Tabletop and Phelps. 2016-03-05

I spent a beautiful Saturday morning hiking to Tabletop and Phelps from ADK Loj. A shout-out to the forum members I met "Hi KV_Streamer, DLhiker, and gb-mtns!" I had to leave home extra early to make it happen but it was worth it.

My wife needed the car back by 4:00 PM so after scanning March's Grid list, I chose Tabletop and Phelps for the day's peaks. I budgeted 12 hours for the outing based on 5 hours for driving, 6 hours for hiking, plus a 1 hour margin for error. I'd need to leave at 4:00 AM so that meant getting out of the sack at 3:30 AM.

On Friday evening, to save time the following morning, I packed the car with gear and set out everything I'd need to prepare breakfast. My standard winter-hiking brekkie consists of banana, cereal with skim milk, two poached eggs, three slices of buttered toast, and a mug of tea. My short-order cook skills are improving and I managed to wash, dress, cook, eat, check weather and news, tidy the kitchen, brush teeth, and kiss my wife goodbye in 35 minutes. Five minutes behind schedule but the margin would absorb it.

The pre-dawn sky was decorated a new moon, a ghostly fingernail low in the eastern sky. Nautical twilight arrived around 5:20 AM and backlit the Green Mountains with an indigo glow. I arrived at the ADK Loj shortly before sunrise and saw several hikers heading for the trail-register. A sure sign of a busy day to come. I crawled over the console into the passenger seat and began preparing for the hike.

I signed in at 6:37 AM. The sky was clear blue and it was a brisk -17 C / 1 F. The trail was frozen ground skimmed with ice. My Trail Crampons immediately began playing "Ode to a Rock Crusher".

Right on cue, I began to sweat and, copying last week's success, I stripped down to a single baselayer. It was still nippy and my arms and belly felt on fire. Nevertheless, it successfully reduced the sweating. I marveled at the hikers I passed who wore insulated jackets and pants.

I opted for the 'squirrel' crossing and it was in fine shape; Marcy Brook was frozen over. I emerged on the Truck Road and paused at the dam to check my watch. My Loj-to-Dam time is a measure of my pace and health. Forty minutes is average and I just did 37 so all systems were nominal. Onwards and upwards!

The paucity of snow is quite remarkable. There's only about an inch covering the woods flanking the Van Hoevenberg trail. It doesn't increase appreciably until one passes the junction to Phelps Mountain. In contrast, it feels like true winter at Indian Falls. Marcy Brook is invisible under the snow. Beyond Indian Falls, the trail definitely looks skier-friendly. I paused to view the MacIntyre range and then backtracked to the Tabletop junction.

Colden and the Macs from Indian Falls.

It was the first time I followed the re-routed section. They've done a fine job of putting distance between itself and the ski trail. About 200 yards from the junction, I stashed my snowshoes under a snowy spruce bough. It was near a bend in the trail and I scribbled a few lines in the snow to mark the spot.

The trail to Tabletop was in tip-top shape. Normally it's a muddy gutter but on Saturday it was a smooth highway of snow and ice. I passed the new summit sign and proceeded to the eastern lookout where I was greeted by Basin, Haystack and Marcy. Seeing all there was to see, I made a speedy descent and had so much fun that I passed my hidden snowshoes. Everything about the topography indicated I had missed the cache; the land had leveled out and the tree boughs were no longer at ground level. I dumped my pack and walked back about 100 yards to retrieve my snowshoes.

Looking south to Marcy.

March 5th happened to be the day of the ADKHighpeaks Winter Gathering. An annual event involving fund-raising, hiking, eating, drinking, and socializing, it also attempts to place at least one person on each of the forty-six ADK46er summits. I knew who had registered to climb Tabletop and Phelps so I asked a group of ascending hikers if anyone was "KV_Streamer". They pointed to her and we shook hands and introduced ourselves. After a brief summary of the trail conditions to Tabletop, I wished them well and continued my descent.

I arrived at the Phelps Mtn. junction at around 9:30 AM and realized I was likely to finish well within the allotted 6 hours. I started up the trail and paused at a flat icy section where I hid my snowshoes behind a fallen tree. Unlike Tabletop, Phelps' trail had far more exposed ice. Forty-five minutes later I stood on Phelps' sunny but crowded summit. Amongst the dozen or so hikers was "DLhiker" who I had the pleasure to meet for the first time.

I spent about ten minutes on the summit, mostly soaking up the views. It was pleasantly warm in the sunshine and seemed like a good time to finally eat something. After downing a Clif Trail Mix bar, DLhiker asked it I could take a photo of his group. Operating the smartphone's touchscreen required me to remove my hand from my vapor-barrier glove. It led to a brief explanation of how dirt-cheap "food preparation gloves" keep my cold-sensitive hands warm and my mitts dry.

Busy day on Phelps.

I wished everyone a great hike and proceeded down the trail. The Trail Crampons did an admirable job and there was only one section where I had to proceed cautiously. Along the way I met several other hikers including "gb-mtns" and his wife who were registered for Phelps. Hi again folks!

During my descent, I met two pairs of hikers who asked if they were close to the summit. By the terrain's appearance, I knew I was very close to the trail-junction. The entire ascent still lay ahead of them. I explained there was no way to sugar-coat it but they still had a significant climb ahead of them. I wished them well and proceeded to retrieve my hidden snowshoes.

Upon arriving at the Phelps junction, the day's major ascents were done. All that remained was to return to the Loj. In the morning, it had taken me an hour, to get from the Loj to the Phelps junction, so I endeavoured to at least match that time.

Unlike last week's "low energy" situation, mind and body were now in sync and I managed to shave 15 minutes off the hour. Total time was just under 5 hours but most importantly I felt better than at the end of last week's hike.

Photos

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Statistics

Time: 4h 53m
Distance: 12 miles
Ascent: 4200 feet

Tabletop, TR, and Phelps. 2015-09-05

On Saturday, I joined a trip to Tabletop organized by the Montreal Outdoor Adventure Club (MOAC). Dan, the organizer, was kind enough to allow me to "do my own thing" so I added TR and Phelps to the mix. It was a profitable "List Fulfilment" day because it added:

• One peak to my 7th round of the ADK 46.
• Two peaks to my September ADK 46 Grid.
• One peak to my ADK Hundred Highest.

Naturally it was also an opportunity to get some exercise, breathe fresh air, and socialize with MOAC members.

On any other sunny weekend, a 6:00 AM departure from Montreal would mean arriving at ADK Loj around 8:30 AM and possibly finding a parking spot. On a sunny Labor Day weekend, 8:30 AM was most certainly too late to secure a spot and we arrived shortly after 9:00 AM. The numerous cars lining Adirondack Loj road indicated it was fruitless to continue to the Loj. Gary, our driver, immediately parked along South Meadows Road.

While Dan shepherded his flock of twelve, I bid everyone a great hike and headed towards the Loj. Instead of the one-mile road-walk, I opted to duck into the woods and follow the Northwoods and Easyside trails. It's a touch longer but far more pleasant than pounding pavement. Fifteen minutes later, I emerged in the parking lot and observed throngs of hikers milling about. I signed in at 9:45 AM, a fairly late start, and took my place in the conga line to Marcy Dam.

After passing several hikers, I caught up to an elderly gentleman who was shuffling slowly down the trail. I noticed a well-worn ADK 46er patch on his pack and stopped to talk to him and his wife. Without revealing anyone's identity, his 46er number was in the low 2000's and he finished in the mid-80's. They were heading to Marcy Dam for the day. After a brief chat, I wished them well and continued towards Marcy Dam.

Dan and I agreed to meet at the Loj at 4:30 PM. Although I had ample time, I made a point of maintaining a good pace because I didn't know how much time I'd need for TR (Theodore Roosevelt).

The ascent to the Tabletop junction was uneventful except for meeting Christian and his group. Also from MOAC, he led a tiny group (4), in the wee hours of the morning, to watch sunrise from Marcy's summit. He reported they had perfect viewing conditions and everyone thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

I arrived at the Tabletop junction at 11:00 AM and noticed the signage had been improved. The climb to Tabletop took a half-hour and along the way I met several descending hikers that I'd see later in the day. Many people had Tabletop and Phelps in their sights. Seeing one young couple, I quipped they must be seeking 46er status because why else would someone choose Tabletop on such a beautiful day? Indeed, they were aspiring 46ers.

Tabletop's summit sign may soon be in need of replacement because the editing of its name has progressed from "ABLETOP" to "ABLETO". My time on Tabletop was brief; just enough to down a handful of dates and appreciate the partially obscured view of Basin, Haystack and Marcy. An over-zoomed view of Marcy revealed hikers like so many little "hairs" on its bald summit.

Marcy's populated summit.

The descent to the junction was quick. I continued to Indian Falls to take in its iconic view of the McIntyres. Upon my return to the junction, I met the twelve stalwart MOAC hikers preparing for their ascent to Tabletop. Everyone was in good spirits and looking forward to the challenge. I wished them well and turned down the trail to begin my bushwhack to TR.

Iconic view from Indian Falls.

I read there's a herd-path to TR but didn't see evidence of it, or a cairn, during my ascent to the Tabletop junction. I set my compass and plunged into the woods. I started a little too close to the junction so the first step was to descend to the Tabletop-TR col. Hearing voices to my right, I realized I was simply paralleling the Van Hoevenberg trail. I rejoined the trail for speed, descended to a flat section, and then ducked back into the woods .

The bulk of TR's eastern face lay directly ahead of me so it was simply a matter of following the "Law of Up". The woods became messy and made "up" a bit slower than anticipated. Wearing T-shirt and shorts resulted in the expected pokes and scratches. Eventually I found a herd-path and was able to pick up the pace. The path faded in and out, mostly due to blowdown, but I was able to follow it to TR's summit.

Summit of TR.

Except for flagging, and a "TR" carved into a tree, the small clearing was featureless (and viewless). Backtracking along the herd-path proved to be more challenging and I lost and regained it several times before losing it altogether. Navigation was a given; head east and down. I emerged on the trail a mere twenty feet from where I had started. The entire venture took less than a half-hour and cost me one laser-printed map which had worked its way out of my pocket. Two down, one to go.

The climb up Phelps was punctuated by:

• Meeting others I had seen earlier.
• Running out of water.
• Being overheated.

The ascent took forty-five minutes, and a handful of Skittles, but resulted in the best summit views of the day.

Hazy view from Phelps.

Initially I felt a bit run-down but was renewed after pausing on the summit to chat with a father and son. I left Phelps at 2:00 PM and was back at the junction a half-hour later. I had a powerful thirst and made a beeline down the Van Hoevenberg trail to the Phelps Brook crossing. Along the way I recognized the tall fellow ahead of me. I caught up to "BillB" and we shared the details of our day. We parted ways at Phelps Brook where I stopped to filter and guzzle over a liter of water to wash away the Sahara in my mouth.

Now that my blood was liquid again, I rediscovered a spring in my step and began passing the folks I had met descending Phelps. It was like a scene from the Truman Show. There weren't many people in the High Peaks, just a small crowd of familiar faces that moved around a lot!

I rock-hopped Marcy Brook at the base of the dam and eventually caught up to "BillB" again. We couldn't help but notice the stream of backpackers and campers heading to Marcy Dam. Several carried their bear canisters tucked under their arm. I wondered how many times the canisters would change from one tired arm to another before reaching their destination. Perhaps they discovered, upon their arrival at Adirondack Loj, a canister was mandatory and they had no means to attach it to their pack. Others hand-carried plastic supermarket bags filled with who-knows-what, sleeping bags, and gallon jugs of water. Ouch!

We arrived at the trail-head shortly after 3:30 PM. We parted company a second time and I headed to the HPIC's porch to seat my sweaty-self down. I overlooked to check Dan's logbook so I sauntered back to the trail-register. I found his entry and he had not checked out yet. I added a note indicating I was waiting at the HPIC.

I had time to kill so I relaxed and began to people-watch. A father and son team recognized me and we struck up a conversation. I congratulated his son who had just completed his ADK 46 on Marcy (and is also a lurker on the ADKHighPeaks forum). Another forum member also recognized me and we chatted briefly (forgive me but I cannot recall your name). Someone was interviewing hikers on the subject of environmental awareness and I eavesdropped on their responses. "MtnManJohn" appeared and we commiserated on how the heat was a drag on the day's performance.

Shortly after the appointed rendezvous time of 4:30 PM, I returned to the trail-register. I spent time helping others locate their name in the logbook. There were many pages of entries and finding one's own was tedious. I asked when they had set out and marked the time in the top margin. Eventually there were enough times marked to simplify the process of locating one's entry. I wandered back to the HPIC and listened in on a few more survey interviews. Eventually, I chatted with the interviewer about the nature of some of the questions, notably on "foraging".

By 5:30 PM, I became concerned there may have been a grave miscommunication. Perhaps they overlooked to sign out and were waiting at South Meadows for over an hour. I returned to the trail-register and changed my note to "Waited 2 hours. Went back to car." I paused momentarily at the HPIC and heard someone call my name. Gabriel was seated and explained he was the first to arrive and the others were not far behind. Talk about lucky timing! Within a few minutes Dan and the gang streamed across the lot. All's well that end's well.

I convinced Gary, Marisa, and Gabriel to return via the Easyside trail and, before long, we were back at South Meadows. The group reconvened at Cascade Lakes for a refreshing swim. The final stop was Stewart's for tasty calories and great conversation.

Stats

Loj to Loj: 12 miles, ~4700 feet, 5h 50m.

Photos

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Colden, Tabletop, and Phelps for Sixth Round. 2015-04-19

Sunday, April 19, 2015

I have about a dozen peaks remaining to complete my seventh round. However, Phelps was still needed to finish my sixth round. A quick check of my peakbagging spreadsheet indicated it was also needed for April's Grid so Sunday's hike to Phelps was a twofer.

I chose to combine Colden, Tabletop, with Phelps to close out my sixth round. I didn't realize it at the time but, by strange coincidence, it was the very same combination of peaks I had climbed to complete my fifth round.

Photogenic spot.

Whereas the trail from the Loj to Marcy Dam felt like spring (dirty ice and mud), the terrain above 3000 feet elevation retained its thick blanket of snow. Lake Arnold was still frozen over but it was evident it was thawing rapidly. I caught up to two hikers also bound for Colden. I would meet them again, late in the afternoon, near Marcy Dam.

Lake Arnold losing its winter blanket.

The L. Morgan Porter trail was in beautiful condition. A deep snowpack smoothed out the irregularities and provided improved views during the ascent. By remaining dead-center on the "monorail" (the central spine of snow compacted by a winter's worth of hikers), I was able to ascend in Trail Crampons without post-holing. My snowshoes enjoyed the piggyback ride to the summit where I was certain I'd need them.

The view from Colden's northern false-summit was spellbinding. The blend of color and texture, white snow, green spruce, and blue sky, was sublime. It was my eighth hike to Colden and yet today it seemed like one of the finest views of the bunch.

Off to Colden.

A few hundred yards below the summit, I found a GPS receiver lying on the trail. It was in good condition and appeared to have been dropped as opposed to thawed out of the snow. I stowed it in my pack and continued to the summit. At the end of my hike I inquired at the Loj if anyone had reported a lost GPS. They indicated their file  contained no such report. The following day I contacted Garmin and supplied them with the device's serial number. They forwarded my email address to the registered owner. They rewarded my honesty with a 20% discount on future purchases from their online store. A day later, the owner contacted me and thanked me for attempting to return the GPS. However, he had already ordered a replacement and suggested I keep the old unit. He also mailed me the device's battery charger and accessories.

Colden's summit remained sheathed in a substantial snowpack that, to my surprise, was very solid. I was able to walk past the cantilevered rock and directly through the stand of trees to the true summit. The tree tops stood a mere 4-5 feet above the dense snowpack and I didn't spring a single 'spruce-trap'. The snowpack had remodeled the summit so it took me a moment to confirm I was standing in the 'right spot'.

Snow, snow everywhere

The trees on Colden's summit normally obscure views to the east but today I had a 360 degree view. I spent a little time roaming around the summit to take photos then began my descent. The conditions were excellent for glissading but, unlike the snowpack on the summit, you had to stay dead-center on the monorail or end up knee-deep off-trail.

I met the two hikers again below the false-summit and wished them well. I glissaded down the trail and met at least ten other hikers ascending to Colden. I'd see no one else until I paused at Indian Falls. The Crossover trail to Indian Falls was in a curious state. Someone wearing snowshoes had created post-holes on both sides of the monorail. I couldn't understand why they had difficulty staying in the center of the trail. It was especially surprising given that today's conditions, despite the warm temperature (in the 40's rising to 50's), made it very difficult to post-hole the monorail in boots.

I paused at Indian Falls for a snack and then pushed on to Tabletop. The trail-signs at the junction didn't survive the winter unscathed. One has fallen and lies propped against a tree and the other has been relocated in a hasty manner. Several hundred yards in on the herd-path, I stopped to stash my snowshoes and the inoperative GPS receiver. Despite having a western exposure, tabletop's herd-path was in excellent condition. The monorail was solid and only one sunlit section had exposed some rock and mud. I tagged the summit sign, now edited to indicate "ABLETOP", and continued to the lookout which was completely barren of snow.

During the descent I met two dogs who couldn't decide if they should stand their ground or return to their owners. Their owners caught up to them and settled the issue. I retrieved my gear and continued on to Phelps. Travel on the Van Hoevenberg trail was easy-breezy.

The trail up Phelps was in the most advanced state of 'spring decay'. The first third was a mix of dirty ice, mud and running water. I found a fallen tree and hid my excess gear. The remainder of the trail still had decent snow cover and I just trudged up along the monorail.

I arrived on the summit shortly after 2:00 PM. The two people on the summit kindly agreed to take my picture. I spent about 20 minutes chatting with them. After they departed, I remained for a few minutes to enjoy the warm sunshine and the great view of the two other peaks I had hiked. It felt good to close out the sixth round on such a spectacular day.

Phelps for my sixth 46er round.

I passed the couple during my descent and then stopped just before the junction to retrieve my hidden gear. The stretch of trail to Marcy Dam was paved in dirty ice and made for easy walking. Although it was running fast, I was still able to cross Phelps Brook by rock-hopping; the few patches of ice did not look solid. I arrived at Marcy Dam where sunlit areas had transformed into runny ice cream with chocolate sauce. The trail next to the trail-register had semi-frozen ground which had been distorted by frost-heave. Post-holes in the soil revealed fascinating columns of ice.

Fascinating frost-heave at Marcy Dam.

About a quarter mile past Marcy Dam, the trail had developed long swaths of chocolate pudding. I paused to remove my Trail Crampons and save their points from needless wear and tear. The balance of the trail was an easy walk through mud and I arrived at the trail-head at 4:00 PM. After a quick change into clean clothes I was off to Stewart's for a snack. It had been a very good day in the mountains.

Photos

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Stats

5300 feet, 17.4 miles, 8h 7m.

Colden, Tabletop, and Phelps for Fifth Round. 2014-11-08

Fully healed and rested since last week's hike, it was time for this recovering couch-potato to return to the High Peaks and chip away at his Autumn round of the ADK 46. I perused my list of 16 remaining peaks and chose Colden, Tabletop, and Phelps. I had never hiked them as a combination and Phelps was the final peak for my 5th round. I guessed it was incrementally more challenging than the previous week's hike, to Street and Nye, and would be ideal for easing back into hiking. Only later did I learn the trio's stats: 5300 feet of ascent and just over 17 miles of distance. Ignorance is not always bliss! By the time I was ascending Phelps, my body's complaints suggested I was gravely mistaken about "incrementally more challenging".

I left the Loj around 7:20 AM and headed to Marcy Dam along the frozen trail. The previous night's snowfall left a dusting on the ground but I expected to encounter more as I gained elevation. It was a cool morning (25 F, -4 C) but I dressed lightly (ball cap, long-sleeve baselayer with T-shirt, long pants, no gaiters) because I knew the day's exertion would keep me comfortable. I came close to putting on a shell atop Colden but simply chose to curtail my stay on the summit. In contrast, many people I met seemed dressed for mid-February, sporting hardshells, hooded down parkas, beanies, etc. I met only one person less dressed than me: he was bare-armed in a T-shirt.

Between the Loj and Lake Arnold, I passed about a half-dozen hikers. The low clouds had not lifted so Lake Arnold's frozen surface was illuminated in cold gray light. The L. Morgan Porter trail crosses seepage from Lake Arnold. Carpeted in snow and protected from freezing, the seepage was notably squishy underfoot. It was one of many other bits of trail that seemed benign but whose snowy-white surface concealed a messy surprise. As I began the ascent, I noticed the temperature had cooled slightly (21 F, -6 C) but the wind remained calm. I hoped the clouds would lift by the time I reached the summit.

I caught up and passed the two hikers whose footprints I had been following since the junction. I emerged on Colden's false summit and was greeted by a cold blast of westerly winds; my T-shirt felt awfully thin. I briefly glanced at the cloud-laced scenery then ducked into the shelter of the col. One or two ledges required a little finesse to descend without bruises or worse. I passed under the cantilevered rock, traversed a sloped icy section (foreshadowing), and turned up a short spur to tag the summit. The clouds had lifted just enough to reveal they continued to favour Marcy.

Clouds breaking over Marcy.

I took time for a small snack and to put on gaiters. I've grown to appreciate the added ventilation of hiking without gaiters. However, snow was getting into my boots and the short, softshell gaiters would add a little extra warmth. By the time I had my fill of taking pictures, my fingers signalled it was time to either put on a shell or get moving; I chose to move.

Just steps beyond the sloped ice, I met the two hikers again. I noticed they weren't wearing microspikes and I asked if they had any. They said they did not. I asked which way they were heading and they replied to Lake Colden. I explained they "Would have 'fun'." because the trail is steeper and may be considerably icier because it faces south. They confirmed they had overlooked to bring traction aids and it had already caused them to shrink their itinerary. As the leader turned he slipped on the sloped ice; a harbinger of things to come. I wished them well and we went in opposite directions. They were far from the only hikers I saw without microspikes.

The descent to the false summit was quick with the only challenge being one particularly icy ledge. I passed several more hikers during the descent to Lake Arnold. One individual was having difficulty ascending a slab of iced rock in bare-boots. His partner stood at the top of the slab calling out instructions. Seeing that he was making little progress, I asked if he'd allow me to descend. He agreed and, with poles and spikes, I was safely down in a blink. I wished them well and continued on to Lake Arnold, now bathed in bright sunshine.

Sunny Lake Arnold.

The western end of the Lake Arnold Crossover, paralleling Arnold Brook, was exceedingly wet. Beyond the hard-right turn, the trail was in better shape. I arrived at Indian Falls and was treated to an excellent view of the MacIntyres. I paused for a snack and realized I had failed to seize the opportunity to bring leftover Halloween candy! Doh!

Grand view at Indian Falls.

The first third of the herd-path to Tabletop's summit was a sloppy mess of ice, snow, water, and mud. I met several descending hikers who I would meet again later in the day. I tagged Tabletop shortly before 12:30 AM. A couple from Quebec were preparing to descend and I noticed they were responsible for the crampon tracks I had seen. Both were outfitted with mountaineering boots and full crampons. I grew weary just looking at the monsters on their feet. I figured they must be in training for something big.

I got to say "Hello again!" several times as I passed people I had met earlier. I arrived at the Phelps junction and, with knees and hips complaining in ways I hadn't experienced in years, began the final ascent of the day. Last year I had hiked Wright, Algonquin, and Iroquois before continuing on to Colden, Tabletop, and Phelps. On this day, that trip felt as if it happened a lifetime ago.

I slowed my pace to give my body less to complain about. No personal records would be broken today; fifty-five minutes of trudging uphill brought me to the summit and the completion of my fifth round. The sun shone weakly through the overcast sky and imbued the landscape with an ashen pallor. Despite the cadaverous surroundings, I was very happy to have achieved the day's objectives.

Phelps for Round 5.

I spent a few moments appreciating the monochromatic scenery. Gazing at Marcy, I could discern the dark silhouette of hikers on its summit; they had a few miles to cover before day's end. Off to the east I could see the serrations of the Great Range peeking over Tabletop's bulk, Far off to the east, Camel's Hump distinctive snowy profile shone in the sun. The wind picked up, nipped at my exposed ears, and ushered me off the summit.

Ashen landscape from atop Phelps.

The descent to the junction took a half-hour and my hips and knees, perhaps realizing the climbing was over, remained silent throughout. Upon arriving at Marcy Dam I recognized an approaching ranger. I introduced myself and explained we had met in May along the North Fork Boquet. He recalled the day and we proceeded to talk about the Dix Range and today's icy conditions. He noted he had seen hikers in sneakers and many without microspikes. I relayed my story of the Lake Colden-bound duo I had met atop Colden. He replied despite the potential for injury, they get surprisingly few cases. Perhaps only the folks who become truly lame call for help and all others, feeling chastened, limp back to the trail-head. We shook hands and he headed south to continue his patrol.

I arrived at the Loj at 3:45 PM and signed out. It took awhile to find my name in the logbook owing to the number of people who had signed in after me. Summer may be the peak hiking season but autumn is no slouch. The hike had been more challenging than expected but, except for a few aches to be dulled by ibuprofen, I was no worse for wear. A few more hikes to clear out the cobwebs, and finish the autumn round, and I'll be ready for winter.

Stats

5300 feet, 17.4 miles, 8h 24m.

Photos

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Three Macs and three more. 2014-01-31

A trip to Wright, Algonquin, Iroquois, Colden, Tabletop,and Phelps.

The original plan was to meet Neil, David ("TopoOfGothics") and Brian ("Pathgrinder") at Tmax 'n Topo's Hostel at 6:45 AM. All of us would hike three out of the four peaks in the MacIntyre Range (Wright, Algonquin, and Iroquois) and only Neil, to further his training for Project 46, would continue to Colden, Tabletop, and Phelps. Brian and I planned to visit Allen the following day.

At 6:45 AM I pulled into the hostel's parking lot and simultaneously received a call from Brian. He reported he could not join us. His car developed an electrical problem that left him stranded near Keene. I offered to get him but he didn't want more people affected by the incident and would sort it out by himself. Sadly, Brian's plans for hiking were canceled.

Neil, David, and I left the Loj at 7:30 AM. A light snowfall greeted us and continued throughout the day. The temperature remained a fairly steady -6 °C (22 °F) in the valleys but high winds on the summits added a significant windchill. NOAA predicted winds on the order of 40 to 50 mph but David estimated a constant 35 to 40 mph. Some of the wind gusts interfered with my balance so I'll take the middle and say 40 mph. Anyway, more about that later.

Trail conditions up to the Wright junction were easily negotiated with nothing more than microspikes. We stashed our packs, zipped up in anticipation of the high winds, and started up the short trail to treeline. About a 100 yards out on the open rock, I hunkered down out of the wind to put on my face-mask and goggles. Whereas David and Neil wore neither, I wasn't enjoying the eye-stinging wind. It took me a few minutes to don the gear before I set out again.

The ascent was like nothing I've ever experienced mostly because I've purposely avoided such conditions. I'd say it was an eye-opener (but only if you wore goggles, ha-ha). The wind gusts tested my balance and I freely admit to feeling like a fish out of water. By the time I neared the summit, Neil and David were descending. I recall their faces being quite red but that may have been due to the tint of my goggles. Neil exclaimed "Goggles! Smart man!"

I spent about two minutes in the lee of the summit. Although I need glasses to see properly, I can get by without them for day-time hiking. I chose not to wear them, to avoid having them fog up, but my poor vision was now doubly impaired by frosted goggles. Not being able to see clearly and being buffeted by wind is quite a disorienting experience.

Frosted goggles on Wright.

Later in the day, I discovered the billed cap I wore was responsible for trapping humid air in my goggles. I had to put the goggles inside my jacket to defrost so I could wipe away the condensation. Without the billed cap, the goggles performed well.

I opened my jacket to retrieve my camera, took a few photos, then bundled up for the descent. With limited vision and a frost-choked face-mask impeding my breathing, I was beginning to understand how claustrophobia felt. In my haste to descend I went in the wrong direction; nothing looked familiar. I lifted my goggles to get a better look at the terrain and quickly concluded I was off-route.

I didn't see any cairns and Algonquin was at eight o'clock. It was almost behind me and that meant I was heading north-west. I moved south-west, into the wind, over terrain that was clearly off-trail, and eventually spotted a cairn. Feeling like my head was in a plastic bag, I hustled down the rocks, embarrased that I was causing my companions to freeze their heinies at the trail-junction.

The moment I returned to treeline, Neil popped up, saw me, and I gave him a thumb's up. We sped down to the junction where I explained my "technical difficulties". Can't see, can't breathe, can't walk, wah-wah-wah. I needed more experience to become comfortable with the nasty conditions and Algonquin was ready to provide it.

Neil set a steady pace and before long we were at treeline again. This time everyone donned goggles and some form of face protection. I accepted not being able to see clearly but the face-mask felt like it was suffocating me. I vowed to punch bigger holes in the mouth area when I returned home. For now, I was "pressure-breathing" like I was ascending an 8000 meter peak!

Algonquin's summit, blasted by horizontal snow, was no place to stop and David, now in the lead, kept walking south. Fortunately, visibility was no worse than about 200 feet so we could see the cairns and some of the grandeur of Algonquin's southern face. There's plenty of exposed rock and patches of ice and snow but nothing that microspikes couldn't handle.

Snow depth increased appreciably along the herd path to Iroquois. Upon reaching the bog, now a field of snow, Neil and I stashed our packs. We had brought snowshoes but the conditions were just this side of favourable for bare-booting. David led the way over Boundary and then, just when we should've zigged when we zagged, we found ourselves off-route. We appeared to be below and west of Iroquois and we all knew that we had overshot the herd path.

In an attempt to find the path I found a spruce-trap instead. Waist deep, I had to use my hiking poles, laid flat on the snow, as a 'flotation device' to extract myself. Meanwhile, David backtracked and found the correct route. Rolling out of the hole, I hurried to the summit to, once again, see them descending. The summit was no place to linger.

Neil and David below Iroquois.

We zipped back along our tracks, collected our packs at the bog, and returned to the junction. David was heading back over Algonquin so we thanked him for his route-finding and bid him good luck for his return trip. Neil and I turned to begin the second leg of our journey.

Returning to our packs in the col.

The descent from the col to Lake Colden was, for me, the most enjoyable part of the trip. A half-foot of powder snow made for the best glissading conditions of the day. Two thousand vertical feet of "boot-skiing", combined with a stunning view of Colden's raked western face, made all the effort worthwhile. On March 21st in 2012, in the midst of unusually warm weather, it took me two hours to descend the trail in full-on spring-thaw conditions. On this gorgeous winter's day, we exited in under an hour and with big smiles.

Best glissading conditions of the day!

We sauntered over to the Interior Outpost and, consulting a map, made a beeline to Lake Colden's eastern shore. Feeling a little 'gun shy' after experiencing an icy foot-bath during my last hike, I moved quickly across the lake and avoided pausing. A bit of a shame really because there were plenty of photo opportunities but I just didn't feel like testing my luck that day. Upon reaching the opposite shore, Neil suggested we stay on the lake and scout its shore for the trail junction. A few hundred yards north, we saw a foot-bridge and what appeared to be a diverging trail. We walked up the bank and quickly spotted the trail junction.

The climb from Lake Colden to the summit of Colden is a "good 'un". It has its fair share of steep sections amply blanketed in ice. Neil used full crampons and I used Trail Crampons, mostly out of necessity because my original plan did not include Colden. Snowshoes were not the best tool for the job and remained slung on our packs for, as Neil puts it, "training weight". A steady pace, some conversation to while the time away, and, before you know it, we found ourselves at the "gate". Knowing treeline was nearby, we stopped out of the wind to don goggles and face-masks.

Gate to Shangri-la.

After climbing the ladder, we found bare rock and patches of ice lining the route to the summit. Near the perched glacial erratic, we ducked out of the wind into the trees for a quick photo and then continued over the summit to Lake Arnold. The descent was nearly as good as from the Algonquin/Boundary col. At Lake Arnold, we found the first evidence of someone's passage. Owing to the snowfall, it was unclear if the tracks were made a few hours ago or the previous day.

Windless Lake Arnold.

The trail from Lake Arnold to Indian Falls passed by uneventfully. The conditions merited nothing more than microspikes. We paused at the head of Indian Falls but its million-dollar view was obscured by dark gray snowclouds. We continued to the Tabletop junction where we dropped our packs, took our headlamps, and began the climb to our fifth peak of the day. The trail was well packed by recent traffic and we managed to tag the summit before sunset.

Reunited with our packs we continued along the Van Hoevenberg trail to the Phelps junction. We paused for a snack, I drank the last of my two liters of water, and, once again, we left our packs by the side of the trail. Neil set a comfortable, steady pace, and we settled in for the day's final 1200 feet of ascent. Atop Phelps we were treated to fleeting glimpses of a starry sky and that was sufficient reward for our efforts. The wind was still making its presence known so we didn't spend much time star-gazing.

In the dark we made a left when we should've hung a right and found ourselves looking at an untrodden trail. A little backtracking resolved the error and we were once again on-route and descending quickly. At the junction, Neil replaced his crampons with microspikes and, shouldering our packs for the last time, made tracks for the Loj. All the day's "work" was done and now it was just a long stroll back to the car.

Fun with crampons.

Walking past Marcy Dam, Neil suggested we cross Marcy Brook via the 'squirrel crossing'. Based on the memory of crossing I had made in March, I thought I knew this 'squirrel crossing' but discovered it wasn't the same place where I had crossed. Now that I know where it is, given the right conditions, like a frozen Marcy Brook, it is a nice shortcut that bypasses some of the deeper dips in the trail.

We emerged at the trail-register at 9:00 PM, thirteen and a half hours from our departure. It had been an exciting and rewarding day. I drove Neil back to the hostel. Whereas I was driving back to Montreal, Neil was preparing for another multi-peak hike the following day!

Photos

See all photos.

Stats

Elevation Gain: ~8600 feet
Distance: ~23 miles.

Tabletop and Phelps 2011-02-11

I just recovered from the worst cold I ever had. Sixteen days from onset to end of symptoms including ten full days of bed-rest. Lying around in bed does not make you a better hiker! I saw some of February's best weather from the high-elevation of my second floor bedroom. The greatest disappointment was missing out on Winter Gathering. I eagerly read everyone's trip reports and 'wished I was there'. I wanted to hike at the first possible opportunity and by Thursday, of last week, most of the symptoms had abated.

I conceded that 'the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak'. I was mentally prepared for a long and demanding hike but my fitness level, diminished by ten days of near immobility, wouldn't be up to the challenge. I'd have to select a realistic goal to avoid disappointment. The note I left for my wife summed up my plan:
"Going to ADK Loj and will hike one of these: Algonquin, Tabletop, Phelps, or Colden depending on the weather and how I feel. I'll write the destination in the trail register. Love you!"

I planned to leave the trailhead at 7:00 AM so I left Montreal at 4:00 AM. At 5:00 AM, there are usually no more than two cars at the border but this morning there were at least twenty! I guessed everyone was heading to Plattsburgh's airport to catch cheap flights to Fort Lauderdale. It took thirty minutes to clear customs and that delay wrecked my timetable. 

Fortunately, despite Friday's snowfall, the roads were clear and I made good progress. At dawn, the clear skies began to cloud over. When I arrived in Wilmington, I saw Whiteface shrouded in clouds including two dark, ominous bands. The forecast of 'Clear in the morning, becoming Partly Cloudy in the afternoon' was proving to be false. 

I arrived at ADK Loj at 7:00 AM and signed in at 7:30 AM. I noted that Snickers and crew (party of seven) had already registered for Redfield and Cliff. In fact, a total of twenty-nine hikers had already signed in! I noticed several people had indicated they were heading to Marcy. It didn't strike me as the best day to be above treeline. With that bias in mind, I spun the wheel of fortune and it stopped at Tabletop.

The trail to Marcy Dam, freshened by about eight inches of snow, had been flattened by the previous hikers. It felt great to be hiking again and, forty-five minutes later, I arrived at Marcy Dam. I honestly couldn't recall the last time I was there. However, the view of Colden and Avalanche was as wonderful as the first time I saw it over thirty years ago. Mind you, on this morning, the mountains were veiled in frosty clouds.

The trail to Indian Falls was smooth and hard-packed with just a little softness owing to the recent snowfall. It was infinitely more enjoyable than the eroded trench one experiences in the summer! Shortly before the falls, I noticed a ski trail branching to the left but didn't think much of it. I had hiked Tabletop decades ago and recalled the herd path was 'somewhere along the brook'.

I took a peek at Indian Falls and, unsurprisingly, it offered no views. I passed the trail junction to Lake Arnold. I knew that rbalbs had hiked to Tabletop the previous day so there ought to be a hint of a path yet I found none. I double-backed to the ski trail and, a few feet past the 'ski trail' sign, discovered the very obvious 'Route to Tabletop Mt' sign <sheepish grin>.

I met Snowglo and her friend a few hundred yards up the herd path, we had a brief chat, and then I took over breaking trail. The freshly fallen snow was silky and unconsolidated. It sheared away easily from the underlying hard-pack. Despite some back-sliding, I didn't find it nearly as tiring as my last hike when I broke trail up Giant. The upper reaches of Tabletop offered no views, only a brisk wind delivering spindrift.

Once on the plateau, I became chilled and stopped to drink some hot tea. Snowglo's friend broke the remainder of the trail to the summit sign. I arrived at the summit at 10:30 AM, one hour from the trail junction. The ladies and I chatted for awhile, snapped a few photos, and then we were joined by the two other members of their party who had just hiked Phelps. Twenty minutes later we decided that lunch would be more pleasant back at the trail junction so we began our descent.

Given that we five hikers were the first to ascend Tabletop that day, the herd path still had a fluffy layer of snow. The glissade down through the powder-snow was great fun. Aside from a sitzmark or two, the descent was uneventful except for when a branch tip whipped me square in the eye. Fortunately, I wear eyeglasses and I only heard a sharp crack as the tip struck the right lens. Had I not worn eyeglasses, that incident would have had grave consequences.

While on the summit, I had developed a chill and my hands became quite cold. I figured they'd warm up during the descent but, part way down, my fingertips became painful so I stopped to drink more hot tea and don overmitts. Snowglo and crew, all in good spirits, passed me. I eventually caught up with them at the junction where we all had lunch. The leisurely descent to the junction took a mere twenty minutes.

I noted that two hikers in her party wore their summer-weight hiking boots with low-cut neoprene overboots. They preferred the broken-in comfort of their summer boots. The overboots are designed for construction workers (they acquired them from Mark's Work Warehouse). The only drawback they noted was that the overboots have no tread and must be worn with snowshoes or other traction devices.

At the junction we met a slew of hikers headed for Tabletop. It was clear to me that, on this day, latecomers would find the trails a little worse for wear due to the scouring action caused by numerous descending hikers. I would discover this on Phelps.

At 11:50, I donned my hardshell, bid Snowglo and her friends goodbye and, still feeling good, decided to add Phelps to my itinerary. The descent was a breeze and, twenty minutes later, at 12:10 PM, I arrived at the Phelps junction.

Phelps appeared to be a popular destination because the trail, unlike the pristine conditions on Tabletop, was flattened by numerous hikers. I met a few teenagers body/butt-sliding and doing an effective job of scouring the trail. On the upper reaches of Phelps I encountered patches of underlying hard-pack and exposed ice. A few people had created bypass trails but I found that the Evo Ascent's claw provided sufficient traction.

My reduced fitness level became more apparent; my leg muscles signalled their displeasure. However, what concerned me most was a nagging pain below the kneecap of my right knee. During a hike to Gothics, three months ago, I had fallen squarely on my right knee in a silly accident. Perhaps it had caused more damage than I had originally assessed. The pain was far from debilitating but was just one more reminder that I must avoid injuring my joints.

At 1:15PM I was topside on Phelps. Phelps had been my first winter ascent in February of 1980. It had been a cold and clear day that offered spectacular views of the High Peaks. I still have beautiful Ektachromes of frosted Algonquin and Colden sparkling in the sunlight. On this day, I could barely discern Tabletop's outline. I waited for the clouds to lift but eventually gave up and began my descent.

I took a good spill just below one of the icy patches. That was where I probably bit the inside of my mouth which I only noticed later in the day. Otherwise, the descent was swift and I arrived at the trail junction twenty minutes later. I got my second wind and found the energy to jog the twenty minutes back to Marcy Dam.

While standing next to the dam's railing, I retrieved my camera and, during a moment's inattention, dropped my mitt onto the pond's snowy surface. I stared at the mitt as it lay inches from the dam's wooden wall next to a snow drift. Given that the mitt lay on deep snow next to a south-facing wall, I had no desire to walk out onto the pond and learn if it was adequately frozen. I extended my hiking pole and, after a few attempts, managed to retrieve the mitt by dragging it up the side of the wall.

The easy hike back to the trailhead took fifty minutes and was a pleasant finish to the day. I met some very nice people along the way, hiked excellent trails, visited the summits of two peaks, breathed plenty of fresh air, wasn't injured, and the only minor disappointments were a lack of views and less than ideal weather. There was also time to contemplate life. As I passed young hikers and old, I thought how fortunate we are to live our lives in a land where we can enjoy our leisure time in these beautiful mountains. We must never forget to count our blessings.

All in all, it was a very enjoyable day. I was pleased to learn that I had not turned into a sack of potatoes and was still able to hike at a respectable pace. At the register, I counted 233 people who signed in after me! Clearly, the popularity of the High Peaks is not diminished by the frosts of winter.


Slideshow

Sample photos

En route to Tabletop.


Atop viewless Phelps.