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| No sign of spring at Marcy Dam. |
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| In the shadow of Colden. |
Showing posts with label Redfield. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Redfield. Show all posts
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Sunday, December 7, 2014
A day with Marshall Redfield. 2014-12-07
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Highlights of the sunny but cold day:
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).
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| Early morning at Marcy Dam. |
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| Redfield's southern panorama. |
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| Snowgeese. |
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| Twilight at Lake Colden. |
Photos
See all photos.Saturday, June 7, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Redfield and Cliff 2013-02-10
I had the good fortune of joining Nancy (HighOnLife), the Lamb sisters (Mary "Alpine Lamb" and Cynda "WannabeALJr"), and Brian (SummitHat) to visit Redfield and Cliff. I knew it would be special because Nancy's message indicated I ought to wear red and the theme would be Valentine's Day.
I own no red hiking gear except for an insulated jacket which rarely leaves the bottom of my pack. No problem. While sitting in the back seat of my car in the Loj's parking lot, administering to the needs of my feet, my car door swung open and Nancy cheerfully handed me a swag bag. It contained several bright red necklaces, with heart-shaped charms, a red rabbit toutou (plush toy), and candy. I was good to go! Upon greeting the Lamb sisters, they draped another necklace around my neck giving the day a feel of Mardi Gras!
The morning was gloriously clear and bright but a touch on the cold side (-15F, -26C). Dressing for today's conditions included wearing several necklaces, one with an attached shot-glass, and a red rabbit peering out of my pack. Mary signed in for us at 7:10 AM. We would return a little over 13 hours later. Our route would be to cross frozen Marcy Dam, Avalanche and Colden lakes and proceed via the Opalescent to Uphill lean-to.
Friday's snowfall resuscitated the conditions for snowshoers and skiers. The trail to Marcy Dam received about six inches of fresh snow and was well-packed. At the Algonquin trail junction, we made the requisite pause to adjust clothing. Nancy's knee was troubling her but she soldiered on and eventually was motoring in the lead. The forest was filled with the crunch-crunching of our snowshoes punctuated by Mary's exuberant exclamations.
At Marcy Dam, we walked onto the frozen reservoir and were greeted by sunrise and spectacular views of Colden and the Angel slides on Wright. Mary and I crossed to the opposite shore and the balance of our group crossed the reservoir to its southern end. We reconvened on the trail and continued, on the packed trail, to Avalanche Pass.
In theory, crossing the frozen surface of Avalanche Lake ought to be faster than negotiating the trail along its shore. In practice, it is difficult to avoid stopping frequently to admire and photograph the wonders of Avalanche Pass. At its southern outlet, we stepped gingerly onto the shore being well aware that the ice may be thin. Upon our return, we found this to be the case and noted a few holes and open, shallow water.
No longer screened by Mount Colden, the sun made its luminous appearance when we stepped onto Lake Colden. The view of the MacIntyre Range is worth the trip alone. Windless and relatively warm, we paused for a snack and then continued to the lake's southern outlet.
The suspension bridge across the Opalescent was laden with a thick layer of compressed snow so we chose to cross it one at a time. The trail was unbroken but the few inches of fluffy powder presented no real obstacle. The real work would come later during the ascents.
We paused at Uphill lean-to for a snack and prepared ourselves for the two peaks. The herd paths to Redfield and Cliff were unbroken and the snow depth varied from a half foot at the base to a foot on the upper slopes with knee-deep drifts. Redfield was the first objective. Some of our group left gear at the junction to lighten their load. Naturally, we wore snowshoes except for the upper portion of Cliff where everyone, except me (more on that later), switched to crampons.
Shortly after the junction, and unknown to us, blowdown obscured the herd path. We followed a likely path that eventually petered out. Knowing the herd path follows the brook, we simply made a hard left and quickly intersected the proper path. The blowdown would eventually lead to an unusual injury that would add a little more red to the day.
The lookout above Uphill Falls is one of my favourite spots with a commanding view of Algonquin reminiscent of Indian Falls. I was recounting this to Brian when he ventured onto the pristine surface and plunged waist-deep into the brook. Fortunately, he was not immersed and, upon extracting himself, discovered the surface was a treacherous layer-cake of fluffy snow, thin ice, void, followed by more snow and ice and finally water. As inviting a trail as Uphill Brook appeared, we didn't tread on its surface and hugged its bank.
We took turns breaking trail and route-finding. The trickiest bits were along the tributary that leads into Uphill Brook. The herd path follows its course but the deep gullies of snow, leading to open water, once again made us hug the deeper drifts high along its banks. We topped out on Redfield at approximately 1:00 PM whereupon we decorated its summit sign with playful rabbits and monkeys. A bright red balloon announced "Happy Valentine's Day!" A few days early but who's counting!
The snowpack gave us a boost and, standing tall, provided us with excellent views to the north and south. The warming sunshine and bluebird sky were a refreshing change from all too many frigid, viewless peaks I've hiked this winter. After snacks, chocolate truffles, and a few rounds of group photos, Nancy led the quick descent back to the junction.
The source of the original route-finding error was discovered to be a large fallen tree. It obscured a bend in the path causing us to incorrectly proceed straight ahead. Highonlife and I had arrived first so, while waiting for the others to arrive, I chose to do some trail maintenance.
I broke off two large limbs, from the fallen tree, and created a large "X" to block the entrance of the incorrect path. Not satisfied with the "X" I decided to break off one more limb which proved to be a fateful decision. Unlike the others, the third branch refused to give way easily and, when it did, shattered in my hand. Now a projectile, it delivered an uppercut that drove my lower lip into my upper incisors.
Naturally, the event happened so quickly that all that registered was a snap, followed by a thwack, and then shock, and finally pain. I could feel a laceration inside my mouth and the development of a 'fat lip'. I spat blood. It was not the kind of 'red' contribution I wanted to make for Valentine's Day.
I scooped up a handful of snow, compressed it into a ball and pressed it to my lip. The cold helped to reduce the swelling but wasn't doing much to staunch the flow of blood. After many handfuls of snow, and decorating the junction with numerous bloody gobs, I began searching my ditty bag for a better solution. I folded a pad of gauze and, sort of like chewing tobacco, inserted it between my lower teeth and lip.
Now looking and sounding like Benjamin Buford "Bubba" Blue, from Forrest Gump, Mary and I had fun reciting the numerous ways of preparing shrimp. The injury was not a welcome development but, given the projectile's path, the least severe of possible outcomes. Shortly after Cynda arrived, I departed to catch up with Nancy and Brian.
Nancy had used her Whippet poles (small ice-axes attached to trekking poles) to surmount a heavily ice-encrusted section. Brian proceeded and decided it was time to replace snowshoes with crampons. I did not bring crampons so, while everyone paused to don them, I offered to continue in snowshoes and break trail. Persistence, and caution, allowed me to get around the nastiest bits and, once past the longest of the icy sections, I continued breaking trail through the woods.
At some point in my ascent, I realized no one was following me. I called out several times and heard no response. After waiting for several minutes I guessed something was amiss so I backtracked in search of my hiking partners. I found them below a steep icy pitch. Apparently, Cynda had sprung a spruce trap and was delayed by the experience. All was well now and the group was on the move again.
Route-finding between the false and true summits presented two or three head-scratchers. Wearing snowshoes, I helped consolidate the deeper drifts but the balance of the team, wearing crampons, were able to plow through the fluffy snow with minimal post-holing. We reached Cliff's summit at 3:45 PM and congratulated one another on a job well done. The plush toys joined us for summit photos. Daylight was becoming a precious resource so we didn't dawdle on the summit.
I stopped at the false summit, donned an extra layer, and swapped out snowshoes for Trail Crampons. I stowed my hiking poles as a result of a valuable lesson learned from a previous trip to Cliff. I had tried to use poles exclusively for the descent, fell, and left some skin on the rock. This time I planned to use the trees. The combination of Trail Crampons, trees, and my long limbs, served me well.
I met Nancy at the junction where I indicated I'd be heading back to Uphill lean-to to change into fresh socks. The balance of the team, returning from Cliff, would reconvene at the lean-to. It was a pleasure to replace the soggy socks with a dry pair. Brian peeked around the corner and indicated the rest of the group had continued down the trail. He produced a thermos and shared a delicious blend of hot chai and cinnamon. Now shod in snowshoes, I joined Brian in a brisk descent to catch up with our hiking partners.
Being 5:30 PM, the sun had set and we were descending by the blue light of dusk. We caught up with the ladies and followed in the pools of light cast by their headlamps. The group spread out while crossing Lake Colden and I paused to admire the bright canopy of stars and the last dying glow of dusk. I took a long-exposure photo of the glow with limited success. While savouring the moment, the lake made a most disconcerting "BLOOP" noise seemingly to my immediate left. Naturally, I moved in the opposite direction and very quickly I might add! The idea that the solid surface beneath me was in an audible state of flux was not comforting.
I've never hiked by headlamp in winter so it was a new experience for me. I have to admit the first half-hour is exciting and then it becomes routine. Avalanche Lake's surface made a few less-scary "tick" noises indicating its surface was also in motion. I strode across the lake quickly in order to have time to look back and photograph the clutch of headlamps moving towards me. Unfortunately, the photo didn't quite capture the magic of the moment.
From Avalanche Pass to the Loj, the trail was ironed smooth by many skis. With little to see beyond the reach of our headlamps, we settled into a smooth rhythm to bring the long day to a close. At 8:20 PM, Mary and I emerged at the HPIC parking lot and were shortly joined by our companions. After shedding gear and switching into dry clothing everyone met for one last time for hugs and handshakes. Thank you all for a great day in the peaks!
I own no red hiking gear except for an insulated jacket which rarely leaves the bottom of my pack. No problem. While sitting in the back seat of my car in the Loj's parking lot, administering to the needs of my feet, my car door swung open and Nancy cheerfully handed me a swag bag. It contained several bright red necklaces, with heart-shaped charms, a red rabbit toutou (plush toy), and candy. I was good to go! Upon greeting the Lamb sisters, they draped another necklace around my neck giving the day a feel of Mardi Gras!
The morning was gloriously clear and bright but a touch on the cold side (-15F, -26C). Dressing for today's conditions included wearing several necklaces, one with an attached shot-glass, and a red rabbit peering out of my pack. Mary signed in for us at 7:10 AM. We would return a little over 13 hours later. Our route would be to cross frozen Marcy Dam, Avalanche and Colden lakes and proceed via the Opalescent to Uphill lean-to.
Friday's snowfall resuscitated the conditions for snowshoers and skiers. The trail to Marcy Dam received about six inches of fresh snow and was well-packed. At the Algonquin trail junction, we made the requisite pause to adjust clothing. Nancy's knee was troubling her but she soldiered on and eventually was motoring in the lead. The forest was filled with the crunch-crunching of our snowshoes punctuated by Mary's exuberant exclamations.
At Marcy Dam, we walked onto the frozen reservoir and were greeted by sunrise and spectacular views of Colden and the Angel slides on Wright. Mary and I crossed to the opposite shore and the balance of our group crossed the reservoir to its southern end. We reconvened on the trail and continued, on the packed trail, to Avalanche Pass.
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| Crisp winter day at Marcy Dam. |
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| Early morning in Avalanche Pass. |
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| Mary and Cynda on the northern end of lake Colden. |
We paused at Uphill lean-to for a snack and prepared ourselves for the two peaks. The herd paths to Redfield and Cliff were unbroken and the snow depth varied from a half foot at the base to a foot on the upper slopes with knee-deep drifts. Redfield was the first objective. Some of our group left gear at the junction to lighten their load. Naturally, we wore snowshoes except for the upper portion of Cliff where everyone, except me (more on that later), switched to crampons.
Shortly after the junction, and unknown to us, blowdown obscured the herd path. We followed a likely path that eventually petered out. Knowing the herd path follows the brook, we simply made a hard left and quickly intersected the proper path. The blowdown would eventually lead to an unusual injury that would add a little more red to the day.
The lookout above Uphill Falls is one of my favourite spots with a commanding view of Algonquin reminiscent of Indian Falls. I was recounting this to Brian when he ventured onto the pristine surface and plunged waist-deep into the brook. Fortunately, he was not immersed and, upon extracting himself, discovered the surface was a treacherous layer-cake of fluffy snow, thin ice, void, followed by more snow and ice and finally water. As inviting a trail as Uphill Brook appeared, we didn't tread on its surface and hugged its bank.
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| Brian tests the surface strength. |
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| Furry friends on Redfield. |
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| View north from Redfield. |
I broke off two large limbs, from the fallen tree, and created a large "X" to block the entrance of the incorrect path. Not satisfied with the "X" I decided to break off one more limb which proved to be a fateful decision. Unlike the others, the third branch refused to give way easily and, when it did, shattered in my hand. Now a projectile, it delivered an uppercut that drove my lower lip into my upper incisors.
Naturally, the event happened so quickly that all that registered was a snap, followed by a thwack, and then shock, and finally pain. I could feel a laceration inside my mouth and the development of a 'fat lip'. I spat blood. It was not the kind of 'red' contribution I wanted to make for Valentine's Day.
I scooped up a handful of snow, compressed it into a ball and pressed it to my lip. The cold helped to reduce the swelling but wasn't doing much to staunch the flow of blood. After many handfuls of snow, and decorating the junction with numerous bloody gobs, I began searching my ditty bag for a better solution. I folded a pad of gauze and, sort of like chewing tobacco, inserted it between my lower teeth and lip.
Now looking and sounding like Benjamin Buford "Bubba" Blue, from Forrest Gump, Mary and I had fun reciting the numerous ways of preparing shrimp. The injury was not a welcome development but, given the projectile's path, the least severe of possible outcomes. Shortly after Cynda arrived, I departed to catch up with Nancy and Brian.
Nancy had used her Whippet poles (small ice-axes attached to trekking poles) to surmount a heavily ice-encrusted section. Brian proceeded and decided it was time to replace snowshoes with crampons. I did not bring crampons so, while everyone paused to don them, I offered to continue in snowshoes and break trail. Persistence, and caution, allowed me to get around the nastiest bits and, once past the longest of the icy sections, I continued breaking trail through the woods.
At some point in my ascent, I realized no one was following me. I called out several times and heard no response. After waiting for several minutes I guessed something was amiss so I backtracked in search of my hiking partners. I found them below a steep icy pitch. Apparently, Cynda had sprung a spruce trap and was delayed by the experience. All was well now and the group was on the move again.
Route-finding between the false and true summits presented two or three head-scratchers. Wearing snowshoes, I helped consolidate the deeper drifts but the balance of the team, wearing crampons, were able to plow through the fluffy snow with minimal post-holing. We reached Cliff's summit at 3:45 PM and congratulated one another on a job well done. The plush toys joined us for summit photos. Daylight was becoming a precious resource so we didn't dawdle on the summit.
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| Furry critters and a fat lip on Cliff. |
I met Nancy at the junction where I indicated I'd be heading back to Uphill lean-to to change into fresh socks. The balance of the team, returning from Cliff, would reconvene at the lean-to. It was a pleasure to replace the soggy socks with a dry pair. Brian peeked around the corner and indicated the rest of the group had continued down the trail. He produced a thermos and shared a delicious blend of hot chai and cinnamon. Now shod in snowshoes, I joined Brian in a brisk descent to catch up with our hiking partners.
Being 5:30 PM, the sun had set and we were descending by the blue light of dusk. We caught up with the ladies and followed in the pools of light cast by their headlamps. The group spread out while crossing Lake Colden and I paused to admire the bright canopy of stars and the last dying glow of dusk. I took a long-exposure photo of the glow with limited success. While savouring the moment, the lake made a most disconcerting "BLOOP" noise seemingly to my immediate left. Naturally, I moved in the opposite direction and very quickly I might add! The idea that the solid surface beneath me was in an audible state of flux was not comforting.
I've never hiked by headlamp in winter so it was a new experience for me. I have to admit the first half-hour is exciting and then it becomes routine. Avalanche Lake's surface made a few less-scary "tick" noises indicating its surface was also in motion. I strode across the lake quickly in order to have time to look back and photograph the clutch of headlamps moving towards me. Unfortunately, the photo didn't quite capture the magic of the moment.
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| Headlamps on Avalanche Lake. |
Photos
See all photos.Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Cliff and Redfield 2011-07-05
Before the day's end, I would become intimately acquainted with the term 'Road Rash'. I fell while descending Cliff and left behind a tiny piece of me. My 'take home' was a bloody souvenir and a valuable lesson.
I didn't begin this hike in the best frame of mind. I left the Upper Works trailhead at 8:45 AM feeling out of sorts. It was an uncommonly late start for me but the day was long and the objective was reasonable.
The trail to Flowed Lands had a few muddy patches but, overall, was in fine shape. I had noticed that Altbark registered to hike Marshall and Cliff and I thought we might cross paths but it didn't happen. I arrived at Flowed Lands at 10:20 AM and paused to take in the wonderful view. I reached the Marshall trail junction, just past the "Pi Bridge", at 10:40 AM and confirmed my assertion that it takes less time to reach it from Upper Works (2 hours) than the Loj (3 hours).
Along the Opalescent, I met a young man who had been unable to locate the herd path to Cliff. I indicated I was also heading to Cliff and described the route. He dashed ahead and waited at the junction for me to arrive. We continued to the cairn whereupon he thanked me and sped off. Despite dozens of hikes over the past year, I don't think I'll ever move that fast.
The approach to Cliff is along a well-worn and very muddy path. I characterized it as 'one muddy cuss' of a trail and shared that description with a group of four people descending Cliff.
I found plenty of handholds, in the form of overhanging trees, to help me ascend Cliff's steep, rocky pitches. Once past the false summit, and a very muddy section, the trail traverses the ridge via a surprisingly attractive footpath carpeted in fir needles. I arrived at the summit at 12:30 PM, about 45 minutes from the cairn.
Aside from a partial view of Colden, Cliff doesn't offer much in the way of views. Nevertheless it was far more than what I saw from its socked-in summit when I climbed it thirty years ago. It wasn't a scenic rest-stop so I chose to press on and have lunch en route to Redfield.
At the muddy section near the false summit, I met two cheerful hikers ascending Cliff. We exchanged brief pleasantries and then continued on our ways; I'd meet them again on Redfield. I believe I was descending the second steep pitch when I tried an expedient maneuver. I leaned over the edge of an eight foot drop, planted my hiking poles on a foot-wide ledge about four feet below me, and decided I could hop onto it. I believe this photo, taken by Snav3, is the section. My accumulated hiking experience was not involved in this poor decision. If it had been, it would've said to grab an overhanging branch and lower yourself, like you've done countless times before you owned hiking poles.
I landed on the ledge, my feet slid off, and I slid down the coarse rock. I wear cycling gloves to protect my hands and I'm thankful for it. However, the finger-tips were exposed and, being the chink in the armour, that's precisely where the damage was inflicted. The fall was brief and chaotic yet one sensation overshadowed all else, namely the feeling of a cheese-grater running across my right pinky.
I normally finish a hike with a few minor scratches but today would be different. I was relieved that I hadn't fractured or torn anything yet angry that I had made a bone-headed move.
I inspected the painful wound, now bleeding profusely, and saw the epidermal layer had been lost and the exposed dermis was soiled with embedded dirt. The human mouth may be a cesspool of bacteria but it was the most expedient way to clean the wound.
I retrieved bandages from my pack, all the while dripping blood everywhere. Despite my best efforts, I could not remove all of the dirt. I figured the best I could do is staunch the bleeding until I could get to a stream. I spat out another mouthful of blood, bandaged the finger, and then lowered myself with the aid of a branch, like I should've done in the first place.
After bandaging the wound, the pain diminished and it did not impede my hike. I returned to the cairn at 1:25 PM and continued to Redfield. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at my favourite rest-stop, namely a very pretty section of Uphill Brook with a great view of the Macintyre range. I feel this is a destination in itself and well worth the twenty minute hike from Uphill Brook lean-to. It lies at the head of one waterfall and the base of another and features a large flat rock from where you can rest and view Algonquin and Iroquois.
I removed the makeshift bandage and plunged my hand into the cold, clear waters of Uphill Brook. Clenching my teeth, I used a wet micro-fiber cloth to scrub the dirt out of the ragged wound. I wiped it with an alcohol pad and then wrapped it with an oversized bandage. With that unpleasant chore out of the way, I turned to slathering my feet with diaper-rash ointment and changing my socks. Now I could enjoy my lunch and the excellent view.
I sterilized a half-liter of water with my Steripen, added some Gastrolyte (oral-rehydratrion salts left over from my trip to China) and downed it. I had been sipping water, from my 3-liter hydration bag, throughout the hike but it doesn't beat the satisfaction of guzzling a big glass of cold water. By the end of the day, I'd consume four liters of water and wouldn't have turned down a pint of beer.
Other than a lone hiker descending Redfield (possibly Snav3?), I had the babbling brook all to myself for forty-five minutes. At 2:25 PM I packed up and continued to the summit. En route, I met the group of four hikers once again. The eldest of them was bleeding from scratches on his arms. I grumbled that the trail had taken its toll of blood from both us on this fine day.
I arrived at Redfield's summit less than an hour later at 3:20 PM. I spent ten minutes admiring the commanding view of Allen, where I had been the previous week. I've always imagined hiking the route between Allen and Redfield by following Skylight brook to the nameless bog and then onwards via Redfield's slide. Perhaps some day I'll do it, but not this 'lame finger' day.
I left the summit at 3:30 PM and carefully made my way down. Chastened by my previous fall, I was now treading very carefully, perhaps more than necessary. Once again, I met the two hikers seen on Cliff. They offered me antibiotic ointment but I declined. I indicated I'd get home and flush it with peroxide. One of them suggested downing a little Jack Daniels to ease the sting of the 'old school' peroxide. Given enough Jack Daniels, I'm sure its antiseptic properties could work its magic from the inside out.
One long, overly-cautious hour later, I was back at the trail junction. I followed the unmarked side-trail to inspect Uphill lean-to, took its photo, and then returned to the main trail where I met Aaron. He was returning from Skylight and was looking for the junction to Lake Arnold in order to return to the Loj. I indicated he had overshot the junction by at least a half-mile. I empathized with his situation because, during a hike to Redfield last year, I passed the herd-path junction and the Lake Arnold junction before realizing I had overshot my target! He replied he had turned back more than once and was unable to find it. I suggested he could either try again or follow me to Lake Colden whereupon he could return via Avalanche Pass. He agreed and we spent the next hour discussing hiking, travel, politics, etc.
Along the way, I assisted a father and daughter team looking for Uphill lean-to. Fortuitously, I had a time-stamped photo of it to show them, indicated it was empty and a half-hour away, and described how to find the unmarked side-trail. Aaron and I continued to Lake Colden where, at 5:25 PM, we shook hands and parted ways.
A half-hour later, I was standing on the shore of Flowed Lands and taking one last look at the beautiful vista. Given the excellent weather and the beautiful surroundings, it seemed like a shame to leave. But, camping was not part of the agenda and a hot shower and comfortable bed were a few hours away. I stopped at the Henderson memorial to pay my respects. I was rewarded with a beautiful view of Calamity Pond illuminated by the sun, low in the sky.
The remainder of the trail seemed to be longer than when I hiked it in the morning (isn't that always the case?). I stopped one last time to tend to a blister and change socks. I made good time and arrived at the trailhead at 7:40 PM. Twenty minutes to stow gear, wash up, and change into clean clothes. In lieu of dinner, I snacked on a protein bar and settled back for the three hour drive back home.
I didn't begin this hike in the best frame of mind. I left the Upper Works trailhead at 8:45 AM feeling out of sorts. It was an uncommonly late start for me but the day was long and the objective was reasonable.
The trail to Flowed Lands had a few muddy patches but, overall, was in fine shape. I had noticed that Altbark registered to hike Marshall and Cliff and I thought we might cross paths but it didn't happen. I arrived at Flowed Lands at 10:20 AM and paused to take in the wonderful view. I reached the Marshall trail junction, just past the "Pi Bridge", at 10:40 AM and confirmed my assertion that it takes less time to reach it from Upper Works (2 hours) than the Loj (3 hours).
 |
| Idyllic morning at Flowed Lands. |
 |
| The "Pi Bridge" across Herbert Brook. |
The approach to Cliff is along a well-worn and very muddy path. I characterized it as 'one muddy cuss' of a trail and shared that description with a group of four people descending Cliff.
I found plenty of handholds, in the form of overhanging trees, to help me ascend Cliff's steep, rocky pitches. Once past the false summit, and a very muddy section, the trail traverses the ridge via a surprisingly attractive footpath carpeted in fir needles. I arrived at the summit at 12:30 PM, about 45 minutes from the cairn.
Aside from a partial view of Colden, Cliff doesn't offer much in the way of views. Nevertheless it was far more than what I saw from its socked-in summit when I climbed it thirty years ago. It wasn't a scenic rest-stop so I chose to press on and have lunch en route to Redfield.
At the muddy section near the false summit, I met two cheerful hikers ascending Cliff. We exchanged brief pleasantries and then continued on our ways; I'd meet them again on Redfield. I believe I was descending the second steep pitch when I tried an expedient maneuver. I leaned over the edge of an eight foot drop, planted my hiking poles on a foot-wide ledge about four feet below me, and decided I could hop onto it. I believe this photo, taken by Snav3, is the section. My accumulated hiking experience was not involved in this poor decision. If it had been, it would've said to grab an overhanging branch and lower yourself, like you've done countless times before you owned hiking poles.
I landed on the ledge, my feet slid off, and I slid down the coarse rock. I wear cycling gloves to protect my hands and I'm thankful for it. However, the finger-tips were exposed and, being the chink in the armour, that's precisely where the damage was inflicted. The fall was brief and chaotic yet one sensation overshadowed all else, namely the feeling of a cheese-grater running across my right pinky.
I normally finish a hike with a few minor scratches but today would be different. I was relieved that I hadn't fractured or torn anything yet angry that I had made a bone-headed move.
I inspected the painful wound, now bleeding profusely, and saw the epidermal layer had been lost and the exposed dermis was soiled with embedded dirt. The human mouth may be a cesspool of bacteria but it was the most expedient way to clean the wound.
I retrieved bandages from my pack, all the while dripping blood everywhere. Despite my best efforts, I could not remove all of the dirt. I figured the best I could do is staunch the bleeding until I could get to a stream. I spat out another mouthful of blood, bandaged the finger, and then lowered myself with the aid of a branch, like I should've done in the first place.
After bandaging the wound, the pain diminished and it did not impede my hike. I returned to the cairn at 1:25 PM and continued to Redfield. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at my favourite rest-stop, namely a very pretty section of Uphill Brook with a great view of the Macintyre range. I feel this is a destination in itself and well worth the twenty minute hike from Uphill Brook lean-to. It lies at the head of one waterfall and the base of another and features a large flat rock from where you can rest and view Algonquin and Iroquois.
 |
| My favourite rest-stop en route to Redfield. |
I sterilized a half-liter of water with my Steripen, added some Gastrolyte (oral-rehydratrion salts left over from my trip to China) and downed it. I had been sipping water, from my 3-liter hydration bag, throughout the hike but it doesn't beat the satisfaction of guzzling a big glass of cold water. By the end of the day, I'd consume four liters of water and wouldn't have turned down a pint of beer.
Other than a lone hiker descending Redfield (possibly Snav3?), I had the babbling brook all to myself for forty-five minutes. At 2:25 PM I packed up and continued to the summit. En route, I met the group of four hikers once again. The eldest of them was bleeding from scratches on his arms. I grumbled that the trail had taken its toll of blood from both us on this fine day.
I arrived at Redfield's summit less than an hour later at 3:20 PM. I spent ten minutes admiring the commanding view of Allen, where I had been the previous week. I've always imagined hiking the route between Allen and Redfield by following Skylight brook to the nameless bog and then onwards via Redfield's slide. Perhaps some day I'll do it, but not this 'lame finger' day.
I left the summit at 3:30 PM and carefully made my way down. Chastened by my previous fall, I was now treading very carefully, perhaps more than necessary. Once again, I met the two hikers seen on Cliff. They offered me antibiotic ointment but I declined. I indicated I'd get home and flush it with peroxide. One of them suggested downing a little Jack Daniels to ease the sting of the 'old school' peroxide. Given enough Jack Daniels, I'm sure its antiseptic properties could work its magic from the inside out.
One long, overly-cautious hour later, I was back at the trail junction. I followed the unmarked side-trail to inspect Uphill lean-to, took its photo, and then returned to the main trail where I met Aaron. He was returning from Skylight and was looking for the junction to Lake Arnold in order to return to the Loj. I indicated he had overshot the junction by at least a half-mile. I empathized with his situation because, during a hike to Redfield last year, I passed the herd-path junction and the Lake Arnold junction before realizing I had overshot my target! He replied he had turned back more than once and was unable to find it. I suggested he could either try again or follow me to Lake Colden whereupon he could return via Avalanche Pass. He agreed and we spent the next hour discussing hiking, travel, politics, etc.
Along the way, I assisted a father and daughter team looking for Uphill lean-to. Fortuitously, I had a time-stamped photo of it to show them, indicated it was empty and a half-hour away, and described how to find the unmarked side-trail. Aaron and I continued to Lake Colden where, at 5:25 PM, we shook hands and parted ways.
A half-hour later, I was standing on the shore of Flowed Lands and taking one last look at the beautiful vista. Given the excellent weather and the beautiful surroundings, it seemed like a shame to leave. But, camping was not part of the agenda and a hot shower and comfortable bed were a few hours away. I stopped at the Henderson memorial to pay my respects. I was rewarded with a beautiful view of Calamity Pond illuminated by the sun, low in the sky.
The remainder of the trail seemed to be longer than when I hiked it in the morning (isn't that always the case?). I stopped one last time to tend to a blister and change socks. I made good time and arrived at the trailhead at 7:40 PM. Twenty minutes to stow gear, wash up, and change into clean clothes. In lieu of dinner, I snacked on a protein bar and settled back for the three hour drive back home.
Photos
See all photos.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Redfield 2010-08-21
Summary
- My "Apollo 10" trip.
- Hike involved one 'penalty loop'.
- East River trail from Flowed Lands is beautiful.
Weather
Morning: low 40's. Afternoon: low 60's. Overcast.
Visibility
Good.
In preparation for Allen, my 46th, I wanted to hike a similar distance but with an 'early termination' option in the event of fatigue. Redfield, my 45th, fit the bill perfectly. If approached from Upper Works via the Calamity Brook trail, the return trip can retrace the inbound route or opt for four extra miles via the "East River Trail" (i.e. along the Opalescent river from Flowed Lands). Redfield would be my "Apollo 10"; a shakedown mission to determine if I could handle the 18 mile round-trip to Allen. In fact, after adding up the miles, the hike to Redfield is longer and slightly higher (21 miles + 1 mile 'penalty loop').
I departed Montreal at 3:00 AM and arrived at Upper Works at 6:00 AM. I could've arrived a few minutes earlier but I made my first mistake of the day and, en route to Upper Works, ended up at the locked gate. I missed the first lefthand fork thinking it was the route to the Santanoni trailhead (that's the second lefthand fork). Chalk it up to early-morning brain-fog. After finding a spot in the nearly full parking lot, I geared up quickly and left the trailhead at 6:10 AM.
At some point I was startled by a metallic noise in the woods and shouted "Hey!". A few steps later I saw a hiker preparing breakfast. I apologized for my kneejerk shout and moved on only to discover that the trail veered sharply to the left and over a log bridge. Thinking nothing of it, and still addled by the noise, I bulldozed over it and pressed on. A little while later I realized the trail markers were no longer red but blue. I forgot that, somewhere along the Calamity Brook trail, there's a junction with a trail that leads to Indian Pass. Now I had a nagging feeling that I may have taken a wrong turn. The terrain seemed correct, the trail well-worn, and the sun was on my right so I deduced I was heading in the correct direction.
At 7:40 AM I arrived at the Henderson Memorial and took a few photos. I had a sense of déja vu but could not recall which hiking trip in the past would have brought me here. Ten minutes later I was at the Flowed Lands register and looking out at Colden.
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| Henderson Memorial. |
In my mind's eye, I expected to arrive at Uphill lean-to and locate the cairn behind it. Of course, that's not how it is arranged but I didn't know it at the time. I did my best to zoom past all of the pretty views of the Opalescent. I planned to spend more time taking photos of this scenic brook on the return trip. However, a stop to peer into the gorge, and have a snack, was unavoidable.
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| At the head of the gorge. |
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| Opalescent Gorge. |
I passed a troop of young hikers heading in the opposite direction. Hmmm, where were they going? The trail started to climb out of the valley. I looked back, saw Colden's slides and realized I made a mistake. That cairn popped into my mind but it was not accompanied with the requisite lean-to. A few paces later I saw a sign that forbade camping above 3500 feet. It might as well have read "You goofed!". I remember thinking "OK, smart guy, nobody has moved Uphill lean-to above 3500 feet." A quick glance at the map made me realize I was so focused on arriving at a lean-to that I had zoomed passed the junction with the Feldspar Brook trail.
Embarrassed with my severe bout of 'trail myopia', I hustled back, found the junction to Feldspar, recognized that the cairn was my objective, and flew down the trail towards it. I passed the lone hiker, heading for Skylight, and sheepishly admitted I had passed the cairn to Redfield. He reminded me that it also led to Cliff but that much, at least, I did recall. At 9:50 AM I arrived at the cairn, again. Arriving from the east, I saw a small yellow marker indicating the direction to the Uphill lean-to. The mistake amounted to a 1 mile 'penalty loop' for 'gross inattention'.
The herd path up Redfield starts along a smooth path and ends up following a wide brook. Where the two meet, there's a fine view of Algonquin that vaguely reminded me of the vista from Indian Falls. I stopped for a snack and a change of socks. I collected water into a spare water bladder and dropped in an Aquatab ostensibly to purify it but surely to have it taste vile. I stashed the water bladder and hung up my wet socks to dry.
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| MacIntyre Range viewed from Uphill Brook. |
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| Redfield. Number 45 for me. |
I left the summit at 11:30 AM, collected my bag o'bleach and socks, and proceeded to spend time taking photos and videos along the Opalescent brook. The water level was low enough to let me stand at the head of the gorge and look down its length. This is a treat especially if you've seen the gorge during the spring runoff. I returned to the Flowed Lands register at 2:00 PM. I had another snack, and change of socks, at the Calamity Brook lean-to and patched up a few minor blisters. I felt reasonably good so I decided to pursue my original objective and exit via Hanging Spear Falls and the Opalescent river (the East River trail).
At 2:30 PM, I crossed the causeway at the breached Flowed Lands dam and, on the opposite bank, saw the sign indicating "East River Trail - Bridge Out". I was prepared to ford the Opalescent and looked forward to a cooling dip. The trail that follows the Opalescent river is remarkable. It is in such beautiful shape as to make it uncharacteristic for the High Peaks region. Virtually mudless and uneroded, it is a garden footpath through beautiful woods in a steep-walled valley high above a roaring brook.
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| Breached dam at Flowed Lands. |
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| Hanging Spear Falls. |
I arrived at the Opalescent river crossing at 4:15 PM. There were four people taking a break and I hazarded a guess that one of them was AdkWalrus completing his 46th peak. In fact, it was him, with his wife and friends, and I congratulated him on his success. AdkWalrus's group left a few minutes before I did after we exchanged farewells.
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| Opalsecent river crossing (low water). |
Photos
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