Al Dente (To the Tooth) 2014-04-12

Having missed last weekend's fine weather, I was eager to get out and sample a fine spring day before April's showers debuted. Wishing to spend some time above treeline, I decided to visit the MacIntyre Range.

Winter has not been kind to the Adirondack Loj road. Dodging its numerous potholes keeps you alert. Be warned that the road has settled on both sides of the bridge spanning the West Branch Ausable River (1 mile prior to the Loj).

I drove to the Loj's lower parking area and looked for a spot to park on the sunnier side. I paused before pulling in because the unfrozen ground looked treacherously soft. While I was considering my next move, my wife asked "Isn't that Neil?" I reversed, drove closer to the trail-head, and parked next to Neil's car on the icier side of the parking area. It proved to be a lucky break because, moments later, someone drove into the muddy parking spot I had considered and mired their car in deep mud! By day's end, the entrance to the lower parking area was blocked to redirect drivers to the higher, and drier, area.

We greeted Neil and his wife and learned they were heading to Algonquin. I mused we'd probably see one another along the trail because I was off to Iroquois. I met them twice during the day, once in the morning and then in the mid-afternoon shortly before exiting.

My intention was to hike Wright, Algonquin and Iroquois. If the conditions were favorable I would add the following objectives: Shepherd's Tooth, Cold Brook Pass, and Marshall. How many I would achieve depended upon the ease of off-trail travel. My wife drove away to Lake Placid with the understanding I'd call her and let her know if I was returning from Iroquois or continuing on to Marshall.

I left the trail-head at 8:45 AM. The trail to Wright and Algonquin was hard-packed with very few icy spots. Trail Crampons (Microspikes) were more than adequate and the snowpack never softened enough to allow for post-holing the trail. However, if you stepped off the snow-spine, you'd quickly discover the snowpack's true depth.

MacIntyre Falls was mostly frozen except for a patch of running water below its head. It stood in marked contrast to the early spring experienced in 2012!

MacIntyre Falls, April 12th, 2014.

MacIntyre Falls, March 21st, 2012.

Shortly before reaching the rocky promontory humorously known as "Wrong Peak", I passed a group of four young Quebecers plus a group of college students led by their professor. The prof wore beach shorts (Hawaiian floral motif). My long-johns and pants were rolled up to my knees but shorts would have been very welcome! After a long winter of hiking, I was fully acclimatized to cold weather and anything above freezing now felt like the Bahamas!

I stashed my snowshoes shortly after the Wright-Algonquin junction and proceeded to Wright. At treeline, I stopped to remove my Trail Crampons and don a hard-shell. Wright was proving its "windy" reputation was well-deserved. I left my pack alongside the trail and proceeded to the summit in bare-boots. Except for a few short icy patches, the route to the summit was free of snow. Wright's rocky summit was gusty but nowhere as inhospitable as the last time I visited it. The view of Algonquin was excellent!

Algonquin's sunlit "dome".

Summit-seekers on Algonquin.

Back at treeline, I met the college group again. I collected my belongings and quickly glissaded down the trail to the junction where I donned my snowshoes. My boots had been gnawing at my heels all morning and the snowshoe's Televators reduced the irritation.

The clomp-clomp of plastic snowshoes on hard-pack set the beat to the song I stomped out. By treeline, the ice changed the tune to something more percussive and "experimental". To gain more traction, I wandered off the icy path and the surrounding snowpack was firm and supportive. I hoped this would continue to be true for the route over Boundary to Iroquois and beyond.

Only a handful of hikers stood atop Algonquin's wind-blown summit. I paused just long enough to tag it and have a snack. I removed my snowshoes and proceeded to bare-boot down to the col. I encountered more icy patches than expected but was able to find enough exposed rock to keep me upright.

I donned my snowshoes in the col and proceeded to Boundary along an almost unrecognizable stretch of terrain. Gone was the herd-path winding through thickets of tall cripplebrush. In its place was a broad snowy plain peppered with miniature firs. The snowpack was dense and allowed me to eyeball a preferred line and walk it without danger of disappearing in a spruce-trap. It was wonderful to have the option of choosing one's route and I hoped the conditions would persist well beyond Iroquois.

Approaching the summit of Iroquois.

A fine spring day in the High Peaks.

I reached the rocky summit of Iroquois at noon. The solid snowpack had allowed me to take a direct line from Boundary to Iroquois. I stared down into Cold Brook Pass and evaluated the route to Shepherd's Tooth. Everything lying above treeline was now "summer" whereas everything below was still "winter". I called my wife and let her know the conditions seemed right for "exploring beyond Iroquois to Marshall" and she shouldn't expect to hear from me until late in the afternoon.

I descended along exposed rock and quickly learned the few patches of snow offered no traction for bare-boots. Unintentionally sliding down one snowy section made me realize how useful an ice-axe becomes for self-arrest. I avoided the snow and before long reached treeline where I put my snowshoes back on. I couldn't find evidence of the herd-path so I simply eyeballed a route to the Iroquois-Tooth col.

The first few yards below treeline revealed the snowpack was not optimal for easy off-travel travel. One step would be solid and then, two-steps later, the snow would collapse and a leg would disappear up to the thigh. Occasionally it seemed like something took hold of my snowshoe and refused to release it. Sometimes the culprit was a spruce-trap and sometimes it appeared to be due to a weak underlying layer of unconsolidated snow.

In the col, the surface seemed more firm but the change was short-lived. The brief ascent to the Tooth proved the snowpack was far from consolidated. Every other step I took punched through the surface. My poles suffered the same fate so I hauled myself up using nearby trees. Standing on Shepherd's Tooth, I developed a healthy respect for the difficulty of traveling on an unevenly consolidated snowpack.

Iroquois from Shepherd's Tooth.

I paused to take a few photos and to consider my next move. Perhaps the conditions I experienced were an anomaly. Maybe the drainage leading to Cold Brook Pass was solid. I knew this was naive but I had to check. I descended the Tooth and proceeded about a hundred feet to the west. I punched through the snow, knee to hip depth, at least six times over the course of the short distance to the drainage. It was discouraging to say the least.

Profile of Shepherd's Tooth.

One half of me wanted to descend to Cold Brook Pass. The other half knew, to reach the Tooth, I had descended 200 easy feet over open rock and only 100 tricky feet in unconsolidated snow. Another 700 tricky feet remained before arriving at Cold Brook Pass. Assuming I opted out of Marshall (highly likely) I had the balance of the Cold Brook Pass trail to cover. Whether I chose to descend east to Lake Colden or west to Scott Clearing, this largely unused trail would be untracked. Clearly, it wasn't going to be as "mellow" as the morning's hike had been.

I concluded the conditions weren't the "perfect crust" I had hoped for and chose to reverse course. The short ascent to treeline proved to be the most challenging part of the entire hike. I can't say I enjoyed having every other footstep swallowed whole but accepting it as being unavoidable made the experience less frustrating. Upon reaching treeline, I looked back at Shepherd's Tooth and marveled at how short a distance I had traveled but how much effort was expended to gain it. To put it in perspective, it took me three and quarter hours to ascend Wright, Algonquin, and Iroquois. The ascent from Shepherd's Tooth to Iroquois, a mere 300 feet and 0.2 miles, took me just shy of a half-hour.

Upon reaching the summit of Iroquois I met two men cheering and exchanging congratulations. The excitement seemed out of proportion to the objective (Iroquois) but then I overheard one of them say he had completed his first 46er round. I congratulated him and he added it was also his 34th birthday. More of his friends began to arrive and it was clear there would be a small celebration. Their whoops and hollars ccould be heard from the col and confirmed the party was in full swing.

46er party on Iroquois.

In marked contrast to my experience at Shepherd's Tooth, I was able to return to Algonquin in bare-boots without post-holing. Glissading down Iroquois and Boundary was great fun and, I suspect, a completely different experience to a trip to Cold Brook Pass. Despite their proximity, the difference in snow conditions, for the two areas, was remarkable.

What a day!

I arrived on Algonquin shortly before 2:00 PM and found it devoid of wind and people. I spent a few minutes enjoying the solitude and then called my wife to let her know of the change in plans. I explained I would be back at the Loj around 3:00 PM.

And then there were none; Algonquin's tranquil summit.

After donning my Trail Crampons I began a very pleasant descent back to the Loj. The corn-snow yielded underfoot and made for effortless glissades. I ceded the trail to several skiers and hikers making an early afternoon ascent. I passed several hikers I recognized including Mr. Hawaii and his students. I also met several people I recognized who were part of a MOAC group-hike. Finally, I met Neil and Sylvie who I joined for the last half-mile to the trail-head.

My wife and I spent an hour window-shopping along Main street and then headed to the Lake Placid Pub for supper. There we met Jeremy (Honey Badger) and friends. He was celebrating the simultaneous completion of the ADK 46 and the Catskill 3500! A skillful bit of planning allowed him to finish the two challenges on the same day. Congratulations, Jeremy!

It was a beautiful day to be in the High Peaks and I had the opportunity to add two more peaks to my Spring 46er round. I'll certainly be back soon in search of "perfect al dente crust".

Photos

See all photos.

Aye, Eye, Tooth, and Pass! 2013-07-07

Algonquin, Iroquois, Shepherd's Tooth, and Cold Brook Pass.

Sunday, I joined other members of MOAC (Montreal Outdoors Adventure Club; a Meetup group) for a hike to Algonquin and Iroquois. The trip was well run by its genial organizer, Géraldine. The group was composed of eleven hikers and it was a pleasure to make their acquaintance. My thanks go to: Géraldine, Werner, Kat, Gilbert, Fritz, Renaud, Donny, Robert, Richard, and Marianne. 

For a Sunday morning, the border-crossing was surprisingly busy and we lost a half-hour waiting in the queue. Thereafter things moved along smoothly. The car-trip gave us (Werner, Kat, Gilbert, and I) plenty of time to break the ice. At the Loj, Géraldine gathered the group and explained the ground rules to ensure everyone's safety and comfort. We departed at around 9:30 AM.

Géraldine instructs the group.

Despite the recent rainy weather, the trail was in remarkably good condition. The two-plus hours to the summit gave ample opportunity to chat with others and learn more about them. We paused at trail-intersections, and MacIntyre Falls, to re-group and to ensure no one was struggling. The steep stretch of rock-slab, beyond the Wright junction, took its toll and the group spread out with everyone proceeding at their own comfortable pace. 

Atop Algonquin, we paused for lunch and I chatted with the summit steward, Kevin, who I had seen a few weeks earlier en route to Colden. Despite a 60% chance of showers and thunderstorms, including the possibility of heavy rain, the cloudy skies held back and we had fairly good views of the surrounding mountains. There was also a surprising, and very welcome, lack of bugs! 

Enjoying lunch atop Algonquin.

Richard (a MOAC co-organizer), Marianne, and Gilbert decided that Algonquin's views were sufficient and chose to descend the way they came. The balance of the group continued to Iroquois. At the herd-path junction, Werner, who had already announced his intentions, chose to skip Iroquois and descended directly to Lake Colden (the group would return along the same route and could 'sweep the trail' behind him).  The weather was still good so we continued to Iroquois. 

Off to Iroquois.

The new bog-bridges were a welcome addition and allowed us to make good time through the muddiest sections. Up and over Boundary, it wasn't long before we were scrambling up the northern slope of Iroquois. Atop its summit, capped with an impressive cairn, we saw a wall of rain-showers moving from Wallface to Marshall. The wind increased and we felt a few sprinkles. Unlike Algonquin, there'd be no lingering and Géraldine informed the group that it'd be best to begin their return immediately.

It was at this point that I asked Géraldine if I could continue on alone and catch up with the group somewhere along the planned return-route. I explained I would no longer be her responsibility but let her know that if she was uncomfortable with my request that I would happily continue with the group. She paused, considered it, then agreed saying her decision was based upon my experience. Her valid concern was that I would emerge behind the group and so there'd be no way of knowing my condition until, worst case, they were at the Loj.

With the weather deteriorating, the group did not dawdle on the summit and, after saying our good-byes, left Iroquois to return via the trail to Lake Colden. I donned pants and my hardshell in preparation for a windy and rainy descent to Shepherd's Tooth and Cold Brook Pass. Before departing the summit, a young couple arrived and I was intrigued by a sound I had not heard in years. The young man had a film camera and was manually advancing the film to the next frame. He explained they could still be acquired on eBay and knew where to process the film. The young woman had a DSLR in her pack but said the small film camera was, at times, more convenient. I used their DSLR to immortalize their moment on Iroquois then began my descent to the "Tooth".

As soon as I left the summit, I was sheltered from the wind. The herd-path was easy to follow (although it could be tricky if obscured by fog) and it quickly led me to the treeline where I had to pay more attention. Unlike the well-defined herd-paths found on the so-called "trail-less peaks", the path to "Shepherd's Tooth" requires you to look beneath the branches to follow its course. I had visited Shepherd's Tooth on a previous hike so I did not expect any surprises. Maybe a little over-confidence is what led me 'off-route' and I soon found myself pushing through thick trees. I kept the Tooth in view and, within a few yards, found the herd-path again. After a tiny bit of scrambling, I was on the Tooth's rocky summit and admiring its views.

Southern face of Iroquois from Shepherd's Tooth.

The rainshowers never amounted to much so I replaced my hardshell with a long-sleeved shirt. After donning gloves, and taking one last look around, I descended into the tiny col, between Shepherd's Tooth and Iroquois, and headed a few yards west where I easily found the herd-path leading into the western drainage. Once in the drainage, it was only a matter of keeping one's eyes glued to the ground to see evidence of previous foot-traffic.

Herd-path? Keep your eyes on the ground!

Based on information from Neil, I knew the drainage would end at a cliff and I'd need to traverse eastwards, several yards, to a "ramp". The mental image I had of this area was unlike what I discovered. Nearing the cliff, the herd-path descends steeply; I had the sense I was getting close to the end of the drainage. I emerged at the top of the cliff, carefully peered through the trees, and saw the flowing water disappear over the edge. Cold Brook Pass was tantalizingly close, about 40 feet below me.

Definitely not the way down!

I moved eastward and followed a gnarly route in search of a beautiful slope of smooth rock bordered by steep walls. Well, that's what I imagined it would look like but the reality was more of a "dirty gully" or "messy cleft in the cliff". Although I knew the ramp was "no more than 50 yards to the east", anticipation made it feel longer and at one point it seemed like the path began to rise slightly. Maybe it led upwards to join the ramp but I refused to gain even a yard of elevation and chose to continue directly eastward. Besides, I could see something through the trees that suggested a break in the cliff. It wasn't the magical ramp of my imagination but a real-world cleft in the cliff with trees and an easily negotiable slope. Within moments I was at the base of the cliff and within minutes I was standing on the Cold Brook Pass trail (thirty-five minutes from Shepherd's Tooth). I had finally experienced a section of the Adirondacks I had dreamt of for years and I was quite pleased with I had found.

Post-bushwhack smile.

The Cold Brook Pass trail was an interesting mix of rock-hopping through standing water, bog-bridges, garden-path, and a tiny bit of blowdown. It was in much better shape than what I had anticipated. The stretches of mud I encountered were easily avoided. During the descent I found a navy-blue jacket that, from its clean appearance, must have been lost earlier in the day. I stashed it and, upon my return to the Loj, turned it in at the HPIC.

Trail through Cold Brook Pass.

The descent from the top of Cold Brook Pass to the Lake Colden trail took about fifty minutes. It included a brief pause at the final brook crossing where I stopped for water and to remove my sweat-soaked pants and shirt. What a relief it was to be back in a T-shirt and shorts! While walking towards the Caretaker's cabin it dawned on me that it might have been useful if Géraldine and I arranged to leave a signal at the trail-junction. Whoever arrived at the junction first would leave a signal, perhaps a triangle of three stones, to let the other party know they were already on their way back to the Loj. I thought I would eventually catch up to them but had failed to consider the possibility that I might get ahead of them.

I decided to take a short side-trip past the Caretaker's cabin to get a view of Lake Colden. The heavy clouds didn't make for interesting photography of the lake but the flowers, notably Indian Paintbush, were in full bloom. I returned to the main trail, continued northwards, and thanks to an amazing stroke of luck, arrived mere seconds after Géraldine and the others emerged at the junction! Reunited, we continued to Avalanche Lake.

Indian Paintbrush in bloom near the Caretaker's cabin.

A few showers began at the lake and raindrops danced on its mirror-smooth surface. The group was in good spirits and the cooling shower was welcome. We paused at 'Hitchup Matilda' for a group photo and then proceeded along the obstacle course that forms the western side of Avalanche Lake.

Donny and Renaud approaching 'Hitchup Matilda'.

Within Avalanche pass, Donny pointed out an impressively large mushroom and I've yet to identify its type. My best guess is that it's some kind of Amanita.

Fascinating fungus.

At Marcy Dam, the group proceeded to the bridge-crossing whereas I descended to the base of the dam. I hoped to get a good photo of the group passing along the opposite shore but the tree-cover was too dense. Seeing an opportunity to cool my feet, I waded through Marcy Brook and rejoined the group on the opposite side. Nearing the parking area, we were refreshed by a "sun-shower". The combination of sunshine and cooling raindrops was a perfect end to the hike. The 'cherry on top' was a pit-stop at the Stewart's in Ausable Forks where we indulged our appetites. Ice cream was the winning pick!

Géraldine and Renaud enjoying a sun-shower.

It was an enjoyable day with kindred spirits and I hope we get the opportunity to share another day together in the Adirondacks.

Photos

See all photos.

Algonquin, Iroquois, and Shepherd's Tooth 2011-07-10

It was such a beautiful weekend that it was difficult to pry myself out of our back yard. On Saturday afternoon, my wife and I were stretched out on our outdoor swing-bed, listening to the fountain's patter on the pool's surface, looking out onto out flower gardens, and savouring the warm breezes. Thoughts of finishing my second 46er round were far from my mind. Yet it seemed like a shame to not scratch off another peak from the list.

My wife would be accompanying me to Lake Placid on Sunday but would not be hiking. With the exception of Iroquois and RPR, my remaining peaks are full-day excursions (Sewards, Santanonis, Dixes). So I chose Iroquois with the intent of completing it quickly so that my wife and I could have the balance of the day together. 

My wife would drop me off at the Loj and I'd call her from Algonquin's summit. We fixed a return time based on my estimate of a seven-hour hike. I left the trailhead at 8:35 AM.

About 15 minutes past the trail junction (to Marcy Dam) I discovered a child's running shoe. I picked it up and, within a few yards, found the pant leg of a pair of convertible pants quickly followed by the matching shoe. Several minutes later, my scavenger hunt came to an end . Junior's pack had been left open. Mom took responsibility for the error and junior was happy to be reunited with his shoes. All in a day's hike.

Fifty minutes out from the Loj, I was reunited with a memory from a previous hike to Algonquin. Upon returning from Algonquin last March, our group was volunteered into performing impromptu trailwork. We sawed and removed a snag that had fallen across the trail. I spotted the sawn end, which remained pointing into the air, but was now several feet above the trail's surface. It stood as mute witness to the depth of this past winter's snowpack.

One hour from the Loj, I arrived at MacIntyre Falls where I stopped to get water. I thought about what the falls looked like last March: a wide, featureless gully of snow with no evidence of a waterfall. Now it revealed itself as a wondrous collage of rock, lichen, moss, fallen timber, and cascading water.

Just past the falls, I caught up with the source of fresh tracks I had been following. A husband and wife team had paused for a rest and we discussed hiking poles. He was new to hiking with poles and had encountered difficulty with pole-placement. I explained they were a tremendous aid for my old knees and, with experience, pole-placement becomes second-nature, like driving a car with a stick-shift. We chatted for several minutes and then I pressed on to the summit. We'd meet again later in the day.

Shortly after 10:00 AM, I arrived at the Wright/Algonquin trail junction. It was now clear to me that there had been no need to 'tank up' at MacIntyre Falls. I had passed several water sources and now found it flowing down the Algonquin trail. Water was in abundance on Algonquin's northern slope but, except for soupy mud puddles, it would prove to be absent along the ridge to Iroquois.

At 10:30 AM, I reached a section of trail featuring a long, steep pitch of exposed rock. Recalling last March's hike, it was the long, snow-covered chute that we had slid down on our snowshoes (and butts). Now it was a steep slope of broken rock where any form of sliding would be the result of a mistake.

At 11:00 AM, I stood on Algonquin's USGS summit marker and called my wife. I reported my progress and explained I'd check in again upon returning from Iroquois. Only a few High Peaks stand at the fringe of Lake Placid's cell range so it's a rare treat to call someone. I suspect that the current generation, so eager to share every moment of their lives, will demand better cellular coverage. Before long, hikers will stream video from summits, tweet at trail junctions, and text in tents.

Summit steward educating first-time visitors to Algonquin.

The summit steward, a petite young lady, explained how a significant amount of the summit's greenery had been restored. She showed me photos, taken in the mid 70's and early 80's, illustrating how the summits of Algonquin and Marcy had been despoiled by hikers. I laughed upon seeing a photo of an orange tent pitched in front of Marcy's memorial plaque. It was dated 1981 and I commented that the early 80's were 'my time' and I certainly knew you weren't permitted to camp there; the photo exaggerated the abuses of the time. Although not as catchy as today's 'Do the Rock Walk', 'Keep off the grass' was a concept promoted 30 years ago. Having said that, it is clear that there had been progress because Algonquin's summit is no longer mangy.

The descent from Algonquin summit to Iroquois's herd-path took me about 5 minutes. Twenty-five minutes later, at 11:45 AM, I was standing atop Iroquois. The herd-path is as evident, and mucky, as a marked trail. Its rocky pitches are marked with yellow paint blazes. It has one significant wet area but I had no trouble traversing it. The path is a highway compared to when I hiked it 30 years ago. Nevertheless, it makes it that much easier to visit Iroquois and experience its charm.

Atop Iroquois.

I had time to spare so I decided to visit Shepherd's Tooth. There are several cairns that point the way down to treeline. The route through the cripplebrush reminds me of the herd paths of yore. Combine trodden fir needles and a few tell-tale patches of exposed earth, shrouded beneath a canopy of abbreviated cripplebrush branches and you have a herd-path circa 1979. It is evident but you must pay attention, especially if it veers off the straight and narrow. To put it into perspective, descending Algonquin took 5 minutes whereas Shepherd's Tooth took 18. It's not a long time in itself, but significant for the distance travelled. I did it in convertible pants and regret that I was too lazy to attach the pant legs. Some of those 'abbreviated branches' are stickers waiting for a fleshy target.

Shepherd's Tooth and Marshall.

The view south from Shepherd's Tooth isn't much different than from atop Iroquois. However, there is a heightened sense of being off the beaten-path. When viewed from Iroquois, the Tooth seems like a short distance below. When viewed from the Tooth, Iroquois looms high above. I admire the folks who've made the trek from Cold Brook Pass. I hope to do that bushwhack in cooler weather. I spent a few minutes taking photos and then descended into the col, where I lost and found the herd-path, and then began the 300 foot ascent to Iroquois. After a 20 minute hike, involving the reconstruction of a few cairns, I arrived on Iroquois's summit at 12:40 PM.

The hike back to the Boundary/Algonquin col was uneventful except for finding a cellphone case, which I dropped it off at the HPIC, and passing a solitary hiker and his dog. The climb back up Algonquin took 15 minutes and I arrived at 1:20 PM. Algonquin was now populated by at least a dozen hikers. Looking at its northern slope, several more acolytes were making the pilgrimage to the summit. The devout were attired in all manner of dress (and undress): short-shorts, shirtless, and one in pantyhose. Most were young but one or two gray-hairs, like myself, dotted the throng.

Colden, mountain and lake.

Despite the 50 minute side-trip to Shepherd's Tooth, I was ahead of schedule so I called my wife to alter the pick-up time. My cellphone indicated there was no signal. I tried moving around the summit, and momentarily picked up a signal, but was unable to place a call. I decided to try later after I had descended a hundred feet or so.

I began my descent at around 1:45 PM. After dropping in elevation, I checked my cellphone and it indicated a strong signal. I called my wife and reported that I was fine, Iroquois was great, and the pick-up time was now 3:00 PM. After hanging up it dawned on me that I may have been overly optimistic about the 75 minute descent time. A ranger, who had been on the summit, was now making his descent and he was moving at a fast clip. I figured if I could keep up with him, I might just exit at 3:00 PM.

I matched the ranger's pace for awhile but lost ground wherever the trail dropped steeply. His iron legs allowed him to jump and land with a thud. I needed to use hiking poles, to soften the landing, and they effectively slowed my descent. I eventually lost sight of him, regained it at the rocky chute, and then he disappeared down the trail.

Along the way I yielded to ascending hikers. At the base of the rocky chute I overheard a heavily-laden backpacker quip to his buddies, "Oh no! Just look down, don't look up!". I passed five nubile young women who appeared to be in training for the Swedish Bikini team. I passed two young men slowly making their way up. I offered them encouragement by reporting the presence of five attractive females farther up the trail. I passed the husband and wife team I had met earlier in the day. Descending, they were now using and appreciating their hiking poles. By the time I passed the Whale's Tail junction I realized I'd be a few minutes late. At 3:10 PM I exited the trail and was greeted by my wife's radiant smile and a big kiss.

I was a sopping mess and opted for a side-trip to Tmax and Topo's for a hot shower. I was greeted by Terri and David, furnished with soap, shampoo, and a towel. It was money well spent as I emerged clean and refreshed. We bade them farewell and then departed for Lake Placid to spend a lazy afternoon capped by a substantial meal, and cold beer, at the Lake Placid Pub and Brewery. A perfect ending to a beautiful summer's day.

Photos

See all photos.