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Adirondack Journal, 10/4/06 to 10/15/06
May 16 2007 12:42:44 pm EST
Topics: Adirondacks, Backpacking,
Contents
- 10-4-06
- 10-5-06
- 10-6-06
- 10-7-06
- 10-8-06
- 10-9-06
- 10-10-06
- 10-11-06
- 10-12-06
- 10-13-06
- 10-14-06
- 10-15-06
10-4-06 Wednesday
After pulling an all-nighter to get preliminary work on the website complete, I prepared to depart into the Adirondacks. My brother pulled up at 9am. My gear was still strewn about the house, so I started indiscriminately grabbing. I stuffed my Vapor Trail backpack with some gear and threw it in the truck. Second trip I grabbed the food. Third trip I grabbed clothes. On the fourth trip I began to overflow my brother’s spacious rear compartment.
Considering that I wouldn’t have a motor vehicle in the Adirondacks to carry the gear, I was disturbed. Under the haze of sleep deprivation and burdened by time constraints I reluctantly decided to call the trip off for a day.
At some point, most backpackers lay out all their gear and evaluate what needs to be added or removed. Often, people will lay out all the necessities and decide they need to halve that pile. I needed to quarter that pile.
One less pair of socks, one less shirt, one less pair of pants. Less cookware, less reading material, no laptop. Still too much…
One less pair of socks, one less towel, less batteries. An ounce here and there by slow and painful degrees. Finally, I ended up with a burgeoning but manageable backpack. So much for Wednesday.
10-5-06 Thursday
After five hours sleep, I prepared to depart into the Adirondacks. My brother pulled up at 9am. This time I brought a massive backpack in one trip. Uneventfully I pulled away from the sedentary suburban life and into a new feral existence.
My destination—the High Peaks region of the Adirondacks in upstate New York. I chose a taciturn route through swamps, lakes, streams, and mountains, a journey that would take roughly two weeks to complete.
After a brief visit with family in the area, I was on the trail at noon. I started at the trailhead to Round Pond, right off of Rt. 73. My brother was very anxious to release me into the wild, but we said our goodbyes and he was off. I was alone.
As expected, there was no cell phone reception. I was truly disconnected from my support system. I was filled with a sense of angst and relief. I could feel the chaos of the past three years slowly drift away with the autumn wind, and my new life, a clean slate, laid out on a rocky trail into the unknown.
Progress at first was slow. I felt very awkward walking with gear I’ve never used as a whole. I kept stopping, adjusting, and repacking. I felt as if I left something behind, which later on would prove correct.
Despite my insecurities, I was immediately impressed with the rugged beauty of the wilderness. The air was cool and crisp; the breeze was sweet and riddled with the rustling of leaves. The repetitive crunch of my footsteps was soothing. The silence emptied my mind of concerns. Confidence returned.
Before I knew it, I was rewarded with the views of Round Pond. The clear water was sparkling in the sun. The foliage was exploding with color, framed by an azure sky. I was compelled to spend the night there, but so much was still ahead.
I was less ambitious on my first day, heading about four miles to Boquet River Lean-to. There I laid out my gear and prepared to set up camp. It was then that I realized what was missing: a sleeping pad, a camera battery, and a toiletry kit. Being a cold sleeper, the heat loss from the ground in this climate would have been very detrimental over a two-week period. I needed a sleeping pad to continue. A toiletry kit is not a dire necessity but things can get unpleasant without it.
I decided then that I would spend the night at Boquet River and hike out to Rt. 73 in the morning, whereupon I would hike out to Keene Valley and place a call to my brother. It was another agonizing setback on a long road of setbacks.
Also of concern, the new camp stove I purchased. The Jetboil Personal Cooking System was a great purchase, though cooking rice is difficult. Rice can’t be prepared properly; it burns to the bottom. It can, however, be prepared as part of a soup if it is stirred frequently. Since I packed a lot of food to cook with low moisture, I have to rethink how to prepare what I have.
Worries were overcome by fatigue. As the sun set over the Adirondack wilderness, I climbed inside my North Face sleeping bag for the first night. So much for Thursday…
10-6-06 Friday
The morning took very long to come. I woke up many times, the cold from the ground kept me chilly. Critters kept me alert. I was up very early airing my gear out. I heated up a buttermilk pancake mixture with wheat germ and honey. It was quite delicious, though I didn’t stir it frequently enough. It will be nice using the Jetboil Group Cooking System, a more forgiving 1.5 L pot. Too bad I didn’t make room in my pack for it…
I was truly dumbfounded by the pace at which I ate things. At the current rate, my food supply would easily last over ten days, perhaps longer. This constituted a significant amount of unnecessary weight, though the thought of throwing food away wasn’t agreeable.
Fate, it would seem, wishes to keep me on this path. As I sat in the lean-to packing my gear, a gentleman, Walt, sat with me a moment to rest. I asked him where he traveled; it seemed that we had similar itineraries. I explained that I was heading back to get a sleeping pad and toiletries. He wouldn’t have it.
He generously offered to loan his sleeping pad, as he was heading to his vehicle that day. It still didn’t solve my toiletry problem, but this break of luck reminded me that creative solutions present themselves on a journey. I took his offer and continued forward.
As I walked, I considered what I had and how I could keep my cookware, my clothing, and myself clean. I remembered that I had two lemons. The citrus acid could dissolve body oils as well as sanitize. The alcohol gel could be used as deodorant and as a disinfectant in solution. I could use sandy soil to scrub my cookware, which I would simply rinse away with water. Boiling would disinfect any bacteria that remained. As for teeth, I would scrub with ginger root to at least abrade the tartar and perhaps create a more inhospitable environment for bacteria.
Things were looking good as I was crossing various brooks. The going was easy until I approached the base of an impressive landslide on the north face of Dix Mountain. I began to traverse the bare rock of this landslide, meandering through slippery rock. Along a particularly tricky section, I took my first spill.
The Leki hiking poles really saved a nasty tumble, though I still did somewhat of a split and tore the shin area of my pants. The weight of the pack put me too off balance to recover quickly. I adjusted my movements accordingly.
Moving more cautiously, I made my way through some serious elevation gain. The trail ascended roughly 1600 feet in a little over a mile. This was the first time I truly felt the effects of a heavy pack. My thighs struggled to push my body up over the steeper sections. The warm day sent sweat cascading down my body. The mud splashed on my legs and on my arms as I brushed along boulders. For a brief moment I saw Walt up ahead, who must have had a ten-minute head start. I was about to attempt to catch up with him when one of my poles failed.
I took a little water and had a bite to eat standing, as the trail was pretty messy. I tried to inspect and fiddle with the pole, but I was too dirty and fatigued to care much over it. I was more or less angry that it failed at all, though I would later learn it was a simple adjustment problem. On I went with one limp pole.
It was a brutal transition, no doubt. The break-in process was messy, but the view was very impressive. The sight of ice surprised me. It got cold very quickly at the higher elevations. Though the view was remarkable, I wasn’t in the mood to tarry about.
On my way down Hunter’s Pass, I could see my next destination—Elk Lake. I felt devoted to a long trek as I descended further into an isolated valley. It was quite interesting to look off into the hazy distance and see where I would be the next few days. I felt compelled to trek beyond the horizon, into the deep blue.
After my first tough hike, I had about enough strength to make it to Lillian Brook Lean-to, where fires were still permitted. Unfortunately, a group of gentlemen had taken it up. I did find an excellent spot beneath a nearby mossy boulder to set up camp.
There I disassembled my poles to get at the source of the problem; the locking expander point wasn’t catching when I attempted to expand it. I simply had to let it catch the turning pole by slightly tilting the upper section.
Looking at the Adirondack Mountain Club topographical map that came with my guide book, I began to understand what those little contour lines really meant—sweat. Forming an intuitive understanding of the map helped me gauge a more accurate timeline.
I joined the gentlemen at the lean-to for a little chat and to enjoy the fire but I found myself quickly dozing off. The crackle of the fire was hypnotic and relaxing, but I tore myself away to the confines of my nylon shelter. I did pause briefly to admire the clarity of such a starry night and the moon reflecting over the nearby brook. The Adirondack experience was beginning to sink in.
10-7-06 Saturday
Perhaps it was the microclimate of my sleeping area, but the cold seemed brutal. I was up quite early, well before dawn, making breakfast. The silver moon and stars were my companion for this meal. I sat over a wooden bridged and pensively chewed.
The clothing I washed the night prior was quite frozen. I brushed away the excess frost and waited for the sun to rise. To maintain body heat, I tried to carry on simple activities. Pumping the cold water through my filter was brutal. I had to stop a few times to get heat back to my fingers. Simple tasks seemed compounded by the drop in temperature.
Eventually, as the sun lit the horizon, I donned a partially wet jersey, hung my packtowel and silk undershirt on the outside and began to move again. My vital heat quickly returned and I was quite lively again. I was prepared for the day ahead.
The Elk Lake-Marcy trail is quite pleasant and easy going in the first segment. Foliage in this deciduous forest was at peak. It was a great recovery period from Dix.
I was surprised to see a parking lot right by Elk Lake. I studied my map and referenced the Adirondack Mountain Club guidebook whereupon I confirmed my oversight. I was not as far as I thought from civilization.
At the suspension bridge over The Branch (an outlet to Elk Lake), I fashioned a couple of sticks into pack stabilizers for my over-burdened Vapor Trail backpack. If I didn’t have to worry about fitting a backpack in my bicycle trailer as I traveled I would seriously consider investing in an external frame pack for this type of travel, as the people I have met thus far with them seem to be happy. Otherwise, I would have considered Granite Gear’s higher capacity models. The Vapor Trail is better suited to shorter distances or warmer climates. As it stands, it’s the right size and weight for my bicycle trailer and gets the job done.
I decided to end the day early. I stopped at 3pm at the base of the Boreas-Colvin Range and found a comfortable spot to set up camp. I took time to observe nature and reflect over some interesting years. To my surprise, I was in bed quite early, though I was quite distracted by the especially active wildlife. It seemed an owl was particularly interested in my bear bin. I attempted to record it, but it was wise to the game, and shortly thereafter faded into silence.
10-8-06 Sunday
I realize now that I felt a little out of sorts the day prior. I must have been coming down with something because I slept for a total of fourteen hours.
I start with another lemon body wash and ginger chewing session. My wool jersey is starting to succumb to the powerful forces of my armpits. Luckily, the cool Adirondack air keeps me relatively fresh. It seems that I exude no pheromones that attract mating bears or deer.
I only see see red squirrels, eastern chipmunks, garter snakes, and a small variety of birds, especially woodpeckers. I see deer tracks and what appear to be bear tracks, but I haven’t seen anything big with my own two eyes.
The Boreas-Colvin range was easy to traverse. Marcy Swamp was an unanticipated beauty. The trail was riddled with log bridges over coniferous bogs. The landscape was engaging and eerily quiet at times. I can only image that the bugs and humidity must be intolerable in the summer.
Before long, I reached Panther Gorge Lean-to. In fact, I passed it by quite a few feet before I realized my error. In truth, I was compelled to set up my Golite Lair 1 Shelter anyway. I felt more comfortable for some reason in the tarp-tent configuration.
The Panther Gorge area was quite beautiful. At over 3000 ft, the vegetation took on an alpine appearance. Mosses clung to evergreens; the ecosystem seemed fragile and ethereal. Tomorrow I will hit Mt. Marcy.
10-9-06 Monday
Columbus Day
The food in my bear canister migrates slowly to my stomach. It’s amazing how little it takes to fuel the human body. I could ration this cache to two weeks.
I look at everything with a more even gaze. Daily existence in the wilderness becomes simpler and more practical. I can feel the pocket of body heat surrounding me; I buffer it from the wind. I stoke it from within with warm beverages.
I can feel the acid in the strands of muscles as they elongate and contract. My body feels wiry and resilient. I push it so far from equilibrium with my actions but it springs back with vigor. I could tumble down this mountain with cuts and broken bones; still crawling to some warm crevice to regain my strength. The depth of human endurance surprises me, though I barely scrape the surface on my sojourn.
This is my first time ascending Mt. Marcy from the south. The final .8 mi ascent from Four Corners Junction definitely sees less traffic, though at times the vegetation is so close that my backpack just scrapes through.
At 5344 feet, Marcy is the highest peak in the Adirondacks. It’s also the most traveled. It’s a very beautiful mountain with one of the best views. The ascent from the south side is particularly surreal, especially the final approach.
Approaching the fragile alpine zone, a canopy of symmetric evergreens slowly opened up. At the Krummholz zone, trees began to deform and dwarf, resembling bonsai. deer’s hair sedge, resembling long brown grass, densely matted black spruce shrubs, mosses, and other tundra vegetation clung to life in small pockets. Eventually, all that remained was a barren rock face, constantly accosted by strong winds. A thin layer of lime-green lichen clung to every surface, even the cairn-lined path. There was nothing but rock and the blue horizon ahead. It was as if one were walking off the face of the earth.
I was shocked to find that the summit was devoid of people. I had the highest point of the Adirondacks to myself. The view was expansive on a relatively warm and clear day. I could see Lake Placid off in the distance, with the 90-meter and 120-meter Olympic Ski Jumping Towers appearing as two small columns.
After some time observing and relaxing, I found a sheltered spot to munch on some apples and cream cheese. A couple from Ohio on honeymoon joined me. We met earlier on the trip at Panther Gorge. While I was sleeping, they were on their way to Mt. Haystack. They carried ultralight backpacks that seemed almost like daypacks. We followed a very similar route, though they covered distance at speed.
A gentleman from Burnt Hills coming from Adirondack Loj (yes, it’s spelled Loj) joined us shortly thereafter, then a Canadian couple. A few other people started to arrive. One person struck my interest, a gentleman who was fiddling with wooden posts along the trail.
We exchanged hellos; he introduced himself as Nate, the Summit Steward. He was up at the top stashing the wooden posts in a safe place for the winter. It was the last day of the season for the Summit Stewards.
Nate informed me that this was an uncommonly good day to be at the summit. Because it was a holiday weekend, the summit of Marcy saw 200 people on Sunday, though today it was nearly empty. The weather was also quite exceptional for this time of year. He estimated that roughly ten days a season are as clear and calm.
He was quite informative, pointing out the names of distant mountains and bodies of water. He also explained the Arctic alpine plants, which once covered a greater portion of the summit until human activity destroyed much of the vegetation.
Apparently, it’s very easy to destroy the vegetation, and once it’s dead, the soil that took so long to accumulate blows away in the relentless winds. Only brief pockets remain now, protected by rock barriers. A program is in place where hikers volunteer to carry rocks to the top. Summit Stewards use these rocks to outline the trail and to emphasize places to keep off. The wooden posts with strings also serve to protect vulnerable places.
It seems to be an uphill battle. While we were talking, just minutes after the wooden posts and strings were set aside for the year, a couple of hikers set their packs on the deer’s hair sedge, despite frequent signs explaining the fragile nature of the vegetation. Though it was most likely a frustrating job to say the same thing repeatedly, he was quite nice about asking them to keep on the designated path.
Nate was joined by a friend and assistant, Josh, who was helping prepare Marcy for the winter, as well as taking apart a camp that the Stewards stay at to alleviate the distance traveled. We chatted for some time about the Adirondacks; he suggested that I should take Avalanche Pass on my way back to Marcy Dam. It seems that Avalanche Pass is a common favorite for people who spend time in the High Peaks region.
As the day wore on, I tore myself away from the summit. It so happened that Nate and Josh were heading down as well. I grabbed a few pictures of them, as their final decent for the year marked a transition in the seasons. It seems that good fortune granted me a poetic day.
The hike down the north side seemed less alien yet a little more technically difficult at times. I felt clean and energized from a stay at such refined heights. I was beginning to move with speed.
Then came the bad news…
As I was reaching for my GPSMAP 60CSx, I realized that it was missing. The clip was still attached to my hip belt, and the little knob that attached to the GPS was still locked in the clip, but the GPS was gone. To anyone using this GPS, I would suggest not trusting the threaded knob in back as it has a tendency to loosen while moving. Garmin should really address this issue.
To my misfortune, I hiked quite a distance before realizing it was gone. The path was very muddy and puddle ridden at times. Chances were that I’d be testing Garmin’s water resistant claims.
Backtracking is a very frustrating thing, especially uphill. I scanned ever so diligently as I ascended. Luckily, I ran into a father and daughter who found the GPS on their trek. It was quite wet and muddy; they claimed that it was in a puddle when they found it.
I tried turning it on and it worked quite fine. I took it out of its protective case and dried it off more thoroughly. Relieved, I made my way back to Marcy Dam once again.
The hike down Van Hoevenberg Trail was quite long and a little tricky at points but altogether pleasant. I was surprised to see day hikers quite late in the day still making their way up. I imagine that the Van Hoevenberg Trail sees many unsuspecting night hikers.
Marcy Dam is a favorite camp of mine. There are many lean-tos with good views at a hospitable elevation. I like sitting right over the dam at night looking out at the stars or watching the sunrise over golden autumn leaves. It’s about a two-mile hike to the Adirondack Information Center, where one can purchase a modest selection of foodstuffs and gear. There are showers and bathrooms available in the back of the Information Center, as well as rooms and meals at the Loj.
I was surprised to find the Marcy Dam area empty. I spotted only two flashlights at night. It was just the critters and me. Animals seem particularly active in this area. A bat liked the lean-to I was in, though it presented me no troubles. I was glad to have a warm meal of liquid sushi and a cup of hot chocolate.
Luckily, I had Verizon cell phone reception at the dam. I was able to call my brother, who left a series of concerned messages while I was away. It was an interesting experience chatting away on the phone as I sat in the middle of nowhere, while strange animals were making noises in the distance.
I arranged to have him pick me up at the Loj in the morning and drop me off in Keene Valley, as well as drop off my toiletry kit and laptop. I would also swap sleeping pads, as mine was lighter weight.
I shot off a call to my friends, John, and his girlfriend, Krissa, to arrange a meeting on Sunday. I decided to save Avalanche Pass for that day, as I wanted them to experience a gem in the wilderness.
10-10-06 Tuesday
I started the day making my way to the source of Marcy Dam, as I didn’t trust taking water from an area where people most likely dump soapy water and food scraps. Though water flowed through the dam, it seemed slow to move.
I was quick about breakfast and cleaning, as I wanted to meet my brother early. I took off down the familiar trail to the Loj, noticing ski trails along the way. I made quick progress as the contents of my bear bin were slowly diminishing.
The trail that I traversed is part of a problematic bear corridor. I would add problematic dogs to the list. Despite being required to leash dogs, most people will walk with their dogs unleashed. They either don’t know that their dogs will misbehave or they just don’t care.
In the wilderness, dogs may behave differently than at home, especially when encountering a person with a huge backpack and hiking poles. Repeatedly along this trail, I have been charged by dogs, even jumped on in an aggressive manner. Dog owners are caught off guard by this behavior. I just grow irritated. This is coming from a dog lover.
At the Information Center, I grabbed a few snacks and a fuel canister. I was surprised to find that one 100 gram Jetboil fuel canister that I carried lasted four days. They were very light and small.
I visited the Loj to make a reservation for dinner and a bed on Saturday. Luckily, there was one bed left. At first glance, the Loj was very beautiful, with the main lounge area carrying a rustic Adirondack feel. I was excited to see what it was all about.
My brother was late arriving. I later learned that he was delayed because of an accident and poor redirections. Regardless, it was nice seeing a familiar face.
I was able to see the images I took on my laptop for the first time. I used a hiking pole as a tripod for a majority of the shots, it worked very well. Overall, I was satisfied with the quality of the images. I didn’t dump any of the audio because I had an ample amount of space remaining on my audio device.
The ride to Keene Valley was pleasant. The autumn foliage was still at peak. The pastoral landscape was alluring. Sitting in a cushioned seat was a forgotten luxury.
At a Stewarts gas station in the town of Keene, I washed up and put on some cologne and deodorant. I felt spectacular. Even just a few days without such things seems very unpleasant.
There seemed in the immediate vicinity an interesting pulse. Though it was about six miles from my destination, I was dropped off here. Walking about, I realized that many places were closed for the holiday. It was a short walk before I realized that there wasn’t much for me to do. Without much delay, I commenced my trek.
Six miles on pavement is amazingly simple. I considered it a leisurely hike. I kept my eyes on Rooster Comb and Snow Mtn. as I traversed the easy landscape. People gawked as they passed by, which I couldn’t understand. People must be familiar with backpackers in this area. Perhaps not the road variety…
After a short time, I was in Keene Valley. It seemed like a nice place to spend the day. I came upon a quaint farm market, a small backpacker friendly grocery store, a large mountaineering store, some diners, inns, and small shops.
I was interested in the Ausable Inn because it was close to the trail I had to take and it was right next to the grocery store. Right as I was about to walk in I had a little sniffle. That little sniffle turned out to be a bloody nose.
Something about the cold dry air, my nose kept bleeding throughout the trip. This time it was impressive. My fingers were quite saturated and my tissues kept soaking. As discreetly as someone with a massive backpack and a bloody nose can manage, I walked away from the town to an isolated spot I could freshen up and look like I wasn’t carrying avian bird flu from distant places. People would saw me as I walked and veered quite sufficiently away to avoid contracting the Black Death.
After doing a little backcountry cleanup, I was ready to try my luck at the Ausable Inn. I tried to breathe from my mouth and think humid thoughts. I managed to squeak in without any incident.
Upon entering the Ausable Inn, I was impressed by the bar and fireplace, it looked like a cozy space. I met a friendly lady, Aaron, who showed me to my room without hesitation.
It looked like I missed the crowd again, as Aaron explained I would get a double bed for the price of a single bed because the rest of the rooms still needed to be prepared. It was a busy weekend for the inn; everyone came and went at the same time.
To my good fortune, I had the whole upstairs to myself—no waiting in line for either bathroom. I had a very nice long shower and brushed my teeth for the first time in days. It took two good brushings to get that squeaky-clean feel.
After unpacking some essentials and putting on some clean clothes, the inn was open for dinner. I sat at the bar and had a Lake Placid Ubu Ale, a very dark and rich brew, but smooth going down. It’s one of my favorites.
Looking at the menu, I was drawn by the Marcy Burger. Judging by my experience at the summit, I felt like I was going with a good thing. Overall, I would say the food was pretty good.
I was fascinated with the conversation at the bar, though I wasn’t particularly compelled to engage. It ranged from talk of six kids in this year’s kindergarten class to a moose going through a windshield. Unfortunately, I was still adjusted to sleeping with the sun; I went to bed shortly thereafter.
10-11-06 Wednesday
I would say my favorite experience at the Ausable Inn was meeting one of the owners in the morning. A husband and wife owned the business; I met the wife, Ellie. She made breakfast for me.
We both had some coffee and a good conversation. I gathered she was quite a busy woman, taking care of three children and a business her and her husband recently acquired. She reminded me in many ways of a couple I recently worked for. She was independent and hard working, owning two businesses previously. Her family moved from New Jersey to get away from a more impersonal and hectic life. She was drawn to the strong sense of community in this little valley.
Breakfast was excellent; I pretty much had a choice of what I wanted within reason. I attempted to watch the weather channel; the weather reports aren’t specific to the community in this region. I gathered enough to establish that it would get wet and possibly snowy in coming days.
With roughly a pot of coffee working through my system, I packed up, said goodbye to Ellie, and took off. Before I hit the trail, I walked around Keene Valley once more, taking a few pictures. I was pleased with this town, though I was disappointed to learn that it didn’t have a laundry facility. Backpackers without a vehicle would have to do some serious travel to get to a washing machine.
My destination for the day was Johns Brook Lodge and Klondike Lean-to. I wanted to save time for wilderness observation. Nature has a way of revealing itself to those with patience. I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to sit still in an obscure location.
I wouldn’t say there was anything exemplary about the hike in particular, though I was fascinated by a “bear proof” container on display at one of the trail junctions. It was a thick plastic container, not approved in the wilderness, quite mauled by a hungry bear. I felt such a thing would be suited along the Van Hoevenberg Trail, where many people can’t properly visualize the resourcefulness of a bear.
Johns Brook Lodge was closed for the year; I was more or less interested in sizing it up for future expeditions. It looked nice from the outside, very rustic. It was quite small, however. I sat on the porch and munched on wheat germ before I took off.
On Klondike Notch Trail, the winds began to pick up. I was beginning to keep my eyes up for widow makers. As I walked, mostly yellow birch trees were creaking, clattering, and cracking at times. Progress was slow; I kept on stopping when strong gusts blew through.
There were a few sections with dead trees that really concerned me. Some seemed just about ready to go. Luckily, I reached what appeared to be signs for a lean-to.
I am frequently preturbed by the poorly labeled trails to lean-tos. In particular, this lean-to was not availing itself to me. When I tried to consult my GPS, it decided to die out on me. I believe that water must have seeped in it when I dropped it a couple days back (days later after drying indoors for eight hours, it has worked without incident). Frustrated, I decided not to linger in this area looking for an ambiguous trail. I walked on through what I kindly deemed “Widow Maker Alley.”
At one point, I stopped to rest and see if I couldn’t place my location. As I was looking out, a blade of wind cut right through the tree line, I could make it out in the canopy; its force was confined to a few meters in width. The top of a tree came crashing down not more than 60 ft. ahead.
I was in a bad position. It was starting to get dark, as I took my time that day. I didn’t want to hike out in the dark when I couldn’t see what was going on above. I decided to quicken pace to the relative safety of Marcy Dam or to a place with no trees nearby.
It was quite exhilarating, walking fast and stopping when a gust came through. I felt like a little chipmunk running about, looking every which way for potential dangers. It’s not so bad being astute. Out in the wilderness for this brief period, I felt myself naturally more alert and cautious but still calm.
At South Meadow, the wind didn’t seem nearly as bad. I started looking at the ground again. I walked through a section of what must have been red spruce, bordered by an unidentified golden grass. It looked very peaceful in the fading light.
I found a shortcut through a state truck road to Marcy Dam. The windy twilight through a deserted road reminded me of a book I read as a child about a boy who got lost in the woods. He found a scary looking cabin, went inside for help, and met a nice lady who gave him hot chocolate. He wasn’t so afraid after that walking home, admiring nature.
I was years past being afraid of the dark, but the climate was just right for a children’s novel or a horror movie. The road was narrow and winding, various critters scurried about in the woods. The leaves were blowing restlessly in the wind. It was the perfect setting.
After a few miles, I was back at my favorite haunt—Marcy Dam. The thirteen mile hike took a little out of me, so I was struggling to get up the steps to my favorite lean-to. I was grunting as I stepped, which ended up giving the yet unseen occupant of the lean-to a little bit of a scare.
Over that final ascent, I met a fellow hiker who shared my name. This Chris also spent time in the restaurant industry, though substantially longer and with a greater degree of responsibility. We ended up having some good conversation.
Chris, as it turns out, also arrived late at the lean-to. He planned his trip last minute, deciding to take Avalanche Pass to Algonquin in the morning.
Here was a rugged outdoorsman, an ice climber. He enjoyed the Adirondacks because the ice came early, was everywhere, and stayed a long time. I was surprised to hear that even though he liked coming out in the winter, he got cold easily. It was reassuring to hear that someone else had an affinity to something he was not necessarily physiologically perfect for.
Chris was a chef in Albany. We had a lot of interesting customer and employee stories to share. The restaurant industry is chaotic in nature; after a while, most people learn to adjust and thrive in the chaos. I felt that we both shared common personalities in that we were hard and cold in a sense when we were managing but we were always easy going at heart. I enjoyed hearing about his insights in the field, I feel like so much of the profession is a cultivation and perfection of common sense.
We talked a lot about food. I was quite hungry afterwards. He gave me many ideas to play with, especially concerning how to prepare meats well. He was big into marinades. I enjoyed the fact that he had a very intuitive understanding of cooking.
The nights don’t seem so harsh when you have good company. We had a lot to say about many things, it was great. After some time, fatigue got the better of me; I was out of words.
10-12-06 Thursday
Chris was out early for Algonquin. I was happy with my down sleeping bag. It was wet and cold, with periods of frequent rain. I was very slow getting around. I decided to spend a day around the lean-to.
With my Jetboil, I made a big cup of hot chocolate and watched time go by. An older couple joined me to get out of the rain. We talked a lot about gear. These people definitely knew what they were talking about; they had a whole room full of it at home. They were very happy with their external frame backpacks. I donned the gentleman’s 50 lb pack and was quite surprised how great it felt. If I were to do extensive backpacking or if I were to have the space in my bicycle trailer, I’d definitely consider investing in one. It had better balance, seemed more rugged, and had better circulation.
Showing an interest in their gear, the lady began to promote her Big Agnes sleeping pad. On previous outings, she had trouble sleeping. She needed something very comfortable to sleep on. As a result, she experimented with many different sleeping pads. She settled on the aforementioned sleeping pad, claiming that it was very comfortable and warm.
Another couple joined me. They were on a day hike, destined for a jacuzzi at the end of the day. The gentleman had a plastic cup of wine as he relaxed. Watching their interactions was quite fun.
After some time the rain cleared. The sun started to shine. I made my way out to the bridge over the dam. I soaked up the sun, staring at the water. A loon joined me, cleaning itself off and poking about here and there.
The wind was still cold, so I hiked around. I ended up along the edge of a stream. I studied the bright white rocks with large crystals. They were quite beautiful and intricate.
It was not too long before I was at the lean-to. I was quite compelled to just sit and stare. As Chris was likely on his way back, I diced up a fresh ginger root and lemon to make an infusion to share between friends.
Upon his return, I filled my Jetboil Mug to the top, boiled the water, and let the ginger and lemon sit for about ten minutes. I sliced some lemon for both our mugs and poured the infusion. We both added a little honey to it; I added a fizzy strawberry drink packet. It was quite delicious. Out of gratitude, he gave me a dehydrated meal, pasta primavera.
I was surprised to see that Chris was so dry, though the hike was quite wet. He informed me that Algonquin was quite cold at the top, though things improved when it cleared up. He really dried out in the sun.
We talked some more about food and whatnot. Night seemed to come quick. We were both asleep before long.
10-13-06 Friday
Chris was out again early. I was still in bed. We said a brief goodbye. I was slow getting around. It was quite cold.
For no good reason, I was compelled to hike around the Heart Lake area. I had an abbreviated breakfast of wheat germ, honey, and cream cheese, and then I was off.
I still had a lot of food. I couldn’t believe how long it lasted. In this weather, everything kept well. The cream cheese was doing well, an avocado was still good after a week, and a package of yogurt was still going strong. On the warm days, I just kept everything insulated inside my pack. If I wasn’t such a pack rat, I might be able to get away with the bear vault solo.
Mt Jo is really nice and easy. It’s very close to a parking lot; it’s quick, with great views of Heart Lake and the surrounding region. I was up and down it in no time. The loop was a little over two miles.
On my way to Rocky Falls, I noticed many older people. The Indian Pass Trail seems to be a popular trail for people who want something easy going. It was nice this time of year.
I had trouble finding another lean-to. Eventually I figured my way through a trail marked in the opposite direction but not in my direction. Working my way down hill, I noticed a sign buried in the leaves pointing to a lean-to. I had to laugh.
The Rocky Falls Lean-to is definitely one of my favorites. The whole area is beautiful. Quick access to clean water is great.
I meditated over the falls for some time. I got cold quickly; the rocks sucked my heat away. Not thinking can work up quite an appetite.
I tried the pasta primavera Chris gave me. It was quite wonderful. I was impressed with the amount of energy it gave me for such little weight. It was very easy to clean up too. I definitely have to start experimenting with other meals.
After bathing, I had my ginger root, lemon, honey, and strawberry fizz drink mixture again. It’s a great beverage at the day’s end.
Not much else this day. Just watching the stars and the moonlight over the water. Too bad this will be my last night out of doors in the Adirondacks.
10-14-06 Saturday
Another cold morning… Wilderness observation will be challenging.
As I walk the Indian Pass Trail, it’s eerily quiet. I can sense the weather changing. Something broods…
The occasional flurry spills across the region, nothing substantial. It’s a nice variation.
I make my way slowly to Fangorn Forest, a ski trail I saw along the way to the Loj. It was quite untrodden. My hope is that it will have a lot of animal activity.
The trek was quick and easy. The entrance to the Fangorn Forest trail is pretty well marked with human tracks, but as I move further in, the earth is very soft and mossy. Much of the trail is marked exclusively with animal tracks of all sorts. It’s still eerily quiet. The flurries insulate sound. All that can be heard is the gentle crash of snowflakes on dead leaves.
I find a spot near a stream and rest. It takes quite some time for the wildlife returns to its activity. Slowly, I can hear the leaves begin to rustle with the scurry of critters.
An unsuspecting chipmunk digs about the leaves a couple of feet away. It takes a minute before it notices me. For at least two minutes it stops dead in its tracks and stares at me. I can see it in my peripheral vision, cheeks stuffed, standing up at times. Finally, it runs off foraging.
I was surprised to see over a dozen blue jays flying from treetop to treetop, voraciously picking away at whatever it is they come across. I also saw a smaller flock of chickadees behaving in a similar fashion.
I could hear movements off in the distance, though I couldn’t determine what they were. I was disappointed not to spy upon any deer or bear, though I started most likely too late in the day. It seems that next time I will have to make a greater effort to start earlier or later in the day and spend more time further in the untrodden wilderness.
Very cold now, I start to move again. Luckily, I have a warm dinner and shower waiting for me at the Loj.
I checked in at the front desk at 6pm. As I walk in, I notice a familiar face. A frequent customer of The Whistling Kettle, where I worked, was staying at the Loj with her daughter, son, and a guest from Germany. We passed a small time chatting.
As dinner was about to commence, I excused myself to my room. I was situated in a shared room, though private rooms and nearby cabins are available. The loft was already quite full when I arrived. I shared a good portion of the room with a friendly Chinese family, whom I would converse with frequently throughout my stay. They lived a few hours south, enjoying a couple of days in the Adirondacks. I gathered that they were brothers and sisters bringing their children, though I never confirmed this.
I had just enough time for a quick shower in the shared bathroom. I could hear the dinner bell ring below. I quickly gathered some things in my room and headed back downstairs.
The dining room had a series of long tables. I had a little trouble locating my place. I had a seat right by Sydney, the customer I ran into earlier. We discussed itineraries.
I also spoke with a gentleman I was sharing a room with, Huogeng. He was a very intelligent and perceptive fellow. As a mechanical engineer and scientist, he had interesting perspectives on the world. Kevin, another member of his group, was particularly engaging. He was quite interested and supportive of my trek around the world.
The food was simple but decent, starting with a soup, bread, and then salad. As time passed, carrots, mashed potatoes, and a juicy roast came by. Sydney’s daughter, who happened to be named Sojourner, was a vegetarian. She had a huge tofu stir-fry. It was good, though a little too saucy.
I had a Strikeout Stout from the Cooperstown Brewing Company. It had a medium body, with hints of chocolate and coffee. I felt it was decent. There were other Cooperstown Brewing Company brews available; I’ll have to try them in the future.
The dessert was a chocolate mousse. It was good, nothing spectacular. Overall, I would say that the experience was good. I was impressed with the friendliness of the wait staff. I was a little put off, however, by the spottiness of the silverware.
I spent a few hours in the lounge. It was one of the greatest experiences of this brief stay in the Adirondacks. I perused a shelf of fascinating titles, settling upon The Armchair Mountaineer.
I chose a quaint rocking chair to repose. The birch log chandeliers, stone fireplace, exposed wood beams, and rustic furniture had a very warm character. As I thumbed through the pages of my book, I felt perfectly balanced between the ruggedness of Adirondack life and the warmth of human interaction and modern conveniences.
A girl, no older than thirteen, took to the piano. I was surprised by the level of skill she exhibited. I was quite enraptured at times by the music that filled the room. After not hearing any music for days, I savored each note.
Steeping in good music, the background noise of pleasant conversation, and a cup of good coffee, I felt complete. My book proved a great companion for the evening. I found a particular passage very engaging. In reference to how a mountaineer is made, Sir Martin Conway makes the following observation:
“He does not start as a mountaineer intending to climb, and climb. He starts for a single expedition, just to see what high peaks and glaciers are like. The snowy regions beheld from a distance puzzle him. Evidently they are not like the places he is familiar with. He will once go and take a nearer look. He will climb some whither and get a sight all around. Little does he suspect what the outcome of his venture may be. A week ago he was perhaps laughing at the tattered-faced climbers he met, as mad as fools, going up to mountain-tops just to come down again and say they had been there. Of such folly he at any rate will never be guilty. Climbing has no fascinations for him; he is merely going to have a look at the white world, so that he may know what it is that he hears people talking about—their corridors, couloirs, crevasses, snowbridges, séracs, and bergschrunds.
“So he hits upon a day when the weather turns bad. Winds buffet him; rain and snow drench him; he labors through soft snow; he is bewildered by fog. If the sun shines for a few moments, it is only long enough to scorch the skin off his face and insure him a few days of great discomfort to follow. He has no view from the summit. He returns wearied out to his inn. Yes!—and thenceforward the alpine fever masters him. He is caught and makes no effort to escape. His keenest desire is to be off once more into those same high regions, once more to feel the ice beneath his feet, once more to scramble up clean crags fresh from nature’s sculpturing and undefiled by soil or vegetation. With each new ascent he becomes eager for more. The summers are all too short for his satisfaction. He goes home to read about other people’s climbs, to study maps and guidebooks, to lay out schemes for future seasons. Dauphiny, the Graians, the Engadine, and Tirol—he must give a season or seasons to each. Thus is the climber fashioned out of an ordinary man.”
Though I have never ascended serious elevations, I relate with the passage. It is a strange fate to encounter a passion wrought with challenge and misadventures. One can be wet, cold, hungry, and tired, yet a burning drive compels a person to press on to whatever pristine destination it may be. At times we walk a thin rope, threaded through the harsh realities of the world, rising to meet our hunger for some state of being brought about by the journey itself.
As time slowly passed, people went to bed. A younger fellow remained with his Apple Powerbook. I was surprised to hear that he had free Wi-Fi access. A person could really get away from the world without truly leaving. I can imagine a few nice day hikes complemented by a night at the Loj surfing the web.
I managed to get a few night shots of the sky before I retired for the evening. I had a little trouble finding my bed in the dark, though luckily I had the foresight to bring a flashlight. I noticed the upstairs was a little on the chilly side, though nothing compared to a lean-to. A fire was crackling in the distance outside, throwing shadows through the window. It took quite some time to sleep considering the level of caffeine consumption a few hours prior.
10-15-06 Sunday
Despite the late hour I managed to sleep, I was up early. Huogeng was out and about at roughly the same time. We talked in the Lounge area quite a while. We were interrupted by the breakfast bell.
Breakfast was served buffet style. I loaded up on sausage, eggs, and biscuits. I was attempting to regain my hunger, which I seemed to lose on the trail. It was quite difficult but I managed to clean my plate. I was thoroughly put out by the endeavor.
I returned to my bed to peruse my Adirondack Mountain Club Guidebook and eventually to hibernate. The letters were a bunch of gobbledygook in my digestive haze. I resigned to staring blankly into space. A group of kids nearby were clicking away at their Nintendo DS’. I was caught off guard when I noticed that they were actually interacting in the same game. It makes sense that gaming systems would take advantage of wireless networking capabilities. It was a far cry from my last portable gaming system, the black & white Game Boy. My dad used to love that thing. Good old Tetris…
After sufficiently completing my digestive cycle, I made my way back into the lounge. I arranged to meet with my friends in the morning at the Loj. I found a bench near a front facing window and watched the snow flurries.
It was nice seeing good friends even after a small time away. I was struck by the idea that I would not be seeing them for quite some time as my travels progressed beyond the New York region. It was a bittersweet encounter.
I saved what would turn out to be the best hike for last. The trail to Avalanche Pass was draped with fresh snow. In this fashion, the nature of the landscape completely changes. Everything looks fresh and pristine. White snow over green mossy boulders in a cascading stream compels the hiker to sit and stare. Clusters of bright red American mountain ash berries stand out as never before. The smell of pine sweet evergreens wafts delicately in the nose. Time itself seems to slow.
I took the opportunity to pelt my friends with the first snowballs of the year. It was very enjoyable, considering I would be going south with the geese this winter. Some enterprising hikers ahead made little snowmen along the trail, faithfully guiding us in the right direction. I adorned one of them with a bright red berry as a reward to his efforts.
The transition to the pass was dramatic, displaying the awesome destructive potential of nature. In 1999, rain from Hurricane Floyd was responsible for many new landslides in the Adirondacks. We came upon the Mt. Colden landslide. The damage was extensive; acres of forest came sliding down the mountain right to the trail at its base. Fallen logs piled up to roughly ten feet in height and had to be cut away to make room for hikers. The sound alone of the landslide must have been horrendous.
Traversing this wasteland, I felt like an ant. We were sandwiched between debris and vertical rock face. Both relented, leaving a winding trail ahead. The landscape did well to conceal the unexpected treasure of Avalanche Lake.
Perhaps one of the most alluring views of the High Peaks Region is Avalanche Lake from the north. Mt. Colden to the east and Avalanche Mtn. to the west fall vertically into the lake. A small corridor of sky illuminates this hidden landscape. Smooth dead wood lines the silt-filled shore. Boulders jut out at random places. The snow clings to horizontal planes on the massive rock face.
The passage through Avalanche Lake is quite messy at times, though it’s quite amazing. Wooden bridges and ladders are everywhere. At a couple of points, catwalks are bolted right into the sheer rock face. I am truly thankful that I ditched the majority of my gear in my friend’s car; scrambling up boulders can be tricky with the instability of a massive backpack.
Quite muddy now, we make our way to Lake Colden. To my surprise, we encounter two large cabins, one with a solar panel. I expected the interior outpost of Lake Colden to be a small affair—I was quite amazed. It must be a nice place to pass a season. The view of the lake was gorgeous. I could see a lean-to in the distance, a place I would love to spend a night.
The surrounding summits looked very intriguing. A significant accumulation remained in a clearly delineated zone. It looked lovely, quite frigid. The summit sirens were calling, but the day was waning.
Our return trip was quick. Warm food and comfortable seats were waiting. So much now of my life is happening with great speed, there are no surfaces on my mind for sentiment to cling. I signed out at the trail register for the last time and gladly conformed to the interior of a heated vehicle.
We made a brief trip to Noon Mark Diner so I could pick up a couple of their famous pies. In just the two minutes I was in line, I saw at least three pies picked from a dwindling shelf. I pawed through burgeoning pockets of knickknacks, dropped my credit card on the floor, picked it up with my dirty fingers, and managed to steady my hand to give the card to the waitress. I could feel my body quivering from low blood sugar. I fumbled out the door, into the car, and slept shortly thereafter for a good portion of the drive. And that was the end of my Adirondack experience.
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