Cliff and Redfield. 2015-03-29

No sign of spring at Marcy Dam.

In the shadow of Colden.

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Only Lonely Cliff. 2014-11-22

Saturday, November 22, 2014.

• My sixth hike to Cliff, including two in winter, yet this outing seemed most challenging of all.
• Compared stats for two routes to Uphill Brook lean-to: 1st via Lake Arnold and 2nd via Avalanche Lake. I discovered they are surprisingly similar.
• Lake Arnold route is 0.6 miles shorter and 150 feet more ascent (3.45 miles, 1300 feet); I headed in via Lake Arnold and returned via Avalanche Lake.
• 2-3 inches of fresh snow at Avalanche Camp.
• No tracks to Lake Arnold; 6-8 inches of snow beyond Crossover junction.
• The descent from Lake Arnold, into the Opalescent valley, featured 1-1.5 foot drifts.
• Treacherous footing because the snow was unconsolidated and obscured what lay beneath (rocks, roots, etc). Pace was much slower than normal.
• Snow on foot-bridges made them seem twice their true width. Bridges constructed of a single log were fiendishly deceptive.
• The snow-covered double-log bridge over the Opalescent stands six feet above the water. That one required extra focus to cross.
• Boggy area was not fully frozen. Flat and featureless; impossible to see where the water is and isn't. I punched through twice. Glad I waterproofed my leather boots.
• It took an hour to descend from Lake Arnold to Marcy trail. It took half that time during a previous winter's hike!
• Met two hikers heading to Skylight and Gray. Met no one else until Avalanche Pass.
• No trace of anyone's passage to Redfield or Cliff.
• Cliff's famously steep bits were blanketed in fluffy snow that was too loose to provide purchase for traction aids. It only served to obscure hazards and handholds alike.
• Time and effort were expended digging away snow to expose climbable surfaces.
• A few sections were surmounted by grace of the fact I can step up a full yard and know how to do hand and foot jams. Shorter people take note.
• It took me 1h 19m to ascend Cliff's measly 0.9 miles and 800 feet.
• Within minutes of being on the summit, a dark band of clouds rolled across the sky like a blind. The forecast called for sleet in the afternoon and it looked like the stage was set.
• Fell once during the descent and got off easy (skinned a knuckle).
• Descent took about an hour; trickier than in "real winter" owing to a lack of a solid base of snow and ice.
• Cliff got in one more dig before I finished. Nearing the junction, I punched through and came up with a bootful of muck.
• At the junction, I found no trace of anyone's passage to Redfield.
• Considered the impending sleet and the effort needed to 'dig my way up' the steep sections of the Redfield trail; reluctantly decided to call it a day.
• Trail to Lake Colden was packed down and pace was restored to normal (~2.1 mph).
• Trail along eastern shore of Lake Colden was unbroken up to the Mount Colden junction. The balance of the trail was well trodden.
• Covered the 4 miles from Uphill Brook lean-to to Avalanche Camp in 2 hours. This is the same time it took me via the slightly shorter Lake Arnold route. No speed advantage owing to the conditions (unbroken trail; unconsolidated snow).
• Avalanche Camp to Marcy Dam was a cake-walk.
• Snow flurries developed at around the time I arrived at Marcy Dam. It changed to drizzle and then sleet by the time I signed-out at the Loj.
• Checked the trail-register and it seemed like the majority headed to Marcy, Algonquin, and Colden.
• Good trip; valuable lessons learned about route selection and snow conditions.
• Hike Stats (apprx.): 2100 feet, 15.7 miles
• Hike time: 9 hours.

Snowy Upper Opalescent Valley.

Dark clouds roll in fast.

Monochromatic Avalanche Lake.

Snow showers arrive at Marcy Dam.

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Stats

I started at 7:12 AM. I kept a detailed record of my time because I wanted to compare the two routes from Avalanche Camp to Uphill Brook lean-to (Lake Arnold vs Avalanche Pass). The conditions kind of hamstrung the Lake Arnold route. The toughest part of that section was not being able to look ahead as far as I normally do (6-8 feet) and just cruise along. I found myself staring down often (just 3' ahead) due to the flat lighting and uncertainty about what I was about to step on under the snow. Snowshoes might have helped along that stretch.

7:12 Loj
7:51 Marcy Dam
8:14 Avalanche Camp
8:49 Crossover
9:12 Lake Arnold
10:17 Marcy Trail
10:34 Uphill Brook lean-to junction
10:48 Leave lean-to
12:07 Cliff summit
12:11 Leave summit
13:05 Redfield-Cliff junction
13:09 Uphill Brook lean-to junction
13:46 Opalescent bridge
13:49 Lake Colden junction
14:05 Mount Colden junction
14:16 Northern Lake Colden trail-register
14:21 Leave trail-register
14:29 Southern Avalanche Lake
14:45 Northern Avalanche Lake
15:09 Avalanche Camp
15:15 Kagel lean-to
15:20 Leave lean-to
15:36 Marcy Dam
16:14 Loj

Marshall, Cliff, and Redfield 2014-06-07

Steve (Little Brown Mushroom) coined the phrase "power outage" and it best describes how I felt on Saturday's tour of Marshall, Cliff, and Redfield. The route I chose covered 23 miles and 5300 feet of ascent and took me 12h 45m to complete. By day's end I returned to the Loj "draggin my butt" and was focused on a hot shower followed by a burger and UBU(s).

I left the Loj at 6:35 AM and headed in via Indian Pass to the breached dam at Scott Clearing. I continued past the clearing and followed the so-called high-water route. I wish I had simply scrambled down from the dam and followed Indian Pass brook because the high-water route is an ol' tyme Adirondack mess. I haven't hiked through this area in over 30 years but the trail's condition invoked a strong sense of déjà vu. It's as sloppy as it ever was.

I stopped about a hundred yards before the trail-junction to check my map and convince myself I hadn't already passed it. The junction presented itself plainly and it'd be difficult to miss. I turned east and began to ascend a trail I hadn't seen in decades. 

The Cold Brook Pass trail, unmaintained since Hurricane Irene, was in fine shape and passed several lovely waterfalls and pools. The herd-path junction to Marshall is marked by a prominent cairn. The woods are tight at the top of the Pass so, even without a cairn, the mouth of the herd-path is hard to miss. I'd characterize the herd-path as easy to follow but "snug and scratchy". It is in far better shape than Herbert Brook.

I expected to emerge directly at the summit of Marshall. However, after skirting around the east side of a large glacial erratic, the path faded and I emerged on the Herbert Brook path about 50 feet from the summit. I guess if I went around the west side of the erratic I might have finished directly on the summit. I greeted two hikers on Marshall then stopped at the lookout for a few pics.

The descent along Herbert Brook was scenic but the herd-path is showing the effects of its popularity. I thought the western Cold Brook Pass trail was in far better condition and equally pretty. I met above a half-dozen hikers during the descent and arrived at the Flowed Lands trail about 4.5 hours from departure. It seemed like a big chunk of my day had been sapped by the first 8.5 miles.

I turned north, crossed the Colden Dam, and headed east up the Opalescent. The waterfalls, pools, and gorges of the Opalescent kept me amused and before long the 1.5 miles and 500 foot rise to Uphill Brook lean-to was done. I headed in along the herd-path then stopped to filter water from Uphill Falls Brook. It was my first lengthy pause and the black flies took advantage of it. After spraying a home-brew concoction of DEET and lemon-eucalyptus oil on my neck, ears, and hat-brim I returned to topping up my hydration bag. 

I find Cliff's route to be more demanding than Redfield's so I chose to climb it first. The first few hundred yards past the junction have become a mess of muddy, braided trails. If the idea of unmarked, minimal-maintenance trails was to minimize the carnage caused by go-your-own-way herd-paths, it has failed to contain the damage on the approach to Cliff. Without gaiters and wearing only Raptors I managed to finesse my way over the remains of old corduroy, rocks, and fallen timber without soaking my feet.

Somewhere past Cliff's false-summit (muddy) I met two women who asked if I was Wayne. I said no. They explained there were two men at the summit waiting for Wayne. Upon reaching the summit, one of the two hikers exclaimed "There you are!" and the other said "No, that's not Wayne." I confirmed I wasn't Wayne. Shortly after tagging the summit, I met a lone hiker who proved to be the long-lost Wayne. He was also a ADK High Peaks forum member (Ebbinghaus) and we stopped to chat for awhile.

Descending Cliff wasn't as tricky as I had expected (ripped some skin off a finger on a previous hike) but certainly not as much fun as in winter. I returned to the junction and began the final peak of the day. I began to feel sluggish and slowed my pace to avoid frequent start-stops. I reached Redfield's summit and met the two women from Cliff. I introduced myself as "Not Wayne" and then snapped a few pics before heading down. I still had a "long row to hoe" and didn't dawdle on the summit.

I stopped at the head of Uphill Brook Falls to take on water. By day's end I think I went through 4 or 5 liters of water and most of that was lost through my pores. Upon arriving at the trail, I met a large group of young hikers and one asked me the distance to Lake Colden. I replied "One and a half miles." They claimed to have "a map" but it appeared to be in the hands of one person who emerged moments later to report the guidebook's version of the distance (1.6 miles). I wished them well and began the first step of many to cover the (approximately) 8 miles back to the ADK Loj.

I arrived at the Loj almost thirteen hours after departing and feeling a little worse for wear. I heard my name called and turned to find Bud (Bud3010). We chatted until the black flies made it impossible.

After a satisfying meal at the Lake Placid Pub and a solid night's sleep at Tmax-n-Topo's hostel, I departed to hike Giant and RPR. With 800 feet less elevation gain and a fraction of the mileage, it was an easy-breezy day and I finished feeling invigorated.

Marshall, Cliff, and a footbath. 2014-01-25

On Saturday, I joined Brian ("Pathgrinder") and Sam to hike "some combination of" Marshall, Cliff and Redfield. In order to get an early start, we stayed at the Maple Leaf Motel, in Schroon Lake, on Friday night. Flanagan's pub was chosen for our pre-hike meal in order to avail ourselves of the carbohydrates found in malted barley and hops. On our way out we bumped into Chris ("Mr. P") and chatted for a bit before heading back to the motel to prepare our gear for the next day.

We left the Upper Works trail-head at 7:00 AM in the dim light of early dawn. The temperature was 5 °F  (-15 °C) and a light snow was falling. We knew the day would bring 1-2 inches of snow so we didn't expect to get views from the summits (and we didn't get any). Nevertheless, the snowfall added a magical quality and, besides, it was the warmest day of a long spell of frigid weather. Brian had hiked to Street and Nye the previous day and it checked in at a frigid -18 °F (-28 °C).

The trail conditions demanded nothing more than microspikes. Within fifteen minutes of our departure, we passed a group of three hikers. We learned they were also heading to Marshall. Ninety minutes from the trail-head, we arrived at Flowed Lands and paused to put on snowshoes.

Colden fading into the snowy mist.

We crossed the windswept lake and made a beeline to the snowy meadow, traversed it in a northerly direction, and then followed the course of the Opalescent, along its banks, toward the Herbert Brook lean-to. Along the way, Brian stepped off the bank and fell when a large section of ice  collapsed beneath him. Fortunately, the section was a product of heaving and there was no water beneath it, just air and more ice. We continued to hug the bank and exited in front of the lean-to.

The herd-path running along Herbert Brook was easy to find, and follow, owing to little recent snowfall but plentiful usage. Along the way, we decided the conditions did not merit snowshoes so we stashed them in a thicket of firs.We came to a fork where the left-hand branch seemed to lead away from the brook. We bore right and continued to follow the brook.

Brian ascending Herbert Brook.

I reached Marshall's summit at 10:20 AM and was greeted by its summit-sign and horseshoe. Brian and Sam arrived a few minutes later and we all tagged the summit tree. I inspected the nearby lookout but, as expected, there was no scenic view just a biting wind. We shared whatever snacks we had, including Skittles, dried mango, and fudge, then began our descent.

Da boyz tagging the summit.

During our descent we met a lone hiker and the group of three we had met earlier. The conditions were excellent for "boot skiing" and the descent took us only fifty minutes. We paused to discuss the selection of our next objective and chose Cliff. I suggested we begin from Herbert Brook lean-to and follow the river's course to the Lake Colden dam. However, the trail was in excellent shape so, in the interests of saving time and effort, we followed the trail.

Upon reaching the last uphill section prior to the dam, the lure of following the river was strong. We cut through an illegal camp-site (marked with no-camping signs) and stood on the river's edge. It's surface was blanketed in snow and appeared to be solid. I thumped the ice with my hiking poles and heard a reassuringly solid sound. Brian and I stepped out and walked towards the river's center. We were about twelve feet from the bank when I saw something upstream through the trees. I stopped, laughed and exclaimed "Hey! There's the dam!" In a blink of an eye, I felt myself falling through a trap-door.

Pristine, except for the hole I made.

It's quite amazing how acute your senses become and what you can register within a split-second. I saw the river's surface break into two boot-sized pieces that folded beneath my feet. They disappeared into the black water with my feet in high-speed pursuit. Astonishment was quickly followed by two thoughts: "Oh hell!" and "Get out fast!"

I felt the chill of cold water in my right boot. I remember thinking that I must try to fall sideways to distribute my weight on the ice. I believe my knees were already bent so, combined with landing on my hands and butt, I didn't plunge deeper than the tops of my gaiters. I rolled to my left and pulled my legs out of the water.

My first winter foot-bath.

I stood up and, quite understandably, quickly retreated to the shore. My right boot had been breached and I needed to tend to my wet foot. Fortunately, the left one was dry. Brian, who had walked farther from shore than I, did not fall through so I credit bad luck for this incident. My companions were concerned for my welfare but I assured them I was fine and prepared to deal with the problem.

Speed was key so I found a log for a seat, peeled off my already-frozen gaiter, took off my wet sock and wrung out the water. Whatever water had been absorbed by my insulated boot would have to remain there. I put the damp sock back on, covered my foot with a plastic bag, and put on my boot. I thought, "Let's see how well this synthetic sock works!" My right foot wasn't as toasty warm as my left but it felt good enough to continue with the hike. Naturally, we returned to the trail and crossed via the dam.

The walk to Uphill Brook lean-to gave me time to think about the unplanned foot-bath. I theorized that if I hadn't paused on the river's surface, to view the dam, and just kept moving, I might not have broken through the ice. I don't believe I was ever in mortal danger because the river is shallow. However, I am thankful the balance of the ice held otherwise I would have received far more than a little foot-soaking.

The Opalescent Gorge is a sight to behold in winter. Row upon row of icicles adorn its walls and give the appearance of serrated teeth in the maw of an enormous beast. We all agreed a fall into the gorge would present an impossible rescue, for average hikers, especially in winter. All the more reason to approach its snowy fringes with greater caution.

Upon arriving at Uphill Brook lean-to, Sam announced he was calling it a day and would either 'chill with music' in the lean-to or, if too cold, return to the car. Given the weather (no views) Brian and I decided to leave Redfield for a sunny day and just hike to Cliff. Sam took Brian's car keys with the knowledge we would be about two hours behind him. I took this opportunity to tend to my right foot. It was feeling chilly so I put on a dry sock, a fresh plastic bag, then put the damp sock over the plastic bag. It made for a snug fit but my foot felt warmer. At 12:45 PM, we bid Sam goodbye and left for Cliff.

Not knowing what to expect on Cliff's upper reaches, we carried our snowshoes. They proved to be dead weight because Cliff had no more snow than Marshall. The herd-path showed evidence of recent use and was easy to follow. Cliff's renown steep sections were heavily iced-over and challenging. We used Trail Crampons but we agreed crampons would've made the job easier on the snow-covered hard-ice.

One of Cliff's many icy pitches.

Upon reaching Cliff's false summit we stashed out snowshoe boat-anchors and continued to the true summit. An hour and a quarter out from the lean-to, we stood on the summit. Our arrival was feted with a shower of celebratory "snowfetti" but the views opted out of our summit party. Ho-hum. We took a few photos, celebrated with more fudge, then returned to the false summit to retrieve our gear.

Brian completes a steep pitch.

The descent was better than anticipated. We employed whatever techniques we knew, including boot-skiing, sliding, and "monkey-arming" through the trees, to safely return to the lean-to in fifty minutes. Sam was gone and left his departure time, "1:00", in the snow. As expected, fifteen minutes of immobility, without substantial insulation, is more than enough time to bring on a chill that only movement can cure.

Brian was the first to admit that Cliff's descent went well and he had enough 'gas in the tank' for Redfield. I felt the same way but we didn't want to leave Sam guessing why we were running late. As it stood, we could be back at Flanagan's at a decent hour but if we wandered off to Redfield it would curtail an evening of food and libation. Redfield will wait for our return, perhaps in combination with Skylight and Gray.

The guidebook indicates the distance between Uphill Brook lean-to and Upper Works is 7.4 miles. Even if you shave off 0.2 miles, to represent the shortcut across Flowed Lands, there's still a solid 7 miles of walking before your butt meets the seat-heater. We covered it in 2.5 hours but I have to admit the final section of trail, past the trail-sign indicating "1.8 miles" to Upper Works, felt longer than it had in the morning. We passed a young couple returning from Marshall and a group of three skiers. There may have been more hikers but we didn't see them. All in all it was a fairly quiet day in our neck of the woods.

Gray day at Flowed Lands.

We returned shortly after 5:00 PM and a few minutes shy of needing headlamps. Sam was snoozing in the car. We climbed in and headed to Schroon Lake to raise a few more pints and cap off another great day in the High Peaks with good friends.

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Redfield and Cliff 2013-02-10

I had the good fortune of joining Nancy (HighOnLife), the Lamb sisters (Mary "Alpine Lamb" and Cynda "WannabeALJr"), and Brian (SummitHat) to visit Redfield and Cliff. I knew it would be special because Nancy's message indicated I ought to wear red and the theme would be Valentine's Day.

I own no red hiking gear except for an insulated jacket which rarely leaves the bottom of my pack. No problem. While sitting in the back seat of my car in the Loj's parking lot, administering to the needs of my feet, my car door swung open and Nancy cheerfully handed me a swag bag. It contained several bright red necklaces, with heart-shaped charms, a red rabbit toutou (plush toy), and candy. I was good to go! Upon greeting the Lamb sisters, they draped another necklace around my neck giving the day a feel of Mardi Gras! 

The morning was gloriously clear and bright but a touch on the cold side (-15F, -26C). Dressing for today's conditions included wearing several necklaces, one with an attached shot-glass, and a red rabbit peering out of my pack. Mary signed in for us at 7:10 AM. We would return a little over 13 hours later. Our route would be to cross frozen Marcy Dam, Avalanche and Colden lakes and proceed via the Opalescent to Uphill lean-to.

Friday's snowfall resuscitated the conditions for snowshoers and skiers. The trail to Marcy Dam received about six inches of fresh snow and was well-packed. At the Algonquin trail junction, we made the requisite pause to adjust clothing. Nancy's knee was troubling her but she soldiered on and eventually was motoring in the lead. The forest was filled with the crunch-crunching of our snowshoes punctuated by Mary's exuberant exclamations.

At Marcy Dam, we walked onto the frozen reservoir and were greeted by sunrise and spectacular views of Colden and the Angel slides on Wright. Mary and I crossed to the opposite shore and the balance of our group crossed the reservoir to its southern end. We reconvened on the trail and continued, on the packed trail, to Avalanche Pass.

Crisp winter day at Marcy Dam.

In theory, crossing the frozen surface of Avalanche Lake ought to be faster than negotiating the trail along its shore. In practice, it is difficult to avoid stopping frequently to admire and photograph the wonders of Avalanche Pass. At its southern outlet, we stepped gingerly onto the shore being well aware that the ice may be thin. Upon our return, we found this to be the case and noted a few holes and open, shallow water.

Early morning in Avalanche Pass.

No longer screened by Mount Colden, the sun made its luminous appearance when we stepped onto Lake Colden. The view of the MacIntyre Range is worth the trip alone. Windless and relatively warm, we paused for a snack and then continued to the lake's southern outlet.

Mary and Cynda on the northern end of lake Colden.

The suspension bridge across the Opalescent was laden with a thick layer of compressed snow so we chose to cross it one at a time. The trail was unbroken but the few inches of fluffy powder presented no real obstacle. The real work would come later during the ascents.

We paused at Uphill lean-to for a snack and prepared ourselves for the two peaks. The herd paths to Redfield and Cliff were unbroken and the snow depth varied from a half foot at the base to a foot on the upper slopes with knee-deep drifts. Redfield was the first objective. Some of our group left gear at the junction to lighten their load. Naturally, we wore snowshoes except for the upper portion of Cliff where everyone, except me (more on that later), switched to crampons.

Shortly after the junction, and unknown to us, blowdown obscured the herd path. We followed a likely path that eventually petered out. Knowing the herd path follows the brook, we simply made a hard left and quickly intersected the proper path. The blowdown would eventually lead to an unusual injury that would add a little more red to the day.

The lookout above Uphill Falls is one of my favourite spots with a commanding view of Algonquin reminiscent of Indian Falls. I was recounting this to Brian when he ventured onto the pristine surface and plunged waist-deep into the brook. Fortunately, he was not immersed and, upon extracting himself, discovered the surface was a treacherous layer-cake of fluffy snow, thin ice, void, followed by more snow and ice and finally water. As inviting a trail as Uphill Brook appeared, we didn't tread on its surface and hugged its bank.

Brian tests the surface strength.

We took turns breaking trail and route-finding. The trickiest bits were along the tributary that leads into Uphill Brook. The herd path follows its course but the deep gullies of snow, leading to open water, once again made us hug the deeper drifts high along its banks. We topped out on Redfield at approximately 1:00 PM whereupon we decorated its summit sign with playful rabbits and monkeys. A bright red balloon announced "Happy Valentine's Day!" A few days early but who's counting!

Furry friends on Redfield.

The snowpack gave us a boost and, standing tall, provided us with excellent views to the north and south. The warming sunshine and bluebird sky were a refreshing change from all too many frigid, viewless peaks I've hiked this winter. After snacks, chocolate truffles, and a few rounds of group photos, Nancy led the quick descent back to the junction.

View north from Redfield.

The source of the original route-finding error was discovered to be a large fallen tree. It obscured a bend in the path causing us to incorrectly proceed straight ahead. Highonlife and I had arrived first so, while waiting for the others to arrive, I chose to do some trail maintenance.

I broke off two large limbs, from the fallen tree, and created a large "X" to block the entrance of the incorrect path. Not satisfied with the "X" I decided to break off one more limb which proved to be a fateful decision. Unlike the others, the third branch refused to give way easily and, when it did, shattered in my hand. Now a projectile, it delivered an uppercut that drove my lower lip into my upper incisors.

Naturally, the event happened so quickly that all that registered was a snap, followed by a thwack, and then shock, and finally pain. I could feel a laceration inside my mouth and the development of a 'fat lip'. I spat blood. It was not the kind of 'red' contribution I wanted to make for Valentine's Day.

I scooped up a handful of snow, compressed it into a ball and pressed it to my lip. The cold helped to reduce the swelling but wasn't doing much to staunch the flow of blood. After many handfuls of snow, and decorating the junction with numerous bloody gobs, I began searching my ditty bag for a better solution. I folded a pad of gauze and, sort of like chewing tobacco, inserted it between my lower teeth and lip.

Now looking and sounding like Benjamin Buford "Bubba" Blue, from Forrest Gump, Mary and I had fun reciting the numerous ways of preparing shrimp. The injury was not a welcome development but, given the projectile's path, the least severe of possible outcomes. Shortly after Cynda arrived, I departed to catch up with Nancy and Brian.

Nancy had used her Whippet poles (small ice-axes attached to trekking poles) to surmount a heavily ice-encrusted section. Brian proceeded and decided it was time to replace snowshoes with crampons. I did not bring crampons so, while everyone paused to don them, I offered to continue in snowshoes and break trail. Persistence, and caution, allowed me to get around the nastiest bits and, once past the longest of the icy sections, I continued breaking trail through the woods.

At some point in my ascent, I realized no one was following me. I called out several times and heard no response. After waiting for several minutes I guessed something was amiss so I backtracked in search of my hiking partners. I found them below a steep icy pitch. Apparently, Cynda had sprung a spruce trap and was delayed by the experience. All was well now and the group was on the move again.

Route-finding between the false and true summits presented two or three head-scratchers. Wearing snowshoes, I helped consolidate the deeper drifts but the balance of the team, wearing crampons, were able to plow through the fluffy snow with minimal post-holing. We reached Cliff's summit at 3:45 PM and congratulated one another on a job well done. The plush toys joined us for summit photos. Daylight was becoming a precious resource so we didn't dawdle on the summit. 

Furry critters and a fat lip on Cliff.

I stopped at the false summit, donned an extra layer, and swapped out snowshoes for Trail Crampons. I stowed my hiking poles as a result of a valuable lesson learned from a previous trip to Cliff. I had tried to use poles exclusively for the descent, fell, and left some skin on the rock. This time I planned to use the trees. The combination of Trail Crampons, trees, and my long limbs, served me well.

I met Nancy at the junction where I indicated I'd be heading back to Uphill lean-to to change into fresh socks. The balance of the team, returning from Cliff, would reconvene at the lean-to. It was a pleasure to replace the soggy socks with a dry pair. Brian peeked around the corner and indicated the rest of the group had continued down the trail. He produced a thermos and shared a delicious blend of hot chai and cinnamon. Now shod in snowshoes, I joined Brian in a brisk descent to catch up with our hiking partners.

Being 5:30 PM, the sun had set and we were descending by the blue light of dusk. We caught up with the ladies and followed in the pools of light cast by their headlamps. The group spread out while crossing Lake Colden and I paused to admire the bright canopy of stars and the last dying glow of dusk. I took a long-exposure photo of the glow with limited success. While savouring the moment, the lake made a most disconcerting "BLOOP" noise seemingly to my immediate left. Naturally, I moved in the opposite direction and very quickly I might add! The idea that the solid surface beneath me was in an audible state of flux was not comforting.

I've never hiked by headlamp in winter so it was a new experience for me. I have to admit the first half-hour is exciting and then it becomes routine. Avalanche Lake's surface made a few less-scary "tick" noises indicating its surface was also in motion. I strode across the lake quickly in order to have time to look back and photograph the clutch of headlamps moving towards me. Unfortunately, the photo didn't quite capture the magic of the moment.

Headlamps on Avalanche Lake.

From Avalanche Pass to the Loj, the trail was ironed smooth by many skis. With little to see beyond the reach of our headlamps, we settled into a smooth rhythm to bring the long day to a close. At 8:20 PM, Mary and I emerged at the HPIC parking lot and were shortly joined by our companions. After shedding gear and switching into dry clothing everyone met for one last time for hugs and handshakes. Thank you all for a great day in the peaks!

Photos

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Cliff and Redfield 2011-07-05

Before the day's end, I would become intimately acquainted with the term 'Road Rash'. I fell while descending Cliff and left behind a tiny piece of me. My 'take home' was a bloody souvenir and a valuable lesson.

I didn't begin this hike in the best frame of mind. I left the Upper Works trailhead at 8:45 AM feeling out of sorts. It was an uncommonly late start for me but the day was long and the objective was reasonable.

The trail to Flowed Lands had a few muddy patches but, overall, was in fine shape. I had noticed that Altbark registered to hike Marshall and Cliff and I thought we might cross paths but it didn't happen. I arrived at Flowed Lands at 10:20 AM and paused to take in the wonderful view. I reached the Marshall trail junction, just past the "Pi Bridge", at 10:40 AM and confirmed my assertion that it takes less time to reach it from Upper Works (2 hours) than the Loj (3 hours).

Idyllic morning at Flowed Lands.

The "Pi Bridge" across Herbert Brook.

Along the Opalescent, I met a young man who had been unable to locate the herd path to Cliff. I indicated I was also heading to Cliff and described the route. He dashed ahead and waited at the junction for me to arrive. We continued to the cairn whereupon he thanked me and sped off. Despite dozens of hikes over the past year, I don't think I'll ever move that fast.

The approach to Cliff is along a well-worn and very muddy path. I characterized it as 'one muddy cuss' of a trail and shared that description with a group of four people descending Cliff.

I found plenty of handholds, in the form of overhanging trees, to help me ascend Cliff's steep, rocky pitches. Once past the false summit, and a very muddy section, the trail traverses the ridge via a surprisingly attractive footpath carpeted in fir needles. I arrived at the summit at 12:30 PM, about 45 minutes from the cairn.

Aside from a partial view of Colden, Cliff doesn't offer much in the way of views. Nevertheless it was far more than what I saw from its socked-in summit when I climbed it thirty years ago. It wasn't a scenic rest-stop so I chose to press on and have lunch en route to Redfield.

At the muddy section near the false summit, I met two cheerful hikers ascending Cliff. We exchanged brief pleasantries and then continued on our ways; I'd meet them again on Redfield. I believe I was descending the second steep pitch when I tried an expedient maneuver. I leaned over the edge of an eight foot drop, planted my hiking poles on a foot-wide ledge about four feet below me, and decided I could hop onto it. I believe this photo, taken by Snav3, is the section. My accumulated hiking experience was not involved in this poor decision. If it had been, it would've said to grab an overhanging branch and lower yourself, like you've done countless times before you owned hiking poles.

I landed on the ledge, my feet slid off, and I slid down the coarse rock. I wear cycling gloves to protect my hands and I'm thankful for it. However, the finger-tips were exposed and, being the chink in the armour, that's precisely where the damage was inflicted. The fall was brief and chaotic yet one sensation overshadowed all else, namely the feeling of a cheese-grater running across my right pinky.

I normally finish a hike with a few minor scratches but today would be different. I was relieved that I hadn't fractured or torn anything yet angry that I had made a bone-headed move.

I inspected the painful wound, now bleeding profusely, and saw the epidermal layer had been lost and the exposed dermis was soiled with embedded dirt. The human mouth may be a cesspool of bacteria but it was the most expedient way to clean the wound.

I retrieved bandages from my pack, all the while dripping blood everywhere. Despite my best efforts, I could not remove all of the dirt. I figured the best I could do is staunch the bleeding until I could get to a stream. I spat out another mouthful of blood, bandaged the finger, and then lowered myself with the aid of a branch, like I should've done in the first place.

After bandaging the wound, the pain diminished and it did not impede my hike. I returned to the cairn at 1:25 PM and continued to Redfield. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at my favourite rest-stop, namely a very pretty section of Uphill Brook with a great view of the Macintyre range. I feel this is a destination in itself and well worth the twenty minute hike from Uphill Brook lean-to. It lies at the head of one waterfall and the base of another and features a large flat rock from where you can rest and view Algonquin and Iroquois.

My favourite rest-stop en route to Redfield.

I removed the makeshift bandage and plunged my hand into the cold, clear waters of Uphill Brook. Clenching my teeth, I used a wet micro-fiber cloth to scrub the dirt out of the ragged wound. I wiped it with an alcohol pad and then wrapped it with an oversized bandage. With that unpleasant chore out of the way, I turned to slathering my feet with diaper-rash ointment and changing my socks. Now I could enjoy my lunch and the excellent view.

I sterilized a half-liter of water with my Steripen, added some Gastrolyte (oral-rehydratrion salts left over from my trip to China) and downed it. I had been sipping water, from my 3-liter hydration bag, throughout the hike but it doesn't beat the satisfaction of guzzling a big glass of cold water. By the end of the day, I'd consume four liters of water and wouldn't have turned down a pint of beer.

Other than a lone hiker descending Redfield (possibly Snav3?), I had the babbling brook all to myself for forty-five minutes. At 2:25 PM I packed up and continued to the summit. En route, I met the group of four hikers once again. The eldest of them was bleeding from scratches on his arms. I grumbled that the trail had taken its toll of blood from both us on this fine day.

I arrived at Redfield's summit less than an hour later at 3:20 PM. I spent ten minutes admiring the commanding view of Allen, where I had been the previous week. I've always imagined hiking the route between Allen and Redfield by following Skylight brook to the nameless bog and then onwards via Redfield's slide. Perhaps some day I'll do it, but not this 'lame finger' day.

I left the summit at 3:30 PM and carefully made my way down. Chastened by my previous fall, I was now treading very carefully, perhaps more than necessary. Once again, I met the two hikers seen on Cliff. They offered me antibiotic ointment but I declined. I indicated I'd get home and flush it with peroxide. One of them suggested downing a little Jack Daniels to ease the sting of the 'old school' peroxide. Given enough Jack Daniels, I'm sure its antiseptic properties could work its magic from the inside out.

One long, overly-cautious hour later, I was back at the trail junction. I followed the unmarked side-trail to inspect Uphill lean-to, took its photo, and then returned to the main trail where I met Aaron. He was returning from Skylight and was looking for the junction to Lake Arnold in order to return to the Loj. I indicated he had overshot the junction by at least a half-mile. I empathized with his situation because, during a hike to Redfield last year, I passed the herd-path junction and the Lake Arnold junction before realizing I had overshot my target! He replied he had turned back more than once and was unable to find it. I suggested he could either try again or follow me to Lake Colden whereupon he could return via Avalanche Pass. He agreed and we spent the next hour discussing hiking, travel, politics, etc.

Along the way, I assisted a father and daughter team looking for Uphill lean-to. Fortuitously, I had a time-stamped photo of it to show them, indicated it was empty and a half-hour away, and described how to find the unmarked side-trail. Aaron and I continued to Lake Colden where, at 5:25 PM, we shook hands and parted ways.

A half-hour later, I was standing on the shore of Flowed Lands and taking one last look at the beautiful vista. Given the excellent weather and the beautiful surroundings, it seemed like a shame to leave. But, camping was not part of the agenda and a hot shower and comfortable bed were a few hours away. I stopped at the Henderson memorial to pay my respects. I was rewarded with a beautiful view of Calamity Pond illuminated by the sun, low in the sky.

The remainder of the trail seemed to be longer than when I hiked it in the morning (isn't that always the case?). I stopped one last time to tend to a blister and change socks. I made good time and arrived at the trailhead at 7:40 PM. Twenty minutes to stow gear, wash up, and change into clean clothes. In lieu of dinner, I snacked on a protein bar and settled back for the three hour drive back home.

Photos

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