Ha-Ma-Ta 2014-05-06

Haystack, Marcy, and Tabletop
Tuesday, May 6, 2014

On Tuesday, Neil and I spent ten hours roaming around the High Peaks. I visited Haystack, Marcy and Tabletop whereas Neil tagged Marcy and explored Panther Gorge.

Spring is evident in the valleys (< 3000') which are now free of snow and ice. The trail to Marcy Dam is wet and muddy but not unduly so. The Van Hoevenberg trail becomes icy upon crossing Phelps Brook (2800') and snowy around Indian Falls (3500'). The trails were hard-packed and spikes were adequate for Haystack, Marcy, and Tabletop.

In the Haystack-Marcy col, I stashed my snowshoes and headed to Haystack. Neil wore snowshoes for the bushwhack into the Gorge. The initial steep section of trail up Horse Hill still has good snow coverage but a few yawning holes, and the sound of rushing water, indicate its days are numbered.

Marcy has impressive snow coverage and it is mostly hard-packed. I was able to descend its north-east side (next to the huge "snow-bowl") in microspikes. 

Tabletop provided the trickiest bit of trail owing to a high and narrow snow-spine. Combined with late-afternoon softening of the snow, it was challenging to remain atop the narrow spine.

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Van Hoevenberg-Phelp trail junction.

The Haystacks.

Marcy's snowy northern face.

Snow-spine on Tabletop: 1 foot wide and 3 feet high.

Haystack, Marcy, and Tabletop from Adk Loj: 18.7 miles and ~6700 feet.

Winter Finale: Saranac Lake 6er Winter Ultra 2014-03-21

You never know what fate has in store for you. After a solid winter of hiking, culminating in the completion of a single-season round of the Winter 46, I felt I was in good physical condition. However, would my conditioning last until next winter or would fate have another plan for me? Rather than wait and leave things to chance, I had one more winter challenge to tackle. After confirming with the Saranac Lake 6ers, that March 21st is treated as the last hiking day of winter, I set out to hike my first "Saranac Lake 6er Winter Ultra".

The "Saranac lake 6er Winter Ultra" is a circuit of six peaks separated by several miles of roads. It must be hiked within a 24 hour period to claim "Ultra" status. The hiking route I had selected represented a distance of approximately 29 miles and 9000 feet of elevation gain.  Because I was hiking it on the final eligible day of winter, I had to complete it by midnight.

I spent Thursday night at Tmax-n-Topo's hostel where I had the good fortune to listen to David and Cory swap stories. Cory described a recent grueling bushwhacking trip that was "More exhausting than my hike to Allen and the Santanonis!" I listened attentively and filed the story under "I" for "Inspiration". I was about to embark on my most challenging winter hike and when my spirits would flag, and I knew they would, I could reach for file "I" and put everything into perspective.

I woke up at 4:30 AM and, after a hearty breakfast, left at 5:20 AM. Snow was falling, the car needed sweeping, and the roads were unplowed and greasy. It seemed like an eternity to reach Berkeley Green, in Saranac Lake. Yet, it was only 5:43 AM when I snapped a photo of my sleepy self with the 6er bell.

5:43 AM. Sleepy-face at Berkeley Green.

Creeping behind other cars that seemed to lack snow tires, I drove to the Scarface trail-head only to discover there was nowhere to park. The parking area was inaccessible and the road wasn't wide enough to safely, and legally, park a car.  I headed to the nearby Sunoco station and discovered it was closed. I didn't want to have my car ticketed or towed away so I drove on to the Jackrabbit trail, on Whiteface Inn Lane, to tackle Mckenzie and Haystack.

My car's back-end slid sideways as I made a low-speed, left-hand turn onto Whiteface Inn Lane. The roads were very slippery and, now chastened, I drove north slowly in order to avoid an abrupt and heart-breaking end to the day's journey. Sunrise was still an hour away and I drove past the trail-head and found myself near Chipmunk Lane. Sheesh! I backtracked and found, once again, no official place to park. Fortunately, a narrow swath of the shoulder was available. I parked my car partway on the shoulder and partway on the sloped mound of snow. I reversed to ensure I wasn't stuck and confirmed all would be well upon my return. Now I could begin the fun part of the day.

I left the road at 6:30 AM and marveled at how much time had already passed! Two hours since I woke up? How did that happen? Dawn's faint light allowed me to head out without the need of a headlamp. The trail was hard-packed with a 2 to 3 inch cover of freshly fallen snow. A chill wind blew through the trees and foreshadowed what would greet me atop Mckenzie. Forty-five minutes of walking in a light snowfall led me to the trail junction. The warm-up phase was over and now it was time to ascend.

In early December of 2013, Neil and I had made an 'exploratory hike' to prepare ourselves for the inaugural Saranac Lake 6er Winter Ultra held on December 21st. We hiked four of the six peaks (Mckenzie, Haystack, Scarface, and St. Regis) to familiarize ourselves with the trails, trail-heads, roads, and logistics. I must admit I was very tired after completing the fourth peak. I recall saying something like "I think I could squeeze out one more peak today but the sixth one would be a hardship." Shortly before December 21st, I opted out of the event due to the miserable weather prediction, namely rain. I knew I would miss the camaraderie and 'party atmosphere' but having it at the expense of being waterlogged all day didn't appeal to me. I had the rest of winter to choose a better day.

Upon reaching the first false summit, I was greeted by brisk westerly winds and drift snow. I lost the trail once but found it by simply wandering around my last known point. I knew I was off-trail whenever my snowshoes sank in the unconsolidated snow. After a few tries I discovered the hard-packed trail was screened by the boughs of a spruce. I pushed aside the boughs and continued on to the summit. I arrived at Mckenzie's eastern lookout at 8:20 AM and could just make out Bartlett Pond in the mist. Otherwise, there was nothing else to see. The weather forecast predicted clearing skies in the early afternoon and I was counting on it.

8:20 AM. Mckenzie.

Mckenzie's descent was quick and uneventful. I headed west along the Jackrabbit trail a short distance to a height-of-land. Neil and I had started our bushwhack to Haystack from this high-point and followed a faint herd-path. However, on this day I discovered a very distinct herd-path, a trough in the snow, starting well before the height-of-land. Less than a half-hour from the trail junction, I tagged the summit of Haystack. Upon my return to the junction, I met three skiers heading to Mckenzie. I informed them that the route was now well-trodden and, except for the wind and drifting at the summit, they should have an easy time.

I returned to Whiteface Inn Lane at 10:18 AM and discovered a snowplow had heaped a ridge of snow around my car. Fortunately, I had parked in a way that allowed me reverse and clear the mound easily. Two peaks down, four to go.

Back at the car, I concluded I would have to rethink my clothing if I were to remain comfortable for the next four peaks. Just about everything I had worn was wrong for the conditions on Mckenzie. My polyester base-layer, soft-shell jacket, and fleece mitts were wet, mostly from perspiration. Sitting in the cold car drove home just how wet and uncomfortable they had become (including my soft-shell pants).

Moisture-management became a priority so I chose to wear a polypropylene base-layer and an eVent jacket as my sole upper layers for the balance of the day. I opted out of fleece mitts and simply wore Gore-tex over-mitts. After each hike, I removed my damp socks and hiking boots and replaced them with a dry set and wore shoes reserved for driving. Upon arrival at the next trail-head, I would switch into fresh socks yet again and put my damp hiking boots back on. I munched on a protein bar during the drive but, after finishing Ampersand and my third protein bar, I couldn't even look at another one and stopped at Stewart's to buy a turkey sandwich and chocolate milk. Skittles and dark chocolate served as fuel during the ascents.

Scarface was next and, based on my last visit in December, I wasn't looking forward to it. Tom (Boghollow) had described Scarface this way "When you think you're on the summit, keep walking for another mile!" My assessment was less generous "It's the Emmons of the 6ers. A long walk to nowhere." I was really looking forward to hiking Ampersand but first I had to get Scarface out of the way.

In daylight, the parking situation at the Scarface trail-head looked no better than in the pre-dawn. However, the Sunoco station was now open and I received permission from its management to park at the far end of their property. The out-and-back to Scarface took me a little over 2.5 hours. Along the way I met a young woman and her dog. I whiled away time by counting 750 paces from Scarface's false summit, where if it was a clear day you could get a few views, to its true viewless summit. While walking the short distance of road, from the trail-head to the gas station, I was happy knowing my least favorite peak of the circuit was done.

Scarface, the viewless wonder.

The last time I hiked Ampersand was with my wife in September of 2010. It was a beautiful day and I have fond memories of that hike. As luck would have it, the skies began to clear as I drove away from Scarface. It was now 1:30 PM and the weather forecast was proving to be true. Bright sunshine lifted my spirits as I made the drive to Ampersand's trail-head. I mused that this experience felt like a "pub crawl but without the booze". Three peaks down, three to go.

I had prepared myself mentally for Ampersand's steep ascent. "It will feel like you're back at Mckenzie so easy does it; don't get discouraged." I passed two hikers descending and they were the last hikers I'd see for the rest of the day. The steep section didn't fail to make itself known but a very steady and determined pace ground it away. I topped out on Ampersand under a clear sky and brilliant sunshine. The views were better than I remembered!

Ampersand's summit and Upper Saranac Lake.

I had been making good time and, if I maintained my pace, I could be atop St. Regis to watch the sunset. The previous hikers had post-holed the upper reaches of Ampersand so I kept my snowshoes on to "span the gaps". I wanted to descend quickly but not at the expense of falling or twisting an ankle. I returned to the trail-head at 4:30 PM and felt confident that sunset on St.Regis was in the cards. Four down, two to go.

Along the way to St. Regis, I stopped at Stewart's for a sandwich and inquired if anyone had been to Baker's summit. I had no idea what, if anything, designated Baker's summit. I'd be there well after sunset and didn't want to fumble around in the dark wondering if I was truly on top. The best response I received was there wasn't anything unique on Baker's treed summit but the snowshoe tracks will definitely end there.

I arrived at St. Regis' trail-head a tick after 5:00 PM. I didn't want to block access to the unplowed lot so I parked next to a snowbank. I reversed, stopped, and then did my usual test to see if I could go forward. I couldn't; the front wheels spun freely on the ice beneath the snow. If you've seen the movie "Prometheus", recall the scene where Charlize Theron's character, Vickers, falls under the rolling alien spacecraft. Just before she is crushed, her last words were a pitiful and helpless "No, no, NO!" My words were similar; "I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm STUCK!" Unless I could get "unstuck" in a hurry, my hope of completing the Ultra before midnight was equally crushed.

I grabbed my shovel and began clearing away the snow from under all four wheels. I tried to inch forward but the wheels lost traction instantly. I removed the floor mats and jammed them, as much as I could, under the front wheels for added traction. The tires simply spun on the wet rubber. I couldn't back up because the rear of the vehicle was pressed up against a snowbank. I tried a few more things to no avail and concluded I needed assistance.

Keeses Mill Road is off the beaten path but fortune smiled on me and I spotted a pickup truck heading east. I waved my arms to flag it down and the driver pulled into the parking area. I asked if he had any traction devices but he had none. We worked together to push, shove, dig, rock, and do whatever we could to free the vehicle. We made some progress forward then decided to reverse. Unfortunately, the car became stuck again. Despite its snow tires, the vehicle simply couldn't acquire traction on the slick mix of ice and snow. The Good Samaritan took the wheel and, with me pushing, we reversed deeper into the parking area and onto level ground. He attempted to get a running start up the gentle slope but the car simply floundered side-to-side. He persisted and, with me pushing hard, we finally managed to move forward, up the slope and onto the plowed road. The Good Samaritan exclaimed "Now that was a good workout!" I thanked him profusely and he went on his way.

My adrenaline was now running high. I had lost a half-hour and wouldn't see the sunset from the summit. However, I was grateful that someone took the time to help me. It could have turned out much worse; I might have had to forfeit the day.

I left the trail-head at 5:45 PM and prepared myself mentally for the fifth peak of the journey. I knew it would probably be the most challenging because I could feel fatigue slowly settling into me. The key was to maintain an even pace and to focus on the long-term goal. I reminded myself that I had six hours left to hike two peaks and the second one was the easiest of the lot. "It's a cake-walk!" I exclaimed.

St. Regis represents a hike of approximately 6.5 miles with an overall ascent of 1800 feet. The "book value" indicates only 1266 feet but it fails to account for the "ups and downs" along the way including a drop of 200 feet over the first 1.5 miles. Essentially, St. Regis would feel like Scarface but with a better view, assuming I reached the summit before dark.

Near the summit, on the steepest section of the hike, I imagined being imbued with the strength of others. The exploits of stronger hikers served to encourage me to climb steadily. Whatever 'mind games' suitable to the task were employed to urge me on. It was worth the effort because, 1.5 hours from the trail-head, I was standing on the summit and treated to the last orange glow of sunset. It was my third time on St. Regis but my first with a view.

St. Regis summit after sunset.

I tagged the summit, donned my headlamp, and began the descent. Before long, to bolster my spirits, I imagined I was hiking with others. Neil was ahead of me and David was behind. "We" trudged along in the dark for the next three miles. The 200 feet lost earlier were noticeably regained and then the trail truly descended to the road. My imaginary partners melted away into the darkness while I signed out at the trail register. It took me just a tick over 2.5 hours to complete the hike to St. Regis. The "worst" was now behind me; I felt re-energized and was raring to tackle Baker.

Although I had a map, I stopped at Stewart's again to confirm that I was heading in the right direction. The 6er Trail Map indicated "Main" street but the road sign said "Bloomingdale". I was convinced they were the same but it was worth my while to check. A friendly couple confirmed my guess. I explained I was trying to locate the trail-head for Baxter. The gentleman looked at me quizzically. I repeated my question and heard myself saying "Baxter" instead of "Baker". I laughed and corrected myself. He gave me a look of recognition and proceeded to describe the route. Afterwards, he graciously offered to guide me directly to Baker's trail-head. I followed his Jeep through town and was grateful because, in the dark, many of the road signs were either difficult to read or were obscured by tree branches. He stopped at the trail-head, rolled down his window, and pointed to it. I thanked him again and explained it was my sixth and final peak of the day to complete the Saranac Lake 6er. He replied "You're crazy!" and drove away. Truly, this challenge is not for everyone.

I emptied my pack of all gear that I had not used all day and put on a pair of spare boots. They had been reserved in case my primary boots became excessively wet or failed for some unknown reason. Seeing that they had been unused all day, it seemed like a good time to press them into service. I strapped on my snowshoes, clomp-clomped across the road, and signed in at the register. This was it! The last peak of the day!

The trail was icy and it was clear very few people had opted to use snowshoes. As I ascended I watched the lights of Saranac Lake appear through the trees. I kept a steady pace and, a half-hour into the hike, was surprised to run out of trail. I thought I might be standing on a false-summit so I followed every trace to discover they simple led to viewing points around the summit. I shut off my headlamp and was plunged into overwhelmingly darkness. I let my eyes adjust and could see stars and lights through the trees all around me. There was nowhere to go but down from here; I was definitely on Baker. I took a selfie at the highest point, next to a mature pine, and then one more next to a unique red trail marker (no markings). As I began my descent, I turned off my headlamp one more time to take a photo of the Orion constellation high above Saranac Lake. The moment was magical.

Find Orion!

Back at my car, I hurriedly stowed my gear and retraced my route to the center of the village. I parked next to Berkeley Green, walked into the pergola and called my wife. I said "There's something I want you to hear!" and rang the 6er bell six times. She congratulated me and wished me well. I gave her a very quick synopsis of the day and added that I was heading back to the hostel to get a good night's rest. It had been a 16.5 hour day consisting of twelve and quarter hours of hiking and over four hours of driving. I was tired but very pleased to have had the opportunity, and wherewithal, to complete the circuit. It was a perfect ending to my winter hiking season.

10:19 PM at Berkeley Green and I get to ring the 6er bell six times!

Resources

The following spreadsheet contains detailed information about the entire hike. It includes hiking distances and elevation gain for each peak, driving distances and estimated driving times between peaks, and my hiking and driving times. In a nutshell, I hiked for 12h 14m covering 28.5 miles and 9000 feet of elevation gain. I spent 4h 22m driving between the trail-heads for a total of 16h 36m. It was a very busy day!

If you wish to see the peaks, trail, and trail-heads of the Saranac Lake 6er in Google Earth, download the following KMZ file. It shows the trails in "3D" and lets you measure distances, elevation gain, and develop a better understanding of the overall challenge.

Photos

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Haystack and Big Slide. 2014-03-09

Sunday, March 9, 2014

The third day of three days in the Adirondacks.

I was achy on Sunday morning, plus the switch to Daylight Saving time had stolen an hour's sleep. I scrambled to vacate the hostel and get to the Garden by 7:00 AM.

Today was Brian's (Pathgrinder) Winter 46 finish. He and I have hiked many times together and he had accompanied me on my W46 finish last winter. Although I had forewarned him that fatigue may force me to bow out, I didn't want to be a $hit-heel and skip out on his big day. Game face on and out the door!


Brian, Sam and I had a great hike to Haystack. The cloudless day gave us the best views Haystack can offer. After congratulating him on the summit, we dropped into the lee where he treated us to apricot brandy. The next thirty, forty, fifty or whatever minutes were spent mellowing out in the company of friends, fresh air, and mountain scenery. Not too long after the bar ran dry, we leaned into the wind and made our way down the mountain.We met a couple on Horse Hill and that was the sum total of other hikers we encountered.

Shortly past Johns Brook Lodge, we said our goodbyes and I turned uphill to tag Big Slide. Along the way, I developed my first-ever leg cramp. Maybe the booze played a role or possibly the previous two days of hiking. Whatever the reason, my lower left leg signaled its unhappiness. I stopped every now and then to apply snow on my sore leg muscles. Seventy-five minutes from the junction, I topped out on Big Slide. Wow! Haystack looked very far away!

Now walking mostly downhill, I ambled along over the Brothers, being careful not to aggravate my left leg, and enjoyed the scenery as it slid by. It was a very rewarding day of hiking but I must admit I was happy to see my car. A few days of R&R and then I'll head out again. It looks like a mid-week snowstorm will freshen up the peaks just in time for me to finish my Single-Season Winter 46 (SSW46).

Brian and Sam descend Little Haystack.

Success! ADK Winter 46!

Late afternoon on the Brothers.

Photos

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McKenzie, Haystack, Scarface, and St. Regis 2013-12-12

This was a "reconnaissance hike" to prepare for Neil's Saranac 6er Winter Ultra on Saturday December 21st. The six peaks of the Saranac 6 include a few that Neil and I have never hiked so, aside from gathering data, we'd be visiting new territory.

I was "on the fence" about the Winter Ultra and thought a "sampler hike" would help me decide. I admit that after four peaks I was quite certain I had no interest in a 6-peak "sufferfest". Today, rested and in the bright sunshine, I'm not so sure about skipping out on the, as Mark Twight opined, "it doesn't have to be fun to be fun".

The goal of the hike was to sample a few 6ers and gather information about trails, times, distances, location of trail-heads and parking. We theorized about the optimal order of peaks but wanted evidence based on "boots on the ground". Based on the experience, we changed our minds about a few things and learned something valuable about the Saranac 6.

We left Montreal at 4:30 AM and arrived at Saranac Lake near 7:00 AM. After a quick stop at the local Stewart's to change into hiking gear, we drove to Berkeley Green to see the 6er bell. Having established its location, we drove east to hike McKenzie and Haystack. Along the way we made a mental note of the location of the turn-off for Scarface.

The 6er bell at Berkeley Green.

We chose to hike McKenzie via the Jackrabbit trail from Whiteface Inn Lane. Parking opportunities? Practically speaking, none. Solution on December 21st? Use a Russian cab driver named Pickup Andropoff. Fortunately we were the first and only vehicle so we managed to squeeze in without difficulty. It was -22 C (~ -7 F) and a Thursday so that might have had something to do with the lack of hikers. December 21st will be very different.

I've never hiked McKenzie from the south, along the DEC trail, but have visited it from the east, via the SOA trail, and the west, via a bushwhack. It is a steep route that teases you with a false summit. Being south-facing, and with the paucity of recent snowfall, we found it to be very icy and requiring careful attention to foot placement.

We were fortunate to have a bright sunny morning and the views south, to the central High Peaks, and east, to Lake Placid and the Sentinel Range, were spectacular. The western lookout was also very scenic but we spent all of 15 seconds there owing to the eye-stinging westerly wind. The drop back to the Jackrabbit trail was surprisingly quick despite the copious ice.

Sawtooth and Seward Ranges from McKenzie.

Based on a hot tip, we went off along the Jackrabbit trail in search of a cairn that marked the start of a herd-path to Haystack. The search proved fruitless and consumed 200 feet of elevation and a half-hour. We conceded the cairn had been dismantled because there wasn't enough snow-cover to obscure it. We found a subtle path, which became stronger, and followed it along the ridge to Haystack's summit.

Haystack has a lovely south-facing lookout with views duplicating those of McKenzie. We thought it'd be an excellent place to return in the summer for a leisurely picnic with folks who love the outdoors, and great views, but aren't willing to walk for miles on end.

From the Sentinels to the Sewards.

The total time to ascend and descend Haystack was nearly equal to the time lost searching for the non-existent cairn. Oh well, that'll be a half-hour saved on December 21st! We zipped back to Neil's car along the smooth and wide Jackrabbit trail. Soggy mitts were either swapped or dried on the heater vents while we drove to our next peak, Scarface.

The Scarface trail-head offers room for a few cars (few is the operative word). Again, you may wish to use the convenience of Pickup Andropoff on December 21st. I'd say this is a trail where the journey is more interesting than the destination. The first half of the trail is dead-level and crosses a railway track and an interesting bridge then winds its way through tall stands of red pine. The third quarter rises to a near-viewless summit and then the last quarter is a seemingly endless traverse across the peak to its true, completely-viewless summit. I called Scarface the "Emmons of the Saranac 6". :-\

The view from Scarface.

Seeing that we were limiting ourselves to four of the six peaks, I led a spirited descent of Scarface with Neil in close pursuit. We arrived on level ground lickety-split and Neil indicated that, although fun, it was an unsustainable pace (for us) over six peaks. I agreed wholeheartedly after learning the extra effort saved us a mere eighteen minutes. Over the course of a long day, there are far more efficient ways to save eighteen minutes than dash 'hell bent' down a slope.

On our recent "normal" hikes, where we spent 12+ hours hiking, constant motion with few breaks ensured we stayed tolerably warm. Many breaks were ended by one of us calling out "OK, I'm getting cold". However, this day featured extended breaks in the form of returning to a frosty car and driving to another trail-head. The especially cold day ensured we had plenty of time to sit in a freezing car and notice how cold and damp our clothing had become. With the seat-heaters and defroster on maximum, we drove off to hike St. Regis.

The St. Regis trail-head, just a few miles west of Paul Smiths, provides room for many cars. By the time we arrived, my leg muscles and joints were experiencing a noticeable amount of "post-hike stiffness" except we weren't "post-hike" yet. Being seated and motionless for forty minutes proved to be an undesirable "cool down" for my body. At this stage, we hadn't hiked more than 14 miles and 4000 feet yet I felt surprisingly tired. I found the combination of cold weather and "start-stop" hiking to be extra taxing on my body.

Darkness was falling and a light snow began to fall. I topped up my hydration bladder, stuffed a fresh set of hand-warmers in my mitts, and donned my headlamp. I had hiked St. Regis many years ago so I remembered how to find the trail-head and the need to cross a bridge to access the trail. A road crosses a bridge and along the way you veer right to follow the trail. Unfortunately, I forgot where to "veer right".

Darkness had fallen and we seemed to be heading along the road, marked with "Canoe Carry" disks, for far too long. Realizing my memory had served us well only up to the bridge, we doubled back and quickly located the trail. It was a ten minute mistake that won't be repeated on the 21st.

The trail to St. Regis is mostly a mellow route. Just when it seemed to be dragging on for too long, we emerged on the wind-blown summit. The fire tower stood like a sentinel in the wind-driven snow. A red plastic canister, marked with the Saranac 6er logo, hung from one of the tower's steel legs. Recognizing a perfect photo-op, I pulled my camera out of my jacket pocket and was greeted with "Charge the Battery". We withdrew out of the wind and I warmed the camera body in a pants pocket, placed the camera battery on my belly, and proceeded to wait.

Several minutes later I tried again but had no luck. Thoroughly disappointed by my new camera's cold-weather performance, I gave up. Upon returning to the car I tried again only to have the camera operate long enough to extend its lens partially and drop dead. Naturally, after the camera warmed up in the car it worked flawlessly. Phooey.

Back at the car, we quickly stowed our gear and, in the falling snow, drove back to Stewart's in Saranac Lake for some chili. I remarked to Neil that I probably had a fifth peak left in me but the sixth, Baker, would have been a very unhappy little hike. He concurred it was a surprisingly tiring day and how important it would be to maintain a sustainable pace to complete all six. It was a sobering thought to contemplate that, after four peaks, the total remaining elevation gain, Ampersand and Baker, represented the equivalent of hiking Pyramid from the Lake Road! We headed home with newfound respect for the challenge of a Winter Ultra.

Photos

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Great Range Traverse 2013-08-05

A pilgrimage to the highest of the High Peaks.

During one's quest to become an Adirondack 46er, it's normal to progress from hiking a single peak to several in a day. Many aspiring 46ers eventually develop the endurance to hike a mountain range, such as the Sewards, Santanonis, and Dixes, in one long day. These extended hikes comprise about 18 miles and 5500 feet of ascent, more or less. A Great Range Traverse (GRT) demands endurance for a 24 mile hike with 10000 feet of ascent.

A GRT asks for a greater investment in preparation and effort but rewards the hiker with some of the best scenery in the High Peaks. I was intrigued by the challenge, namely to traverse all peaks in the Great Range and end at the highest peak, Marcy.  With a bit of whimsy, I framed it as a 'pilgrimage to the highest of the High Peaks'.

I used to think "If you can hike the GRT, you can hike anything in the Adirondacks". Although the statement bears a germ of truth, it's logic is flawed because, of course, you can always find a longer and more challenging combination of peaks. In 1932, Bob Marshall (ADK 46er #3) covered 14 peaks in a day (13 600') and, in 1933, Herbert Malcom (ADK 46er #5) hiked 18 peaks (20 067') {1}. Nowadays, people run the GRT in under six hours and have hiked all 46 peaks in under 4 days! However, in the context of what an average hiker experiences, in the quest to become a 46er, the GRT is a significant step beyond and it captured my imagination.

By March of 2012, I had completed two all-season rounds of the ADK 46 and was working towards a winter round. The journey taught me a great deal about what needed improvement before attempting a GRT. Nuisance issues, like my tender feet, were addressed with better preventive measures and different gear. The key area needing improvement was endurance.

To improve my stamina, I took up running. By early June, of 2012, I was up to 10 kilometers, every other day, and looking forward to attempting the GRT later in the month. Feeling exceptionally strong one day, I ran 17 km, a personal record, and promptly injured my knee. For two weeks I couldn't climb stairs without pain and it took several weeks before I could hike again. 2012's GRT attempt was a no-go.

As a balm for my disappointment, I chose to hike the upper Great Range to get a taste of the GRT. I hiked from the Garden trail-head to Marcy and then over Haystack, Basin, Saddleback, to Gothics. Upon reaching Gothics' summit my legs and knees were sore. Completing the balance of the hike, to the Rooster Comb trail-head, required strength and endurance I did not possess. I was an unworthy pilgrim; had I tried to finish it would not have been in "good style".

The term "good style" has special meaning for rock-climbers. On my little planet, finishing a hike in "good style" means leaving the trail feeling satisfied by the experience (a.k.a. "content") and no worse for wear. I wanted to be a worthy pilgrim. My goal was to prepare myself for a GRT so that I'd take its challenges in stride and finish in "good style". I added stretching and squats to my running routine and focused on staying free of injuries. A full year later, by late July 2013, I felt strong, my right knee was mostly pain-free and, with the days growing shorter, it was time to grab the brass ring.

There are several permutations of the Great Range Traverse and my choice was to follow the route described in the Fastest Known Time, namely to start from the Rooster Comb trail-head, in Keene Valley, and ascend:

• Rooster Comb
• Hedgehog
• Lower Wolfjaw
• Upper Wolfjaw
• Armstrong
• Gothics
• Saddleback
• Basin
• Haystack
• Marcy

I would also include a side-trip to Pyramid and exit at Adirondack Loj, near Lake Placid, as opposed to the Garden trail-head in Keene Valley. Exiting at the Loj is about one and a half miles shorter and 700 feet less descent than the Garden.

The shorter distance and descent didn't play a factor in my choice of exit. My wife would spend her day in Lake Placid so it was more practical to finish at the Loj. Based on measurements found here and the Adirondack Mountain Club's High Peaks guidebook, my chosen route was 24.3 miles (39.1 km) in length and 10120 feet (3085 m) in elevation gain.

On Sunday, August 4th, my wife and I stayed at the Rooster Comb Inn in Keene Valley. We were warmly greeted by its owner Steve and introduced to the resident basset hounds, Rosie and Uncle Joe. Our cozy room was furnished in "Adirondack Rustic" furniture designed and built by Steve. A community kitchen offered all the conveniences of home and was ideal for my pre-dawn breakfast the following morning.

Steve explained I could walk to the Rooster Comb trail by cutting across the adjoining school property. I explored the route and it led to the scenic pond located a few hundred yards from the trail-head. It was a nice short-cut but, this being my first GRT, I decided to start from the 'official' Rooster Comb trail-head.

Sunday's dinner came from an unexpected source, namely the Keene Valley Fire department. They were holding a fund-raising drive and we purchased tickets for the BBQ chicken dinner. Combined with excellent baked beans, macaroni salad, green salad, and brownies with ice-cream, it was a delicious pre-hike meal. By 8:30 PM, I was showered and in bed, awaiting the alarm clock to sound at 4:15 AM.

As usual, the anticipation caused fitful sleep and I awoke shortly before the appointed time. I dressed, ministered to the needs of my feet, and slipped out to the kitchen to devour a large bowl of cereal and blueberries. I kissed my wife good-bye, she wished me good luck, and I was out the door at 4:55 AM. After a short walk along route 73, I arrived at the Rooster Comb trail-head and registered for my hike: "Great Range Traverse, exit at ADK Loj". There it was, written on paper, now all I had to do was make it happen!

With sunrise about 45 minutes away, I followed the excellent path by headlamp. The morning was cool (10 °C, 50 °F) but within a few minutes of ascent I removed my long-sleeve shirt and continued in T-shirt and shorts for the balance of the trip. In the darkness I spooked a deer and the resulting crash in the underbrush got my heart racing as well.

I arrived at the Rooster Comb junction a few minutes past sunrise and extinguished my headlamp. I started up the spur-trail to Rooster Comb's summit. About a hundred yards later I decided I shouldn't expend more energy than necessary, so I hung my pack on a tree branch. I continued to the summit with my camera in expectation of a beautiful sunrise. I wasn't disappointed.

Sunrise over Tripod mountain.

Rooster Comb's rocky outlook was bathed in orange-pink light from the first rays of the rising sun. Peeking over Tripod mountain, the sun's warming light cast a rich glow on the mountains and heralded the start of a glorious day. Owing to the sunlight's low angle, Rooster Comb's distinct profile cast a recognizable shadow on Johns Brook valley. In a moment of child-like whimsy, I hoped my shadow would also be visible, as a tiny stick figure, but optical physics said no.

Posing with Rooster Comb's shadow.

After retrieving my pack I continued with the business of ascending to Hedgehog. The trail-bed was excellent and before long I was at the head-waters of Flume Brook. I had traveled this route several weeks earlier and the brook had been running but today, to my disappointment, it was dry. I followed it downhill for several yards and discovered a tiny pool filled with cold, clear water. Now was the time to take on three liters because the next source, at Deer Brook, might be even drier. Beyond Deer Brook, there was no reliable water source (without descending off-route) until the Basin-Haystack col.

I drew a liter of water, inserted my Steripen, pushed the button, and got a flashing red light. Uh-oh. The Steripen's batteries were dead. I normally carry purification tablets to cover this situation but they infuse the water with a horrible taste. They were the avenue of last resort. I considered the option of drinking nauseous chemical swill for many hours to come and didn't like it one bit. I concluded the water's source was better than average and didn't need purification. If I was wrong, it was unlikely I'd suffer the consequences immediately but days, or weeks, after consuming the tainted water. I filled my hydration bladder with three liters of the Adirondack's finest beverage (fingers crossed) and continued on my way.

Hedgehog's summit is a non-event: a solitary rock lying in a bend of the wooded trail that is passed in a blink of an eye. A more interesting discovery was that my prediction about Deer Brook's condition was totally wrong. It was far from dry and water flowed freely across the trail. I rolled my eyes, made a mental note and pressed on to the Wolf's Chin. Along the way, "Yellow Submarine" invaded my mind and kept it occupied for awhile.

Having ascended Lower Wolfjaw via trails from the east and west, I now feel the trail from the Rooster Comb trail-head, rising and falling over Hedgehog and the Wolf's Chin, is more interesting and demanding. The final view of Lower Wolfjaw from the Chin, dispels the notion that it's a ho-hum peak with limited views. It's northern side rises about 250' above the col and looks quite imposing when viewed from the Chin. The steepest pitch is short but steep enough to make a lasting impression. In some ways, it reminded me of hiking to Rocky Peak Ridge from New Russia. That route makes RPR feel like a full-bodied mountain instead of something you "tag" as a side-trip from Giant. Similarly, hiking to Lower Wolfjaw from Rooster Comb made it feel like the main attraction as opposed to a side-show en route to Upper Wolfjaw.

Three hours from Keene Valley, I stood atop Lower Wolfjaw's wooded summit and relished the notion that the first 3000 feet of ascent were behind me. I was on the first of eight 4K peaks, feeling strong, and looking forward to what lie ahead. The wind was making itself known and the temperature had dropped (6 °C, 43 °F). I wasn't planning to spend more than a minute or three on each summit and the windchill was helping me stick to the plan.

The drop into the Wolfjaws col was uneventful and I began the next leg with a firm grasp of its challenges. The ascent to Upper Wolfjaw's false summit, capped with a glacial erratic, is steep and heavily eroded. The trail to the true summit is a breeze and is followed by a series of challenging scrambles to the summit of Armstrong.

I paused on Upper Wolfjaw's summit for a snack and to remove debris that had entered my shoes and gnawing at my feet. After tightening the laces, my feet felt better than ever and I was eager to get moving again. The rugged scramble up Armstrong was fresh in my mind from a recent trip. The steepest bits are becoming progressively wider as scores of hikers avoid the worst and head for the trees. I popped out on Armstrong at 9:30 AM and was greeted by a stellar view of Gothics and Saddleback. The True North slide on Gothics and the Back-in-the-Saddle slide on Saddleback brought back memories of past trips. The brisk wind urged me on.

The view from Armstrong on a blue-bird day.

I seemed to be eating and drinking less than on past trips. I was sweating, as usual, but less so and I attribute that to the cooling breeze. By hike's end, I was surprised to discover all I ate was one and a half Clif Bars and three packets of Welch's Fruit Snacks!

The moment I reached the summit of Gothics I knew I would complete the entire traverse. It was 10:00 AM and I felt strong, relaxed, and very pleased with my performance. The upper Great Range is my favorite section and I was eager to see it on a spectacular, blue-bird day. In fact, the weather was so fine that it would be a shame to skip the view of the Great Range from the summit of nearby Pyramid. I descended to the trail junction, stashed my pack and descended to the Gothics-Pyramid col.

During the descent, my mind wandered and chose to compose a children's song. "Billy Goat" served to amuse me as I scrambled towards Pyramid's summit. Nimble little Billy Goat could scramble up rocks for hours without fear of gravity or difficulty. I imagined a troop of little hikers voicing the refrain "Baaaa" in response to the group leader's rallying call of "Billy Goat!" Before I could flesh out meaningful lyrics, Billy Goat had done his job and I was standing on Pyramid. Thanks, Billy Goat!

I'm sure I would've kicked myself had I not made the side-trip to Pyramid. I have no religious affiliations but there was something about the GRT that lent itself to be described in spiritual terms. Against the backdrop of a cerulean blue sky, the peaks of the Great Range stood like summit-temples along the pilgrim's route to the highest of the High.

In a universe that is indifferent to everything, where good happens to bad and bad to good with senseless abandon, we struggle to find meaning to our fleeting existence. The universe is deaf to our questions so we are left to our own devices and find meaning in the natural world, science, art, love, and charity. Today, the natural world gave some meaning to my existence.

Gothics and the "summit-temples" of the upper Great Range.

Upon returning to Gothics, I collected my pack and proceeded to descend the cable route to the Gothics-Saddleback col. The kindest way for my knees was to descend backwards using the cable like a rappel rope. It went quickly, so quickly I didn't even bother to take photos of the route.

I made quick work of the ascent and arrived on Saddleback's summit shortly after 11:00 AM. I had no qualms about descending Saddleback's cliff but today it sensed my lack of focus and proceeded to fluster me. Within moments of my descent I managed to go off-route. I looked around and immediately appreciated the grave consequences of being lackadaisical. I worked my way back to the blazed route and descended efficiently. The final drop to terra firma was merely serviceable and not as effortless and graceful as I had imagined it would be. The experience left a bad taste and made me realize I shouldn't get cocky while traipsing through the temples.

Bottle Gentian in the Saddleback-Basin col.

Bulldog, Baseball, Buick, Basin. I recall a comedian professing the inherent humor of "B" words. If you need a punch line make sure it's peppered with "B" words like Emo Philips with "So I backed up the Buick."

Well, Basin is as funny as a heart-attack. By the time I reached it's summit I was beginning to feel fatigued. The view from "Temple Basin" reveals all that lies ahead and it is both inspiring and intimidating. There's about a thousand-foot drop into the "hole" that forms the headwaters of Haystack Brook followed by a 1200-foot ascent to Haystack. Another loss of many hundreds of feet are experienced before the final ascent of 1200 feet to Marcy. Basin proclaims "Here lies what you sought! Still want it, bub?"

The view from Basin in Cinerama.

The descent to Haystack Brook involves several steep drops where one is spanned by a ladder. It was here I passed a couple who were jury-rigging a system to haul their dog up the ladder. It seemed to involve some rope. I didn't stay to see how it was done.

At Haystack Brook, I drew a liter of water from the brook, added it to my hydration bladder, took a swig, and discovered it was now noticeably 'flavored' with tannin. I can't say it tasted great but it sure killed one's thirst! I rationalized the situation by concluding a functional Steripen wouldn't have improved the taste.

The climb out of the col was becoming a bit of a grind when, just below the junction, I met Bib. I had been counting the number of people I met along the route and Bib was the fourteenth. By the time I reached Haystack, I had met 25 people and stopped counting because of the volume of group-hikers.

I knew Bib had plans to hike to Haystack and hoped our paths would cross during the day. It was good to see him and we described our respective days to one another. I admitted I was beginning to feel the accumulated hours of effort and also described the dead Steripen. Bib graciously offered to give me fresh batteries but I declined. It wouldn't mitigate the untreated water I had already ingested. We both remarked what a beautiful day it was and noted the brisk wind. Bib added the wind was "something else" on Haystack! We bid one another good-bye, and good luck, and went our separate ways.

My spirits were lifted by the meeting and the discovery I was a mere two minutes from the trail-junction to Haystack. I climbed up a few yards, put on a shell, and stashed my pack. Freed of my burden, my inner "Billy Goat" was let loose and I dashed up the rock without a care in the world. Twenty-two minutes later, this old goat's shell was flapping wildly atop wind-blown Haystack.

Atop Haystack's wind-blown summit.

Whatever fatigue I felt was left behind with my pack. The brisk wind was like a cold compress for my legs and soothing music to my ears. I was elated to be on Haystack, my favorite peak, and it was barely 1:30 PM. Marcy may be taller but I was on "top o' the world" on Haystack. I probably would've danced a jig if it wasn't for the presence of a couple nestled in the lee of the summit. We chatted briefly, they took my photo, and then I was off to the highest of the High.

I shouldered my pack and began the up-and-over to the junction with the Phelps trail. It's a rough descent down a section I call the "cheese-grater". Upon reaching the junction I paused and prepared myself mentally for the final ascent. This would be the day I would set a personal record for elevation gain and I wanted it to be smooth and memorable. Alan Shepherd's (apocryphal) prayer says it best "Dear Lord, please don't let me f--k up."

Thirty minutes out of the col, I arrived at the Van Hoevenburg trail-junction. It greeted me with the stench of human waste. It appears the pilgrims drawn to Marcy use the surrounding woods as an open-pit toilet. I guess even pilgrims have to "go" somewhere. Sadly they know not of cat-holes.

The final twenty minutes to the top was a lovely walk in the wind. Shortly before 3:00 PM I tagged the summit and retreated to the lee side to don my shell. Months of preparation had allowed me to experience a pleasant journey executed without injury, pain, or undue discomfort. Looking out on the mountains, I felt a deep sense of accomplishment. I had set myself a goal and achieved it in "good style": I was content and no worse for wear.

Looking back at the Great Range.

After a brief chat with the summit steward, I proceeded to the northern end of the summit. The plan was to call my wife, from Marcy, to arrange the pick-up time. Upon hearing the news she congratulated me and offered to treat me to dinner in Lake Placid. Having developed a healthy appetite, I quickly accepted and added that I expected to arrive at the Loj in three hours (6:00 PM).

I managed to shave off a half-hour from my predicted arrival time. In comparison to the rugged route over the Great Range, the Van Hoevenberg trail felt like a paved road. Wherever the trail allowed I increased my pace or broke into a jog. I didn't have an accurate means of measuring my speed so I simply took every advantage to maintain a strong pace to ensure I met my wife at the appointed time.

I arrived at the remains of Marcy Dam and checked my watch. It was just shy of 5:00 PM. I like to challenge myself so I decided to expend whatever energy I had left to exit as quickly as I could. Again, in comparison to what I had traversed earlier in the day, the trail to the Loj felt smooth as silk. The last leg of the journey would no longer be a pilgrimage but a competition with oneself.

Admittedly, the last several hundred yards were a bit of a grunt but I met my goal and arrived at the trail-head at 5:27 PM. My first GRT had come to a successful end. My wife greeted me with congratulations, a hug, kiss, and bottle of chocolate milk. She thought of everything!

My first GRT is a success!

By pure coincidence, Brian (Pathgrinder) and his two hiking companions (Gregory and Gary) emerged from the trail and stopped by to say hello. It was good to see him and, upon learning of my day, I was given a round of congratulations. Receiving "attaboys" from fellow pilgrims was much appreciated. After saying our good-byes, my wife and  I drove to Lake Placid for a celebratory dinner. It was a perfect ending to a spectacular day. The experience has inspired me to seek greater challenges.

Milestones

A breakdown of my itinerary, featuring interval times and charts, can be found in the following spreadsheet.

Photos

See all photos.



{1} Adirondack Forty-Sixers, Inc. (2011).  Heaven Up-Histed-ness! The History of the Adirondack Forty-Sixers and the High Peaks of the Adirondacks, pg. 17, 55.

Haystack (x 2) 2012-09-13

Summary
I didn't plan to summit Haystack twice in the same day but sometimes life is full of surprises. My goal was a long loop trip, starting from Elk Lake, that I aborted below Sno-bird. As a result, I returned by hiking over Haystack again.

Eliminating goofing-off time, and the second ascent, it took me about 4 hours to reach Haystack (10.4 mi, 3600') and a tad less than 3.5 hours to return (10.4 mi, 600'). Despite not achieving my original goal, I had a great time in the mountains on a sunny, warm and cloudless day.

Pee Wee's Big Adventure
I had set out to "redline" a noose-shaped route that pieced together three unvisited trails. In a nutshell, I would head from Elk Lake to Panther Gorge, up over Haystack to Sno-bird, down the Haystack Brook trail to Warden's Camp, along the Carry, up Blake, close the loop via Pinnacle Ridge, and return to Elk Lake. The route consists of 6760' of elevation gain over a distance of 26.5 miles. It was an ambitious plan (for me) but I was eager to give it a go; nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Little House on the Highway
Even at an average pace of two miles per hour, I'd need all the daylight hours I could get plus more. Requiring a pre-dawn start, I camped near Elk Lake at the Blue Ridge Falls campground (on Blue Ridge Road). It was not quite what I had imagined.

I arrived at 7:00 PM and was charged $28 for a full-service site (I indicated I was only tenting) that overlooked the highway. I balked at the location but the owner indicated it was the best site. He added that if I didn't like it he'd "see what he could do". 

Admittedly, site #2, situated about thirty feet above the highway, had a clear view of the mountains to the south and the rapids in The Branch (across the highway). I took a quick tour of the campground in search of a quieter location. It was filled with seemingly unoccupied trailers that appeared to be parked for the season or, by the look of some outbuildings, for eternity. For example, I can't imagine anyone going to the trouble of erecting a flagpole and Confederate flag for just one weekend (um, well, maybe I can). I couldn't get to some areas indicated on the campground map owing to road closure. It seemed like the only free spots bordered the highway. Oh well, lesson learned.

Clear skies made for a beautiful sunset. The first pale blush of red foliage added to the spectacle. The rosy hues on the nearby hills faded while the sky slowly changed from cobalt to ink. The rushing waters from the nearby rapids provided a lullaby that was, sadly, overpowered by trucks engine-braking during their descent. They were mercifully few but, even muffled by ear-plugs, difficult to ignore. Sleep seemed to come easily only moments before my phone's alarm rang at 4:00 AM. I envy the folks who can sleep in their car at a trailhead. It is a practice that straddles the line of illegal camping but seems to be tolerated by rangers. You awaken and you have nothing to put away and you are ready to begin your hike.

Early Morning Brain Fog
I prepared my feet for the long day ahead, tossed my dew-laden tent into the trunk, devoured my bucket of cereal, and departed for the Elk Lake trailhead. The stars were shining brightly and I was treated to the sight of a new moon, a slim nail-clipping low in the sky. I had chosen to camp here because it was close to Elk Lake road yet, in my morning stupor, I managed to drive past it!

The miles sped by and when I reached the twisty part of Blue Ridge road I uttered a few dark words in realization I had screwed up. I backtracked, stopped at every road junction, and finally discovered it was, as I had originally thought, just a few minutes west of the campground. It was mere seconds west of the buffalo rancher. I must have been dreaming of bison burgers when I drove past the intersection. The first glitch of the day; I was off on the wrong foot.

I signed in at the register at 6:05 AM, far later than planned, and headed west in dawn's early light. My head lamp was needed for a mere ten minutes. The temperature was cool (11C, 52F). I could hear loons calling on nearby Elk Lake. It felt good to finally be on the trail.

6:00 AM. Bright third-eyed and bushy-trailed.

It was the best of times it was the worst of times
The last time I hiked the Elk Lake-Panther Gorge trail was in 1984. My girlfriend and I hiked from the Loj over Marcy and down to the Panther Gorge leanto where we'd meet my buddy and his girlfriend who departed from Elk Lake. We would exchange car keys and continue in opposite directions. A major rainstorm altered our plans. We saw nothing on Marcy, were drenched during the descent into the Gorge ("like descending the levels of Dante's hell") and arrived at the leanto, cold, wet, and tired. The leanto was not today's lovely specimen but a floorless muddy hovel with a sieve for a roof; calling it shelter was awfully generous. We laid out garbage bags and ponchos on the muck, used tarps to redirect the water flowing through the roof, and huddled for warmth. The other couple arrived late and indicated they would be returning the way they came which was now a flowing stream. The following day was a long, soggy march to Elk Lake. My only recollections of the trip were rain, cold, mud, an argument with my girlfriend, and the loss of a fork in the rushing waters of the brook. I recall next to nothing about the terrain or the scenery.

Fast forward 28 years and I am having a great time on the same trail. The section through private property is known as Pinaud Road and it is a broad, smooth, grassy road where you can stride with ease. The path rises 600 feet to clear the southern end of the Colvin Range (or is it the northern end of the Boreas Range?) but does so with little mud, rocks, roots, or erosion. The final descent to Marcy Swamp is a bit rocky but nothing outrageous. It was noticeably cooler in the Swamp (45F) and shrouded in fog which added an air of mystery. The bridges spanning the major water crossings are in good shape but a few of the smaller ones have fallen apart. A significant section of the Swamp is traversed by a log "sidewalk" and it is intact. The terrain was very dry and I crossed the Swamp with ease. 

Boardwalk and fog in Marcy Swamp.

Check your fly, sir?
Somewhere along the route I took a photo and was surprised by my camera's message indicating its memory was full. So soon? I scrolled through the photos, noticed something was amiss, opened the camera and discovered what I feared, it had no memory card. Fortunately, it had a small amount of built-in memory, so I deleted the existing photos and cranked the resolution down from 14 to 3 megapixels to maximize space. The camera indicated it had room for 46 photos and that was fine. The second glitch of the day; I overlooked to check my camera.

The pause that refreshes
The last stretch rises about 1300 feet, beginning with deciduous forest and ending in boreal. I made good time and covered the nine mile route in three hours. I stopped by Marcy Brook, near the former leanto site, and spent time replenishing my water supply, snacking, and reminiscing about days gone by. At 9:30 AM, I departed for Haystack. The stretch from Panther Gorge to the junction with the Bartlett ridge trail would be new territory for me.

Same old, same old
The section of trail I was "redlining" (0.7 miles and 600') was a bit eroded but presented no significant obstacles. I reached the junction in twenty minutes and proceeded up the reknown southside of Haystack. The last time I ascended this route was almost thirty years ago, with a framepack, and I couldn't remember much other than it was steep. It is steep yet provides plenty of decent footing and handholds. A few sections might be considered tricky in wet weather but today was sunny and the rock was warm and dry. More importantly the route provides spectacular views of Allen and all points south. The final section ascends open rock with numerous cairns and I summited at 10:30 AM.

Little Haystack and beyond.

The Far Shore
The day was young, I was feeling strong, and I looked out at my ultimate objective, Pinnacle Ridge. Funny how the real thing looks more formidable than what one derives from a topo map. I had hiked from the Carry to Blake (1.7 mi, 2000') so I knew what lie in store. Those bumps leading from Blake to Pinnacle add up to about 700 feet of ascent but sure look worse when viewed from afar. I ignored a creeping sense of foreboding.

Doubt rides a pale horse over me
Once again, the intended trip length prevented me from lingering atop much-beloved Haystack so I began my descent to Little Haystack. I met my first hiker of the day atop Little Haystack and, after a short chat and photos, continued on to Sno-bird. I arrived at around 11:15 AM and stared at the sign indicating 3.35 miles to the Warden's Camp. The calculator in my head said I had 9 miles and 2700' of ascent before I closed the loop (plus 5 more miles to exit). Whew! I was barely halfway! I began my highly anticipated descent of the purportedly beautiful Haystack Brook trail. The first several hundred yards of trail was far from beautiful, unlike the pristine southside of Sawteeth. I descended perhaps three short ladders and stopped at the top of a long ladder. Something wasn't right.

I felt a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach combined with a wave of nausea. What fresh hell was this? I had endured several days of stomach trouble prior to this hike but couldn't believe it was the cause. I had been eating enough throughout the hike but maybe not enough? I didn't know what to make of the symptoms but they were very disconcerting. While eating a Clif Bar, doubt crept into my mind and the Warden's Camp seemed to recede out of my reach. My inner voice said 'today is not the day'. Body and mind had to be committed to the task. The third glitch of the day; I lost my self-confidence.

Haystack Redux
It was not an easy decision to curtail the hike but, when hiking alone, 'know thyself' helps keep one out of trouble. I sorted through my options and retreat seemed prudent. Retreating meant about 2.5 miles less distance and 1700' less ascent which would be very welcome should I experience worse symptoms. Besides, it was a gorgeous day and what better place to be than on Haystack. I'll "redline" the Haystack Brook trail another day in another way. I turned around and began my second ascent of Haystack.

If you abort a hike and feel good thereafter you're bound to second-guess your decision. I felt good ascending out of the col and never experienced nausea for the balance of the hike. Oh well, so it goes. It took me a half-hour to reach Little Haystack where I met an elderly gentleman named Brian. An aspiring 46er, a mere two peaks away from his 46th, Brian and I chatted about the peaks for a good half-hour before we departed. I encouraged him to join the forum and share his experiences. Fifteen minutes later I was standing atop Haystack for the second time.

Second time on Haystack.

It was such a lovely day that I didn't want it to end. I imagined myself bivying atop Haystack, watching the sun set behind Marcy and a canopy of stars slowly drawing over me. It was a wonderful day-dream but I carried nothing to make the overnight even marginally comfortable so it was time to make tracks for Elk Lake.

The descent from Haystack to Panther Gorge took me forty-five minutes. I must admit that, as odd as it may sound, Haystack's steep southside was more enjoyable as an ascent than descent. I made good use of the vegetation for handholds.

Feet don't fail me now
I arrived at Panther Gorge brook at 2:00 PM. I had plenty of daylight left to return to Elk Lake so I decided to spend some time lounging by the brook (again). My right knee, painful for many weeks, felt great. Joints, muscles, ligaments and tendons were doing fine but my feet were unhappy. No blisters whatsoever but the balls of my feet, and my large toes, were on fire. I'm almost certain I sighed as I dipped my overheated feet into the brook's cold waters.

Prescription for overheated feet.

Time to unfocus
I sterilized more water, laid my things out to dry, sat on a rock in the brook, and just enjoyed the moment. Sunshine, warm dry air, no bugs or people to distract me from contemplating my perfect surroundings. I reflected on the day's experiences and, although slightly disappointed with not achieving my goal, I was grateful for the opportunity to visit Haystack (twice) on such a lovely day. After forty-five minutes of relaxation, I gathered my gear and began the nine mile hike back to Elk Lake.

Yeah, I'm happy to be here!

Making tracks
The afternoon's hike to Elk Lake was simply the morning's hike played in reverse. The spiders had restored their webs across the trail so I had the privilege to collect them with my head all over again. No one else had come to Panther Gorge so it was easy to spot my solitary footprints in the mud. Marcy Swamp was now warm and inviting. I paused by the bend of a sinuous stream and marvelled at its inviting sandy shoreline. At about 4:00 PM I reached the junction with the Pinnacle Ridge trail. What time would I have arrived here if I had continued with the original plan? Why speculate when you can try the entire hike again!

Simple elegance.

Less then three hours after departing Panther Gorge, I arrived at the Elk Lake trailhead. It felt awfully good to get into clean dry clothes and knock back the remainder of the cold milk I had purchased for breakfast. I pulled out of the lot with thoughts of when I would return to complete my Big Adventure. 

Photos

See all photos.


Distance: 24 miles
Ascent: 5320 feet

Hiking time: 9h 35m
Goofing off time: 2h
Total time: 11h 35m



Milestones
Elk Lake, 6:05 AM
Pinnacle junction, 7:45 AM
Panther Gorge Leanto, 9:08 AM
Depart Panther Gorge, 9:29 AM
Bartlett Ridge trail junction, 9:51 AM
Haystack, 10:32 AM
Depart Haystack, 10:35 AM
Range Trail junction, 10:57 AM
Sno-bird, 11:13 AM
Stop, 11:25 AM
Start, 11:35 AM
Return to Sno-bird, 11:54 AM
Depart Sno-bird, 12:00 PM
Range Trail junction, 12:20 PM
Little Haystack, 12:29 PM
Depart Little Haystack, 12:54 PM
Haystack, 1:09 PM
Depart Haystack, 1:17 PM
Bartlett Ridge trail junction, 1:44 PM
Panther Gorge, 2:03 PM
Depart Panther Gorge, 2:52 PM
Pinnacle junction, 4:05 PM
Elk Lake, 5:40 PM