Robert
New member
I have a deep yearning to “get over the hump”. I define “hump” as 6 of the farther and potentially more difficult peaks, and the desire to have less than 10 peaks remaining after this trip. This translates to a 4-day trek that begins with a 6 mile investment to get to the first base camp at a lean-to along the banks of Colden Lake. It encompasses Marshall, the dreaded Allen, Cliff, Redfield, Gray and Skylight. My plan calls for Skylight to be last, and as a visual reward for having completed the first five.
In this trip report, I will only address Marshall, Allen ... and "the bear by a nose".
For this trip, a full pack with enough food for 5-6 days, a 2+ lb. bear canister included, and my daypack for the individual mountain excursions from targeted base camps are required. In the interest of saving weight, I forego my traditional orange treat atop each peak.
Day 1, Marshall & the Bear
The walk from Heart Lake via Avalanche Pass and Avalanche Lake to Colden Lake is very familiar now. What’s new are the large numbers of bear tracks I see, both small and large, in the soft mud along the trail. The tracks are thick in Avalanche Pass, and extend all the way to Lake Colden. The freshness and depth of a preceding hiker’s tread occasionally overlapped by a large bear’s toes give me the impression that the bear is actually following the hiker ahead of me. OK, bear, I’m following you! Now who’s looking over whose shoulder??
I arrive at the Beaver Lean-To at 11:15 am, stake my claim to a piece of the lean-to floor, have an early lunch, set up my day pack, and strike out for Marshall. Following the descriptions I have read about the Herbert Brook Trail and cairn, I head for “the bridge” across Herbert Brook but don’t find the cairn on either side. I do find the Yellow Trail to Indian Pass River. After some searching, I elect the Yellow Trail to the height of land between Iroquois and Marshall. Going over the height and starting down again, I backtrack in search of the herd path to Marshall. It’s at the right-hand bend in the trail with a “Trail” sign in the tree. The herd path is somewhat faint but discernable, and though it winds around drunkenly, it’s heading in the right direction. Topping the false summit, I can see the true summit. Intercepting the preferred herd path up Herbert Brook, I complete the summit, and then follow Herbert Brook down. This is much better ... and prettier.
Surprise! I find that the cairn at the bottom of Herbert Brook is on the other side of Colden Dam. I miss-read my original position on the map by missing the "O" symbol and confusing the dual, side-by-side lean-to symbols for the Outpost location. Ah well, it's not like I could actually get lost in this region. I give myself high marks for my herdpath finding and bushwhacking skills, and focus on paying closer attention to where I am at all times.
Like you, Marshall, I prefer the direct approach. Come straight at me!
I return to Beaver Lean-To and the debris of packs and strewn gear. Eight physical ed majors are out for their obligatory 4-day, 2-peak trek. Because the next lean-to is overflowing and they have a community tent, they elect to leave their packs beside Beaver Lean-To and to sleep uphill tonight. By the time they “clean up”, swallow their toothpaste and depart, it’s after 9:00 pm. The sons of a father-mother-daughter-sons group arrive from the adjacent lean-to, drop their packs and go uphill to hang their food bags.
It’s now 9:23 pm and it’s dark. I’m zippered inside my bug bivvy, head out for the air. I hear a bear approach from the right. It snuffs the backpacks outside the lean-to. Next it sticks its nose into the lean-to and snuffs the packs inside. As the floor of the lean-to is around 3 feet off the ground, I know this is a large bear. Its head is now less than 3 feet from mine. As it’s seeking aromas far from mine, I don’t move. If it comes any closer, it smells me and I smell its breath, one of us will make the next decision. Intelligent opportunist and non-aggressor that it is, it makes the right decision for us both, and departs.
Brother Bear, we must always remember that we come to your home. Respecting that, we need have no fear of you.
Day 2 & Allen
Still-stressed legs dangling from the lean-to’s threshold, my mind has just achieved command over its own fog and the mist that caresses the lake and mountains beyond. At that pivotal moment, ripples in the lake’s still waters invade my right-hand peripheral vision at the north-easterly edge of the lean-to. Leaning out, I find the source to be a beaver balanced on a submerged rock some 10 feet off shore, breakfasting on the bark of a twig. The motor awakening my camera signals its departure. My picture is that of its right-faced eye leading a V-trail away from me.
I’m on the trail early to dreaded Allen. I have read nothing good about this mountain and its attendant trails. My trip plan shows a significant elevation loss to the low land along the Opalescent before the climb to Allen. I put my legs in motion, and my mind on auto-pilot ... except for checking where I am periodically.
The walk skirting Flowed Lands is pleasant. I take the gravel bed along the water’s edge for views, and return to the trail at the Flowed Lands Lean-To. The easterly traverse on the rickety rocks across the Opalescent is amusing. The river gorge along the Opalescent’s eastern bank is spectacular. Below, and over small land rises, the blow-down and foliage fill-in conspire to choke the trail such that only the slight seam in the foliage cap hints of the trail underneath. The red trail markers are few, varied and far apart in this area. The intermittent rain and high humidity also conspire with the foliage’s overgrowth to soak me from the chest down. I’m at once rewarded by an abundance of sweet raspberries and blackberries (some hikers incorrectly label these blueberries), and punished by their thorns.
Along the low lands before the bridge crossing at Upper Twin Brook, I pass the one and lonely designated campsite in this area. I laugh out loud at the adjacent privy. It’s been compressed and slightly contorted by a large tree that has fallen on the head. Two thoughts flash simultaneously. The first is that this privy will be left standing (held fast and nurtured by brother tree) long after all the others in the Adirondacks have toppled. The second is that it was occupied at the time Nature called simultaneously!
There are clear “Trail” signs through the private land, and there is a large dead, grey tree trunk with a right-hand-pointed log edge sign attached. It is engraved with “ALLEN”, the letters highlighted in iridescent orange. The early part of the herd path is well marked with yellow disks which first mix with and then give way to orange streamers. At one section there is a false trail that backtracking cures. After that, it’s all herd path, slides, monkey bars, slides, monkey bars ad infinitum, ad nauseam. At 3,400 feet I abandon my poles in favor of emulating a baboon. It takes me FOUR HOURS from the ALLEN sign to the summit, THREE+ HOURS to return to the sign. My pre-trek dread is justified, and my legs are numb second only to my brain. I know it’s more psychological than physical as I have completed longer, tougher one-day treks, but there it is.
On the return leg, I'm using my poles to part the heavy foliage and grass ahead of me. This saves my actually stepping on two garter snakes communing side by side in the treadway underneath. Black with parallel yellow stripes down their sides, they slither off in unison, yielding the path to me.
By the time I reach Lake Colden at the end of the day, I can think of nothing else other than jumping in the lake. So, I do!!
Allen, Allen. First in the alphabet peak soup, but last in my book!
In this trip report, I will only address Marshall, Allen ... and "the bear by a nose".
For this trip, a full pack with enough food for 5-6 days, a 2+ lb. bear canister included, and my daypack for the individual mountain excursions from targeted base camps are required. In the interest of saving weight, I forego my traditional orange treat atop each peak.
Day 1, Marshall & the Bear
The walk from Heart Lake via Avalanche Pass and Avalanche Lake to Colden Lake is very familiar now. What’s new are the large numbers of bear tracks I see, both small and large, in the soft mud along the trail. The tracks are thick in Avalanche Pass, and extend all the way to Lake Colden. The freshness and depth of a preceding hiker’s tread occasionally overlapped by a large bear’s toes give me the impression that the bear is actually following the hiker ahead of me. OK, bear, I’m following you! Now who’s looking over whose shoulder??
I arrive at the Beaver Lean-To at 11:15 am, stake my claim to a piece of the lean-to floor, have an early lunch, set up my day pack, and strike out for Marshall. Following the descriptions I have read about the Herbert Brook Trail and cairn, I head for “the bridge” across Herbert Brook but don’t find the cairn on either side. I do find the Yellow Trail to Indian Pass River. After some searching, I elect the Yellow Trail to the height of land between Iroquois and Marshall. Going over the height and starting down again, I backtrack in search of the herd path to Marshall. It’s at the right-hand bend in the trail with a “Trail” sign in the tree. The herd path is somewhat faint but discernable, and though it winds around drunkenly, it’s heading in the right direction. Topping the false summit, I can see the true summit. Intercepting the preferred herd path up Herbert Brook, I complete the summit, and then follow Herbert Brook down. This is much better ... and prettier.
Surprise! I find that the cairn at the bottom of Herbert Brook is on the other side of Colden Dam. I miss-read my original position on the map by missing the "O" symbol and confusing the dual, side-by-side lean-to symbols for the Outpost location. Ah well, it's not like I could actually get lost in this region. I give myself high marks for my herdpath finding and bushwhacking skills, and focus on paying closer attention to where I am at all times.
Like you, Marshall, I prefer the direct approach. Come straight at me!
I return to Beaver Lean-To and the debris of packs and strewn gear. Eight physical ed majors are out for their obligatory 4-day, 2-peak trek. Because the next lean-to is overflowing and they have a community tent, they elect to leave their packs beside Beaver Lean-To and to sleep uphill tonight. By the time they “clean up”, swallow their toothpaste and depart, it’s after 9:00 pm. The sons of a father-mother-daughter-sons group arrive from the adjacent lean-to, drop their packs and go uphill to hang their food bags.
It’s now 9:23 pm and it’s dark. I’m zippered inside my bug bivvy, head out for the air. I hear a bear approach from the right. It snuffs the backpacks outside the lean-to. Next it sticks its nose into the lean-to and snuffs the packs inside. As the floor of the lean-to is around 3 feet off the ground, I know this is a large bear. Its head is now less than 3 feet from mine. As it’s seeking aromas far from mine, I don’t move. If it comes any closer, it smells me and I smell its breath, one of us will make the next decision. Intelligent opportunist and non-aggressor that it is, it makes the right decision for us both, and departs.
Brother Bear, we must always remember that we come to your home. Respecting that, we need have no fear of you.
Day 2 & Allen
Still-stressed legs dangling from the lean-to’s threshold, my mind has just achieved command over its own fog and the mist that caresses the lake and mountains beyond. At that pivotal moment, ripples in the lake’s still waters invade my right-hand peripheral vision at the north-easterly edge of the lean-to. Leaning out, I find the source to be a beaver balanced on a submerged rock some 10 feet off shore, breakfasting on the bark of a twig. The motor awakening my camera signals its departure. My picture is that of its right-faced eye leading a V-trail away from me.
I’m on the trail early to dreaded Allen. I have read nothing good about this mountain and its attendant trails. My trip plan shows a significant elevation loss to the low land along the Opalescent before the climb to Allen. I put my legs in motion, and my mind on auto-pilot ... except for checking where I am periodically.
The walk skirting Flowed Lands is pleasant. I take the gravel bed along the water’s edge for views, and return to the trail at the Flowed Lands Lean-To. The easterly traverse on the rickety rocks across the Opalescent is amusing. The river gorge along the Opalescent’s eastern bank is spectacular. Below, and over small land rises, the blow-down and foliage fill-in conspire to choke the trail such that only the slight seam in the foliage cap hints of the trail underneath. The red trail markers are few, varied and far apart in this area. The intermittent rain and high humidity also conspire with the foliage’s overgrowth to soak me from the chest down. I’m at once rewarded by an abundance of sweet raspberries and blackberries (some hikers incorrectly label these blueberries), and punished by their thorns.
Along the low lands before the bridge crossing at Upper Twin Brook, I pass the one and lonely designated campsite in this area. I laugh out loud at the adjacent privy. It’s been compressed and slightly contorted by a large tree that has fallen on the head. Two thoughts flash simultaneously. The first is that this privy will be left standing (held fast and nurtured by brother tree) long after all the others in the Adirondacks have toppled. The second is that it was occupied at the time Nature called simultaneously!
There are clear “Trail” signs through the private land, and there is a large dead, grey tree trunk with a right-hand-pointed log edge sign attached. It is engraved with “ALLEN”, the letters highlighted in iridescent orange. The early part of the herd path is well marked with yellow disks which first mix with and then give way to orange streamers. At one section there is a false trail that backtracking cures. After that, it’s all herd path, slides, monkey bars, slides, monkey bars ad infinitum, ad nauseam. At 3,400 feet I abandon my poles in favor of emulating a baboon. It takes me FOUR HOURS from the ALLEN sign to the summit, THREE+ HOURS to return to the sign. My pre-trek dread is justified, and my legs are numb second only to my brain. I know it’s more psychological than physical as I have completed longer, tougher one-day treks, but there it is.
On the return leg, I'm using my poles to part the heavy foliage and grass ahead of me. This saves my actually stepping on two garter snakes communing side by side in the treadway underneath. Black with parallel yellow stripes down their sides, they slither off in unison, yielding the path to me.
By the time I reach Lake Colden at the end of the day, I can think of nothing else other than jumping in the lake. So, I do!!
Allen, Allen. First in the alphabet peak soup, but last in my book!
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