ALGonquin Bob
Well-known member
Life’s Events and an Adirondack Great Range Hike - August 5-7, 2006
You might say that my philosophy in life, and especially for this hike, is based on a quote by John Muir, “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”
I’d like to preface this report by saying that I have great admiration for those of you who have done this hike in one day. I, however, am not a speedy hiker and used most of three days to complete this trip.
As a life-long procrastinator, I’ve put off many things to do some other day. At this point in life, however, I’m getting that “got to do it now” feeling. Events of the past 18 months or so, including cancer surgery (I’m OK) and the deaths of two friends, have been a stark reminder of the fragility and brevity of life. The clock is definitely ticking. Recently, the death of a hiker near the Adirondack’s Boundary Peak emphasized that we never know what may happen to affect our health and ability to do the things we love. It’s time to appreciate family, friends, and to “do it now”.
OK, enough of that stuff.
This year, I wanted to do some of the big things that I’ve been putting off. One of those is to once again paddle in the Adirondack Canoe Classic, a 3-day boat race from Old Forge to Saranac Lake, also referred to as “The 90-Miler”. In September 2001, I paddled my canoe in that race. This past spring, I bought a kayak and will take a double-bladed approach to the event’s “Open” category on September 8-10. And then there’s that hike I’ve wanted to do...
With all the paddling I’ve been doing this year, my hiking has really taken a back seat – I haven’t been up a “high peak” since April! When I became a 46er two years ago, I thought about other mountains, trails, and lists. Completing the ADK100-Highest doesn’t seem realistic any more, but I still wanted to hike the entire Great Range in the Adirondacks. It might be just another hike to some, but this was important to me. Rooster Comb to Marcy. From the highway to the highest peak. I’m no athlete, and never have been. As a 53-year old (and slow) hiker, I knew that doing the classic Adirondack Great Range hike in just one day was beyond my ability. So I got 3 days off from work and prepared for my big solo trek. Hiking solo allows me to relax, not feeling the need to hurry or “keep up”. Of course, going alone also has its risks, but I’m careful and there are usually other hikers on the trail, right? At least that’s what I tell my wife and concerned friends. Anyway, the great weather forecast boosted my confidence, and the warm temps allowed me to travel with much less gear than on my usual overnight trips.
I hadn’t yet finished packing before going to work Friday (procrastination!), so after working all day, I came home to finish assembling my gear. My pack included a lightweight fleece sleeping bag, a fly from an old dome tent, rain jacket, extra shirt & shorts, food, MSR Pocket Rocket stove, water filter, some water, and not much else. Pack weight 20-25 lbs. I hit the road a little after 9 P.M. that night to begin the 6-hour drive from Tonawanda to Keene Valley. The 350-mile trip, coupled with some Thruway construction delays, meant that I didn’t reach the “Garden” parking area until 4 A.M. Saturday. A barred owl chorus of “who cooks for you?” greeted me as I lay down for a few hours of sleep. At about 9, I got up to begin my day with a quick breakfast then started my 2-mile walk back down the road to Route 73 and over to the Rooster Comb trailhead – the “highway” portion of “highway to highest peak”.
As I approached the trailhead, I felt a sharp pain in my side, exactly where I had fallen two days earlier while working out on the steps at the gorge in Niagara Falls. Although minor, this was my biggest “hiking” injury so far. Bruised ribs from exercising near home. Even my sometimes spectacular falls in the mountains hadn’t hurt quite this much. What should I do? Well, I had the time off, and I’m 350 miles from home. Like any other obsessed hiker would, I signed in and started up the trail on my 3-day journey. Turns out that the pain was only occasional, and who needs deep breaths anyway?
The path from this newer trailhead is in fine shape and passes through a nice hemlock stand as it gains altitude. I met a couple from Montreal who were there for the day with their little Chocolate Lab, a very enthusiastic 18-month old pup. At the junction where the Rooster Comb trail leaves the main path, I spoke with two men, years younger than myself, who had just about completed their own 3-day trek over the Great Range via South Meadow and Marcy. Their two 17-year old sons had gone up to RC, but the dads had taken a “pass” on the opportunity and were waiting at the junction. The men told me where to find water up in the range, then asked me to deliver the message to the boys that they had “hiked out to the car”. When I heard that the boys had referred to their fathers as “two old guys”, I had to laugh. I wonder what they called me? I checked the overlook views of the valley and continued to the top of RC. After a short break and conversation with the Montrealers, I headed back down. “Miles to go”, you know.
The next hill (mountain?) was Hedgehog, a high spot in the woods, then it was an easy hike up to Lower Wolfjaw. I had only been up the Wolfjaws once before, in March ‘03, when I began my obsession to finish the 46, climbing the last 31 peaks in about 15 months. I know, “Pin-Pin Jr.” does that every month, but it’s quite an effort for me. I had never before been on the section between UWJ and Armstrong, and I enjoyed the rugged challenge of the trail. Summiting Armstrong around sunset (how DO you do the entire range in a day?!) I made the descent in the dark. My camp was near the col; the night was a bit chilly in the lightweight fleece bag under my makeshift shelter.
After a somewhat restless night, I began day 2 by going up to the top of Gothics, resting briefly and taking a moment to enjoy the surrounding peaks. French water colorist Samovel’s quote, “How beautiful this would be if I could only share it with someone” applied to that view. I consumed my last piece of fruit and headed down the “new” cables. The black rubber hose that covers much of the cables made for an easy descent. After topping off my water containers in Ore Bed Brook, I resumed climbing and headed up Saddleback. The false summit and consequent saddle emphasized the descriptive name of this mountain. The true summit that looms above after you think you’re nearly “there” is seldom as tough a climb as it seems at that moment. The view from Saddleback is wonderful. I lingered, contemplating the steep descent into the col. The descriptive term “Mordwand” (Death Wall of the Eiger) came to mind briefly, but the seemingly vertical descent isn’t as hard as it looks from the top. It’s fun once you get in there. During the down-climb, I removed my pack three times, dropping it to the next level. I also learned that Nalgene bottles are NOT unbreakable. Gatorade everywhere. Finally, with a lightweight line that I often carry, I lowered myself the short distance down the final pitch, opting not to jump and risk injury to my poor old tender ankles and knees. An injury on a solo hike such as this might mean waiting there for 2 days to be officially overdue with the resulting rescue call to the DEC. Didn’t want that.
The route up Basin was fun – a good climb. I’m reminded of the hike in ’04 when my friend Doug (“Hillman1”) was about to reach his 46th peak. As we “raced” up the west slope of Basin through rain, thunder and lightning, I said, “Hey Doug, I think you’re a 46er”. He replied, “Yeah I know, let’s get out of here!”, or words to that effect - so much for savoring the moment. But my latest hike over Basin was uneventful, under clear skies. All day long, I was constantly trying to estimate how long it would take me to reach that next peak, and maintained my hopes of finishing on Marcy. The day was getting shorter as I reached the Snowbird campsite in late afternoon. I pumped another gallon or so of water and made my way up the trail toward Little Haystack. I dropped my pack and had a very nice unencumbered climb over to the good old rocky top of Haystack. As I watched the sun about to disappear behind the summit of Mount Marcy, I conceded that I wouldn’t reach that peak on day 2. Briefly, I considered camping at Snowbird and topping out on the “Cloud Splitter” Monday morning. My aching feet and muscles made the final decision as I descended to Slant Rock by headlamp that night. By the way, I never did find that phantom lean-to. I camped in the base of an old shelter.
Haystack would be the final peak of my Great Range traverse. As slow a hiker as I am, it was that demon “procrastination” that cost me the 8th High Peak. Those lost hours Friday night carried over to a later start Saturday, and one or two less peaks reached each day. Final tally: Rooster Comb, Hedgehog, and 7 High Peaks in the Great Range. From Highway to Haystack. Sounds good to me. -Bob VH
You might say that my philosophy in life, and especially for this hike, is based on a quote by John Muir, “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”
I’d like to preface this report by saying that I have great admiration for those of you who have done this hike in one day. I, however, am not a speedy hiker and used most of three days to complete this trip.
As a life-long procrastinator, I’ve put off many things to do some other day. At this point in life, however, I’m getting that “got to do it now” feeling. Events of the past 18 months or so, including cancer surgery (I’m OK) and the deaths of two friends, have been a stark reminder of the fragility and brevity of life. The clock is definitely ticking. Recently, the death of a hiker near the Adirondack’s Boundary Peak emphasized that we never know what may happen to affect our health and ability to do the things we love. It’s time to appreciate family, friends, and to “do it now”.
OK, enough of that stuff.
This year, I wanted to do some of the big things that I’ve been putting off. One of those is to once again paddle in the Adirondack Canoe Classic, a 3-day boat race from Old Forge to Saranac Lake, also referred to as “The 90-Miler”. In September 2001, I paddled my canoe in that race. This past spring, I bought a kayak and will take a double-bladed approach to the event’s “Open” category on September 8-10. And then there’s that hike I’ve wanted to do...With all the paddling I’ve been doing this year, my hiking has really taken a back seat – I haven’t been up a “high peak” since April! When I became a 46er two years ago, I thought about other mountains, trails, and lists. Completing the ADK100-Highest doesn’t seem realistic any more, but I still wanted to hike the entire Great Range in the Adirondacks. It might be just another hike to some, but this was important to me. Rooster Comb to Marcy. From the highway to the highest peak. I’m no athlete, and never have been. As a 53-year old (and slow) hiker, I knew that doing the classic Adirondack Great Range hike in just one day was beyond my ability. So I got 3 days off from work and prepared for my big solo trek. Hiking solo allows me to relax, not feeling the need to hurry or “keep up”. Of course, going alone also has its risks, but I’m careful and there are usually other hikers on the trail, right? At least that’s what I tell my wife and concerned friends. Anyway, the great weather forecast boosted my confidence, and the warm temps allowed me to travel with much less gear than on my usual overnight trips.
I hadn’t yet finished packing before going to work Friday (procrastination!), so after working all day, I came home to finish assembling my gear. My pack included a lightweight fleece sleeping bag, a fly from an old dome tent, rain jacket, extra shirt & shorts, food, MSR Pocket Rocket stove, water filter, some water, and not much else. Pack weight 20-25 lbs. I hit the road a little after 9 P.M. that night to begin the 6-hour drive from Tonawanda to Keene Valley. The 350-mile trip, coupled with some Thruway construction delays, meant that I didn’t reach the “Garden” parking area until 4 A.M. Saturday. A barred owl chorus of “who cooks for you?” greeted me as I lay down for a few hours of sleep. At about 9, I got up to begin my day with a quick breakfast then started my 2-mile walk back down the road to Route 73 and over to the Rooster Comb trailhead – the “highway” portion of “highway to highest peak”.
As I approached the trailhead, I felt a sharp pain in my side, exactly where I had fallen two days earlier while working out on the steps at the gorge in Niagara Falls. Although minor, this was my biggest “hiking” injury so far. Bruised ribs from exercising near home. Even my sometimes spectacular falls in the mountains hadn’t hurt quite this much. What should I do? Well, I had the time off, and I’m 350 miles from home. Like any other obsessed hiker would, I signed in and started up the trail on my 3-day journey. Turns out that the pain was only occasional, and who needs deep breaths anyway?
The path from this newer trailhead is in fine shape and passes through a nice hemlock stand as it gains altitude. I met a couple from Montreal who were there for the day with their little Chocolate Lab, a very enthusiastic 18-month old pup. At the junction where the Rooster Comb trail leaves the main path, I spoke with two men, years younger than myself, who had just about completed their own 3-day trek over the Great Range via South Meadow and Marcy. Their two 17-year old sons had gone up to RC, but the dads had taken a “pass” on the opportunity and were waiting at the junction. The men told me where to find water up in the range, then asked me to deliver the message to the boys that they had “hiked out to the car”. When I heard that the boys had referred to their fathers as “two old guys”, I had to laugh. I wonder what they called me? I checked the overlook views of the valley and continued to the top of RC. After a short break and conversation with the Montrealers, I headed back down. “Miles to go”, you know.
The next hill (mountain?) was Hedgehog, a high spot in the woods, then it was an easy hike up to Lower Wolfjaw. I had only been up the Wolfjaws once before, in March ‘03, when I began my obsession to finish the 46, climbing the last 31 peaks in about 15 months. I know, “Pin-Pin Jr.” does that every month, but it’s quite an effort for me. I had never before been on the section between UWJ and Armstrong, and I enjoyed the rugged challenge of the trail. Summiting Armstrong around sunset (how DO you do the entire range in a day?!) I made the descent in the dark. My camp was near the col; the night was a bit chilly in the lightweight fleece bag under my makeshift shelter.
After a somewhat restless night, I began day 2 by going up to the top of Gothics, resting briefly and taking a moment to enjoy the surrounding peaks. French water colorist Samovel’s quote, “How beautiful this would be if I could only share it with someone” applied to that view. I consumed my last piece of fruit and headed down the “new” cables. The black rubber hose that covers much of the cables made for an easy descent. After topping off my water containers in Ore Bed Brook, I resumed climbing and headed up Saddleback. The false summit and consequent saddle emphasized the descriptive name of this mountain. The true summit that looms above after you think you’re nearly “there” is seldom as tough a climb as it seems at that moment. The view from Saddleback is wonderful. I lingered, contemplating the steep descent into the col. The descriptive term “Mordwand” (Death Wall of the Eiger) came to mind briefly, but the seemingly vertical descent isn’t as hard as it looks from the top. It’s fun once you get in there. During the down-climb, I removed my pack three times, dropping it to the next level. I also learned that Nalgene bottles are NOT unbreakable. Gatorade everywhere. Finally, with a lightweight line that I often carry, I lowered myself the short distance down the final pitch, opting not to jump and risk injury to my poor old tender ankles and knees. An injury on a solo hike such as this might mean waiting there for 2 days to be officially overdue with the resulting rescue call to the DEC. Didn’t want that.
The route up Basin was fun – a good climb. I’m reminded of the hike in ’04 when my friend Doug (“Hillman1”) was about to reach his 46th peak. As we “raced” up the west slope of Basin through rain, thunder and lightning, I said, “Hey Doug, I think you’re a 46er”. He replied, “Yeah I know, let’s get out of here!”, or words to that effect - so much for savoring the moment. But my latest hike over Basin was uneventful, under clear skies. All day long, I was constantly trying to estimate how long it would take me to reach that next peak, and maintained my hopes of finishing on Marcy. The day was getting shorter as I reached the Snowbird campsite in late afternoon. I pumped another gallon or so of water and made my way up the trail toward Little Haystack. I dropped my pack and had a very nice unencumbered climb over to the good old rocky top of Haystack. As I watched the sun about to disappear behind the summit of Mount Marcy, I conceded that I wouldn’t reach that peak on day 2. Briefly, I considered camping at Snowbird and topping out on the “Cloud Splitter” Monday morning. My aching feet and muscles made the final decision as I descended to Slant Rock by headlamp that night. By the way, I never did find that phantom lean-to. I camped in the base of an old shelter.
Haystack would be the final peak of my Great Range traverse. As slow a hiker as I am, it was that demon “procrastination” that cost me the 8th High Peak. Those lost hours Friday night carried over to a later start Saturday, and one or two less peaks reached each day. Final tally: Rooster Comb, Hedgehog, and 7 High Peaks in the Great Range. From Highway to Haystack.
Sounds good to me. -Bob VH
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