Adirondack Death March

The view from Algonquin, the second highest peak in the park

Wright Peak (4580 ft) (16th Highest Peak in ADKs)
Algonquin Peak (5114 ft) (2nd Highest Peak in ADKs)
Iroquois Peak (4810 ft) (8th Highest Peak in ADKs)

Difficulty: Steep and Strenuous, both up and down
Date of Summit: 8/14/2008
Total Distance Hiked: 13.6 miles
Trip Time: 10.5 hrs
Total Ascent from hiking 3 peaks: 3753 ft
Temperature: Low 70's

Never again. Don't get me wrong, it was an amazing experience, but I'll never go through agony like that again. The problem wasn't that I was attempting three high peaks in one day. It was attempting the three peaks plus both descending via the steepest trail in the park and conveniently running out of water halfway through the trip.

This guy sat next to me during my morning break

If I had been smart, I would have hiked up to the three peaks and returned back down the same way, thus lowering my total distance to a mere 11.6, two miles less than what I ended up hiking. Instead, I followed the exact route that Martin Heintzelman and I had planned to hike on our overnight trip a few months ago (we ended up hiking just Mt. Marshall, the other peak in the MacIntyre Range - see that post for details). This day hike was a big, grueling loop - I would summit the other three peaks in the MacIntyre Range (Wright, Algonquin, and Iroquois), then take the Algonquin-Lake Colden Trail, which sharply drops 2,000 vertical feet from the col near the backside of Algonquin. After reaching the valley near Lake Colden, I would take Avalanche Pass back to the parking area, via Marcy Dam. In my head it was an achievable goal, but by the end of the trip my legs were telling me otherwise.

The 13.6 Mile Death March

I started out at the trail head at 8am, fresh and ready for adventure. The first leg of the trip went by quickly, and before I knew it, I had reached the intersection of the Wright Peak side trail and the main Algonquin trail. I took the Wright Peak side trail, which proceeded to climb another 500 feet over the next half mile. The summit was well worth the last strenuous half mile, as the bald peak was adorned with large trail cairns and had wonderful views of the surrounding area.

Beautiful six-foot tall Cairns on the approach to Wright's summit

Wright Peak has a bit of history to it as well. It was named after Governor Silas Wright, but is also the site of a memorial to four US Air Force officers, who crashed their B-47 Bomber into the mountain in 1962. Supposedly, there is both a plaque memorializing their lives, as well as artifacts from the plane wreckage still atop the mountain. I was unable to find any evidence, so I guess that gives me a good excuse to return for another look sometime soon.

Atop Wright Peak

I noticed a few things while on Wright Peak. First, Algonquin is HUGE. Even standing atop Wright, it loomed another 1,000 feet higher as its head poked up above the clouds. I also realized how puny and pathetic Mt. Jo is from this peak. It looked like a small anthill from 4580 feet up, which makes sense since Jo is only about 2800 feet. I couldn't help but laugh, since I've made the Mt. Jo hike with family members on two different occasions, both in the summer and late fall. It was also amazing to see how far I had hiked from starting at Heart Lake, in just a couple of hours time.

I think I can see my car from here!

From Wright Peak - the mighty Algonquin waits to be conquered...

After a conversation with a fellow hiker and a quick snack, I was on my way again. I quickly descended the side trail back down to where it meets up with the main Algonquin trail, and promptly rejoined the somewhat steady stream of commuters who were slowly making their way up the mountainside. I hiked for another steep mile, climbing 1,000 feet, and there I was - atop the second highest peak in the park.

Atop Algonquin, Looking down on the Flowed Lands

It was absolutely wonderful. I could see for miles in all directions, wishing that I had the patience to sit down with my map and locate every peak surrounding my position. It was quite chilly on the summit - perhaps high 50's with a decent wind, so one did not sit still for long without having to put on long sleeves. There were probably about 15-20 people on the top of the mountain at any given time, a crowd spanning all ages and hiking abilities.

The Slides of Mt. Colden from Algonquin (Marcy in the distance)

The summit steward was dutifully making his rounds, striking up conversation with as many people he could. Summit stewards are funded by the ADK Mtn Club, Nature Conservancy, and the DEC (Department of Environmental Conservation). The steward hikes up the mountain at sunrise, stays atop all day, and hikes down the mountain at sunset. They stay up there to educate the public on the fragility of the plants in the alpine zone, which is the area above the tree-line.

Atop Algonquin, Iroquois in the distance

I had lunch in my own little quiet corner of Algonquin's summit (it's a tabletop summit almost the size of a football field), with a million dollar view that costs absolutely nothing but a couple hours of exercise. I had already climbed two high peaks today - it was now on to my final peak for the day - Iroquois. I began the descent down the backside of Algonquin, towards Boundary Peak and Iroquois.

The backside of Algonquin, from Boundary Peak

Within 15 minutes of leaving Algonquin's summit, I had already reached Iroquois' summit! I couldn't believe how easy it was to reach this peak! Then I realized something - I was standing on Boundary Peak (this small peak was actually the boundary line between the Iroquois and Algonquin nations, hundreds of years ago) - Iroquois was still a great distance ahead of me! I once again set off for my destination, through a herd trail that was obviously well-used, but extremely narrow and claustrophobic. It was satisfying to reach the summit of Iroquois, because I could finally catch a glimpse of Mt. Marshall, which I climbed a few months earlier. Once again, a peak I had hiked earlier now looked extremely small, looking down from the eighth highest peak in the park.

Atop Iroquois, looking at Mt. Marshall (which Martin Heintzelman and I hiked in June)

After an extremely quick pause atop Iroquois, I backtracked to the col between Boundary and Algonquin. It was the next 1.7 mile stretch that completely broke me. It was 2,000 feet of nothing but vertical drops, consisting of rock face and boulders. Basically, I was hiking in a stream/waterfall bed, and with every step down, my joints and thighs would cringe.

Yep, that's the trail...dropping 2,000 vertical feet over just 1.7 miles

At about 1/3 of the way through this torturous descent, I ran into a couple from Canada. They were having trouble, mainly because the woman's boots had completely fallen apart. The rubber soles had worn away to nothing, exposing the steel shank in each boot as if it were a flapping tongue on its sole. They were planning to hike up to Algonquin and back down to the parking lot, but I convinced them otherwise, as I was really not sure how much further she would make it in those boots and it was starting to get a bit late. That's one thing that I have always taken seriously - your feet should be the one thing that you pamper more than anything else in hiking.

Another trail shot (it doesn't look it, but that is one steep grade...)

It was also about this time that I ran out of water. I had packed two liters of water, but just as I underestimated the size of this hike, I also underestimated my water supply. Luckily, I had potable aqua tablets (iodine tablets) that I used. After dropping one of those tablets into my bottle of fresh stream water, I was once again on my way. When one is that thirsty, they don't mind if the water tastes a bit like a swimming pool.

My emergency water source

I finally got to Avalanche Lake, but I was tired from head to toe and really beginning to worry. My legs (thighs) were so worn out that they would give way with too much weight (so I bore much of that weight on my poles), so I had no choice but to walk straight-legged like a robot for a good portion of the final five miles. To make things worse, I was also once again dehydrated. But this time I was not willing to try the potable aqua, for I just didn't trust the stagnate lake water (I imagined all the Giardia and Cryptosporidium Baddies meeting up down in the lake for a big party, just praying that some stupid hiker with those silly iodine tablets would be desperate enough...).

Beautiful Avalanche Lake (looks much different than two months ago!)

As I stumbled down the trail, weak and cottonmouthy, only one thing could keep me focused on my goal - the drinking water faucet back at the parking lot and the (now necessary) stop I would be making at McDonald's on the way home. I kicked it into high gear and played through the pain (my mom would be proud - I even struck into "I think I can, I think I can..." at one point in my final miles), finally arriving at my car (and that sweet, sweet water) exactly 10.5 hours after I began, at 6:30pm. Exhausted and barely able to walk, I thanked God that I made it back to my car in one piece. My wife thinks I'm crazy for doing that hike, and I'd have to agree with her - it's been over 24 hours since I completed the hike and I'm still barely making it up and down the stairs due to muscle soreness. But I just can't get the mantra out of my head: "6 peaks down, 40 more to go..."

First Overnight Trip in the Adirondacks

Lake Colden at 8am on June 4th
(Avalanche Pass in the distance, with Mt. Colden on the right)

Total length of hike: 16 miles (about 10 on the first day and 6 on the second)
Dates of trip: 6/3 - 6/4, 2008
Goal: Summit 3 High Peaks: Wright, Algonquin, & Iroquois
Trailhead: Adirondack Loj Parking Lot
Campsite Location: Lake Colden
Temperature & Weather: Drizzles on the first day, clear on the 2nd day, low 60's

It finally happened. After a long dryspell, I've finally made it out into the wilderness again with a pack on my back. In the past five years, I've moved six different times between 3 states, gotten married, received my MFA, and landed a teaching job. Luckily, I think that might be a good enough excuse as to why it's been so long. Another excuse is that I haven't had anyone to accompany me on these trips, so to find Martin Heintzelman (a colleague in the Business school at Clarkson University), was quite the blessing.

Due to this trip being the first in many years for both of us, we decided to take it easy and plan for just two days (and one night) of backpacking in the Adirondacks. We were aiming to bag three of the high peaks (the 46 high peaks of the ADK's are all above 4,000 ft in elevation) on this trip. With our 40 lb. packs strapped to our backs, we would summit Wright, Algonquin, and Iroquois Mountains on the first day, descend to Avalanche Lake to camp overnight, and hike back to the car on the second day, through the famously beautiful Avalanche Pass.

After hiking 10 muddy miles the first day

About a week before we even set foot on the trail, we both realized that fate was trying to tell us something. The original date for this trip was over a week before we actually took it - our bags were packed, food was portioned out, and we both were ready to leave for the park on May 22nd at 6am. At 5:30am that morning, I woke up to find my wife, Emily, extremely sick. Just as I was about to call Martin to postpone the trip, he called me to inform me that his baby son, Erik, was also sick. We took this as a sign, and decided to reschedule the trip (to make matters worse, I became sick with a pretty bad cold myself, which decided to be stubborn and continue to stick around through our rescheduled date. But that's a different story for a different time).

One of the Red Efts that we saw on our hike

About a week and a half later, on June 3rd, we finally arrived in the park. While registering at the trailhead, we started talking with fellow hikers about our plans. After hearing our described route, the faces of nearly every single person we talked to became pallid and serious. They commented that ascent of these peaks was no problem - perhaps a bit hard with 40 extra pounds on your back, but doable. But their description of the backside of Algonquin (our planned descent) sounded like a cross between descending Mount Everest and going over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Words and phrases such as "ladders", "cliff-face", and "the trail is actually a waterfall" began to weigh heavily on our worries - perhaps fate was again putting a big kibosh on our ignorant Adirondack aspirations.

Don't Drink and Row...(Photo Courtesy of Martin Heintzelman)

After some careful thinking (about our limbs, our families, and our lives) we decided to re-route our trip, using the Avalanche Pass (which was originally going to be our exit trail) as our entrance route. The new plan was that we would hike fast and furious to our lean-to, drop our stuff, and climb Algonquin from the backside (yes, the treacherous route) with only a small amount of supplies in our fanny packs, thus making it easier to maneuver the challenging trail. This way, we would still fulfill our goal of 3 summits, just from a different approach.

Looking from Marcy Dam to Avalanche Pass and Mt. Colden (left, with bald spots)

At about 2 miles into the easy-going trail, we came across quite a beautiful (and popular) site, called Marcy Dam. Looking out over the lake, we could see Mt. Colden, with it's bald rock faces breaking up the dense tree cover on its mountainside. Those rock faces also marked the beginning of Avalanche Pass, which we were excited to get to, due to it's reputation as such a sublime hiking spot in the Adirondacks (this was a bit over 1 mile from Marcy Dam).

Evidence of past Avalanches down the bald face of Mt. Colden

The beginning of Avalanche Pass was quite obvious. As we left a thick section of the forest, we came upon quite a site - HUNDREDS of trees lay before us, piled up like twigs on the trail. It was quite apparent why Avalanche Pass deserved its name. Mt. Colden's bald faces act as a gigantic slip 'n' slides during the winter months. Trees and other organic debris come tumbling down the cliff after major ice and snow storms, leaving piles of the mountain's forest at its base.

Avalanche Pass & Avalanche Lake, looking south

From there, the view and experience only became more spectacular. The valley opened up into beautiful Avalanche Lake, which was lined on both sides by the vertical cliffs of Mt Colden and Avalanche Mountain. But wait - how does one hike on the side of a cliff? In all of our combined years of hiking experience, neither one of us had ever seen anything like the next mile of trail that lay before us. This trail, which would help us get past Avalanche Lake, was both a backpacker's nightmare (remember, we're carrying 40 lbs on our backs) and a trail blazer's masterpiece. Ladders, stairs, and cantilevered boardwalks allowed us to crawl over giant boulders and walk alongside the edges of Avalanche Mountain's enormous cliffs. The mile-long segment that we expected to breeze through in 20 minutes ended up taking us over an hour to finish. Our hopes of setting up camp by noon and attempting the 3-peak summit was quickly disappearing - as was our energy, from experiencing such a rigorous lesson in what it truly means to backpack in the Adirondacks.

Midway through Avalanche Pass, Martin on a cantilevered boardwalk

Once we conquered Avalanche Pass, we began our search for a lean-to. Lean-To's were first constructed in the Adirondacks during the logging days, serving as simple to build, yet spacious and effective shelters that could sleep 8-12 people. In the primitive and rugged backcountry, staying in a lean-to is like staying in a 5-star hostel (if that exists...). You get the structure (three walls, a floor, and a roof), space (sleeping room for 8), and amenities (outhouse) all taken care of for you. The catch is that you need to be prepared to share it with up to seven other strangers. Even if your gear is sprawled across the empty lean-to floor and you're ready to turn in for a quiet night's sleep, you must be prepared to scoot over for that party of six backpackers that are rolling into camp around 10pm (in total darkness), looking for a place to rest. It's definitely backcountry camping roullete, but a majority of hikers are willing to play this game in order to enjoy the luxuries of the legendary lean-to.

Avalanche Pass , looking north

Lean-To, Sweet Lean-To

After considering the forecast (it was forecast to RAIN RAIN RAIN straight, for both days...), our goal of finding shelter became even more important, as we would be able to keep our gear dry by stashing and hanging everything under a roof. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea as us, as we found that many of the lean-to's were already claimed and occupied. After about an extra mile and a half of hiking, we finally found a lean-to that was available. To once again look to fate's hand, we discovered that the name of this out of the way lean-to was McMartin, a name which only further solidified our belief that this structure must be there for us!

It must be a sign! (plural...)

Inside our Lean-To (the tarps/ponchos helped keep the heat in overnight)

After setting up camp (which consisted of me going horizontal for about 20 minutes) and eating some lunch (summer sausage, cheddar cheese, and crusty rolls!), we took another look at our plan. At this point, it was about two o'clock in the afternoon, and we had a few options. Backtrack to try for Algonquin, attempt to summit Colden (which you saw in a few of the photos above - the one with the SHEER CLIFF), or try for the humble, oft-overlooked Mt. Marshall. We both realized that we would probably never find ourselves so close to Mt. Marshall again (the McMartin lean-to sat somewhat near the foot of Mt. Marshall, overlooking a bog), and it is also one of the famed "herd-trail" 46 high peaks. Herd trails are not official trails - there are no blazes and the trail is often extremely primitive and underused. We saw this as a challenge and immediately decided to ditch our 3-peak weekend for the unloved and unpopular Mt. Marshall.

View from Mt. Marshall Summit, looking south

Mt. Marshall (4368 ft)

Difficulty: Steep
Date of Summit: 6/3/2008
Trail head to Summit: 1.5 miles
Trip Time: 4 hrs
Ascent: 1600 ft
Temperature: low 60's

Yes, this river bed is the trail...

With fanny packs strapped-on, we departed around 2pm for this seemingly short ascent (1.5 miles to the top from our lean-to, climbing 1600 feet). I had not drunk enough water. I had eaten too many salty sausage and cheddar cheese slices. To really make it bad, I was still sick from a week before with a head cold and pretty bad cough. I probably should have acknowledged those signs BEFORE we left, but being 28 and eager, I decided to embrace the "it's only 1.5 miles! c'mon!" attitude. That of course was a terrible decision, as about halfway up the trail, it became extremely steep and very hard for me keep up pace with Martin (he's also quite fit, as he is an avid biker, so that didn't make me look very good either - thanks Martin!). The hike was beautiful though, as it followed a mountain spring/waterfall for nearly the entire ascent.

Example of a trail cairn

Since the trail had no blazes, we had to look out for cairns. A cairn is an artificial (obviously human-made) pile of stones, often in a conical/pyramid form. On the trail, cairns are most commonly found on the summit of a mountain or to mark a change of direction on a trail. The trail blazers of this herd path did a wonderful job of keeping us going in the right direction, as it seemed that every turn was marked by a new cairn. Once at the top, we were treated to a spectacular (yet cropped by trees) southern view of the Adirondacks. We snapped our pictures to document our high peak ascent and started our descent of the mountain (it took us roughly two hours just to summit Marshall, which again was surprisingly slower than we expected). By 6pm, we were back at our campsite. We cooked some dinner (veggie chili with apple pie for dessert!) and turned in for the night (around 8:30pm).

Atop Mt. Marshall at 4368 ft.

Martin Heintzelman on Mt. Marshall (his first high peak ascent!)

We awoke the next day around 7:oo am and after a swig of hot Tang courtesy of chef Martin, we were on the trail a little after 8:00 am. Since we were taking the same trail back as we had taken in, we had a pretty good handle on the amount of time it would take us, as well as what we could expect as far as trail conditions. We were blessed with hardly any rain throughout the first day of hiking, and our second day yielded not a drop from the sky, making the hike out very pleasant (aside from the massive aches and pains both of us had acquired after sleeping for 10 hours). We arrived at the parking lot around 1:30pm, a bit more dirty, a bit more sore, and much wiser.

Example of the type of trail we walked on during this trip

This trip helped us realize that the Adirondacks are a bit more complex than we originally assumed. We've learned that we can't just start climbing the high peaks with our 40 lb packs - we need to approach it more responsibly, so that we can not only achieve our goal, but enjoy doing it as well. Much of this is due to the unique nature of the Adirondacks. Unlike a national park or forest, the ADK's don't waste time with "groomed trails" or "switchbacks". In the eyes of an Adirondack outdoor enthusiast or trail volunteer, these sorts of frills just get in the way of experiencing the true wilderness. You want to go up a mountain? Don't waste time with switchbacks or clearing rocks/boulders from the trail - just draw a straight line from the base of the mountain to the summit, and go up the darned thing! Doing so might mean using a riverbed as a trail or perhaps a tree's exposed root system as a ladder, but you'll still accomplish your goal and have stories to tell because of how you did it. Whatever the case, the philosophy of the Adirondacks is clear: If we can keep the Adirondacks rugged, untouched, and wild, our experience will follow in the same manner. I'll be heading back for another trip, just as soon as I can walk again :)

Arab Mountain

The Martins at the Trailhead

Arab Mountain (2545 ft)

Difficulty: Gradual
Date of Summit: 4/19/2008
Trailhead to Summit: 3.4 miles
Trip Time: 3 hrs
Ascent: 760 ft
Temperature: 75 degrees with snow!

This was a hike of firsts.
The first time I've hiked in shorts through a few feet of snow (it was that warm!)
The first time I've hiked with a 3-year old (Martin)
Most importantly, this was Martin's first official SUMMIT!

It was a beautiful day, with the temps clocking in around 75 degrees. We had our official hiking shorts ready, only to find that the trail was either underwater or under two feet of snow almost the entire time. To make things worse, the snow appeared to be firm, yet collapsed under our weight more often than not.

While Martin H. and I have hiked a few different ADK trails together, we had a new hiker join our team for this trip. He's a hearty young chap who doesn't mind getting dirty, has unbelievable stamina, and apparently is driven almost completely by the hope of eating M&M's upon reaching the summit. The kicker? He's only 3-years old! Little Martin (son of big Martin) did an amazing job on his first summit, helping us keep on track by spotting the red trailblazes all along the trail.

Arab Mountain Firetower (w/ Martin inside)

The Martins (taken from the firetower)

The Firewatcher's Cabin on the Summit

After hiking through mud and snow, the summit was definitely worth it, as we were welcomed with a 360 degree view, accessible firetower, and even the old cabin of the firewatcher. I could have spent all day up there. Absolutely beautiful. We came upon 4 Clarkson University students that were camping on the summit all weekend, which has now sparked my desire to get back up there ASAP for an overnight camping trip (complete with outhouse, surprisingly enough!).

Our descent took about 1/8 the time of our ascent. This was thanks to Big Martin, as he pulled a move only a father could, confidently carrying our little hiking partner down the mountain on his shoulders! After a short drive to Lake Placid, we met up with Emily, Louise, and baby Erik, for a much needed lunch at Charlie's.

It was a great trip of firsts, and hopefully the snow thaws soon so the three hiking-musketeers can get back out on the trail!

Little Martin Enjoying his M&M's on the Summit!

St. Regis Mountain

Martin and Me, halfway up St. Regis

St. Regis Mountain (2865 ft)

Difficulty: Gradual, (but read on...)
Date of Summit: 12/15/2007
Trailhead to Summit: 3.4 miles
Trip Time: 4 hrs
Ascent: 1266 ft
Temperature: negative something something

My first time on snowshoes. Quite the experience. Martin Heintzelman and I decided to do a bit of winter hiking before the holidays. Wear on Earth (the Potsdam, NY Outfitter) had only two pairs of snowshoes for rental. Small and BIG. I figured that the bigger the snowshoe, the better. Actually, the bigger the snowshoe, the more snow you're shoveling with your feet with every step. Regardless, it was beautiful. Completely untouched snow the entire hike, which was both good and bad. Unfortunately, the blazes seemed to either be covered with snow or non-existent, leading us to wander through the woods looking for the areas that look the most like they could actually be a path. Did I mention how cold it was? We stopped once for an extended "lunch-break", and after 10 minutes, my leather work gloves that I had taken off had frozen rock-solid, not allowing me to put them back on my hands. (those gloves have been retired for some fleece/wool ones now)

The saddest part of all is that we never actually summited this mountain. We were within 1/2 mile of the summit when the trail completely disappeared. Even if the trail had disappeared, we were prepared to bushwack (snowack?) our way to the summit. But the only problem was that there had been what looked like a freak ice-storm that only had affected areas near the summit. Every single tree had been blown upside down and frozen, creating a field of giant frozen brooms, that were completely and utterly impassable. I can't tell you how angry I was. The first time snowshoeing AND the first time I have not summited an intended peak. Blech.

SNOW


MORE SNOW

McKenzie & Moose Mountains

View from McKenzie's Summit

McKenzie Mountain (3861 ft)
(#55 Highest ADK Peak)

Moose Mountain (3899 ft)
(#50 Highest ADK Peak)

Difficulty: Moderate - Steep (not an ADK trail, but an Shore Owners Association (SOA) trail)
Total trip time (in snow): 6 hrs
(1978 ft ascent)
3.6 miles from trailhead to Summit of McKenzie
3 miles from McKenzie to Moose
3.4 miles from Moose summit to trailhead
(10 mile round-trip hike)

This was my very first hike in the Adirondack Park. I hiked this saddleback pair in October of 2007 with Martin Heintzelman. At the trailhead, it was warm and there wasn't a flake of snow anywhere. By the time we summited the peaks, which lie just outside Lake Placid, there was a sizable amount of snow everywhere! Altitude definitely does make a difference in this case. McKenzie was the first of two peaks we would summit on this day, followed by Moose. Both oare accessed by trails maintained by the Lake Placid Shore Owners Association. Walking by the giant "camps" of the shore owners on the lake near the beginning of the trail provided an interesting counterbalance to what would be the primitive and desolate summit on both McKenzie & Moose. Despite the overcast weather, it was still a beautiful view as the view of the trees quickly succumbed to the fog.

Wind Sculpting the Snow on McKenzie


Martin Heintzelman atop McKenzie


Me, pre-daypack Acquisition

Along the trail on Moose Mtn.

View from Moose Summit

View from Moose Summit