halia and flammeus
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- Dec 15, 2007
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In a last ditch effort to finish up the 35 before 2009, Flammeus and I headed out to Fir Mountain in the southern Catskills for our second effort at this peak. The weather report was iffy – 30% chance of snow and a wind advisory. And we were a little tired from bagging Blackhead the day before for our final winter peak (Ok, I wasn’t tired, and the dogs weren’t tired… ). But Tom really wanted to finish this year, so off we went.
It had snowed overnight – just a dusting, and the sky was dramatic – clouds and shafts of sunlight, and a pale white sun peaking through. It looked like it was going to be a cold, stormy day. One car at the Biscuit Brook trailhead – it had been there overnight.
Off we went – on the trail by 9:30, barebooting, carrying snowshoes. Within the first mile, I was overheated and shedding layers, and the sun was shining much more convincingly. We bumped into the campers on their way out – they said that they couldn’t get across the stream and were driving up to Lost Clove to do the hike they had planned in reverse. The stream crossing just past the lean to can be tough – when we did Big Indian, I just took my boots off and walked through barefoot – that was faster than messing around with trying to find a good place to manage rockhopping. In winter I could see it being tricky.
During mile two the wind picked up. It was loud. Tom put stabiliciers on – I chose to continueto bareboot. The trail was in excellent shape – no blowdowns to mention, not icy at all. Or maybe it was, but under the dusting or so of new snow, I couldn’t see any ice, so I walked as if it wasn’t there. Amazing what confidence can do!
Just past the lean to, we crossed the small tributary that feeds Biscuit Brook and cut up the north bank and into the woods. Waddling up the bank was probably the steepest part of the whole hike. I kept thinking I was seeing the remnants of snowshoe tracks… I imagined they were Ralph’s from October . The day warmed up a little – the air temperature was actually mild, and the sun offered real warmth. And the sky just kept deepening its blue.
When the wind wasn't deafening, we heard plenty of chickadees, and I managed to get a shot of some turkey tracks before the dogs destroyed them. Saw squirrel tracks, and pre-dusting deer tracks.
From here on in, it was pretty straightforward – up. The climb is consistent and gradual – never steep at all. There were no blowdowns to speak of – just beech whips (I got a good one in the eye - Tom got a bloody lip). Astonishing to us, as we’d had a miserable time attempting this peak from Big Indian in September of ‘07, and gave up because the blowdown crap was so thick we couldn’t put three steps together without getting hung up in branches and nonsense. This is definitely The Route (thanks Peakbagr!).
That day back ’07, we met a couple on the way down who had just done Fir. We chatted, and the woman said the magic words that got us to the canister yesterday: “It’s about 15 minutes past where you think it should be.” That was perfect: we basically walked right up to the canister, because I kept going after I thought for sure I was there.
There was no victory party on top, no champagne , no whooping and hollering. It was so windy, we just hustled down to lower elevation before sharing some cocoa dusted truffles . There are winter views to the east, through the trees out towards the Burroughs Range and Lone (?), Table, Peekamoose… not sure exactly what I was looking at. On a less windy day, I would be tempted to wander around up there looking for a good spot to hang out and enjoy those views.
We bounded down, only to realize that it is actually uphill on the trail back to the car. The section of trail from the lean-to to the hairpin turn is barely noticeable as a downhill when you’re heading out, but as an uphill on the way out, it is detectable. We must be out of shape !
Just a question - why is this mountain called Fir? It should be called Beech. Even at the summit, there are very few evergreens of any type - no spruce, no fir, no pine... what's the story?
And so the 35 are done. Cool. Box has been checked off. Not much else has changed. I guess now we get hike listless. Or is that listlessly?
photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/30705651@N02/
It had snowed overnight – just a dusting, and the sky was dramatic – clouds and shafts of sunlight, and a pale white sun peaking through. It looked like it was going to be a cold, stormy day. One car at the Biscuit Brook trailhead – it had been there overnight.
Off we went – on the trail by 9:30, barebooting, carrying snowshoes. Within the first mile, I was overheated and shedding layers, and the sun was shining much more convincingly. We bumped into the campers on their way out – they said that they couldn’t get across the stream and were driving up to Lost Clove to do the hike they had planned in reverse. The stream crossing just past the lean to can be tough – when we did Big Indian, I just took my boots off and walked through barefoot – that was faster than messing around with trying to find a good place to manage rockhopping. In winter I could see it being tricky.
During mile two the wind picked up. It was loud. Tom put stabiliciers on – I chose to continueto bareboot. The trail was in excellent shape – no blowdowns to mention, not icy at all. Or maybe it was, but under the dusting or so of new snow, I couldn’t see any ice, so I walked as if it wasn’t there. Amazing what confidence can do!
Just past the lean to, we crossed the small tributary that feeds Biscuit Brook and cut up the north bank and into the woods. Waddling up the bank was probably the steepest part of the whole hike. I kept thinking I was seeing the remnants of snowshoe tracks… I imagined they were Ralph’s from October . The day warmed up a little – the air temperature was actually mild, and the sun offered real warmth. And the sky just kept deepening its blue.
When the wind wasn't deafening, we heard plenty of chickadees, and I managed to get a shot of some turkey tracks before the dogs destroyed them. Saw squirrel tracks, and pre-dusting deer tracks.
From here on in, it was pretty straightforward – up. The climb is consistent and gradual – never steep at all. There were no blowdowns to speak of – just beech whips (I got a good one in the eye - Tom got a bloody lip). Astonishing to us, as we’d had a miserable time attempting this peak from Big Indian in September of ‘07, and gave up because the blowdown crap was so thick we couldn’t put three steps together without getting hung up in branches and nonsense. This is definitely The Route (thanks Peakbagr!).
That day back ’07, we met a couple on the way down who had just done Fir. We chatted, and the woman said the magic words that got us to the canister yesterday: “It’s about 15 minutes past where you think it should be.” That was perfect: we basically walked right up to the canister, because I kept going after I thought for sure I was there.
There was no victory party on top, no champagne , no whooping and hollering. It was so windy, we just hustled down to lower elevation before sharing some cocoa dusted truffles . There are winter views to the east, through the trees out towards the Burroughs Range and Lone (?), Table, Peekamoose… not sure exactly what I was looking at. On a less windy day, I would be tempted to wander around up there looking for a good spot to hang out and enjoy those views.
We bounded down, only to realize that it is actually uphill on the trail back to the car. The section of trail from the lean-to to the hairpin turn is barely noticeable as a downhill when you’re heading out, but as an uphill on the way out, it is detectable. We must be out of shape !
Just a question - why is this mountain called Fir? It should be called Beech. Even at the summit, there are very few evergreens of any type - no spruce, no fir, no pine... what's the story?
And so the 35 are done. Cool. Box has been checked off. Not much else has changed. I guess now we get hike listless. Or is that listlessly?
photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/30705651@N02/
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