Marshall for 7th, 3rd, and 1st. 2015-02-28

Saturday, February 28, 2015

• 7th trip to Marshall; 3rd time in winter; 1st winter visit in excellent weather.

• 1st time for Duncan and Marissa.

• Stellar views from Avalanche Lake and Lake Colden.

• Met about twenty hikers/skiers during the course of the busy day.

• Herd-path was abundantly obvious (a packed "gutter" from base to summit).

• Enjoyed a moonlit walk back to the Loj.

Avalanche Lake and Trap Dike.

A walk with a view.

Explorers.

Heading home.

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A day with Marshall Redfield. 2014-12-07

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Highlights of the sunny but cold day:

• Meeting a spry 71 year-old with double knee replacements who was completely at ease in the cold weather wearing jeans, sweatshirt and cotton work gloves.
• Unknowingly shadowing "rbalbs".
• While descending Redfield, hearing then seeing large flocks of snowgeese overhead.
• Twilight at Lake Colden.
• Hiking through Avalanche Pass under a canopy of stars.
• Hike stats: 20.5 miles, 4900 feet.
• Hike time: ~11.5 hours.
• Itinerary: Loj to Marshall (7.6 mi; 2805 ft; 4h 15m), Marshall to Redfield (4.6 mi; 2000 ft; 3h 5m), Redfield to Loj (8.4 mi; 725 ft; 4h 15m).

Early morning at Marcy Dam.

Redfield's southern panorama.

Snowgeese.

Twilight at Lake Colden.

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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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Marshall 2012-03-04

Great snow conditions, mild weather, and excellent company guaranteed an enjoyable hike up Marshall. 

Notable notes:

• Path was broken and firmly packed yet dusted with enough fresh snow to allow for boot/butt-sliding. We µspiked the entire route.
• The soles of my feet were numb for 90 minutes. Definitely something wrong with my electrical system.
• Pete Hickey will be pleased to hear that winter hikers have chosen to cross Calamity Pond rather than skirt it via the summer route. 
• Crossing Flowed Lands is far more scenic than the summer route (and much faster).
• Lots of deep, unconsolidated snow off-trail. I'll borrow a term I learned: Snow up to your Adam's Apples.
• We 'highlighted' the route; lots of samples for urinalysis.
• I got ski-envy watching Neil zip effortlessly down the slope. More gear to explore.
• Sunshine greeted us upon our return to Upper Works. Better late than never.

Beach-combing on Marshall.

Cheers to Neil, Alistair, Zack (ADKZ), and Michael (CommissionPoint). Thanks for a great day!

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Marshall 2011-06-21

A three week vacation in China plus an extra three weeks of abject inactivity seemed like sufficient time to allow my right foot's plantar faciitis to magically disappear. Besides, the weather was outstanding and the siren call of hiking was too loud to ignore. Having vegetated for so long, I needed a modest objective, one that was on my list of peaks to re-hike, and Marshall was the best candidate.

I spent the evening of June 20th at Tmax and Topo's where I met David who had just come perilously close to severing the tip of one of his fingers. I also met Gerard who had suffered an unfortunate mishap during his return from Wright. Good thing I'm not superstitious because some people might call these incidents as 'omens'.

I turned in at 8:00 PM and awoke at 4:15 AM. Breakfast consisted of a pint of blueberries, three cups of my favourite cereal (Nature's Path Optimum), and a quart of low-fat milk (about a 1000 calories and over 40 grams of protein). My wife call's it 'horse food' ... like a feedbag, my breakfast bowl sits under my chin as I mindlessly gulp down its contents while reading the morning paper. Only this morning, I was staring out the hostel's window, enjoying dawn's progression accompanied by the sound of birdsong.

Despite dozens of hikes over many years and in all kinds of weather, I have never finished a hike with happy feet. The latest solution, slathering them with diaper-rash ointment (Boudreaux's Butt Paste ... great name!), produces the best results. In addition to reducing chafing, it must also have antiseptic properties because my feet, and footwear, don't smell despite miles of sweaty hiking.

Socks are another sorry topic. I had settled on mid-weight wool-blend socks but they're no fun in hot weather. On this hike I'd be trying a very lightweight synthetic blend. For a hiker, I'm equipped with 'prima donna' feet. I envy those who can wear anything and walk for miles without complaint.

The route from the Loj to Herbert brook is a well-worn super-highway. Here's what was notable about it on June 21st:

• It was sunny and cool (about 50 F) morning. The bugs were few and far between.
• I didn't see a soul at Marcy Dam.
• I found a cup of coffee resting on the wooden walkway south of Avalanche Camp. It is an understatement to say it seemed out of place. I met the owners of the abandoned coffee cup a minute later. They were returning to their camp after having abandoned it, in a hurry, due to a camp-raiding bear. It was too difficult to run with the cup of coffee so it was left behind. Mystery solved.
• Avalanche Lake was picture-perfect.
• I didn't meet any hikers until I reached Lake Colden.

Moon over Avalanche Lake.

South on Hitch-up Matilda.

I arrived at the cairn at Herbert Brook at 8:30 AM which, at three hours, seemed like an awfully long time to cover six miles! Recalling my hike to Redfield last summer, I hiked in from Upper Works and passed the Herbert Brook cairn in just over two hours. Upon my return, I tried to improve my time but was only able to (comfortably) shave off fifteen minutes. Although the distance from Upper Works and the Loj to Herbert Brook is very similar, the terrain is most certainly not. 

The herd path following Herbert Brook is in great shape (thank you Joe Cedar and procook131). The brook is gorgeous and the herd path follows along its many broad slabs, mossy cascades, reflecting pools, and other attractive water features that beckon you stop and rest.

The herd path is well-defined and easy follow, at least until you lose it as I did. Somewhere along the way, I crossed Herbert Brook and followed a distinct path that led up Marshall's slope. Before long, the path petered out but, confident I had lost it only temporarily (bonehead), I pressed on. Eventually I was standing in thick woods and was clearly off the beaten path. I turned around and couldn't even retrace my route. How now, brown cow?

The brook was my baseline, so I made a beeline downhill towards it. It was a short bushwhack but gave me plenty of time to wonder how many others zigged, when they should've zagged, and created that silly path to nowhere. A few scratches later, I emerged at the brook and regained the herd path on the opposite bank. Moral of the story is to follow the brook to its source.

The brook eventually peters out and the herd path arrives at a bog whereupon it takes a hard left up Marshall's slope. I arrived at the summit at 10:45 AM and was warmly greeted by a swarm of black flies. I was coated with Watkins so they were no bother. I had honestly expected far more mosquitoes and black flies than I had encountered. Perhaps the hot, dry weather of the past few days had thinned their numbers. 

Marshall's southern lookout provided the most expansive views. The Santanonis and Henderson Lake are the most prominent features.

Great day in the High Peaks.

I had a snack and before long was joined by two hikers: a mother and her teenage son. They came from the Loj by way of the Indian Pass and Cold Brook Pass trails. They indicated they made very good time and the herd path from Cold Brook Pass was easy to follow. This was the route I had taken the first time I climbed Marshall (1982) and it was easy and uneventful. I didn't recall seeing the junction of the two herd paths (from Cold Brook Pass and Herbert brook) and they indicated it was very close to the summit. I decided I'd keep an eye out in case I chose to descend via the Cold Brook Pass trail.

The black flies were feasting on the two hikers and I discovered they had overlooked to bring bug repellent. Out came my bottle of Watkins to the rescue. We chatted for awhile and at around noon I bid them goodbye and began my descent. I descended all the way to the bog without spotting the trail junction. In retrospect, I believe the junction was a muddy patch, close to the summit, that I had avoided. At the bog, I considered following a faint trail that seemed to head towards Cold Brook pass. It led about fifty feet before disappearing. It was at this point that I dropped my guard and promptly walked into a 'sticker' that tatooed my forehead. One more souvenir to take home.

The descent was uneventful and, given the hot weather, a pleasure to be under the canopy of tall trees. I stopped for a fifteen minute break by a cascade to cool my feet in the water and change socks. I experienced a few twinges of pain in my right heel, and along the outer edge of my foot, but nothing debilitating. My legs felt fine and I wasn't tired. Despite six weeks of sloth, everything was holding up better than I had expected. Many hours of daylight remained and I toyed with the idea of heading to Iroquois. Reason prevailed and I reminded myself to avoid over-reaching. Don't push it; summer has just started and there are many hiking days ahead.

The trip back was a pleasant repeat of the morning's hike. I stopped at Beaver Point lean-to and enjoyed its spectacular view of the MacIntyre range, Lake Colden, Avalanche Pass, and Colden. I also saw something I'd never seen before: people floating on air mattresses in the middle of the lake. It was one of those rare moments in the High Peaks when the weather was just right to make the place warm and friendly. Such a far cry from the cold, miserable weather that plagued so many of my hikes and made 'floating on Lake Colden' a ridiculous notion.

Aside from a few scratches (and having an errant rock crack my windshield on the way home) it was a picture-perfect hiking day. 

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