DSettahr
Active member
- Joined
- Apr 23, 2005
- Messages
- 981
- Reaction score
- 142
I had meant to climb Sherrill in conjunction with North Dome a few weeks ago, but we got a late start on that hike and ended up just climbing North Dome instead. And it was a good thing we decided not to even attempt Sherrill, too, as night had fallen before we finished our bushwhack and left the woods!
Since I was already in the Albany area this weekend, I decided to take a day to climb Sherrill and take care of unfinished business. I arrived at the parking lot this morning to find that I had been preceded by other hikes... 2, judging form the prints in the snow. What intrigued me was the numerous stickers in the window of the car... winter stickers from both the Adirondack and the Catskill High Peaks, as well as stickers for Views from the Top and ADKHighPeaks.com. I tried to list mentally the forum members that I knew of who could lay claim to both winter achievements, but my memory failed me... perhaps, if I was lucky, I'd run into them on the climb.
I trudged through the snow (which was barely an inch deep here) followed the access road up out of the parking area, turned into the woods, and crossed beneath the power lines. n the snow I could see many prints, not all human by any means- deer, wild turkey, and rabbit, to name a few species. It wasn't long before I realized that I'd lost the mystery human footprints, but no matter- I had an excellent route ahead of me (or so it seemed) in the form of an old road on the left (northern) bank of the stream which follows out of the hollow that forms the main southwest approach to Sherrill.
The old woods road was in excellent shape, at least down low near the start of my hike. It was quite apparent as well that it receives sporadic attention, as numerous blowdowns had obviously been cut to keep the path open. It ascends on the northern bank of the river, never very close to the stream, but usually with the stream in sight some distance below. The ascent was gradual and steady, and I passed some nice flat spots that would make for excellent legal campsites. At one point, the old road turned north and veered up into a side hollow. I left it here and continued to follow the main branch of the stream, figuring that the road might not continue anymore in the direction in which I wished to travel, but it soon I found myself walking on it once again.
Gradually, this old road becomes fainter and fainter, turning into faintly distinct path. Here, the maintenance is significantly less than compared to the lower elevations, and the blowdowns became more numerous. I did pass one solitary stone cairn along the way, evidence that others also pass this way. I also began to encounter more blowdown, not a significant amount by any means, but enough to prevent me from traveling in a straight path, as I was forced to weave in and out between the fallen trunks and branches.
As the now narrow path faded in and out of view, I found myself losing it for a few hundred feet, and then regaining it for just as long before losing it again. Several times, just when I thought I'd lost it for good, I'd stumble across it again. It was only when I'd reached the upper slopes of the drainage, and could distinctly see Sherrill itself through the leafless forest, that I lost it for good.
Here in the upper drainage, I was faced with a choice- did I want to angle straight up the steep face of the drainage on a direct path to the summit, or head northwards, hoping to strike the ridge at a lower elevation, which I could then follow east towards the summit. I chose the later path, and began a switch-backing ascent north to the ridgeline.
Soon I found myself in two of the three things that bushwhackers fear most in the Catskills- nettles and blowdown. I was saved from the ultimate pain of the nettles, however, by the fact that it was nearly winter and I was wearing thick clothes- I only took a few stabs to the fingers through my fleece gloves. The blowdown was a bit more difficult to deal with, and I took to scrambling over and weaving between the fallen trees. The ascent was steeper than following the road/path had been, but nothing unmanageable. As I crested the ridge, I ran into the third thing bushwhackers fear most in the Catskills- dense understory vegetation. Down lower, I'd had nettles and lilacs to impede my forward travel, but up here I had witchhobble and beech saplings, which were just as, if not more, frustrating.
At the very least, I had all of the major elevation gain behind me. In contrast to the thin layer of wet snow at the parking area, up here I found myself trudging through at least 4 or 5 inches of nice, soft, fluffy powder, not only on the ground, but also adhered to every tree trunk and branch. As with the lower elevations, the upper reaches were a canvas on which the footprints of many woodland critters had been painted- coyote, deer, mouse, snowshoe hare, and so on. Having reached the height of land, I turned east and headed towards the summit.
The ascent from here was quite gradual. I encountered a few rocky outcrops and ledges, but nothing that impeded my forward travel in any way. It was soon quite clear that I was near the summit, and so I began the time honored tradition that is associated with every first ascent of a trailess catskill peak... trying to find the summit register! Normally, one has the aid of multiple herd paths to either assist (or confuse) the traveler as they try to find the canister. Here, with all the fresh snow, I found it quite difficult to find any such paths, if they existed. I found myself wandering about the flattened summit, checking every little bump that came into sight to see if it held the canister, and crisscrossing back and forth, wandering until it was obvious that the land was beginning to slope downhill before turning back and crossing again.
I saw the footprints (human this time) in the snow a split second before I saw the canister itself. I'd made it, but apparently the mystery hikers had already been here and gone. I trudged the final few feet to the small clearing, and took my pack off before opening the canister. The canister itself seemed to be of an older style, not the newer PVC that I'm used to. I quickly determined this by feeling how heavy the lid was, and noticing the fact that my bare fingers immediately froze to the metal! I pulled out out the notebook, and read the last entry... "Tom and Laurie Rankin." I'd just missed them! (I found out later that they had been there 2 hours before me.)
After signing the register, and consuming a quick lunch of granola bars and a Stewart's sandwich, I began my descent. I decided to follow the Rankin's path, reasoning that they'd probably climbed this mountain numerous times, and either knew the best route to get up and down the mountain, or had traveled by way of some scenic destination.
The descent made it clear that the former was the case. Their footsteps took me down along the ridgeline that runs southwest from the summit, forming the southern boundary of the main drainage that collects water from the western slopes of the mountain. Essentially, I was descending on the opposite side of the stream from the old road that I'd followed much of the way up. Here, the woods were quite open, especially in contrast to what I'd encountered on the ascent. The terrain was a bit rocky, and I encountered a few small ledges, but these were easy to negotiate, and this route was definitely much preferable to the one I'd taken on the way up. The whole way, I had the warmth of the sun shining upon my face, and not only did I continue to see lots of animal tracks, but I encountered a few deer beds in the snow as well.
As I was starting to close in on the parking area, I heard a gunshot nearby in the woods. It sounded like it had come from down in the drainage, which I was well above on the ridgeline. Shortly thereafter, I came across a solitary set of foot prints, which crossed the Rankins path a few times, as well as following it for a while. I never saw any sign of the hunter, nor did I hear any further shots, however.
Soon, I was back at the parking area, just as the sun was setting beyond the ridge to the west. The Rankins had already left... oh well, maybe some other time we'll cross paths in person on a mountain! Definitely an enjoyable hike. I took it easy the entire day, yet still was easily able to climb this mountain entirely in daylight, despite having hiked on one of the shortest days of the year. No scenic viewpoints on this mountain, just a nice day spent hiking in the woods, which were quiet and still on this gorgeous day. There was a note in the summit register that said there was a lookout somewhere to the southeast, but I didn't take the time to find it... perhaps next time!
Last edited:
