Music and Life

I had planned out another big 15 mile, 3 peak hike for this weekend. My bag was packed meticulously, all the clothes I would wear laid out in the order in which I'd put them on, an itinerary written out, and a letter written to my girlfriend to tell her where I would be in case I got lost or hurt. I was uncharacteristically in bed by 10 o' clock, ready to wake up before dawn to get a start on my big day. But then I woke up with a ghoulish feeling, as if a behemoth was standing above me, ready to come down on the back of my neck.

I began thinking about my hike the next day. I would have to wake up really early to get to the Garden parking lot before it was too full and then race to complete it before it got dark. I wouldn't be here in the morning to spend time with my girlfriend and I probably wouldn't get back until late. It seemed like I was rushing through the 46 peaks instead of enjoying the journey.

I had, at first, planned on an easy day of hiking Lyon Mountain. It's not a 46er peak but it's only half an hour away and I could take my time. I wouldn't have to deal with a crowded parking lot or a long drive. In fact, I had wanted to hike Lyon Mountain for over a year now but I've never gotten around to it. Becoming a 46er should be a journey, not a race. The peaks will always be there for me, what's the hurry?

Instead of sleeping I decided to get some apple pie and ice cream and listen to some music that I just downloaded. I'll sleep in tomorrow and have a nice relaxing day.

46er Peaks 2-4 - Wright, Algonquin, Iroquois & Avalanche Pass

The Great Range viewed from Algonquin Peak.

This was a big day for me. When I woke up the next morning after 11 hours of sleep, I was scraped, bruised and blistered. It was the kind of trip that you describe as "fun" with a heavy dose of masochism. But the roughest ones always make for the best memories.

I had a feeling this trip was going to kick my butt so I woke up at 5am and got in the car. When I got to the Loj, I had missed sunrise by about 20 minutes and when I stepped out of the car it was a brisk 38 degrees. I knew it would be cold, but I didn't think it would be this cold. I threw on a fleece from my back seat and hit the trail.

It was quiet and peaceful and I could see my breath in the sunlight poking through the trees. About 50 feet in front of me, a bird looking very much like a fat sparrow landed on a pine tree branch. As I approached it, I noticed that it looked hump-backed. When I got within 10 feet of it, it turned it’s head around 180 degrees and looked at me and it wasn't a sparrow at all. It was a tiny owl. Before I could grab my camera, the owl flew off into the pine trees.

When I got home I looked up owls of New York and found that it must have been a sleepy Northern Saw-Whet. They only grow to 7 inches tall and can be approached quite closely during the day when they aren't usually very active.

Not long after, I came to the fork in the trail and turned right down the trail to Wright and Algonquin. The trail began a very slight incline and went through areas of beautiful, tall white birch trees. The hiking got a bit rockier and a bit steeper, but it was still easy going. Compared to the trails of Vermont and New Hampshire, this was a 4 lane highway.

At some point between the Van Hoevenberg trail and the trail to Wright Peak, I ran into a group of 3 guys who saw that I signed in with a 585 number at the trail register. They asked where I was from and I told them I was from Rochester, New York originally. They explained that’s where they were from as well.

The trail gets progressively stepper and rockier until it comes to the trail marker for Wright Peak. The path to Wright climbs up slick, wet rock. From the summit I could see my next destination - Algonquin. It looked surprisingly imposing for a summit less than a mile away, but I was feeling good and my legs were still fresh. I met up with the 3 guys from Rochester again. We get to talking and it turns out they’re planning on the same exact hike as me. I had a long ways still to go so I had a snack and then head back down the summit.

Back on the trail to Algonquin, it was a slow, steep hike to the tree line and then there’s some more scrambling to the summit. From the top, there were spectacular views of the high peaks, Lake Placid, Wallface, Lake Colden and even Vermont. The peak was pretty crowded with hikers and I was starting to get cold from the wind so I pick out a wind break and ate lunch. And I had just climbed the second highest mountain in New York and I wasn’t even 1/3 of the way done with my hike.

From the south side of the summit I could make out my next destination - Iroquois. At tree line there’s a large sign reading “Foot Path” with a yellow arrow pointing to the left. The herd path to Iroquois went straight ahead. I headed down the narrow path and after 10 feet or so a couple of hikers behind me started yelling, “Hey, you’re going the wrong way! The foot path is this way!” I thanked them for trying to help and explained that I was going to Iroquois peak. Some day I really am going to be going the wrong way and when that happens I hope there’s someone to yell at me.

The herd path to Iroquois was a lot of fun. I kind of bounced from the branches on one side of the narrow path to the branches on the other side. Just when I was starting to think it wasn’t that muddy, I came to an open clearing. I took one step forward and my boot sank a foot into the ground. It was a bit of a shock and I hurried to pull it out. The trail was just as muddy as everyone says, but it seemed like there were just enough rocks and fallen trees to step on without falling in.

On top of Iroquois there were more great views of the Adirondacks. Looking back at Algonquin, it was now comically crowded - as if a a crowd was gathering there to see a band. I had now hiked 6.9 miles and been to the summits of 3 of the highest peaks in the Adirondacks. If only there was an elevator down. On the way back down the herd path I ran into the 3 guys from Rochester. Turns out they took a wrong turn and followed the foot path down Algonquin instead of the herd path to Iroquois, but they realized it after 10 minutes and turned around.

I got back to the Algonquin trail a bit more tired that I expected. The herd path, while fun, does take a bit more out of you than an official marked trail. I headed down the foot path on the south side of Algonquin. I had read that this was some of the most continuously steep hiking in the Adirondacks but nothing I read prepared me for the real thing. My legs were starting to get seriously sore from trying to fight gravity and I had blisters from walking on the balls of my feet down the steep, flat rocks. By the time I reached the bottom, I was spent. I pumped some more water and had a snack.

The rest of the way was somewhat unpleasant. I had a splitting headache and I was stumbling over rocks like a drunk person. But the views were fantastic and Avalanche Pass was relatively flat. I walked very slowly to Avalanche Lake and took a long rest. Then I stumbled to the north end of Avalanche Lake and took an even longer rest. I was entertained by some rock climbers on the side of Mt. Colden struggling with some shrubs growing in the side of the cliff.

Eventually the 3 guys from Rochester caught up to me again. I walked with them for the remaining 2 miles or so to the Marcy Dam. They were just as tired as I was and the conversation was a welcome distraction. They asked what I did for a living and I explained how I left my job in Rochester to hike the Appalachian Trail but then my girlfriend was diagnosed with Leukemia so I became her caretaker. The oldest of the 3 guys told me heartbreaking stories about his brother who was diagnosed with an untreatable form of lymphoma. It was almost as if we were handpicked to carry each other through the last bit of this hike.

At the dam, they sat down and rested for a bit. I was tired and out of water so I said goodbye to them and kept going. The last 2 miles to the Loj were incredibly slow going, but eventually I got back to the Loj at 6:30 with an hour of daylight to spare. I grabbed a coke from the vending machine, popped some Ibuprofen and headed home.

Majestic birch trees line the Algonquin trail.

Approaching the summit of Wright Peak.

Mt. Marcy and Mt. Colden as seen from Wright.

Looking north from Wright, Heart Lake is seen in the foreground, then Lake Placid and Whiteface Mt. in the distance.

My next destination - Algonquin as seen from Wright.

The final scramble to the summit of Algonquin, second highest point in New York.

The slides of Mt. Colden shimmering in the morning light.

My next desitnation - Iroquois as seen from the south side of Algonquin.

The muddy herd path to Iroquois, Boundary Peak in the distance.

Lake Colden and the Flowed Land from Iroquois.

Looking east from Iroquois. Vermont can be seen in the far distance - Mt. Mansfield is above Big Slide and Camels Hump is just to the left of Giant Mt.

Wallface as seen from Boundary Peak.

A couple of hikers relax on the south side of Avalanche Lake.

One of the many hitch-up-Matilda's.

The trap dike in the side of Mt. Colden.

A rock climber struggling with the shrubs on the side of Colden.

One of the many ladders in Avalanche Pass.

The the loneliest trees in the Adirondacks. This is the view from the north end of Avlanche Lake.

46er Peak #1 - Mt. Marcy

I did not know it at the time, but Mt. Marcy the highest point in New York, is the most common peak for aspiring 46er's to hike first. Of course, had I known I would attempt to hike the 46 highest peaks in the Adirondacks, I may have done things differently. Back in July, I hiked Marcy in order to train for a section hike of the Applachian Trail. It was a beautiful 60 degree day, perfect weather for hiking.I set out from the Adirondack Loj around 10am because I'm lazy and I don't like waking up early. Seems strange to go about hiking the highest mountain in the state in a lazy way, but it makes sense to me and it was my trip. From the Loj, I would hike the Van Hoevenberg trail - a 14.8 mile round trip with 3166 feet of elevation gain.

I begin the hike in my normal speedy fashion, bouncing over the trail mud, roots and all. But I have an uneasy feeling about the trail beginning by going downhill. Every foot of elevation I'm losing will have to be made up later. There's a boardwalk through a swamp and a relatively flat, uneventful 2.3 mile hike to the Marcy Dam. At the dam, there are beautiful views of Mt. Colden, scarred by it's telltale slide and the 50 year old wooden dam itself. The Marcy Brook has been dammed for over a century, but the previous dams were temporary and were used to hold back water that would be used to float lumber down stream to mills.



From the dam, the path meanders up through the path the Phelps Brook carved to the south of Phelps Mt. The trail is muddy, then rocky, then muddy and rocky. The woods around the trail are quite thick, giving everything a dark spooky feel. You really feel as if you are in the middle of a great, inhospitable wilderness. It brought to mind the origin of the word Adirondack. It was originally a derogatory term used by Mohawk speaking people to describe Algonquin speaking people who sometimes forced into the area by more powerful tribes around them. It means roughly "those who eat trees", which is a reference to how living in the Adirondack area was often so harsh that those who did it would be reduced to eating tree bark for sustenance.



At last the trail crosses the Phelps brook and then ascends a stairway of boulders and muddy switch backs. Every 15 minutes or so I let out a little whistle because I'm a quiet thinker when I'm hiking and I don't want any bears to stumble across me. I know it's extremely rare to be injured by a black bear and I've seen firsthand how clumsy and skiddish they tend to be around people. I know my fear isn't rational, but the bears in the Adirondacks are really sneaky. They open the bear proof canisters meant to baffle them and they swim marathon distances out to islands where unsuspecting campers thought they didn't need to hang up their food. Maybe they're tired of eating the bark off trees.


So I whistle, mile after mile, mind wandering in the woods. I bumble on by the sign that says something about severe weather and not proceeding beyond this point without proper something or other... blah, blah (just kidding, I really do take being prepared quite seriously). And after a long, muddy walk I am rewarded with my life blood - the view from above tree line. I stop to admire the view and I'm filled with a rush of adrenaline. Good thing too - I get a view of the summit and an filled with the realization of how far I still have to go. The last 0.6 miles is a scramble which resembles rock climbing more than hiking in some parts.


But past the scramble, I'm again rewarded with serene views. The wind and the large flat surfaces give one the feeling that they're on top the world - or perhaps the moon. The views don't look real. They look like the surface of a raised globe with colors painted on. The view from the top of New York is beautiful.


The trip down is uneventful. I stop once in a clearing in order to take off the wool cap and jacket which I adorned for the windy summit. I then hike the 5 or so miles back down to the dam without stopping to rest once. At the dam I enjoy some home made jerky and drink my last bit of water. I look back to see the high peaks are now completely socked in by clouds. Had I been a few hours late, I wouldn't have seen anything from the summit. Eager to get to my car where I have more water waiting for me, I practically jog the last 2 miles, passing multiple groups of hikers. One asks where I'm headed from and when I tell him "Marcy" he says, "long day, huh?" It rains on and off but I make it to my car before it really starts coming down and I'm on my way home. The entire trip took just over 9 hours, including the time I spent at the top admiring the view.

Camels Hump

Looking south from the trail, Mt. Mansfield in the background.

Arguably the most iconic mountain in the State of Vermont, Camels Hump was the mountain chosen to adorn the state quarter. On a clear day, the summit offers a 360 degree view which includes Mt. Marcy, Mt. Mansfield and Mt. Washington, the highest points in New York, Vermont and New Hampshire, respectively. One can also enjoy views of Lake Champlain and Burlington.

The summit is the third highest in Vermont, at just over 4,000 feet. The Burrows Trail is the most direct route, at only 2.4 miles one way. This is the trail I took and it made for a moderate four hour trip, including the half hour I spent eating lunch and admiring the view at the top. At 0.3 miles from the summit the Burrows Trail gives way to the Long Trail. Combined with the 0.1 miles that I spent on the Long Trail while hiking Mt. Mansfield, I now have only 271.6 miles to go to hike the trail entirely. Almost there!

Like most New England trails, this one was short and steep. It started out gradual and then increased in steepness until it came to an open meadow where it intersected with alternative routes up the mountain from the other (west) side and the Long Trail. Within moments of departing the meadow, the trail ascends above tree line. From there, it is a short walk to the summit.

Clearing where multiple trails intersect 0.3 miles from the summit.

Above tree line.

Looking west form summit, Presidential Range of New Hampshire in far background.

Geological survey marker. It reads "Camels Rump", the former name of the mountain.