Dix Range Loop 2015-09-19

On Saturday I joined three other hikers, Gabriel, Luis, and Sébastien, for a tour of the Dix Range. The trip was organized by Gabriel and, given that he had already hiked Dix, his goal was to hike four of the five peaks of the Dix Range. On the summit of Hough, Luis and Sébastien desired to continue and I joined them for their first ascent of Dix.

Our day began at 5:00 AM in front of Gabriel's home. We piled into his car and headed south. Somewhere past Westport, our host became sleepy so I volunteered to drive. We arrived at Clear Pond shortly after 7:30 PM and noticed cars parked in the lot. I knew this did not bode well for securing a spot at Elk Lake.  A sign confirmed my suspicion; the main lot was full. I chose to drive to the trail-head anyway on the chance a spot had opened up.

As advertised, the Elk Lake parking lot was indeed full. Two cars were parked on the shoulder and risked being ticketed (a sign makes that outcome abundantly clear). I offered to drop off everyone, return to Clear Pond to park the car, and then walk back to rejoin them at Elk Lake. My offer was unanimously accepted. I watched everyone quickly prepare for the hike especially Luis who inhaled his pasta-breakfast with inhuman speed! I left my pack with Gabriel and drove back to Clear Pond.

My 1.8 mile jog/walk back to Elk Lake was made all the more enjoyable by the cool, sunny morning plus being unencumbered by a pack. It took me 20 minutes to rejoin my awaiting hiking partners. We left the trail-head at 8:30 AM and headed north to Slide Brook lean-to.

Along the way I met the first of several people who recognized me. "Are you Taras?" and "Aren't you Trail Boss?" made Luis ask why strangers seemed to know me. I explained my participation in the ADKhighpeaks.com forum and, to a lesser extent, a personal hiking blog, had everything to with it. To all the folks I met on the trail, it was a pleasure to meet you and I hope you had a great hike in the Dix Range.

We passed the cairn marking the start of the unmarked trail to Macomb and headed directly to the nearby lean-to. The last time I had hiked the Dix Range from Elk Lake was in 2011. Since then, the lean-to has been relocated from a clearing, directly on the trail, to a few yards off-trail and in the woods. However, this was not the first thing I noticed. What stood out above all was the concentration of tents in the vicinity of the lean-to.

The place looked like a backcountry slum. I don't understand the attraction of walking two miles into the woods to camp two yards from the trail and two feet from your neighbors. The majority of tents were within spitting distance of the trail. Perhaps I didn't see the designated campsite markers but the majority of tents appeared to be in violation of the 150-foot rule. The owner of the tent parked directly in front of the lean-to must have thought it was the 150-inch rule.

Whereas the woods were full of tents, the lean-to was empty. We paused there for a moment and then made a beeline to Macomb's trail. My companions were young and fit so we made good time ascending the dry, smooth path. We emerged at the base of the slide at 9:45 AM.

Luis and Sébastien ascend Macomb's slide.

The slide was it's usual self, a mish-mash of sand and loose rubble down low and some clean solid rock up high. There's no shortage of cairns marking what is an extremely obvious route. We split up and took whatever path piqued our interest. I chose the cleaner rock found on climber's left whereas my companions hugged the slide's right edge. We met at the erratic perched at the top of the slide where I volunteered to take photos of a young couple.

We made short work of the remaining section of trail and arrived on Macomb's summit at 10:30 AM. It was a popular destination on Saturday. It was my eighth time on Macomb and I'd never seen it so busy. The views were good albeit a bit hazy.

I apologize for forgetting her name but a delightful woman offered homemade honey cake and I was first in line. Thank you again, it was delicious! I overheard someone say Macomb's ascent was the steepest of all 46 peaks. I explained Dix from Round Pond held that honor but they pointed to pack with a 46er patch and claimed its owner would disagree. I never got to meet the pack's owner but I invite her/him to inspect this comparative study compiled by ADK 46er Trail Master, Joe Bogardus. It lists the steepest ascents to a summit over a minimum one-mile distance (there may be steeper but shorter sections to be found). Macomb is no slouch and comes in at fifth overall.
Gabriel chose to descend first, knowing we'd catch up to him. I continued to chat with other hikers while my two companions took their fill of views and photos. We spent no more than ten minutes on the summit and then proceeded to rejoin Gabriel. Luis and I proceeded at a spirited pace, passed Gabriel, and didn't stop until we reached the col. I indicated we should wait for the other half of our team to arrive because we were at a junction (southern arm of the Lillian Brook trail).

Ascending South Dix.

I looked forward to ascending the open rock of South Dix's western face. I much prefer it to the viewless "green tunnel" between South Dix and Grace. I paused to chat with an ex-Marine while my partners continued to the summit. The fellow said his training was tough but there's something about hiking that can take the wind out of your sails.

I rejoined the gang waiting for me on South Dix and we proceeded to Grace. Luis set the pace and his feet left a trail of fire! It was a challenge to keep up with him. We paused at the junction (trail to Boquet valley) to await our companions and ensure they did not make a wrong turn.

We had Grace's summit to ourselves for a few minutes before being joined by the VP of the ADK 46ers, her husband, and their 14 month-old daughter. The little one has been to over 30 peaks but, as her mom conceded, none of them count. Nevertheless, she was well on her way to "46er-by-proxy" status (riding in a child-carrier on her father's back).

Aspiring 46er!

The hikers we had passed earlier started to arrive and the summit developed a party atmosphere. Seeking a quieter, and more scenic, spot for our lunch, we continued past the summit to the top of the Great Slide. There we found a quiet spot to snack and enjoy the spectacular view of Hough and Dix. We spent 45 minutes lounging in the sun and then packed up to return to South Dix.

Hough and Dix from the top of the Great Slide.

I set a steady pace with Luis and we cleared the green tunnel in 30 minutes. We waited at the junction for our team mates to catch up. I pointed to a ledge on Hough and explained it offered excellent views and we would be there before long. Luis and Sébastien took the lead, eager to set a faster pace.

We quickly traversed Pough and then paused at the base of Hough to allow everyone to catch up. Sébastien took the lead with Luis at his heels and maintained a brisk pace up Hough. I caught up with them at the ledge where Sébastien had taken the bypass route (left past the ledge) and Luis and Gabriel scaled the rock. Other hikers paused here as well to look back at the route they had taken from Macomb and Grace.

Wind-pruned tree.

Forty-five minutes after departing South Dix, we stood on the summit of Hough. The brisk wind was very welcome if not a little bracing. After a few photos, we moved out of the wind and discussed our next step. The two aspiring 46ers looked longingly at the Beckhorn. Gabriel declared, as per his original plan, Hough was his final peak of the day. He had been to Dix on a previous trip and felt today's hike was sufficient exercise for him. I explained the next leg to Dix would take add at least two hours to our trip; one hour to Dix plus another hour to descend the Beckhorn trail. Gabriel still needed to return to Clear Pond to retrieve his car so, time-wise, it could balance out nicely.

After considering our options, Gabriel encouraged Sébastien and Luis to continue to Dix and I agreed to join them. We wished Gabriel well and assured him we would do our best to avoid having him wait too long. I took the lead down to the col where Sébastien took over and charged up the slope.

Passing a lookout along the route to Dix.

I had explained that this route to Dix was my favorite. It follows a narrow shoulder to the Beckhorn and features at least three lookouts offering views of one's progress along the ridge. Sébastien's pace didn't leave much time for sightseeing. Luis and I fell back slightly and didn't see him until the base of the trough where he was scouting a bypass route. I pointed to the trough and said it was the usual way up. We scrambled up and, a few moments later, emerged on the windy summit of the Beckhorn.

After briefly pointing out our eventual descent route, down the Beckhorn trail, we pressed on to Dix. Fifty minutes after leaving Hough's summit, we stood astride Dix's summit bolt. I congratulated them for their accomplishment. We had the summit to ourselves and settled in for a fifteen minute break. Dark clouds had rolled in and reminded me of the chance of late-afternoon showers. A wet Beckhorn trail would slow us down so we didn't overstay our welcome.



The A-Team strikes a pose.

We returned to the Beckhorn and began the steep descent along its open rock. We paused at the ledge because it's such a cool feature! The last time I had been on the Beckhorn trail was over 30 years ago so I didn't remember much about it aside from it being steep.



Beckhorn's ledge.

I took the lead scrambling down the trail. I think the north side of Seward is a good deal rougher than the Beckhorn. Nevertheless, there's plenty to keep one's hands and feet busy during the initial descent. Eventually it moderates and becomes a seemingly endlessly loss of elevation (2750 feet).

The dull pain in my knees was occasionally punctuated by a sharper sting along the outside of the right one. I paused twice to massage the area and shake my leg to work it out. I checked my watch and knew I shouldn't expect to see the junction until one hour had passed. I had lost sight of my companions who were somewhere behind me. Undoubtedly they too were coping with grumbling legs.


Steep section of the Beckhorn trail.

Fifty-five minutes after departing the Beckhorn, the junction appeared. A few minutes later Luis arrived and then Sébastien. Everyone agreed the descent had taken a toll on their legs. However, we succeeded in covering it in an hour and could now look forward to four comparatively easy miles. Although not without a bit more elevation gain of course!

Somewhere past Dix Pond, Luis reported he had run out of water. I assured him we weren't far from Lillian Brook where we'd take a short break. I pressed ahead, arrived at the brook first and setup my water filter just in time for Luis's arrival. After we topped up our supplies, I took a few minutes to soak my feet in the cold brook and put on dry socks. Sorry Coca-Cola but this was the real "pause that refreshes"! We consumed whatever snacks we had left and then hurried south to the trail-head. We closed the loop at Slide Brook and now had only two miles of easy trail to cover.

We arrived at Elk Lake at 6:00 PM and met Gabriel resting in his car. He said he had only waited 25 minutes so we felt good that our peak-bagging excursion had not been an excessive inconvenience. After cleaning up, we stuffed the trunk with our gear, which seemed to have expanded since the morning, and then talked all the way back to Montreal. We all had a fantastic day in the mountains and look forward to our next trip.

Photos

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Stats

08:30 AM Elk Lake
10:30 AM Macomb
10:40 AM Macomb - Depart
11:15 AM South Dix
11:46 AM Grace
12:30 AM Grace - Depart
01:00 PM South Dix
01:46 PM Hough
01:55 PM Hough - Depart
02:45 PM Dix
03:00 PM Dix - Depart
03:55 PM Beckhorn Trail Junction
04:15 PM Lillian Brook
04:30 PM Lillian Brook - Depart
06:00 PM Elk Lake

Dix Range Traverse 2014-05-29

Tom (Boghollow) and I toured the five peaks of the Dix Range via the "Boquet to Round" route (a.k.a. "73-to-73"; route 73 at North Fork Boquet river to route 73 at Round Pond trail-head; ~6200 feet ascent and 16 miles). We, as well as a handful of other hikers we met, were treated to a beautiful, sunny, bug-free day in the mountains.

We parked Tom's vehicle at Round Pond (where we saw Neil's car; he and Jean-Luc were climbing the Beckhorn Slide) and left my car parked north of the stone bridge spanning the North Fork Boquet river.

It was my fourth traverse and on the previous three trips I had started on the southern side of the river. The trail follows the river and then, within a mile, crosses over to the northern side. To avoid this river-crossing, we started on the northern side of the river. If you go this way, within 200 yards you reach a clearing overlooking the river. To continue westward, follow the faint path leading up the hill. We headed down to the river and within short-order the path petered out. Guessing the path was high above us, we headed up along a very steep incline, covered in loose rocks and sand, and intersected it. The remainder of the path was easy to follow but less worn than the south-side path.

Tom at Shoebox Falls.

Eventually the northern approach joins the "regular" path. The intersection lies several hundred yards north-west of the river-crossing. It was Tom's first time in the area so we backtracked to the river so he could see the site of the water-crossing. I pointed out the curved cedar tree and its very faint paint-blaze. It is understandable why hikers following the south-side path can easily miss the location of the river-crossing.

At the next major water-crossing we met two backpackers and their dog. They were exiting after having spent a dew days exploring the area. Shortly before the large camp-site, we met three DEC Rangers who were heading to East Dix and Spotted. Two of the rangers were new to the Boquet river valley and the third was giving them a tour. Each ranger was responsible for a different region in the High Peaks area and we spent a good while there talking to them. I took the opportunity to receive confirmation that the camp-site at Lake Marie-Louise is a legal site. We bid them good bye and continued on our way but would meet them again at least two more times.

Upon reaching the Great Slide, we discovered its surface was very wet. We walked out onto the wet rock and concluded the slippery conditions weren't ideal for an easy and fun ascent. We turned back into the woods and followed the herd-path to the col. The summit of East Dix (Grace) offered excellent views of the Dix Wilderness and its many interesting peaks.

Tom admiring the view from East Dix (Grace).

The hike to South Dix (Carson) always seems longer to me than the stated mileage. We didn't spend any time on its summit and continued on to Macomb. We descended South Dix's three areas of open-rock and began the ascent of Macomb. Macomb's summit provided a great view of the Elk Lake region awash in fresh, spring-green. We paused for a snack and then began the return-trip to South Dix.

Elk Lake and spring-green.

Lost in conversation, Pough went by quickly. A steep ascent signaled we were approaching the summit of Hough. We clambered over its south-eastern "lookout rocks" and emerged on its summit. Hough's summit-disk is missing and someone used the tree as a shrine. We paused for a snack and prepared ourselves for the final ascent of the day.

New marker on Hough.

The drop into the col was quick. As we began the ascent, pausing at each of the lookouts along the way we met a group of hikers descending Dix and returning to their camp in the valley. They mentioned meeting two hikers, about an hour earlier, who had climbed the Beckhorn Slide. We indicated we knew them; maybe we'd even see them. The final section of trail leading to the Beckhorn is steep and features a few chest-high steps. The last obstacle is a ten-foot long, V-shaped incline I call the "rock trough". Someone left a knotted rope to serve as a handrail but I opted to ignore it and accept the trough's challenge on its own terms. A few foot-jams are all that's needed to ascend the trough. We arrived on the Beckhorn forty-five minutes after leaving the summit of Hough.

We paused on the Beckhorn to look back at the peaks we had climbed; East Dix seemed far away. We sauntered over to Dix's summit and sat down for a break. The summit was deserted and we spent about forty minutes enjoying the fine weather and excellent views. The descent was rough and made me pine for winter when one can effortlessly glissade down this steep stretch of trail.

Time for a break on Dix.

We rock-hopped across the Boquet river and met a group of young hikers, and their group-leader, at the lean-to. We paused to chat with the leader who recounted how he had submerged his waterproof camera in Phelps brook and recorded the movement of inquisitive trout. The posted video was seen and pruchased by Orvis. The group was planning to hike to Dix the following day and we suggested they get an early start to avoid the predicted thunder-showers.

From the lean-to to the parking lot I talked Tom's ears off about the situation in Ukraine. Along the way we paused to talk with a young couple heading in to camp at the lean-to. We explained it was full but if they walked about two hundred yards south of the lean-to they would find camp-sites. We bid them goodbye and the monologue returned to the subject of all things Ukrainian.

Round Pond came and went and then we were back at Tom's truck. A quick trip back to my car was followed by refreshments and a discussion of what was left on our respective itineraries to complete a Spring round. We made tentative plans to reconvene in three days, to tackle the Seward Range and Seymour, and then bid one another goodbye. Another enjoyable Dix Range Traverse had come to a close and it was time to clean up and make tracks for home.

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Dix Range Traverse 2013-07-26

North Fork Boquet River to Round Pond

Over the course of several days, Bib and I had discussed a hiking route that would include several new mountains to add to his 46er list. The Dix Range featured four peaks he had never visited so it became our objective.

The "trade route" typically begins and ends at Elk Lake and involves a counter-clockwise, or clockwise, circuit of the Dix Range. Seeking something different, I suggested approaching the Dix Range from the east, namely where highway 73 crosses the North Fork Boquet River, which lies 650' lower than the Elk Lake trail-head.

The Plan's Design

1. Start from highway 73 at the North Fork Boquet bridge.
2. Head to Grace (East Dix) via the herd-path.
3. Continue over Carson (South Dix).
4. Out-and-back to Macomb.
5. Over Hough.
6. Out-and-back to Dix.
7. Bushwhack from Hough/Dix col to South Fork Bouquet.
8. Return to North Fork Boquet bridge.

The only unknown in the plan was the bushwhack descent from the Hough/Dix col so I consulted three knowledgeable bushwhackers. Although none had followed the planned route, at least two had been in its vicinity and confirmed the woods were not difficult. In the end, flexibility was key and our plan was altered to suit our mood: we ascended Grace via the Great Slide and continued over Dix to exit at the Round Pond trail-head. Admittedly, the 1.7 mile road-walk, in the dark along highway 73, wasn't the highlight of the trip.

The Plan's Execution

1. Start from highway 73 at the North Fork Boquet bridge.
2. Head to Grace (East Dix) via the Great Slide.
3. Continue over Carson (South Dix).
4. Out-and-back to Macomb.
5. Over Hough.
6. Over Dix to Round Pond trail-head.
7. Walk/run back to car after dark.

Bib and I started along the North Fork Boquet at 8:15 AM. We followed the excellent herd-path that winds its way westward initially along the North Fork and then the South Fork. We passed a few hikers heading out, notably a father and his two children, and met a large troop of boys at the undesignated camp-site located between the South Fork and a tributary ("two brooks").

Prior to the "two brooks" camp-site, the herd-path tends follow high above the course of the North and South Forks and retains a smooth trail-bed. Beyond "two brooks", the path hugs the South Fork and, as a result, becomes rocky and eroded. We crossed the "two brooks" camp-site to a cairn, passed a superb dipping-pool, and continued along, and through, the South Fork Boquet. When we arrived at the intersection of three brooks ("four corners"), I knew we very close to the Great Slide.

Eventually the herd path swung left and we began our ascent to East Dix (Grace). The path follows the eastern side of the brook (draining the slide) and we stopped for water at the point where the path crosses the brook. I drank my fill and then, knowing there'd be no other reliable sources, took on 3.5 liters of water.

On a previous occasion this was the point where Neil and I began our ascent of the slide. Today we continued along the herd-path which follows the course of the lower, slippery, and overgrown portion of the Great Slide. The path began to diverge from the slide at a point where the slide emerges from the woods and offers clean, open rock. We ventured out onto the slide and were rewarded with spectacular views.

Bib inquired if the balance of the slide's surface was of similar grade and quality. I confirmed it was except for a bit of scrambling through a band of cripplebrush and a cliff that is easily bypassed. Bib's initial reluctance to explore the slide disappeared and we abandoned the herd-path for the openness of the Great Slide.

The scenic route to Grace (East Dix).

Once past the band of cripplebrush, we reached steep rock. I suggested he continue towards the right whereas I would head left. His route would eventually follow along the edge of the cripplebrush and provided a worry-free path to the summit. I wanted to hone my scrambling skills and proceeded up a ramp leading to a chest-high wall. Surmounting the wall required a little more finesse than I had anticipated and definitely gave me my "money's worth". Eventually I arrived at the "rock chute" I had climbed on a previous trip and eagerly clambered up to the summit.

Ascending the "chute".

A priceless moment.

After a few minutes to soak up the scenery, we ambled over to tag Grace's summit. Within minutes we were joined by a couple of which one half was a summit steward. Although I didn't get her name, she and her partner were assessing the state of alpine vegetation. She reported what I had recently witnessed, namely the vegetation on Haystack, a peak without a steward, is losing the battle with misplaced footsteps. Meanwhile, summits such as Marcy and Algonquin, with stewards and rock-bordered vegetation zones, are doing well.

We passed a few more hikers along the way to South Dix (Carson) including a young couple bearing a "red flag" in the form of, what appeared to be, a red shirt attached to a pole high above his pack.  Upon reaching Carson's eastern lookout, we skirted an ocean of young boys beached on its shore. After a brief pause to photograph Bib on his 16th High Peak, we were on our way to Macomb.

For some reason I had forgotten the junction to Hough lies near Carson's summit. Our out-and-back to Macomb would require re-ascending Carson but, fortunately, it's only 200 feet. I didn't need poles and a hydration bladder to get to Macomb so I concealed them behind a rock.

The 500' ascent to Macomb taught me something about perspective. I've never ascended Macomb from the west and the route seemed more eroded than when I've descended it in the past. I guess one's perception of a trail can change depending upon whether one experiences it as an ascent or as a descent.

We passed a cheerful group descending Macomb. Bib greeted one its members with a "Have a great day!" and he replied "How could you not have a great day out here! Especially if you enjoy subjecting yourself to a beating!"

We reached Macomb's shortly after 1:00 PM and paused for a break. I hadn't eaten anything but Skittles and a Clif bar so it was time to break out the 'dog kibble'. The summit was all ours and perhaps it was due to our departure from highway 73 ensuring our schedule would not coincide with folks starting from Elk Lake.

Elk Lake from Macomb.

We returned to Carson at 1:50 PM, where I retrieved my gear, and began the short drop into the Carson/Pough col. We met the "red flag" team near Pough and passed the summit steward and friend who were descending Hough. We reached Hough's southern lookout at around 2:20 PM and paused to view the Great Slide. Fifteen minutes later, we were atop Hough and I congratulated Bib for ascending his 18th High Peak!

We stopped for another snack and to enjoy the great view of Elk Lake, Pinnacle Ridge, and beyond. Just as we were preparing to leave, the "red flag" couple joined us. We learned it was only the young woman's third hike ever! We congratulated her and, with a smile, I added that Dix was a mere hour away. She laughed and said it was scheduled for another day.

I was looking forward to the next stretch of our route. In my opinion, the herd-path from the Hough/Dix col to the Beckhorn is one of the most scenic of the "trail-less" routes. It follows a rising arc to the Beckhorn among dense woods punctuated by rocky lookouts with spectacular views to the southwest.

The grand arc to the Beckhorn.

Within the col, while Bib was off somewhere digging a cat-hole, I reconnoitered the woods to the east to gauge the difficulty of the proposed bushwhack. Naturally, the clearest stretches of woods were a result of blowdown. A few minutes of poking around convinced me progress would be slow and especially unpleasant if we lost daylight. Upon Bib's return we discussed our options. We ruled out an out-and-back to Dix, and the bushwhack descent, and opted for the "full meal deal" of hiking over Dix and exiting at Round Pond. If we couldn't get a lift, we'd just walk the "2.5" miles back to our car. The distance is actually 1.7 miles but, at the time, I thought it was 2.5.

The ascent to the Beckhorn was as good as I remembered it from a previous hike in 2011. The path follows the narrow wooded ridge and emerges at rocky ledges where one can pause to admire the incredible view. Shortly before the Beckhorn, we arrived at a "rock trough" that I have dubbed the "Route of Six" owing to nearby lichen growth in the shape of a six!

The "Route of Six".

Just a few minutes past the Route of Six, we scaled a man-high wall and popped out on the Beckhorn. Ten minutes later we were atop Dix and settled in for a long break. It was 4:30 PM and the late afternoon sun cast a soft light on the mountains. The summit was deserted, the air was warm and still and free of bugs, so we stretched out to catch a few rays. We still had 6.8 miles of trail, and 1.7 miles of road, to cover but, no worries, it was all downhill.

Well-deserved rest.

Shortly after 5:00 PM we collected our things and began the steep descent off the summit. Along the way I noticed a curious collection of bird feathers stuck on a log.

Evidence of an avian landing?

Emerging from the base of the steep and rocky trail onto the slide, one is greeted by a view of Noonmark and Giant and the slide's much appreciated smooth surface. The trail between the slide and the lean-to seemed a little on the long side but I attribute that to anticipation.

Bib emerges from the steepest descent in the High Peaks.

We arrived at the lean-to shortly before seven and discovered its occupants had just finished supper. Sadly there wee no leftovers for the hungry passerby! When asked what were there plans, the two young men indicated they would hike the Dix Range and return to the lean-to. I indicated they should get a "Expletive-deleted early start" because it was an ambitious itinerary involving doubling-back over Pough, Hough, and Dix. We bid them good luck and continued along the North Fork Boquet.

Anticipation can cloud one's perception of time and distance. It's only 1.9 miles from the lean-to to the Noonmark junction, shorter than the Loj to Marcy Dam, yet it seemed a good deal longer. Perhaps its because the scenery, lovely as it may be, doesn't change very much. Combined with a desire to return to one's car, the route begins to "drag" a little. Glen (mastergrasshopper) told me he runs this route and I now wonder if it is for the exercise or just to make it go by faster! Fifty minutes after leaving the lean-to we arrived at the Noonmark junction, crossed a tributary of the North Fork, then pressed on to Round Pond.

Once we passed the height-of-land, I stopped at a small brook to take on water while Bib continued down the trail. Shortly after passing the lean-to, I had finished the 3.5 liters I had collected, near the base of East Dix, earlier in the day. I was now thirsty and the cold clear water never tasted sweeter. I increased my pace and caught up with Bib a few minutes later.

As we approached the shores of Round Pond, the voices of campers could be heard clear across the pond. I paused on Round Pond's eastern shore for one last look. The sun had already set behind the mountains and the sky was cloud-free. The campers would enjoy a beautiful starry night.  We turned to ascend the last rise of the hike and began the sort descent to the trail-head.

Bib emerges as dusk begins.

I arrived at the highway shortly before 8:30 PM. Dusk was upon us and the chance of getting a lift in the gathering darkness was poor. I suggested we try getting a lift until the last of the available light, basically about ten minutes. After a few cars passed us, Bib handed me his car-key and said he would start walking back to the car. If I got a lift, I'd pick him up, and if I didn't I could catch up to him. Seven minutes of profitless hitch-hiking later, I was walking briskly in Bib's direction. I put my headlamp on backwards so the cars rushing by could see me strolling along the shoulder.

When I caught up to Bib I offered to run the balance of the road and return with the car. He took my pack and I ran down the road. This time I held my headlamp so the beam would pendulum along the ground and make me even more visible to passing cars. Now using a different set of muscles, running felt good if not a litle odd being in the dark on the side of a fairly busy highway! It was a Friday night, plus the weekend of the Lake Placid Ironman competition, so there was a constant stream of northbound traffic.

I was convinced the distance to the car was 2.5 miles and only later discovered it was only 1.7 miles. Had I known the true distance at the time I would have been less surprised when I caught sight of the car and wondered why it hadn't taken me longer! I knew I wasn't running fast so I already had a sneaky suspicion the distance was less then imagined. I spread my towel on the car seat, plopped my sweaty self onto the comfy car seat, and zipped up the road to collect Bib.

Bib didn't have his headlamp on and it's disturbing to learn how close you can get to a pedestrian before he finally becomes visible. There was no good place to stop so I overshot my target, slowed to a stop along the shoulder, and enabled the hazard lights. I looked back and Bib was already running towards the car along with Friday night's traffic making a broad detour around me. Moments later he hopped in and we sped off in search of a roadside pull-out. We stopped at the first one and, with that, the sketchiest portion of the hike was over. We stepped out, changed into clean clothes and sped off in search of dinner.

Sadly it was now too late for a sit-down meal (restaurants close early in Keene Valley) so it was off to Stewart's for chocolate milk. We also made use of their pay-phone to call our wives since our Canadian cellphones work exclusively with AT&T and there's no coverage in Keene Valley!

It was a great route with a wonderful hiking partner and I look forward to accompanying him in the future in his quest to become an Adirondack 46er.

Photos

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Milestones

Start 8:15 AM
Top of Great Slide 11:40 AM
Grace 11:49 AM
Macomb 1:08 PM
Carson 1:50 PM
Hough 2:37 PM
Leave Hough/Dix col 3:35 PM
Dix 4:30 PM
Leave Dix 5:08 PM
Hunter's Pass Junction 5:26 PM
Slide 5:58 PM
Lean-to 6:41 PM
Noonmark Junction 7:30 PM
Trail-head 8:24 PM
Car 8:55 PM

Grace and Spotted (Great Slide) 2013-06-27

Late Wednesday afternoon, Neil inquired if I had hiking plans for the following day. Thursday's weather forecast was the best of several days to come so I suggested visiting Grace by way of the Great Slide. Neil had seen this route many times before but agreed it would make for a fun day.

We parked on the eastern side of route 73, just past the bridge over the North Fork Boquet river. The morning was warm and very humid so we both switched to T-shirts and shorts. Trail-runners were the ideal footwear for the day. At 7:40 AM we began our hike along the southern bank of the river.

After passing two designated campsites, we continued along the smooth herd-path, until we reached a crossing. It looked like a viewing spot along the river bank and I had passed it and continued along the distinct herd-path. Neil called out to me and pointed to a cedar on the opposite bank marked with a faded red paint-blaze. The "viewing spot" was indeed a crossing and we rock-hopped across to pick up the herd-path on the northern bank. The path rose above and away from the river.

We crossed smaller brooks, headed left at a fork (right leads northwest), crossed the North Fork Boquet River, passed a side-trail to Lillypad Pond, veered away to pick up the South Fork Boquet River, and paused briefly at a campsite. The campsite (could not find a designated campsite marker) is located between two parallel brooks, one is the South Fork Boquet River and the other a major tributary that leads west to the Beckhorn Slide.

Idyllic pool along the South Fork Boquet River.

We followed a distinct herd-path rising out of the campsite but it ended abruptly. I had seen a cairn at the southwestern end of the campsite but assumed it led elsewhere. Figuring it had indicated the proper path we simply cut directly south, about 50 yards, and picked up the desired herd-path following the course of the South Fork Boquet.

We reached an intersection of three brooks that Neil, based on a description offered by Glen (Mastergrasshopper), called "Four Corners". We passed one more tributary and, a few minutes later, the herd-path veered away from the brook and began ascending Grace. We stopped to sterilize some water since we didn't expect to find any until we finished our traverse of Grace, Spotted and Elizabethtown #4.

Neil on herd-path to the Great Slide.

No sooner had we started up the path, we spied a deer, no more than forty feet up the trail, motionless and staring at us. As we moved forward it crossed the herd-path and stopped to look back at us.  We moved again and, violating its forty foot 'personal space', it sprinted away into the woods. No time for photos but captured as an indelible memory.

Upon reaching the first exposed bit of rock, we left the herd-path and began ascending it. Whatever was wet was dangerously slippery and forced us to remain on the 'dry and narrow'. How wet was it? Wet enough for frogs!

Emerging from the primordial ooze on the Great Slide.

Neil follows the 'dry and narrow'.

The lower portion of the slide is reverting back to woods and so we threaded our way from one exposed patch of slick rock, through woods, and on to the next. Eventually the woods receded and gave way to an open slab offering cleaner, and drier, rock as well as grand views of Hough and Dix.

Neil, Hough, and Dix.

The ascent of the slab went smoothly and was over all too soon. We found ourselves back in the trees and searched for an easy means to regain the upper portion of the slide. After a bit of exploration, we corrected our direction and resumed the ascent. Upon reaching the base of the final cliff we opted to climb it as opposed to ducking to the right and using the herd-path.

About ten yards below the summit, we found a broad chute featuring a hand-crack along the left and a V-shaped trough along the right. Neil and I chose our preferred routes and topped out on the cliff's head. I thought it was the best bit of climbing of the entire route!

Upper terminus of the Great Slide.

It took only a few seconds for the black flies, and deer flies, to find us. We quickly changed into pants, long-sleeve shirts, and "caps with curtains" to fend off the hungry hordes. Free of our packs, we proceeded southwest along a herd-path to tag the true summit of Grace. A new summit disk has been nailed to the rock and continues to offer a choice of appellations: East Dix and Grace.

Returning to the cliff, we took one last look down the Great Slide, and shouldered our packs. Accompanied by the persistent "light-saber" buzzing of deer flies, we began our descent east to double-humped Spotted Mountain. The herd-path frequently petered out and required some bushwhacking to thread a route from one stretch of open rock to another. Blueberry shrubs lined the periphery of the open stretches but their fruit wasn't ripe.

Spotted was a delight. Its two humps provided a good blend of interesting rock, woods, vegetation, and commanding views of the Dix Range. At one point we were mesmerized by nine turkey vultures soaring high above us. Their aerial gyrations were accompanied by the flute-like music of nearby thrushes and inquiring calls of white-throated sparrows. Like one radio station overpowering another, nature's symphony was soon overshadowed by the bag-pipes of deer flies. Our cap-curtains kept them at bay but did little to muffle the whine of their eager dentist-drills.

Neil atop Spotted's southwestern summit.

Elizabeth #4 lies about 750 feet below Spotted and our eyes confirmed the height disparity. We started the descent along a herd-path but eventually followed whatever course felt right, mostly by traversing from one bit of exposed rock to another. The final rock outcrop offered some fun scrambling and, after emerging from an intervening col, we stood on "E-town #4".

Neil descending to Elizabethtown #4.

The summit harbored a picturesque pond surrounded by smooth rock and luxuriant moss. It seemed like a lovely spot to bivouac under the stars. Well, maybe not this evening because we noticed the cloud-cover was descending and breaking over the summit of Dix. Heavy rain, possibly a thunderstorm, was predicted to begin in the coming hours and we wanted to be, at the very least, off the summits and in the valley before the deluge arrived.

Still-life on E-town #4.

Neil pointed to his topo map and indicated E-Town #4's northern side might offer a good descent route. The map indicated it had an open expanse of rock that could offer less resistance for our descent. It proved to be an ideal route and appeared to have been used by others. We found a few bits of weathered flagging and evidence of cleanly-sawn trees and branches. The "trail-clearing" led past the base of the rocky slope and into the woods for about 200 yards before we lost it at a steep drop-off. By the height of the flagging, Neil guessed it might have been a route cleared for skiing. The remaining stretch of forest, to the South Fork Boquet, offered open woods and an easy descent.

Easy bushwhack down to South Fork Boquet River.

We emerged on the Boquet and sat in its midst to tank-up on water, have a snack, and just lounge in the river and watch the water go by. Neil spent time photographing various water features while I sat happily munching my way to the bottom of my bag of "dog kibble". The flies seemed to sense it was time to leave us alone and I appreciated their cooperation.

A few yards up and out of the river brought us to the main herd-path. The remaining miles, a playback of the morning's travels, slipped by with little effort. We knew we were close to the highway when we heard the sounds of people enjoying the flumes and pools of the North Fork Boquet. Their laughter signaled the end of my first trip along the length of this valley and to the Great Slide. I'm already eager to return and discover its many other treasures.

Photos

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Neil's Photos.

Macomb, South Dix, East Dix, Hough 2012-03-18

I'm not a big fan of crawling out of bed at 3:30 AM so I booked at room at the Maple Leaf Motel in Schroon Lake. Others have said good things about it and I'll add my thumbs up as well. A clean, well-appointed room, for a budget price, awaits you about ten minutes away from Northway exit 29. There's a convenience store across the road and Mr. P's Mountain Smoke House (Update: Mr. P's is no longer in business) is a very short drive away in the town of Schroon Lake. I had the opportunity to sample Chris Palmatier's version of the classic Philly cheesesteak, made with smoked pulled pork, and it was delicious. I will definitely return to try other dishes. Chris plans to add poutine to the menu and, given the excellent fries, I think it'll be a hit. I bought a tall boy of Coors at Stewart's, headed back to my room, kicked back, and watched Bruce Willis run around barefoot in the Nakatomi building.

At 3:30 AM I was awakened by the sound of an idling diesel engine. Now what? After fifteen minutes of being serenaded by the oil-burner, I peeked out the window to discover a flat-bed truck parked in front of my room. I was the sole guest. I stepped out and noticed the flat-bed was hauling an SUV and the two adjoining rooms had doors wide-open. I approached the first person I saw and asked if they could instruct the driver to kill the engine. More people emerged from behind the truck and I was informed he was leaving. I returned to my room and only then I realized the SUV was disabled and its occupants were being deposited at the motel. I guess they weren't going to get much sleep either. After two and half hours of staring at the ceiling, I got up and ate breakfast.

It took less than a half hour to drive from the motel to the Clear Pond trailhead. Brad (BradleyC1319) was already waiting in the lot and before long we were joined by Doru and Zack(ADKZ). We left Clear Pond at 7:00 AM. Zack had brought his bike and cruised passed us on the road to the summer trailhead. Within fifteen minutes we stopped to shed layers; it was unseasonably warm.

I had brought a slip of paper listing milestones and times recorded during my hike to the Dix Range last summer. I planned to use it as a guide to help estimate travel time from one milestone to another and to gauge my own performance. I had no illusions of hiking all five peaks in the time I had achieved. The current trail conditions, and my own physical conditioning, were wildly different from eight months ago.

The initial stretch to Slide Brook was adequately paved in supportive snow and we made good time in bare-boots. Beyond the cairn, we switched to µspikes. This was the first of many stops to switch between µspikes, snowshoes, and bare-boots. We reached Macomb's slide at 9:20 AM. In case it isn't blindingly obvious that you've reached the slide, a misguided do-gooder spelled it out with a Sharpie on not one but two birch trees. Here's hoping the ink doesn't last the summer.

Macomb's slide was a collage of surfaces ranging from soggy talus, soft snow, ice, and bare rock. After a hundred feet or so, three of us removed our µspikes and threaded a line of talus and bare rock. Only the last hundred yards required post-holing through mashed potatoes. Doru did his best to climb it in showshoes but I doubt his route survived the day's warm temperatures. Macomb has lost it's winter mantle.

Rock, snow, and ice; something for everyone.

The views from the top of the slide were too good to ignore so we stopped for a few minutes to admire the scenery. The sky was a brilliant blue and the sun lit up Elk Lake's frozen surface. Skylight, Haystack, Marcy, and Basin were caped in white and gleamed in the morning sun but by day's end they would be mottled with grey. Winter was aging rapidly.

We reached Macomb's summit, my twenty-second winter peak, at 10:15 AM. We were joined by a young couple who were heading to South and East Dix. The temperature was now around 10C (50F) and we were all stripped down to base-layers. The descent to South Dix gave us the opportunity to experience post-holing with snowshoes. The old snow appeared deceptively supportive but was in fact ready to swallow legs whole. It was like a spruce trap, minus the spruce; a sink-hole. Having the slightest build of the group, I expected to breeze on by yet I experienced my fair share of 'that sinking feeling' plus one headlong plunge. Brad was adept at finding sink-holes and effectively marked the perimeter of the spine with holes. He was also darn good at springing spruce traps. I think he expended twice as much energy on this hike as anyone else. Later in the day, he encountered a double-whammy, namely a leg-deep sink-hole that ends with a thorough foot-soaking in ice water.

The herd path was easy to follow but we still managed to lose it in the col between Macomb and South Dix. We were only off by about 50 yards and the post-holing through soft, yet wet, snow underscored the difficulty of off-trail progress. The air temperature whispered summer but the snow in the woods shouted winter. We shed our snowshoes and hiked up the bare, warm rock to South Dix's summit. We were topside at 11:15 AM. This was Doru's thirteenth winter peak and he expressed his concerns about what South Dix had in store for him. Fortunately, South Dix was feeling generous that day and only demanded the loss of a water bottle en route to East Dix. We paused for a few minutes and some members dropped thier packs whereas others simply left behind some gear. The young couple forged ahead and we'd see them only one more time.

Ascending South Dix.

We lost the herd path along the way to East Dix. I guess we zagged when we should've zigged and ended up staring at the young couple's post-holes through dense woods. We followed their path for a few yards and then spotted the herd path through the trees. A quick beeline and we were riding the monorail once again. The snow is melting quickly and erasing all signs of passage. At times the only evidence of a herd path, as we'd discover later on the Lillian Brook path, is a supportive spine with a slightly dimpled surface. 

Shortly before the East Dix's summit, we met the couple returning to South Dix. They were heading back to Macomb. We reached East Dix at 12:10 PM. It has lost its summit marker and only the nails remain. The snowless rocks made an ideal perch and we paused to appreciate a summer's day in March. The temperature was now 17C (62F) and we remarked that on a 'real winter hike' lounging around on a summit usually isn't a practical option. We were lucky to be out on such a unique day.

While descending East Dix, I manage to get beaned in the head. A snag had fallen across the path at head-height and I pushed it aside. It broke and the overhead section swung down and smacked the side of my head. I used a fistful of corn snow as a cold compress and, not feeling dazed or dizzy, continued on. 

I don't recall the precise time we returned to South Dix but it was clear to me at the time that I was well behind my summer hike's timetable. It was my fourth winter hike and my endurance level was not where it needed to be to breeze through all five peaks of the Dix Range. Despite unhappy legs, the company was great, the weather was incredibly good, and the herd path was enjoyable. I'd see how I and the the group felt atop Hough and then play it by ear. We collected our belongings and pressed on.

The descent from South Dix to the col was steep and quick. There were no fresh tracks visible, only remnants of older ones. Pough came and went. We stopped in the col and discussed who desired to push on to Dix. Zack indicated he would decide atop Hough. Doru and Brad were happy with the original itinerary. I was on the fence. I knew Dix was an hour and half away from Hough and it would be a shame to miss out on such a gorgeous day. However, my performance had not been exemplary so it was likely that I'd find it to be a tough slog. Plus there was the matter of the long hike back.

I decided to leave my options open by hiking up Hough with all of my gear. If I hiked up without a pack, I'd get a false sense of its difficulty and suffer "hiker's remorse" for having dropped my pack and closed the door on Dix. If I hiked up with a pack, I'd gain a realistic sense of my performance and render a better decision regarding Dix.

We arrived at Hough's southern lookout at 2:20 PM and stopped to remove our snowshoes. We scrambled up the rocks, thrashed around in the mashed potatoes and stopped again to put on our snowshoes. Doru, believing the summit was near, left his snowshoes at the lookout. The next fifteen minutes of terrain proved to be a challenge so we packed down the snow ahead of him to spare him from the sink-holes. We arrived atop Hough at 2:35 PM and paused to admire the view of the Beckhorn.

We relaxed on the summit and discussed our good fortune to be out in the Dix Range on such a fine day. By 2:50 PM, it was time to decide if I wanted to proceed to Dix. Zack indicated he was prepared to go and, for someone who looked as fresh as the moment he stepped out of his car, it wasn't a big decision; it was good day to be on Dix's summit. Based on my summer hike, I estimated 90 minutes to the summit and at least 3.5 hours to the trailhead. I knew I could find it in me to get there but I was more concerned about the exit. The valley would be alive with meltwater and make for a long slog back to the summer trailhead. I added that the final slap would be me watching Zack zip down the road, to Clear Pond, on his bike! I decided to leave Dix for another day.

We all shook hands, wished Zack the best of luck, and went our separate ways. The following morning I checked in on Zack and he reported he was in good shape. He indicated it took him 90 minutes to get to the summit, one hour of soaking up the sunshine, followed by just a little over 3.5 hours to the trailhead. However, based on what he encountered on the Beckhorn and near Dix Pond, it's clear to me that I would've experienced difficulty keeping up with him. Icy conditions, plus thoughtless post-holing on the Beckhorn trail, and flooded lowland trails, made for a challenging exit. Our descent of the Lillian Brook herd path gave us a taste of what he encountered.

Doru, Brad, and I left Hough and rapidly descended to the col and proceeded down the Lillian Brook herd path. I was looking forward to this leg of our trip because I've never hiked it. I had run out of water back at the col and was now scooping up water with cupped hands and greedily drinking from every rivulet of meltwater.

The initial descent was steep and filled with numerous small streams. Fortunately, the snow pack was intact and the meltwater was heard but not seem. All of that changed quickly when Brad stepped though a bank, in showshoes, and thrashed in knee-deep meltwater. The game had begun.

Entering the Lillian Brook 'water park'.

In brief, all major stream crossings have lost their winter snow-bridges. Add a large volume of fast-moving meltwater and the result is a formidable obstacle. A short bushwhack and walking along a log, in snowshoes no less, allowed us to bypass the worst of it. However, it was the seemingly benign crossings that tricked us and gave us foot-baths in ice-water. Nevertheless, we all agreed we felt invigorated, had caught our 'second wind', and were descending quickly and in good spirits. Perhaps it was the summer-like weather, knowledge we were homeward bound, or baptism by ice-water that was responsible for our high morale. It was a great day to be in the mountains.

We reached the Elk Lake Trail at 4:50PM. I drank from the brook and surveyed the trail. It was winter in rapid retreat. We tried to preserve the remains of the spine by wearing our snowshoes. Less than a mile later, after pussy-footing around far too many puddles, rocks, and mud, I stopped and exclaimed in disgust "I've had enough!" I'm all for preserving the monorail for the good of the next hiker but the snow was disappearing before my eyes! We removed our snowshoes and bare-booted the balance of the trail. High-top rubber boots would've been best.

We arrived at Slide Brook lean-to at 5:20 PM. I peeled off my water-laden socks, dried my feet, greased them with Boudreaux's Butt-Paste, and slipped on dry socks. What a treat! Even the soggy boots felt good. The relief would be short-lived because the Elk Lake trail had a few more surprises in store.

We left the lean-to at 5:30 PM. Slide Brook was now roaring with meltwater and the sturdy bridge across it was appreciated. We increased our pace and arrived at the summer trailhead 40 minutes later. However, not before experiencing some of the new attractions at the Elk Lake 'water park'. The morning's snow cover had disappeared revealing a flowing stream. Rock-hopping and skirting the deepest parts served to keep my feet dry. However, one section was completely flooded and introduced me to an unfamiliar water-hazard. I discovered that three inches of water flowing over seemingly solid ice can conceal well over a foot of water below the ice. Goodbye dry socks, it was nice knowing you!

We covered the final stretch of road, to Clear Pond, in 30 minutes. Brad had the longest drive and left first. He and I had hiked the Sewards the previous summer and it was great that we got the chance to hike again, especially on such an exceptional day. Doru and I spent about a half-hour, cleaning up and munching on snacks. We agreed to meet again, potentially for a hike in the Whites, and then went our separate ways. Before leaving, I looked up the road towards Elk Lake. The stillness and dusk's cool light made me reflect on my decision to skip Dix. I was happy to have finished the hike in good spirits; tired but not spent. I quietly wished Zack, working his way through the 'water park' by headlamp, the best of luck and drove away.

Photos

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Dix Range 2011-07-24

Dix Range: Macomb, South Dix, East Dix, Hough, Dix

Highlights

• Two and a half hours of sleep (I hate campgrounds)
• No hiking poles (trying to toughen up my knees)
• One dinged ankle (hitting a tendon hurts like sin)
• Four liters of water (to replenish the cascade flowing down my back)
• Ran the flats (attempting to become a trail-runner ... ha-ha)
• Dix Range in 10 hours (9 hours hiking + 1 hour rest)

 

Mr. Peabody's WABAC machine

Tuesday, August 25, 1981 was the first time I explored the Dix Range. I still have my hand-written notes (in a pocket-sized spiral-bound notepad) and here are a few excerpts:

• "The bushwhack up Macomb is splendid."
• "The slide is breathtaking."
• "I rock climbed the cliff rather than skirt it ... exhilarating!"
• "I sunbathed in the nude on an open ledge."
• "Met an elderly gentleman and his son, 46R, was here 55 years ago, spoke of mining operations, lumber camps, log drives, fascinating! His son was hauling a broken crockpot he discovered in the valley."
• "I decided to bivouac on South Dix."
• "The setting sun throws long shadows in the valley."
• "I am a spectator in the theater of life. The lights dim ever so slowly. A red veil of light is cast upon the audience, I and the mountains, and then the stars emerge. I am overcome with a sense of cosmic awareness."
• "The fresh mountain breezes sing a lullaby as I gently drift into a deep sleep."

My recent hike to the Dix Range shared many positive aspects with my 30-year-old 'magical mystery tour' but a few stood in sharp contrast:

• A bad night's sleep.
• It's not the same slide.
• I'm no longer a sun-worshipping hedonist.
• Bivvying atop a 4000 footer is a no-no.

Of Mice and Men

My usual routine is to wake up in the middle of the night, drive 2.5 hours to the 'Dacks, and get on the trail around 7:00 AM. For this trip, I wanted an earlier start so I left the previous evening to camp near Elk Lake. Things didn't go according to plan and I found myself in Plattsburgh about 45 minutes prior to sunset. I wanted to camp at Blue Ridge Falls Campground, on Boreas road and 20 minutes from the Elk Lake trailhead, but it was not going to happen before sunset. I turned off at exit 34 and headed, along route 9, to the Poke-O'Moonshine state campground only to discover it was closed. Frustrated, I recalled that Magic Pines Campground was nearby so I sped towards Lewis. Gordon welcomed me and indicated I could pitch my tent in several spots. I chose site 95, under a canopy of mature white pines and on a level bed of pine needles. I visited two nearby campers and forewarned them that I'd be waking up very early but would try to be as quiet as possible. Both parties indicated they also planned to rise early (albeit not at 4:00 AM). No one was at the third tent and that would prove to be fateful.

Why I hate campgrounds

Two young men appeared at the third tent around 9:30 PM, built a roaring fire and began a rousing conversation. Prepared for unwanted 'sound and light' shows, I donned ear-plugs and an eye-mask. Even earplugs couldn't muffle their snickering, giggling, and chatter. I knew I was in trouble when one fellow commented that he could sit by the fire until 3:00 AM. They were accompanied by the usual campground irritants including the passing traffic on the nearby highway, yapping dogs, the slamming of car doors, and the one that exemplifies people's obliviousness, the piercing honk of a car's horn when its alarm has been activated. Maybe I was the only one who simply wanted to hear the wind in the pines, the patter of raindrops on my tent, a distant bird-call, and all other natural sounds. Stupidly, I expected to find peace and quiet in a campground.

Passing showers didn't dampen their conversation. I hoped they would respect curfew but 11:00 PM came and went. Jokes about 'sharpening your stick' grated on my nerves. At midnight I stormed out of my tent and, within their view, marched towards the office. I pressed the buzzer but no one appeared. I headed back to my tent and noticed the two inconsiderate chatterboxes were gone. I assumed they 'got the message' and turned in. At 12:30 AM the conversation started anew. At 1:00 AM, now robbed of three hours of sleep, I stood outside my tent and addressed them as calmly as my displeasure allowed: "Gentlemen! It's well past curfew and we're into quiet time. I have a long-planned hike tomorrow that requires me to get up at 4:00 AM. Could you please respect the quiet hours?". They apologized and the woods fell silent. Within a few minutes they retired to their tent and, assuming nylon tent walls were soundproof, continued their conversation. I fell asleep some time after 1:00 AM.

I awoke at 3:45 AM, before my alarm sounded. I felt like I had sand in my eyes. I contemplated the sanity of hiking on less than three hours of sleep. I decided to go through the motions and see how I felt as time went by. A mean streak in me wanted to give the chatterboxes a 4:00 AM wake-up call but I didn't want to be banned from the campground. I quietly packed my belongings, ate breakfast, and drove away at 4:45 AM. The Elk Lake trailhead was still an hour away.

A new day dawns

The Elk Lake trailhead contained about a dozen cars and at least one person sleeping in a Hennessy Hammock. I suspect he had a far better night's sleep than I did. The only sound I heard was the distinctive cry of a loon from nearby Elk Lake. I was the first to sign in and left the trailhead at 6:05 AM.

The most remarkable aspect of the trail to Slide Brook is its lack of erosion. I didn't know it at the time, but it was a forebearer of the conditions I'd experience throughout the day. I can't stress enough how beautiful the herd-paths are in the Dix Range. With the exception of a few steep sections, the trail-bed is mostly forest duff and, probably owing to the lack of rain this month, remarkably free of mud. If some trails are 'work', these are a 'vacation'.

New slide ain't the old slide

I arrived at the Slide Brook cairn at 6:45 AM. The herd-path passes through the designated campsite and follows a clear route. I arrived at the base of the slide at 7:30 AM. Not all memories survive the passage of thirty years. Nevertheless, I suspected this was not the 'breathtaking slide' I had climbed thirty years ago. Upon my return home, I checked the ADK guidebook and confirmed the existence of a new and an old slide. I was not impressed with the new one. It is an inclined field of rubble; a slope covered in aggregate ranging in size from bread crumbs to breadboxes. At 7:55 AM, I reached a large boulder at the head of the slope. There was no evidence of the rocky cliff I had climbed nor the ledge where I had sunbathed decades ago. It was a good hike with lots of views but, looking through my rose-coloured glasses, not the memorable slide of my youth.

Elk Lake from the top of Macomb's western slide.

A painful anatomy lesson

Somewhere between the top of the slide and the summit of Macomb, there's a three foot earthen rise with a protruding log. With much consideration given to planting my right foot, and none for my left, I smacked the tendon of my flexor digitorum longus muscle. I was unaware of the medical term at the time and simply knew I struck a tendon on my inner left leg, just above the ankle, with such force that I cringed in pain. My first thought was "Nice move, dum-dum!". The impact site was extremely tender and had a minor laceration. I was concerned it would swell and impede the tendon's movement. I rotated my foot and confirmed its range of motion was normal and relatively pain-free. The laceration was under the gaiter so I chose to tend to it at the next rest stop (i.e. after completing South and East Dix).

I stood atop Macomb at 8:15 AM. Here is where I had met the 'elderly gentleman and his son' and had been intrigued by his recollections and the 'broken crockpot'. The view from Macomb is excellent but nothing that hasn't already been seen during the slide's ascent. Nevertheless, you get an expansive view of the Elk Lake basin and its western bulwhark, the Colvin Range. The morning fog, suspended above the lake, provided an extra touch of drama.

Farther west, and northwest, lie Allen, Haystack, Marcy and the Great Range. Nearby is Nippletop and, by peeking around the trees to the north, one can see Dix, the day's objective. When appreciating the architecture of skyscrapers, one criterion is the roof's design. Does it have a 'nice hat'? Yes, viewed from Macomb, the Beckhorn provides Dix with a very nice hat. It is the kind of mountain you draw as a kid, a steep-sided pointed cone, and I had a few more summits to visit before I'd stand atop it. One more photo of 'boots posing with USGS marker' and I was off.

 

Do the Monkey

The herd-path into the Macomb/South Dix col is in excellent shape and allows for a speedy descent. Although I brought my trekking poles, I found myself hiking without them. The herd-paths in the Dix Range tend to be narrow and there were many spots where the poles would be awkward to use. I found myself descending 'ape-style', like I did years ago, where I simply grabbed whatever was within reach to moderate my descent and assist my ascent. Given that the herd-path is narrow, there was never a shortage of handholds.

In the col, I passed the cairn marking the southern arm of the Lillian brook herd-path. I began ascending the first bit of exposed rock at 8:45 AM. I re-entered the woods and, just a few yards west of South Dix's summit, passed a prominent cairn marking the herd-path to Hough. At about 8:50 AM I was taking a self-portrait atop South Dix's wooded summit. I don't recall the precise location of my 'hors la loi' bivouac but, to minimize my footprint, I had chosen bare rock. It might have been at the lookout with its grand view of Macomb and numerous lesser peaks lying to the south, including Camels Hump and Niagara.

I left South Dix at 9:00 AM and headed towards East Dix. The descent into the South Dix/East Dix col is unremarkable except for the quality of the herd-path. South Dix has a long eastern shoulder with a gentle slope and the path is park-like. Being only a third of South Dix's length, East Dix's western slope is comparatively short and steep. About ten minutes prior to the summit, I passed a well-defined side-trail. There is no cairn but the trail's mouth is partially obstructed by a pile of branches. I guessed it led to East Dix's northern slides and the herd-path from route 73. Upon my return from South Dix's summit I explored the side-trail briefly, confirmed it was not a deadend, added another branch to the wood-pile, and continued on my way.

Toys that go boom!

I arrived on East Dix's rocky summit at 9:30 AM. The summit disc is unique because it is attached to a boulder. Being a gearhead, I was fascinated by the fact someone had employed a power-actuated nail gun, basically a zip gun that, when struck, explodes a .22 cartridge that fires a nail, to attach the plastic summit marker. I had used one extensively, when finishing the basement of my first home, and experiencing it drive a nail through a two-by-four into concrete is a guilty pleasure for boys of all ages. Now I was staring at the marker and wondering if whoever attached it had the same thought I did: "Hmmm, to fire a nail into igneous rock. Will it go or will the rock shatter into anti-personnel fragments? Did I remember to bring goggles? Nope. Nuts, here's goes nothing. BANG! Awesome, it worked! One more nail to be sure!".

View of Macomb from atop East Dix.

At 10:10 AM I stopped at South Dix's lookout for a break. I cleaned and bandaged my souvenir from Macomb, downed two Advils, greased my feet, changed my socks, and munched on a Builder bar. I had left my hydration bag in an ice-chest overnight so the water was still refreshingly cold. Despite a bad night's sleep, and accompanied by my usual entourage of foot and knee complaints, I felt I had made good progress. The day was young, the weather was perfect, the herd-paths in top shape, and I was looking forward to the hike over Hough to Dix. Refreshed, I left South Dix at 10:30 AM.

About fifteen minutes later I was standing atop so-called 'Pough' and admiring the view of Elk Lake. Within another five minutes I was at the designated campsite in the col between Pough and Hough. The area contains a rock fire-ring and several spots to pitch a tent. I noticed some orange flagging and didn't think much of it at the time but I now suspect it indicated the northern arm of the Lillian brook herd-path.

Looking skywards from the Pough/Hough col.

I reached Hough's southern rock outcropping at 11:10 AM where it offered an excellent view of my route. As good as the views were, it wasn't the summit, so I pressed on. Less than ten minutes later I stood atop Hough. Exposed to the elements, its summit marker is virtually blank but there's no question that you're on its pointy summit. Although it has the same western view as seen from Macomb, it seemed somehow fresher and more dramatic from Hough. I'm happy to report that the hornets, mentioned in Joelenhard's TR of June 20th, were absent.

My regular camera, an ultracompact Casio, had developed a focus problem and was in the shop for repairs. I was using a compact Canon SX210 with a 14-power zoom lens that, unlike my Casio, could be employed while shooting video. I put it to good use taking a sweeping panorama from Elk Lake to the Beckhorn. The view to the north was a little intimidating because there appeared to be an enormous drop from Hough equivalent to the incredible rise to the Beckhorn. In fact, the descent is only half of the eight hundred foot ascent. I left Hough at 11:20 AM.

 

No better place to be

My right knee had been voicing its displeasure throughout the hike. Somewhere along the way, precisely where I don't recall, I remembered one of Neil's comments about managing pain: "When I think I'm in pain, I hit my head against a tree to reset my pain meter". When I first read it I thought it was pithy, albeit somewhat glib; it's easier said than done. However, it resonated during this hike because it beat the hell out of what I had been doing the past few days. I had been overhauling our home's irrigation system and that chore involved a lot of digging in the sweltering heat. By day's end I was exhausted and thought I'd rather feel this tired after a hike instead of digging ditches. When you think it's bad, recall a time when it was worse and you'll feel comparatively better. Of course, there will be a time when you've never felt worse! When that moment arrives, consider the following example of stoicism: Two mountaineers were forced to bivouac at high altitude with no protective gear. The situation was desperate and one asked the other "What do we do now?". The other paused for a moment and then replied "Now we suffer."

The herd-path leading into the Hough/Dix col is narrow and scratchy. Once again, trekking poles seemed like they'd be more of a hindrance than an aid. The opposite side was steep but well worth the effort when, at 11:50 AM, I popped out at the first lookout. Now I had a commanding view of the curving ridge leading to the Beckhorn. I knew this section, the last ascent of the hike, would be a gas because it follows the ridgeline, provides many views to the east and west, and includes several spectacular lookouts. This is a 'must-hike' section of the 'Dacks.

Tie a yellow ribbon ...

I made sure to pause at each one of the lookouts and observe the scenery from a slightly different angle. Somewhere along the way I discovered a yellow bandanna. I attached it to my pack and, upon my return to the trailhead, tied it to a nearby fir tree. It seems I find something on every hike!

I arrived at the last lookout at around 12:10 PM. It provided a clear view of Hough's western slide. It was also where I was passed by a young man, and his dog, rapidly descending from the Beckhorn. Focused on his speedy descent, I don't think he saw me although I was only about ten feet off the herd-path. The Beckhorn was now very near and I was infused with new energy to reach Dix's summit before the half-hour.

Ten minutes later, after an interesting scramble up a short but steep trough of rock, I caught sight of yellow paint-blazes and realized I had reached the Beckhorn. To paraphrase Bill Cosby, "The view ... was tremendous!". The peak-bagger in me hissed that it was the same view from Dix and, if we hustled, we could still make it before the half-hour. I passed a gaggle of young hikers headed for the Beckhorn and, at 12:26 AM, spotted Colvin's survey bolt hammered into Dix's summit. Top o'the world, Ma!

Cadaverous feet enjoying the view from atop Dix.

R & R

With the day's major ascents completed, and five more summits added to this year's 46er round, it seemed like a good time to take an extended break. I hung my dripping wet T-shirt on a tree, doffed my boots and bandanna, stripped off my socks, and stretched out to catch some rays. Not being the sunworshipper of my youth, it wasn't long before I got bored and turned to my camera to capture images of East Dix's slides, Elk Lake, distant Noonmark, and the route up Dix from Round Pond. Before long I was joined by another hiker, Dave, who arrived by way of the Beckhorn trail. He intended to do an out-and-back to Hough. I mentioned the possibility of exiting via the Lillian Brook trail but he preferred to 'hump back up Dix'. We chatted about hikes past and present. Forty-five minutes later, we shook hands and left in opposite directions. I couldn't recall if I had ever hiked the Hunter's Pass trail and, with the whole afternoon available, it seemed like a good time to explore it. I left Dix's summit at 1:20 PM.

The top end of the Hunter's Pass trail is in surprisingly good shape. Although steep, its earthen bed is mostly intact and allowed me reach the junction with the Round Pond trail at 1:30 PM. Ten minutes later, I paused at a lookout and witnessed the grandeur of Hunter's Pass framing distant Elk Lake. The remaining descent became steeper, and more serious, and finished by passing over large boulders in the pass. My knees developed new pains and seemed to say "Hey! Where are the trekking poles?". I arrived in the pass at 2:00 PM and looked up to fully appreciate its rugged beauty. Nippletop forms its steep western side and Dix stands on its eastern side with an imposing and precipitous cliff. The pass itself is a thick tangle of trees that does not invite off-trail exploration.

A spring in my step

The trail out of the pass is a pristine footpath that descends gradually and closely follows East Inlet brook. I suspect most people, bound for Dix, opt for the Beckhorn trail and skip the slightly longer Hunter's Pass trail. I found myself reinvigorated and began to run the long downhill slope. At 2:20 PM, I paused at an intersecting brook and downed a half-liter of cold, clear, water. Naturally, I filtered it with my bandanna and zapped it with my Steripen before pouring it down my eager gullet. Safety first.

I decided that if I ever wanted to trail-run, now would be a good time because I was still feeling good and I'd be hard-pressed to find a level trail in better shape. I arrived at the Beckhorn trail junction at 2:40 PM. The trail sign indicated 3.8 miles to the trailhead. I committed to complete it by 4:00 PM. What I failed to consider was that the trail is not totally level. It rises just before Dix Pond and once again before the Lillian brook lean-to. Undaunted, I simply dropped back to a fast walk and thought about how much better this was than digging holes.

At 2:47 PM, I paused at Dix Pond to admire the passing clouds reflected in its still waters. It beckoned me to stay awhile and enjoy its serenity but that pleasure would be best enjoyed as part of an overnight stay. I had already made a blood pact with my inner trail-runner and had a few more miles to cover. I crossed Lillian brook at 3:00 PM and couldn't pass up a quick visit to the lean-to. I found two fellows, who I had seen earlier in the day, relaxing on the lean-to's floor. A quick hello, photo, goodbye, and I was off. It's a lovely spot, especially Lillian brook as it courses over a smooth slab of rock and forms an inviting shallow pool.

The quiet beauty of Dix Pond.

At 3:27 PM, I passed Slide Brook lean-to. I had closed the loop and was now in the home stretch. I ran past two groups of hikers; one remarked "Did your wife ask you to be home by a certain hour?". Not being much a runner, I had to drop back to a walk several times. Every time I slowed down, I glanced at my watch and gave myself a kick in the butt "You know if you don't get there before four, all this effort will be wasted!". My silly little competition with myself would start anew and I picked up my pace. A big grin plastered my face when I saw cars through the trees and arrived at the register at one minute to four. The horned trail-runner, perched on my left shoulder, was grinning as well.

Frazzled but pleased to have reached my goal.

I spent about 45 minutes in the parking lot, bagging my sodden clothing, washing up, changing into clean clothes, arranging my gear, guzzling water and eating fresh peaches. The two parties I had passed arrived but I was in no hurry to leave. The clean-up and cooldown period is an important part of my hike and prepares me for the drive home. It was an exceptional day and I hoped to see more of the same in the Santanonis and Sewards before finishing this year's round on Whiteface.

Photos

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