks became larger, and we began to see views of the Giant Mountain Wilderness.  1.3 mile in, we reached the first of the three Brothers.

The views from Brothers were, in a word, gorgeous.  The second was probably my favorite.  It didn’t hurt that fall colors are nearing their peak, but even if they weren’t the views are still amazing.  You’ll have to indulge me for a second, here…

Lower Range from the Brothers

Lower Range from the Brothers, part 2

We met Fuzzy The Yellow Caterpillar on the first Brother, in a chance moment in which our heads weren’t swiveling in 360 degrees, trying to take in everything there was to see.  He’s kind of cute…

Birch tree seat

Near the top of the third Brother, we found what has apparently served as a campsight, and stopped for a snack.  When we headed on our way, we descended down into a col, before reaching the junction with Slide Mountain Brook trail, and continuing up to the summit of Big Slide.  The degree of descent and ascent were comfortable through the birch tree filled col.  We stopped and admired a few that had grown particularly oddly, including the tree-chair pictured.

Ladder

About 3.7 miles in, the trail junction came up much faster than we expected.  We stayed on the blue trail to head toward the summit.  This portion of the trail was where climbing got trickier.  There were some enormous rock steps – so large that in one place, a log ladder had been built over the rock.  In most places, it was just a matter of sticking your feet and scrambling.

0.29 mile later, we were on the summit.  What a happenin’ place!  To the southeast, it affords fantastic views of the Great Range (predominantly the Lower Range) but the bare area for lunching is not actually very large.  There are no good views to the northwest, and in the northeast, Giant and Rocky Ridge are just visible.

I’ve never been on such a busy summit before.  Everyone was friendly, but it was tight quarters finding a place to eat lunch!  Disappointingly, my Hershey bar had melted in the sun – obviously the wool hat and wool turtleneck sweater in my pack were overkill.

We lingered on the summit for almost 90 minutes, hoping some of the larger groups would start to head back down, so we could take some photos.  It only sort of worked.  The big groups started down, but more people arrived.  It was pretty anyway, of course – although the summit view wasn’t much different from the views we got from the Brothers.  We got a slightly better view of Basin, Saddleback, and Haystack from the summit.

As usual, we posed for our summit photos before heading back down:

10 down, 36 to go!

On the way back down, we tried to get a few photos of the mountain’s namesake Slide:

the "Slide" in "Big Slide"

When we got back to the junction, we decided to take Slide Mountain Brook Trail instead of going back out the Brothers.  The Brothers were gorgeous, of course, but we wanted a chance to see the Phelps Trail, which goes from the Garden to Johns Brook Lodge, for future trip familiarity/planning.  It made for a longer hike (5.6 miles out instead of 4.0), but even after a lazy stay on the summit, we had plenty of time.

The first half of the brook trail was pretty unremarkable, in terms of physical features.  Lots of trees, no real views, but an easy enough descent.  We were averaging just shy of 2 miles/hour, which for us is a pretty good pace.

The entire length of the mountain brook trail was a really enjoyable stretch for us, though.  Apparently everyone we’d shared the summit with, had chosen to descend via the Brothers for the views (we didn’t see anyone choose the Yard Mountain/Klondike Notch descent), which meant that we had the entire trail to ourselves.  The past two hiking trips have been with friends and family, which is an awesome opportunity – but a different kind of opportunity than hiking just as a couple.  With not a soul around, and no phones, computers, or other distractions, it was really nice to just spend some time together, walking in the woods.

About halfway down, we crossed the Slide Mountain Brook for the first time.  The trail crosses the brook, back and forth, several times and it’s a very pretty stretch.  I’d imagine the crossings are less fun, though, when the water is higher.

In the warmer months, this portion forms pools deep enough for a chilly bath. If the cairn is knocked over, it means someone picked up a leech in the pool.

As we neared the junction with Phelps Trail, we caught our only real view from the descent down Mountain Brook  Trail – but it was a pretty one.

The Slide Mountain Brook Trail comes into Phelps Trail at a t-intersection between Johns Brook Lodge and the DEC Interior Outpost, about 3 miles from the Garden parking lot and the trail head.  The 3 miles out was fast and easy — even wider and easier (albeit longer) than the Van Hoevenberg trail from Marcy Dam to Adirondack Loj.  It was also pretty – lots of impressive and enormous boulders to look at.  We noticed that he leaves there were much greener than at elevation, although the sugar maples have started to turn yellow.

We reached the trail head at about 5:20pm to see the shuttle bus waiting at the end of the parking lot – one of us signed out of the trail register while the other asked it to wait a minute.  We rode straight down to the car at Marcy Field, having lost no time to a wait at all.

We both agreed that this was one of our favorite day hikes so far.  Challenging near the top, but comfortable (I won’t quite call it easy) most of the rest of the way, a high ratio of view quality to effort expended, and easy to fit into a single day with no dusk concerns.  We probably won’t do any redo’s until we finish our 46, but this will be one of the first we come back to.