WalksWithBlackflies
New member
This mountain range hates me… and it was angry today.
Our plan was to summit Iroquois from the Adirondak Loj. For those of you unfamiliar with this range, our route first took us to the summit of Algonquin (5,144 ft), then down the far side, then up and over Boundary (a 200-foot nuisance), then finally up Iroquois (4,840 ft). Oh… and then back again. This up-and-down traverse resulted in a total of 4,000+ feet of climbing for the day. If we felt up to the task, we would also summit Wright which would add an additional 650 feet of vertical.
Ray had invited a friend (John) along for the hike, and we started from the Loj at 6:30. It was a cold and cloudy morning with temperatures around 10 degrees, but by the time we reached the turn-off for Algonquin/Iroquois, I was in my usual winter attire (non-insulated pants with a short sleeve shirt). The chest cold that plagued me on my ascent of Colden two weeks ago still lingered, but was not as severe. However, right from the start, I knew it was going to be another long day. I soon found myself falling behind Ray and John’s moderate pace. One-third of the way up the mountain and I was already mentally defeated. In order to save considerable energy from continually kicking 2 to 4 inches of light powder snow (sarcastic), I carefully placed each step squarely within Ray and John’s tracks. By the time we had reached the intersection with the trail to Wright, I was reminiscing of my ascent of Algonquin in February 2000…
A friend and I had ascended the steep southern face of Algonquin from Lake Colden. We broke trail the entire way through knee-deep snow. Although it was sunny and 30 degrees in the valley, it was an entirely different story above treeline. When we reached the “Entering Alpine Zone” sign, we could hear the wind howling above like a freight train. We changed into our full winter gear, and summited the mountain in a snowy gale. Climbing up the summit cone, one of my thighs began to cramp… then the other. By the time I reached the summit, I was walking like a zombie. I stretched my thighs for awhile on the summit, but as we started back down, they cramped up as stiff as wood. I could feel muscle fibers tearing with each step. After a considerable amount of butt-sliding down the mountain, my legs loosened and I was able to hike back to camp at Marcy Dam. This was the only time my legs had cramped while hiking.
Just as I had experienced in 2000, I could hear the wind howling above as we neared treeline. Still safe within the trees, we were finally able to see the weather on the summit cone… horizontal snow driven by hurricane-force winds. We put on our full winter gear and headed into the “blast zone”. I kept getting blown off-balance by the winds, and I wished I had remembered by hiking poles hanging safely in my garage. I obviously weighed a bit more than my companions, and kept post-holing through their footsteps, exacerbating the problem. It was then that I met up with an old friend I thought I had left on the summit four years earlier… leg cramps. I gingerly hiked up the remainder of the peak, trying to keep the cramping under control while struggling against the wind that seemed to be purposefully thwarting my progress. As I neared the summit marker, the wind was adamant on knocking me over, but I persevered. Standing on the summit, bent over at a 45-degree angle…I felt a surge of accomplishment, but knew it would be short-lived.
Swallowing my ego, I told Ray and John that I didn’t feel comfortable attempting Iroquois with my legs cramping. I could just picture getting severe cramps on the “wrong” side of the mountain and being totally exposed to the elements. Not wanting to leave me alone on the summit cone, Ray and John joined me on my way back down the mountain. Just to kick me while I was down, my goggles fogged up and I had no depth perception. Although each misstep was painful, it ironically made the descent bearable as I was continually laughing at myself. I was reminded of my VFTT “signature” line: “The earth laughs beneath my heavy feet, at the blasphemy in my old jangly walk”… how appropriate.
The adrenalin decreased once we reached the relative safety of the trees. As I headed down, my legs began to loosen… but decided not to attempt Wright with Ray and John. Took my time on the way back to the Loj, bushwhacking near MacIntyre Brook and taking some nice photos of the snow-covered trees.
I met Ray and John back at Loj. They had encountered similar conditions on the top of Wright and Ray lost his Clarkson hat to the wind. Did anyone on Mt. Marcy happen to see his hat flying by?
Our plan was to summit Iroquois from the Adirondak Loj. For those of you unfamiliar with this range, our route first took us to the summit of Algonquin (5,144 ft), then down the far side, then up and over Boundary (a 200-foot nuisance), then finally up Iroquois (4,840 ft). Oh… and then back again. This up-and-down traverse resulted in a total of 4,000+ feet of climbing for the day. If we felt up to the task, we would also summit Wright which would add an additional 650 feet of vertical.
Ray had invited a friend (John) along for the hike, and we started from the Loj at 6:30. It was a cold and cloudy morning with temperatures around 10 degrees, but by the time we reached the turn-off for Algonquin/Iroquois, I was in my usual winter attire (non-insulated pants with a short sleeve shirt). The chest cold that plagued me on my ascent of Colden two weeks ago still lingered, but was not as severe. However, right from the start, I knew it was going to be another long day. I soon found myself falling behind Ray and John’s moderate pace. One-third of the way up the mountain and I was already mentally defeated. In order to save considerable energy from continually kicking 2 to 4 inches of light powder snow (sarcastic), I carefully placed each step squarely within Ray and John’s tracks. By the time we had reached the intersection with the trail to Wright, I was reminiscing of my ascent of Algonquin in February 2000…
A friend and I had ascended the steep southern face of Algonquin from Lake Colden. We broke trail the entire way through knee-deep snow. Although it was sunny and 30 degrees in the valley, it was an entirely different story above treeline. When we reached the “Entering Alpine Zone” sign, we could hear the wind howling above like a freight train. We changed into our full winter gear, and summited the mountain in a snowy gale. Climbing up the summit cone, one of my thighs began to cramp… then the other. By the time I reached the summit, I was walking like a zombie. I stretched my thighs for awhile on the summit, but as we started back down, they cramped up as stiff as wood. I could feel muscle fibers tearing with each step. After a considerable amount of butt-sliding down the mountain, my legs loosened and I was able to hike back to camp at Marcy Dam. This was the only time my legs had cramped while hiking.
Just as I had experienced in 2000, I could hear the wind howling above as we neared treeline. Still safe within the trees, we were finally able to see the weather on the summit cone… horizontal snow driven by hurricane-force winds. We put on our full winter gear and headed into the “blast zone”. I kept getting blown off-balance by the winds, and I wished I had remembered by hiking poles hanging safely in my garage. I obviously weighed a bit more than my companions, and kept post-holing through their footsteps, exacerbating the problem. It was then that I met up with an old friend I thought I had left on the summit four years earlier… leg cramps. I gingerly hiked up the remainder of the peak, trying to keep the cramping under control while struggling against the wind that seemed to be purposefully thwarting my progress. As I neared the summit marker, the wind was adamant on knocking me over, but I persevered. Standing on the summit, bent over at a 45-degree angle…I felt a surge of accomplishment, but knew it would be short-lived.
Swallowing my ego, I told Ray and John that I didn’t feel comfortable attempting Iroquois with my legs cramping. I could just picture getting severe cramps on the “wrong” side of the mountain and being totally exposed to the elements. Not wanting to leave me alone on the summit cone, Ray and John joined me on my way back down the mountain. Just to kick me while I was down, my goggles fogged up and I had no depth perception. Although each misstep was painful, it ironically made the descent bearable as I was continually laughing at myself. I was reminded of my VFTT “signature” line: “The earth laughs beneath my heavy feet, at the blasphemy in my old jangly walk”… how appropriate.
The adrenalin decreased once we reached the relative safety of the trees. As I headed down, my legs began to loosen… but decided not to attempt Wright with Ray and John. Took my time on the way back to the Loj, bushwhacking near MacIntyre Brook and taking some nice photos of the snow-covered trees.
I met Ray and John back at Loj. They had encountered similar conditions on the top of Wright and Ray lost his Clarkson hat to the wind. Did anyone on Mt. Marcy happen to see his hat flying by?
