Whiteface/Esther – 10/5/15

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The final approach to the summit of Whiteface.

Whiteface stands poised over the village of Lake Placid, in distinct isolation from its High Peaks brethren. Well, save for, of course, Esther which looks diminutive and unassuming in juxtaposition to the 5th tallest mountain in New York. Few would be inclined to believe Esther is a High Peak but it is without qualification, not like one of those fraud sub-4000 footers.

Long before I ever tread one inch of trail soil, I thought Whiteface was the tallest mountain in New York. In no small measure to it being the only Peak I knew of. It played host to the Olympics once — well twice, sort of. The first time, back in the ‘30s, there was no downhill skiing event; in fact, downhill skiing made its debut the very next Winter Olympics in Germany while the Third Reich was gearing up to all sorts of terrible things the world over. My dubitable belief is that Whiteface didn’t do much of anything in 1932, besides act as an impressive backdrop; a majestic mountain is the striking cachet of any venue of a winter’s competition. By then, however, construction of the highway which snakes about its northern slope was well underway. In 1929, the highway was dedicated to FDR, at which point his claim to fame was New York Governor. Contrary to another preconception of Whiteface, which survived the “tallest mountain in New York” one, had to do with someone peering up at its snow covered slopes and dubbing the name. Rather, it had to do with someone peering up at its craggy slopes, presumably in a warmer season, and dubbing the name.

There’s always the very simple method of scaling Whiteface, by car, which I would later do with my father, who has taken a healthy interest in the High Peaks vicariously through my adventures. For the cunning and indolent among us, no, driving up does not count towards one’s 46er aspirations. But despair not, in the grand scheme of things, Whiteface is one of the more benign 46ers to climb.  Beyond walking up the road, there are, to my knowledge, three trails to the top. There are two trails from the north, the “Atmospheric Science Research Center” trail, which entails an initial steep ascent up Marble Mountain, an old Ski slope, and the “Reservoir” trail, which is longer and has more elevation gain but spread out over a more pleasant grade. I took the “Reservoir” trail which connected with the other trail atop Marble Mountain, or in the vicinity of its top. The third trail, which I know little of, comes in from the south, off of Lake Placid, and, if I’m not mistaken, is only accessed via boat. I reckon that approach does not get much attention.

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A stand of birches caught in the interstitial scenes of the seasons.

After the initial slog up Marble Mountain, the rest of the ascent is very graceful, save for an “interesting” moment or two. The herd path to Esther is, as most things in the Adirondacks, marked by a cairn. Nothing is particularly memorable about Esther, other than the monotony and length of the herd path leading to it. The summit is cloistered by trees with enough exposure to the southwest to glimpse Whiteface in all of its man-encroached glory. On the ground lies a plaque, commemorating Esther McComb, who (unbeknownst to me) at the tender age of 15, made the first ever climb of the Peak.

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The cairns (and sign) marking the herd path to Esther.

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Herd path to Esther. These “amenities” don’t typically exist on herd paths.  

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Esther’s summit plaque.

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Whiteface from Esther.

Not long after Esther’s cairn, the hiking trail skirts the end of a ski trail. In spite of it being pre-ski season, the gondolas screech and groan up the mountain, there is a creepy sense of foreboding, like out of a horror movie, since the slopes and cabins of the gondolas are completely forlorn of life.

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Whiteface Memorial Highway right, trail left.

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Hairpin turn with Esther yonder (center).

The trail then skirts the highway at its hairpin turn before disappearing back into the woods and egressing to the bedrock approach to the summit. Even on a raw and cloudy Fall day, the summit is littered with motorists. My father and I would return (by car) on a brisk and sunny Sunday and there was no less of a crowd, the scene of 46er finish and wedding ceremony. My father and I shared an elevator with the groom. The most distinctive structure at the summit is the tower composed of “native rock.” One is permitted to wander into the inner-sanctum of the weather station, monitors displaying Dopplar Radar maps and forecasts along with current temperature readings.

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Whiteface looking south, Lake Placid to the right.

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High Peaks to the south on my second visit to Whiteface.

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The “stairs” from the parking area to the summit of Whiteface. More like ledges in the confines of a guardrail.

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The rest of the High Peaks stretch across the south, beyond Lake Placid. The perspective of the The Great Range is not unlike Cascade’s but much farther away. A summit attendant, I wouldn’t go so far as to call his a ‘steward,’ points me to where Montreal could be discerned on a clear day, then points me in the direction of the Saint Lawrence Seaway. Reflecting on my trip to the top of Mont Royal, Whiteface would have surely been the most visible High Peak.

Notwithstanding the separation which exists between Whiteface and the other High Peaks, the view is exquisite. Yet something is amiss. With the summit overcome by the works of man and abounding with people from all walks of life, it is a challenge to form a conception in my mind of Whiteface in its natural state — a rocky peak as pristine and primeval as the Northern Woods which it looks upon. It’s hard to appreciate how fortunate Herb Clark, the Marshall brothers, and Grace were to have experienced it in such a state — a state to which it may never return.

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9/25/15 – Sawteeth/Pyramid/Gothics

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Gothics, looking South.

In the Summer of 2015, work was abuzz with my hysteria for the High Peaks. Pat, of the outdoorsy ilk, picked up on it and he and I tentatively agreed to go on a hike sometime. Things got in the way, namely my termination from the job Pat and I shared but we managed to keep in contact. Come late-September, a few months after getting the boot, Pat proposed consummating our longtime plan to do a High Peak. At the time, I was but eleven Peaks in and I was getting into the swing of flying solo (my last four adventures in the High Peaks were by my lonesome); nearly disinhibited to long slogs in the woods. At this stage, I had mixed emotions about company. For one, it is nice to operate at your own pace. Go as slow as you want or quicken the pace with a clear conscience. Wind may be broken without be discomfited — fell a chipmunk or two but no manslaughter. When you pant and cry at the sight of menacing scrambles, no one would be there to point and laugh at such a tableau of “wussiness.” It was also reassuring to know that mother bears would not find it worth the effort to kill a solo hiker; to the contrary pairs and threesomes would go further towards feeding her entire brood (don’t hate me for drawing up these fallacies, you would too while alone in the woods).

To spare time, Pat has turned out to be my favorite hiking companion, with whom I would do many Peaks down the road. He hikes at a pace similar to mine and, most importantly, provides the sense of security having another does.

When Pat reached out to me I asked him what he had in mind. “Gothics.” At the time, I wasn’t sure if I was up to the perceived challenge of Gothics. Like much of The Great Range, it held a surly, gnarly reputation. Gothics even had the bad ass name to befit its reputation. The story goes, Old Mountain Phelps thought its sheer slides resembled gothic architecture. Gothics is certainly among the most distinctive looking Peaks and an inveterate crowd pleaser.

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Rainbow Falls sans the rainbow.

Pat and I had much time to reminisce before exertion — the hour plus drive to St. Huberts, followed by the serene yet monotonous walk the length of Lake Road. We followed the hand-written wooden signs to Gothics; such palatable human touches are sprinkled throughout the AMR. We were to take the Weld trail up to the col between Sawteeth and Pyramid but not before an excursion to Rainbow Falls —  the cascading water wasn’t particularly iridescent on this day. But it’s always nice to see water falling from a high place to a low place.

The Weld Trail was pleasant and not particularly steep at any point. The trail followed a creek amid the early Fall color. The final sweats to the peaks from the col, however, were a different story. We decided to tackle Sawteeth first which had an interesting scramble or two and steep terrain in general. Sawteeth would be my 12th High Peak and Pat’s 7th. As I would snag 13 later on, would Pat’s lucky 7th offset the misfortune perhaps portended by my unlucky 13th?

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Up close and personal — view of Great Range from Sawteeth.

Up on top of Sawteeth there was a western clearing with a palpable close-up view of the Upper Great Range. This view was also an anguishing preview of what lay ahead. Pyramid Peak, superimposed on and subordinate of Gothics, appeared impossibly steep; an astounding change of elevation strikingly without the concomitant amount of distance.

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Pyramid (foreground) and Gothics (behind). Our next (ominous) undertaking.

The sign from the col said it was merely six-tenths of a mile to Pyramid but it certainly didn’t feel like it. Contrary to my worry that a new hiking partner would fail to keep up with me, I proved to be the laggard here. Pat and I clung to all of nature’s handle bars (AKA twisted sturdy roots) skirting the trail. The trek up to Pyramid offered few preludes to the splendid view to come but much exhaustion. In fact, if you trust the capabilities of someone to whom you are introducing the High Peaks, Pyramid would make for a spectacular opening. Provided you don’t go up to Sawteeth, the awesome view from Pyramid comes as a surprise since few great vistas exist before it on the trail. As for the view, it is not an overstatement to proclaim it the best in all of the Adirondacks. If one were to trifle with the exercise of ranking the views from every High Peak, any vote for Pyramid would be a vote for Gothics since, according to cartographers, it is on the latter’s property. Pyramid has the height and big view but based on some arbitrary rules it is not distant enough from Gothics to be classified as its own High Peak. Pyramid is, in essence, a colony of Gothics but too inert a mass of rock to execute an insurrection. Surprised the Adirondack twitter sphere is not ablaze with a #freePyramid furor.

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Plenty of this on the way up to Pyramid. 

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You’ll dry up on superlatives when touting this view from Pyramid.

Pyramid was undecidedly the best for me until I did Haystack. Speaking of Haystack, it was among the mountains viewed, a terminus of the Great Range; we looked southwest across a foreshortened view of the Great Range. Saddleback, Basin then Haystack with Marcy triumphantly peering over them. Of course Gothics was right there to the west; our next target. While recumbent and soaking in the view, Pat and I noticed another hiker descend a rock face off of Gothics. From afar it looked as she were being lowered on a wire. Within moments she came huffing and puffing through the trees. She had come by way of the Wolf Jaws and Armstrong. Pat and I inquired about the trip to Armstrong from Gothics since it was still a faint possibility we would incorporate Armstrong into our adventure of the day. The faintness of it completely dimmed on her account: an “obstacle course.” (Having later done Armstrong, the trail from Gothics to Armstrong is “relatively” mild so far as the Great Range goes. She must have been referring to the jaunt between Armstrong and Upper Wolf Jaw.)

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The most memorable scramble between Pyramid and Gothics. 

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Pyramid Peak from Gothics.

The trip from Pyramid to Gothics was steep as it looked but short-lived. Pat and I arrived at the rock face that we had observed the woman negotiate in wire-like fluidity. Instead of carefully walking along the crevasse (as I have seen in videos) Pat and I chose to hoist ourselves up by the stubby vegetation to the left. The immediate view from the eastern flank of Gothics was about as spectacular as the view from Pyramid. Looking back at Pyramid, it didn’t look like much. The rocky outcropping from which we were formerly immersed in the Great Range was discernible. Arriving at the top of summit of Gothics, we were treated with with views to the west, all the while obscured by Gothics and the Great Range. Johns Brook valley was splotched in the fiery hues of fall, ever identifiable Big Slide poised above. The view from Gothics was predictably good but didn’t offer anymore “wow” than Pyramid had. It took me until my 13th High Peak to get a taste of The Great Range. It should be said, Gothics had me chomping at the bit for more.

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View from Gothics. Two tallest mountains in New York visible — Marcy (barely left of center) and Algonquin (to the right). 

Mount Greylock – 10/26/16

I recently climbed the tallest mountain in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts — Mount Greylock. Elevation wise, relative to what I’m used to, Greylock is but a hill. (Massachusetts isn’t known for its firmament piercing massifs). To wit, it comes in at a mere 3,491 feet, falling short of good ‘ol Noonmark by 65 feet. Still, I have learned (the hard way) not to underestimate a mountain because it is small. Incidentally, the four “fraudulent” 46ers, which are under 4,000 feet, are among the most challenging mountains I have yet climbed.

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Man and man’s best friend, village of Adams yonder. 

If Greylock is small in stature, it is only on account of its height. A lot of 19th Century literary muscle held such reverence for it. The anecdote goes — Herman Melville got the idea for Moby Dick because from his home the mountain’s profile resembled a great sperm whale. Nathaniel Hawthorne frequently visited Greylock and Thoreau went so far as to climb it (you had to have been an intrepid sort to have done anything bigger back then).

Contrary to popular belief, Greylock is not a part of the Berkshires, the neighboring range to the east which is most readily associated with the Commonwealth. Rather, Greylock is a part of the Taconic range, which straddles the eastern border of New York and the western borders of Connecticut, Massachusetts and even Vermont. From my location of Saratoga Springs, New York, Greylock is actually closer than many of the High Peaks. Remarkable considering the drive spanned three states. Access of the mountain didn’t entail the use of a highway or major thoroughfare. The drive involved many turns; I had to jot down the multitude of small road numbers on a scrap of paper.

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Cheshire Harbor Trail, the route I took. 

There’s a network of trails to the top of Greylock. I couldn’t decide which one to take. I would have liked to do the Greylock in the Round loop but I got a late start. I chose the quickest and easiest route to the summit, the Cheshire Harbor Trail. Compared to what I am accustomed to, this was an easy non-hike. The elevation gain was very gradual and there was nary a ledge. Fallen leaves littered the trail. So much for my hope to catch Massachusetts at peak foliage. The promised “bluebird” day was overcast, drab and particularly cold (and windy) at the summit.

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AT crossing the highway which girdles Greylock.

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Sleepy shack on spooky lake. Taken from off the short stretch of AT before the summit. 

Right before the summit, .75 miles to be exact, the Cheshire Harbor Trail met up with the fabled Appalachian Trail for the final leg to the summit. This is the third segment of the AT I have hiked. Can I say I have hiked the AT yet? It is solely an issue of semantics.

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Neat three-dimensional topographical map of Greylock. 

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Tower atop Greylock.

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Bascom Lodge. 

Greylock is said to boast one of the best views “in the east.” Those who made the claim must not get out much. The principal view is looking to the east, overlooking the town of Adams. Mount Monadnock, in southern New Hampshire, is one of the noticeable bumps out on the horizon. I thought I would be able to glimpse Moosilauke in The Whites but I couldn’t see any of them. The ‘Daks, on the other hand, were indiscernible in the midst of a mantle of clouds — but visible or typically visible. The neat thing about Greylock is that you can see 5 states from the summit. It has a highly developed summit, which is accessible by car. It is more on the order of Prospect than Whiteface. Greylock is worth a look, but not the order of spectacular one takes for granted in the Adirondacks or Whites.

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This shelter was open and heated. A nice temporary reprieve from the bitter late-autumn cold. 

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Adirondack High Peaks representin’. Surprised Killington is not visible from Greylock. 

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The AT descending the northern side of Greylock. If I continue, maybe I can reach Katahdin by January?

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Looking to the South. Cheshire Reservoir nearest water. 

Hadley Revisited

I revisited Hadley Mountain. Since May 26th — the day when I began the second half of my 46 — every hike has incorporated a High Peak. Hadley was but the second mountain I ever did. My first “real” mountain if you’re inclined to dismiss the overlook at Moreau State Park. Most memorably, Hadley is the first hike I ever did alone. I remember the apprehensions I had while weaving my SUV down the wooded dirt road. The two escaped convicts were still at large creating a media whirlwind. You know the two eminently dangerous cons who somehow escaped from a maximum security prison in Dannemora. I knew the odds of encountering the duo were slim and a handsome reward would be mine were I able to apprehend them (yeah right). Still, a chance meeting with two savage criminals, who would assumedly go to any length to avoid capture, was an unneeded fear to supplement the prospect of a marauding AF black bear.

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View to South of Great Sacandaga Lake – 6/22/15

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Same View – 9/26/16

You could imagine the relief I felt as I pulled into the parking lot to a team of DEC workers tending to their packs, filled with all sorts of heavy tools and gear. I spoke to the summit steward and he told me they were tasked with working on the fire tower. I asked if I could keep them company. He said they would be far too slow and advised I should go ahead. So I did. It was comforting to have people following in my footsteps. At the time I was very inquisitive about the High Peaks. The steward cautioned me; the High Peaks were a much greater undertaking than Hadley and I would have to work my way up.

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Looking North, some of the High Peaks — part of The Great Range, Nippletop, Dix, Giant and Rocky Peak Ridge — in the way distant haze. 

This latest time around — now an experienced hiker, a Forty-Sixer no less, disinhibited to solitary walks in the woods but this time with the company of Pat, one escaped convict deceased the other incarcerated — need I say the atmosphere of this visit was more genial?

Standing 2,654 feet (a mole hill by High Peaks standards), Hadley Mountain is the highest point in Saratoga County. The hike is only 1.3 miles in each direction and offers, as Pat opined from the summit, “good bang for your buck.” The High Peaks to the north, grace the horizon from the higher levels of the Fire Tower. To the south, the Great Sacandaga saliently snakes through the landscape. An “easy” family climb — to those used to harder.

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Hadley’s Fire Tower.

 

HaBaSa – 7/24/16

I knew going in — the biggest obstacles of the day would be finding a spot at The Garden and keeping myself from dozing off at the wheel on the way home. The obscenely early rise time for the sake of the former engendered the fear of the latter. Fortunately — I overcame both obstacles and (not to mention) the hike in between.

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Some think the best piece of real estate in New York is in the heart of Manhattan. I think it is here. 

I have to say, HaBaSa is, perhaps, the most beautiful hike I’ve ever done. The contenders are boosted up the board by nice stuff like fall foliage, HaBaSa is up there by its own merits.

Haystack remains my favorite Peak. It is too perfect. The craggy brain of Little Haystack and the more verdant cone of Haystack is evocative of the primitive. Plus, there was an attractive woman in a sports bra atop the summit when we got there; that makes Haystack like an ambitious straight A student seeking out gratuitous extra credit assignments.

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Haystack from Little Haystack. 

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Grid-minded bird heading for Skylight and Marcy after summiting Haystack.

I had little doubt the view from Basin would be good but I was not expecting it to be quite as spectacular as it was. The view “down” the Great Range and of the vastness of Johns Brook Valley has few rivals in the ‘Daks. I take it Verplanck Colvin gave Basin its name when feasting his eyes on this valley?

Basin was steep going on both sides with ledges aplenty. All the while vistas of the “Cliffs” of Saddleback menacingly toyed with me, as they have to countless approaching hikers. Contrary to what I for so long anticipated, I was excited to at last confront the “Cliffs” and scarcely perturbed.

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Favorite view from Basin: looking down The Great Range.

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My 44th summit was a beaut. 

Somewhere between Basin and Saddleback, I ran into TCD (from Adirondack High Peaks forum) and his party heading in the other direction. In fact — I was astonished by the sheer volume of hikers coming from the other direction. Nobody followed in our wake and we devoted a generous amount of time to the summit of Saddleback. Three young backpackers were at the summit when we got there but they went down the “Cliffs.” Be it, at a turtle pace.

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And then the trail fell off the face of the Earth…

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Saddleback and its “Cliffs”, Gothics and Pyramid.

What I am about to say goes against everything I’ve heard and read. I don’t think it is any harder to go down the “Cliffs” than up them and perhaps even easier. The reason I say this is because the two “trickiest” scrambles are at the beginning. Both would be simple going down, the taller you are the better. Sit down, hang your legs off the edge and jump … what, two feet fall at most? When I first watched TrailBoss’ (from Adirondack High Peaks Forum) video — which strived to dispel the undeserved reputation of the “Cliffs” — my reaction was “good try but you only showed Bib surmounting the first two scrambles, what about the rest?” Now I understand.

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By visuals and anecdotes, the “Cliffs” of Saddleback are far worse than they actually are. 

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Pat all but done with the “Cliffs”.

All and all, I found the “Cliffs” to be one of those monsters created in the mind. It’s a shame it still bears such a frightening reputation.

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Could stare at Basin and its magnificent slides all day. 

 

A lot of The Great Range (Saddleback to Lower Wolf Jaw)

Following written on July 21st, 2016:

My cousin’s husband’s sister died unexpectedly last week. Compounding the family’s grief are the burial costs. I was taken aback upon hearing it set the bereft back 24k. I’ll write it here it first, when I buy the farm, find a human-sized paper shredder place it atop a precipice, anywhere in The Great Range (preferably upper) and pass me on through. On one thing can atheists and theologians agree, heaven exists here.

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Basin, so much mountain. As viewed from Saddleback.

As I said in my last trip report, Allen had its moments but poor Allen was bookended by my hike up Dix and a whole bunch of The Great Range yesterday. The poor reclusive mountain never stood a chance.

The “Rockbiter” and I set off from the Garden w/ the intention of doing Gothics on down to LWJ. He needed 3 of those 4 mountains for his grid, I needed one for my maiden 46. We weren’’t on the Ore Bed trail for very long when he told me to go run ahead and claim Saddleback and he’d meet me in the col. He said he could then take his time. I sprung ahead like a kid getting permission from his parents to go down and open Christmas presents.

I was looking forward to seeing the Ore Bed trail and it was pretty much as I expected. Save for it being more of a calf burner than I thought it would be. I elected to take the stairs. Once at the col, I flew up to Saddleback.

What a splendid view. The view from Saddleback was more encompassing than I imagined it would be. The subject of every Saddleback picture is Basin and nothing else. I don’t tire of looking at Basin; it is an impressive mountain to look at and all 4,826’ of it dominates the view from Saddleback. I, however, didn’t think there was such an unobstructed view to the west and northwest from Saddleback: the Macs, Tabletop, Phelps, Lake Placid, Whiteface — all there.

I followed the ledge northwestward in search of the start of the “Cliffs” — for so long, the reputation of these ledges has terrified me. And, I figured peering down the Cliffs would do little to assuage my fears. I was wrong. Is this was all the fuss is about? I descended the Cliffs a little bit, about a third of the way in. Had I not left my pack at the col and had David not been waiting for me there, I would have continued the descent and on to Basin. I haven’t seen enough of the Cliffs to deliver a verdict, but based on what I saw, I have a feeling this may be one of those much ado about nothing things. I saw down to the infamous slab with the crevasse — the glacial erratic resting precariously to its side tipped me off. I still need to do Basin but the demystified “Cliffs” will make the planned Ha-Ba-Sa hike more enjoyable.

I bolted back to the col to find David had already begun his ascent to Gothics. I shouted his name and he wasn’t very far along. I was surprised to hear this sage of the Adirondacks hadn’t yet done the cable route so it was nice for us to both experience it for the first time. To be as terse as possible: this trail put my new Vibram to the test. It was spectacularly steep and spectacularly beautiful. I found it exhilarating and not to be missed.

Neither David nor I felt the need to use the cables. Perhaps on the descent, it would be a different story. But I don’t see their purpose if one has half grippy boots. Conceivably, they’d have a purpose if the rock were slick but I wouldn’t want to be there, cable or not, under those circumstances. The cables are also there at irregular intervals, so it’s best not to become dependent on them.

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While the cables weren’t necessary (on this day), they make for striking pictures.

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The “Rockbiter” doing what he does best: biting rocks. Nah, he was posing. 

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Perfection.

Frankly, I like the views from the impressive ridges of Gothics more so than its summit area. By ridges I count:

  • The W ridge accessed by the cable route.
  • The SE “ridge” which contains Pyramid Peak, boasting one of the best views in the ‘Daks.
  • The NE ridge connecting Armstrong which David insists is lovely above a snow pack.

Anyway you slice it, Gothics is nipping at the cairns of Haystack for the honor of my favorite Peak.

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Let’s see, I now have Gothics in September and July. Does it still count for a grid if you only grid the spectacular ones?

It was nice to finally see Armstrong. It was as I expected, a ledge with a very pretty view. The “free fall” trail down to the col between Armstrong and UWJ wasn’t so bad and the ladder didn’’t faze me like the Beaver Meadow Falls one did. Maybe I’ve grown.

This was my least favorite part of the trip. After Saddleback, Gothics and Armstrong — the Wolf Jaws don’t measure up. David and I left our packs at the Wolf’s Notch before embarking on LWJ. Half way up, I wished we hadn’t. David and I could have exited in style via the Bennies Brook slide and made it a truly fantastic day … well it still was, regardless.

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Beautiful view from Armstrong. 

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(In)famous ladder coming down Armstrong to col with UWJ.  

My car was parking in the AMR and his in the Garden so we had our options escape options. I voted for the trail back to the Garden, for the sake of novelty and not efficiency. A very nice trail and not the least bit steep. Lower Wolf Jaw isn’t a challenging mountain if you choose to approach it from the AMR but it is cake if you come from the Garden. On the Cascade level of easy. Lower Wolf Jaw (from the Garden) is a veritable beginner hike, but I am chary about recommending it to someone starting out on the basis of its limited view.

We took the Southside trail back until arbitrarily choosing a place to rock hop across Johns Brook. After several minutes of bushwhacking up the ridge, David found the main trail back to the lot. The “zombie walk” back to the car commenced, honey suckle embalming the air and the memories of the day being replayed in my mind.

Seymour Mountain – 7/31/16

I keep this one short and sweet — like Seymour. Some takeaways from my climb of Seymour:

  • For starters, the weatherman really blew this one — or rather the computers which generate the forecasts the weathermen interpret (or not). Much of Saturday, I pondered whether I could sneak Seymour into the diminishing window of nice weather. To the contrary the weather improved as I hiked.
  • This was the one year anniversary of my first solo High Peak (Phelps). Sometime before Phelps, when I had 3 Peaks to my name, I pledged to never do a High Peak alone. Local hiking in the more hospitable “hills” of Lake George (and the like) were fair game; High Peaks too fraught without the company of anyone else. “Well — Phelps does seem to carry an easy reputation, I can make an exception just this one time. But no more!” After that it became, “Well [insert Peak] cannot be that much harder than Phelps…” Before I knew it, I had done nearly half of the 46 solo by the end of the year. This year, I haven’t flown solo quite as much. But I figured it would be symbolic to do one last solo peak, on the anniversary of my first, before my impending finisher.
  • Anyway — back to Seymour. It is a little arse-kicker. A blogger I follow rated Dix from Round Pound a 10 in difficulty (the hardest), while giving Seymour a 5. Both Peaks are similar on paper but I found the latter a bit tougher. The steep part seemed to last longer on Seymour and was steeper. Although these appraisals of difficulty are subject to a high margin of error — I would need to do both again to get a better idea.
  • Perhaps the most, at once, delightful and unsettling of observations was how dry it was. There wasn’t a passage of mud where I had to give thought upon traversing, of the scant passages of mud there were. To put it more palpably, I questioned a few backpackers who had done the range the previous day. I asked about the part between Donaldson and Emmons. They shrugged their shoulders and insisted nothing memorably muddy. I rest my case. I felt a pang of guilt for continuing on unceasingly through the chronically muddy parts I should have had to negotiate. I hope the High Peaks got some moisture today because not much is in the forecast.
  • Seymour is the crown jewel of the Sewards. Mainly because it has a beautiful view.
  • I haven’t done all 4 Sewards in one day but I would have to say, among the “customary” hikes aspiring 46ers partake in, this would be the toughest. Heck, it took my three drives out there to do the 4. One time I parked at the wrong lot and slogged inexorably towards the wrong target, but hey it counts.

As for my times:

Started: 8:02am
Arrived at the cairn for the Seymour herd path: 9:39am
Summited Seymour: 10:48am
Began descent of Seymour: 11:36am
Arrived back at the cairn: 12:55pm
Finished: 2:25pm

I was pleased with my time but it’s a drag the Sewards are so far — at least for those among us who access the High Peaks via the Northway. Even though I’ve been out there three times for the Sewards and once more for Ampersand, I still haven’t comprehended how much more driving it is, particularly when compared with, say, the trailheads for Giant.

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I wouldn’t quite call it a slide. Reminiscent of the steep slabs everyone knows and loves on Blake. 

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Ampersand and me.

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Cannot best this view of the most far-flung range in the High Peaks. 

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The Sawtooth mountains and grand Whiteface beyond. 

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The Santas and crappy weather yonder. 

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The inclement weather I was told would chase me out…