WalksWithBlackflies
New member
Friday evening, I drove to the Loj. My original plan was to do a night summit of Wright, camp, and climb the remainder of the range the following morning. However, by the time I hiked up to the campsite near MacIntyre Falls, it was 11:00 and I figured it would be better to get a full night’s sleep. Entering the campsite, I found that most of it was a muddy mess, and a tent was pitched in what appeared to be the only dry spot. Luckily, I had brought my bivy sack, and found a nice dry spot in a small open area between a couple of pines. After having considerable trouble finding a good spot to hang my food bag away from the bears, I ended up hanging my bag in a birch along the trail… which I figured would be fine since I planned on waking at 5:00 am. It was a beautiful clear night, but colder than I expected. At about 2:00, I woke up cold, so I fully zipped up my sleeping bag and pulled the cover of my bivy sack over me. I woke again at 4:40, still just as cold. Since I was so cold, and planned on waking in 20 minutes anyway, I packed camp, ate a breakfast bar and was on the trail at 5:15. Within 10 minutes, I realized why I despised this trail… rock after rock after rock. I soon reached the intersection with the spur trail to the summit, and the views started opening up. The early morning sun was casting shadows on the surrounding mountains, and fog was lining the valleys.
The views got more spectacular as I climbed above treeline and finally, the summit. Sitting in the sun behind a rock to block the chilly breeze, absorbing the views, I promised myself to “sunrise summit” more often. I began getting antsy, and explored the different areas of the summit. Just as I was about to head back down, I noticed a glean of metal, and figured it was “the bomber”. Investing further, I found a herd path leading to the wreckage. Trying to comprehend the force of impact to crumple an engine to resemble a three-foot-long tin can was sobering.
My heart went out to the soldiers who gave their lives in the crash, and was happy to see that a plaque had been placed on the rock near the crash site to honor them. Heading back to the trail, about 200 feet from the engine, I found a piece of metal wedged beneath a car-sized boulder, and realized that debris was likely scattered all over the side of the mountain.
Back on the trail to Algonquin, I became a little worried that my legs would cramp. I’d been up Algonquin twice before, and my legs cramped both times. This hasn’t happened on any other mountain, and just figured that this mountain had a vendetta against me. I tried making my peace with the mountain, remembering what Grace had said to me and Storytime the first (and only) time I met her… how she would always ask for the mountain’s permission before summitting a mountain. I asked, and it was obviously granted.
The summit of Algonquin was deceivingly cold. The pools of water were frozen, and a 20 mph wind cut right through me. The views were even more stunning than from Wright, although much of the valley fog had lifted in the past hour. I was soon on my way to Boundary, and easily found the herd path. The col was a little wet, but there wasn’t any boot-sucking mud. Caution gentlemen… there is an evil branch at the very end of the bog, poised to stick you in the jollies if you’re not careful. My earlier request to summit must have pleased the mountains, for the branch missed… barely. Now filled with adrenaline, I skipped up to the summit of Boundary, and was quickly off the far side to Iroquois.
The trail conditions between Boundary and Iroquois were similar to the Algonquin-Boundary col. The wind had died down by the time I got to the Iroquois summit, and the sun was getting warmer. The views of Wallface and Shepard’s Tooth from the summit were impressive. I headed down the SW slabs towards the Tooth, and that’s where it began getting tough. There seemed to be two sets of cairns to follow… the ones to the right were small and appeared to damaged, while the ones to the left were bigger and in better condition. I chose to go left, which I think was wrong. Soon after leaving the slabs, the “path” became a tangled mess of overgrown cripplebrush and blowdown. I forced my way to the southern base of the Tooth, and the climbing was easy to the top.
I explored the top and determined the “path of least resistance” off the mountain to the pass below. While eating lunch, I noticed that another path came up the Tooth from the north. Was this the actual herd path? I decided to take this path and find out. It seemed to be going in the right direction, but appeared to be too overgrown. Nonetheless, I followed it as it paralleled a small drainage. As I got closer to the pass, the trail got steeper, until the land just ended… at 100-foot cliffs. I knew there were cliffs on this side of the mountain, but didn’t realize they were so extensive. I peered to the right, then to the left, and didn’t see any clear way down. The cliffs to the left seemed less steep, so that’s where I headed. Within five minutes, I came across a chimney that seemed climbable. After one tricky section around a boulder, I soon reached flat ground and the Iroquois Pass trail. I entered the trail right at the height of the pass, so headed north to the intersection with the herd path to Marshall.
At the same instant I reached the cairn marking the beginning of the herd path, I met the only other human being I had seen since Friday. He introduced himself as Kevin, and we decided to climb up Marshall together. The herd path was well-defined and climbed at a moderate grade. We reached a knob where we could see the summit with the headwaters of Herbert Brook in the col ahead. Although the col was relatively dry, there were some sections of boot-deep mud. The path from the col to summit was moderately steep, with a few sections that had us searching for handholds. After a final steep pitch, we were at the summit. We explored the various paths that led to views of Iroquois, Adams, and Henderson.
The hike back to the Iroquois Pass trail was uneventful. Kevin and I parted at the trail since we were headed in different directions… I to Indian Pass and Kevin to Lake Colden. The trail to Indian Pass was much rougher than I had expected, and took me about 1.5 hours to reach the Indian Pass trail. My legs were now getting tired. At the intersection of the trails, a sign read “Adirondack Loj - 5.0 mi”. Five miles!?!? I severely underestimated the length of this trail, thinking it was only about 3 miles to the Loj from here. Guess I should have read the trail description in my ADK book. I knew those last two miles would seem looooong. I was soon at Scott’s Clearing, with a great view of Wallface.
I rested at Scott’s Dam for a couple of minutes, and continued on my way. The next 3 miles passed quickly, but that last mile seemed to go on forever. I met a couple of backpackers headed to Indian Pass, and a dayhiker near the Loj who wasn’t carrying water or headlamp. He asked how far it was to Indian Pass, and I responeded, “Another 5 miles”. He grinned, said thanks, and was on his way. Hope he hiked fast.
Heart Lake, and finally the car, were a welcome sight. I took my boots off, and hobbled over to the register to sign out. I found the page with the most recent sign-ins and started working my way backwards, page by page, to find my entry from the night before. I kept turning page after page after page, until I found my entry and checked out. There must have been 200+ groups that registered that day… and I only saw about 10 people all day. A guy at the register who had just come down from Algonquin said the summit was packed with people. Quite a far cry from my solitude on the peak earlier in the morning.
The views got more spectacular as I climbed above treeline and finally, the summit. Sitting in the sun behind a rock to block the chilly breeze, absorbing the views, I promised myself to “sunrise summit” more often. I began getting antsy, and explored the different areas of the summit. Just as I was about to head back down, I noticed a glean of metal, and figured it was “the bomber”. Investing further, I found a herd path leading to the wreckage. Trying to comprehend the force of impact to crumple an engine to resemble a three-foot-long tin can was sobering.
My heart went out to the soldiers who gave their lives in the crash, and was happy to see that a plaque had been placed on the rock near the crash site to honor them. Heading back to the trail, about 200 feet from the engine, I found a piece of metal wedged beneath a car-sized boulder, and realized that debris was likely scattered all over the side of the mountain.
Back on the trail to Algonquin, I became a little worried that my legs would cramp. I’d been up Algonquin twice before, and my legs cramped both times. This hasn’t happened on any other mountain, and just figured that this mountain had a vendetta against me. I tried making my peace with the mountain, remembering what Grace had said to me and Storytime the first (and only) time I met her… how she would always ask for the mountain’s permission before summitting a mountain. I asked, and it was obviously granted.
The summit of Algonquin was deceivingly cold. The pools of water were frozen, and a 20 mph wind cut right through me. The views were even more stunning than from Wright, although much of the valley fog had lifted in the past hour. I was soon on my way to Boundary, and easily found the herd path. The col was a little wet, but there wasn’t any boot-sucking mud. Caution gentlemen… there is an evil branch at the very end of the bog, poised to stick you in the jollies if you’re not careful. My earlier request to summit must have pleased the mountains, for the branch missed… barely. Now filled with adrenaline, I skipped up to the summit of Boundary, and was quickly off the far side to Iroquois.
The trail conditions between Boundary and Iroquois were similar to the Algonquin-Boundary col. The wind had died down by the time I got to the Iroquois summit, and the sun was getting warmer. The views of Wallface and Shepard’s Tooth from the summit were impressive. I headed down the SW slabs towards the Tooth, and that’s where it began getting tough. There seemed to be two sets of cairns to follow… the ones to the right were small and appeared to damaged, while the ones to the left were bigger and in better condition. I chose to go left, which I think was wrong. Soon after leaving the slabs, the “path” became a tangled mess of overgrown cripplebrush and blowdown. I forced my way to the southern base of the Tooth, and the climbing was easy to the top.
I explored the top and determined the “path of least resistance” off the mountain to the pass below. While eating lunch, I noticed that another path came up the Tooth from the north. Was this the actual herd path? I decided to take this path and find out. It seemed to be going in the right direction, but appeared to be too overgrown. Nonetheless, I followed it as it paralleled a small drainage. As I got closer to the pass, the trail got steeper, until the land just ended… at 100-foot cliffs. I knew there were cliffs on this side of the mountain, but didn’t realize they were so extensive. I peered to the right, then to the left, and didn’t see any clear way down. The cliffs to the left seemed less steep, so that’s where I headed. Within five minutes, I came across a chimney that seemed climbable. After one tricky section around a boulder, I soon reached flat ground and the Iroquois Pass trail. I entered the trail right at the height of the pass, so headed north to the intersection with the herd path to Marshall.
At the same instant I reached the cairn marking the beginning of the herd path, I met the only other human being I had seen since Friday. He introduced himself as Kevin, and we decided to climb up Marshall together. The herd path was well-defined and climbed at a moderate grade. We reached a knob where we could see the summit with the headwaters of Herbert Brook in the col ahead. Although the col was relatively dry, there were some sections of boot-deep mud. The path from the col to summit was moderately steep, with a few sections that had us searching for handholds. After a final steep pitch, we were at the summit. We explored the various paths that led to views of Iroquois, Adams, and Henderson.
The hike back to the Iroquois Pass trail was uneventful. Kevin and I parted at the trail since we were headed in different directions… I to Indian Pass and Kevin to Lake Colden. The trail to Indian Pass was much rougher than I had expected, and took me about 1.5 hours to reach the Indian Pass trail. My legs were now getting tired. At the intersection of the trails, a sign read “Adirondack Loj - 5.0 mi”. Five miles!?!? I severely underestimated the length of this trail, thinking it was only about 3 miles to the Loj from here. Guess I should have read the trail description in my ADK book. I knew those last two miles would seem looooong. I was soon at Scott’s Clearing, with a great view of Wallface.
I rested at Scott’s Dam for a couple of minutes, and continued on my way. The next 3 miles passed quickly, but that last mile seemed to go on forever. I met a couple of backpackers headed to Indian Pass, and a dayhiker near the Loj who wasn’t carrying water or headlamp. He asked how far it was to Indian Pass, and I responeded, “Another 5 miles”. He grinned, said thanks, and was on his way. Hope he hiked fast.
Heart Lake, and finally the car, were a welcome sight. I took my boots off, and hobbled over to the register to sign out. I found the page with the most recent sign-ins and started working my way backwards, page by page, to find my entry from the night before. I kept turning page after page after page, until I found my entry and checked out. There must have been 200+ groups that registered that day… and I only saw about 10 people all day. A guy at the register who had just come down from Algonquin said the summit was packed with people. Quite a far cry from my solitude on the peak earlier in the morning.
