Autumn Adirondack Adventures

Heart Lake at the Adirondak Loj

The first time I laid eyes on the Adirondack Mountains I was nine years old. My family took a vacation there prior to my cousin’s wedding in Schenectady. I don’t remember much about that trip aside from taking a boat ride down the Ausable Chasm. Back then they had wooden boats (I think) and nowadays they use rubber rafts to navigate the two mile gorge. I also remember riding the chairlift up Whiteface Mountain with my mom. I’m not sure if that chairlift is still there today. It probably was replaced by the Gondola, and given that ski-history is somewhat of a hobby of mine, you’d think I’d know, but that ride was long before I started skiing and even longer before I started taking note of the annual changes to various ski areas throughout the Northeast….but I digress. When we got off the lift I remember looking up to the summit and being disappointed that it didn’t go to the top of the mountain. I also recall seeing the other High Peaks of the region off in the distance and being amazed by them. I had been to the Smokies two years before that and had taken a tram ride to the top of one of those mountains as well, but something about these mountains were special. They were dramatic.

The next time I would visit the area would be six years later, this time to hike with my scout troop. I had already climbed big mountains out west by this time, yet as we approached the Adirondak Loj I peered out at the peaks with awe. We climbed two mountains that trip, two more the next year, and then I climbed a few more with my college outing club a few years later. One peak I didn’t scale was Mt. Colden, the eleventh highest in the Adirondacks. My first attempt to climb it was in 1998 but I was ill prepared for the six inches of snow that remained on the trails in late May. A second attempt was made in 2003 but was thwarted by a thunderstorm. Hopefully this trek would be successful.

I convinced my wife that a camping trip would be a good idea. I hadn’t been to the ‘Dacks since my climb up The Wolfjaws (see the earlier past about that trip) and the two of us hadn’t been camping in a long while. We weren’t roughing it by any means. Sure, we were tenting, but we were staying at the Loj campground. Lake Placid’s amenities were only a ten to fifteen minute drive or so away. On the way up we made the obligatory stop at The Loft in Lake George for a burger. The Loft is strategically placed just off the Northway and I must pass it going to both the Adirondacks and northern Vermont. Not stopping is not an option. After munching on the monstrous mix of meat, cheese, onions, and mushrooms we continued northward. Next we were getting off the exit for Route 73 and began making our way up the Keene Valley. It was late September and the area had just been hit hard by flash floods from hurricane Irene. Debris still littered the roadsides and creekbeds still showed signs of recent overflow and erosion. Even the road to the Loj had taken a hit. Thankfully the campground was intact and open for business.

Rather than deal with cooking we chose to dine out at the Lake Placid Pub & Brewery. I eat here almost every visit. The beers are excellent, the service is great, and the food is delicious. I suggest the ribs, and I suggest getting there early if you want them. When the daily supply is extinguished that’s it. If the weather is conducive to al fresco dining, opt for the deck and enjoy a meal and some fine ale watching the sunset over the peaks while last rays of light play on the waters of Mirror Lake. After dinner we headed back to camp in preparation for some hiking the next day.

Rocky Falls

My wife isn’t much of a hiker. Tackling an Adirondack High Peak was something she wasn’t going to do, but she wanted to hit the trail so we opted for a short, easy hike out to Rocky Falls. For late September, it was rather warm. Evidence of the storms was present as the trails were still muddy in places, but things overall were in good shape. Perhaps this was an omen of good things to come on my planned pitch up Colden the next day. After our morning hike we headed back into town for some lunch and then made our way over to Tupper Lake to visit The Wild Center solely so we could see the otters. The Wild Center is geared for kids but suits childlike 30-somethings equally as well. This was my second visit. We partook in some Italian food for dinner, so I carbed up on Alfredo at Nicola’s before calling it a night.

Day three started early for me. My wife slept in and had a day planned at one of the spas. I was going up. My hike began the same way as it had a dozen times before. A well-trodden two mile stretch of trail serves as the main thoroughfare leading from the Loj to the High Peaks. It’s a fairly level trip to Marcy Dam and I made good time. I was met with one detour just before the dam. The trail had been wiped out at the dam and the course was rerouted over some rocky sections of the creek. I was able to rock-hop without event but was rather shocked at the state of the dam and the lake. Irene had shown her wrath to the area. I lingered for a moment or two taking in the damage but also the fall colors. I also consulted my map. A bunch of trails merge here and lead to various peaks and camps, but they are well marked and choosing the correct one was not an issue.

Now the climbing started. Gradually at first, but little by little the incline increased. Here still the trail was in good shape and showed signs of regular use. I had been passed by another hiker very early after leaving the Loj and a few were just in front of me when I got to Marcy Dam, but they had all headed in other directions. I stopped for a quick break at a trail shelter just before the split to Lake Colden where a DEC Ranger passed me. He too was not going my way. It was 10:00am and I was pretty sure I was alone. The route I chose was not a popular one. Most hikers attack Colden from the campground at Lake Colden. I was taking the Lake Arnold route.

Before heading out I made sure the trail was open. There were still a few trails closed due to storm damage and I knew the Arnold approach was not a priority for the Rangers. Even the folks at the information center could only give me sketchy reports. Of course they told me the trail was sketchy all the time. Being a seasoned ADK hiker, I’ve come to prepare for sketchy. As I climbed higher my pace slowed. Not only was the trail getting steeper, but after the split for Lake Colden it became significantly rockier and at points ran concurrent with a stream bed. This proved to be the norm rather than the exception, but I eventually made it to Lake Arnold without much difficulty. I stopped for a snack and reloaded an empty water bottle before pressing onward. I could see the summit now, but the path snaked around to the other side of the mountain and it faded from my view.

Lake Arnold

The next leg was rather interesting. Flat areas were flooded and I found myself up to my knees in mud on several occasions. In many places the puncheon was under water or simply gone. My guess is even before Irene made her visit this section was in need of some maintenance. There were a few downed trees here as well, but only one forced me off the trail. Soon I encountered the sign notifying me I was entering the Alpine Zone (always a welcome thing) and shortly thereafter the trees began to shrink and then disappear altogether as I crested the north summit. I was tempted to linger here, but I had to press on. Descending only to have to go back up is always disheartening but the last push up to the summit wasn't as painful as I thought it was going to be. Of course in the back of my mind I knew I’d have to come back this way. It was later than I planned to be where I was at so taking the longer route down to Lake Colden and out Avalanche Pass was not an option. I was past my turn-around time and didn't want to gamble with unfamiliar trail. Sadly, there wasn't much time to take in the panorama.

Mount Marcy from the Colden Summit

The return trip was uneventful but memorable. Even though gravity was helping my descent, it was slow going at times. Downclimbing bare rock I scrambled up earlier could now prove to be hazardous. It always is. Fatigue, plus the laws of physics, can lead to a bad fall and the long haul downhill takes a toll on the knees. As I made my way lower and lower the shadows of the afternoon began to bend the light as it hit the trees. The canopy was a palate of fall colors and changed often. It reminded me of Prince Prospero’s palace in The Masque of the Red Death, the foliage filtering the light like the stained glass windows in Poe’s story. I arrived back at the shelter where I had seen the Ranger earlier in the day. A hundred yards below that I ran into the first humans I had seen in just over seven hours. It added to the surrealness of the situation. This was my first solo ascent of an Adirondack High Peak and my first ascent of anything by myself in a number of years. I stopped by Marcy Dam again for a bit and enjoyed my last few minutes of solitude. In forty minutes I would be back in camp.

Fall Colors at Marcy Dam Lake

When I made it to my campsite I found my wife napping. She enjoyed her day at the spa. I cleaned up and we headed out to town for dinner at the Great Adirondack Steak and Seafood/Brewing Co. One more night in the tent and then it was time to slowly head home via North Creek and Cooperstown, but that’s another story for another day.  

Backpacking on the Wolfjaws: Adirondack State Park, NY

Sometime in the early spring of 2009, my buddy Dave, hit me up with the idea of doing some backpacking on the Appalachian Trail. He wanted to do the whole thing in sections, but he wanted to start in Georgia. He propositioned me with the notion of driving 16 hours, hiking for two days, and then driving (almost) another 16 hours back. I’ve done a lot of crazy things, including a marathon drive from Alabama to Pennsylvania once…once. This is precisely why I wasn’t going to go for his plan. Instead, I offered to take him to the Adirondacks. I hadn’t done any serious hiking there in years, and, in my opinion, bagging all 46 peaks over 4000ft is just as lofty as section-hiking the entire AT.

I began planning in earnest. I laid out a few routes and after some careful decision making, taking into account some of my previous Adirondack adventures, my hiatus from serious backpacking for 2-3 years, and the fact that I didn’t want to re-bag a lot of peaks I’ve already notched in my belt, I decided on an itinerary that would take us over 5-6 High Peaks, only one of which (Mt. Marcy) I had done before.

Things didn't go quite as planned. Dave, hadn't backpacked in a while and admitted this en route to New York. The hardest hike he had ever been on was climbing Mt. Tammany in the Delaware Water Gap, a mere 1200 or so feet, and no where near as steep or as rugged as what we were taking on here in the Adirondacks. OK...not a problem, I’ve dealt with novice backpackers before. This, however, would turn out to be only one of the foibles that we were to encounter on this trek into the High Peaks.

We actually did pretty well on Sunday and made it 4.5 miles to our shelter in about two hours in spite of the muddy and sloppy trails. Dave and I had made a stop at one of my favorite gear stores in the northeast, The Mountaineer, in Keene Valley, prior to getting to the trailhead just up the road. There we stocked up on some supplies we couldn’t buy at home and rented the mandatory bear-proof cans we needed for our hike. In spite of my years of experience, and the Leave-No-Trace Instructors’ certification I hold, the NY State Department of Environment and Conservation does not see it fit to allow me (or anyone camping in the Eastern High Peaks Region) to rig up lines and bags to properly secure provisions from critters, no matter how much of an expert one actually is. I’m sure the fat-cat at the State Assembly who conjured up the idea of mandatory use bear cans has never had to pack and haul one of these damned things several miles into the wilderness. To maximize space and pack for best weight distribution, we didn’t even pack our backpacks before leaving. I knew we would only have to re-pack everything once we acquired the cans. After an hour of going through everything and splitting up the gear and food and paying for parking, Dave and I were off.

Dave and I left the trailhead in Keene Valley and made our way along John’s Brook. The trail was fairly level and offered some good photo opportunities. This would have been great had I not decided to leave my good camera in the car. The weather report for the week said “Rain, Clouds, Thunderstorms…”, so I opted to leave my behemoth digital SLR behind. With probable cloud cover and potentially no sweeping vistas to shoot I didn’t see it worth toting the extra weight. (Maybe without the bear can I would have lugged the extra couple pounds.) I had my cell phone camera, and Dave had a point-and-shoot, we were photographically covered. Then for some reason my cell phone didn’t power down correctly and the battery died in a mere 2 hours while desperately searching for a signal in the New York backcountry. I wasn’t even going to take it, but I wanted to have a camera, now I was left with a useless piece of plastic and silicon. This is the same reason I don’t use a GPS, but at least with a GPS a few AA batteries can put you back in business. Not so with a cell phone that uses a micro-USB jack to recharge. (I also neglected to take my hand-crank/solar cell charging unit, a present that I rarely use because I never take my cell phone.) In spite of the superior photographic equipment we lacked, Dave’s point-and-shoot seemed to suffice and we got a few nice snapshots of the brook, the new footbridge, and our campsite.

We stayed at the Wolfjaws lean-to, a three sided shelter common in the ‘Dacks. There was no view or anything especially scenic at the campsite. An outhouse, called a privy here in the North Country, which had obviously been moved several times over the decades served as our human waste receptacle. A rushing stream, still frigid from the spring thaw served as our water source. If it had been a hot day, I might have been tempted to scour for swimming holes, but not today. A recently fallen fir blocked the access to the stream and we were forced to detour among and around the broken boughs in order to fill our water bottles. This would become a common occurrence while we were encamped there.

Monday’s weather was superb! It was our intent to knock off Upper and Lower Wolfjaw peaks, then make for The Great Range and get Armstrong and Gothics before the end of the day. We made it up to the junction of the Lower Wolfjaw/Upper Wolfjaw trail pretty quickly. It was only 0.5 miles to the top of Lower Wolfjaw. I would have preferred to leave our packs at the bottom of Lower Wolfjaw and retrieve them after we bagged the peak, but with my luck a NYSDEC ranger or some Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) member bestowed with some type of backcountry police power would have spotted the two bags, checked to see that all the food and “smellable” items were secured in the bear cans (which they were not right at this point), and then we would have been issued a ticket or warning. That would have looked great. “Eagle Scout/Leave-No-Trace Instructor/Backcountry Advocate/Outdoor Recreation Department manager cited for wilderness illegalities.”

Getting to the top of Lower Wolfjaw took us an hour! The mud, slick rocks, and scrambling up six-foot rock faces, one after the other, just killed us. We were toting full-packs and my trekking poles were slowing me down. One was bent and I couldn't collapse them down and stash them on my pack in order to free up my hands. Dave wasn’t doing much better. His heavier cotton-based wardrobe and old-school sleeping bag made his pack a bit heavier than it could have been with better gear. Regardless, we got to the top and felt pretty good, but we sucked down a bunch of water. It took us 30 minutes to get back down to the junction and then we started up Upper Wolfjaw.


What came next was the roughest, nastiest trail I've ever hiked in my life. 1.0 miles took us over 1.5 hours. I was expecting some scrambles and handhold use, but I've never before had to take off my pack, throw it up to the next level of trail, and then chimney climb up between two boulders. This was sick! We made it up but were down to a pint of water each. I had planned on us running short before we made camp that night, but I had also planned that we would be running out of water only a mile or so from day’s end. From previous June escapades in the ‘Dacks (coupled with the very rainy spring we had) I fully expected a few perennial streams would have been flowing as well. Faced with at least three more peaks and three more miles we did some quick math and opted to head back down to the shelter we were at the night before.

Coming down wasn't that great either. It was a long, disheartening down-climb back to the shelter. My knee decided it was a perfect time to pop out after slipping on some rocks, and the descent wasn’t much faster than the hike up. Out of water, muddy, and slightly bloody we staggered back into the Wolfjaws lean-to somewhere after 5:00pm. Thankfully no one else moved in, although we would have welcomed some comely French-Canadian ladies, or, in actuality, anyone who was willing to cook our dinner. Instead our only visitor that night was a local Pine Martin. The furry weasel-like creature must have smelled the canned shrimp I added to the evening fare. That made me think if he smelled it, a bear could have as well. So now I’m all hyped up thinking we were going to have “Close Encounters of the Ursine Kind”. I would have taken a picture, but….well, anyway. Sleep came soon after sunset and sometime in the middle of the night it began to rain. We were supposed to be camping under a tent-fly tonight, six miles or so away. Dave pointed out that he was now glad we ran out of water. The weather wasn't great Tuesday. In fact, it downright sucked. It rained all Monday night and didn't let up until 10am on Tuesday. We had read that there were T-storms likely on Tuesday and with the rain and quagmire-esque trail conditions we opted to head out of the woods. In spite of our self-inflicted physical abuse we felt fine after returning to camp on Monday night, but now the legs and back sure felt a lot worse and it was noticeable on the hike out. We checked out John’s Brook Lodge, also known as JBL, and spent some time there talking to the caretaker.

The lodge is nestled three miles or so into the wilderness and is only accessed by foot or pack-animal. The annual resupply missions to JBL are done mostly by ADK volunteers and by helicopter. Consequentially, the nightly fees to stay in this 100+ year old vestige of the glory-days of early Adirondack expeditions are a pretty penny. Lean-tos and tent sites are also available nearby for a slightly lower fee. JBL is worth a stop and given the fact that we were in no rush to get out we took our time reviewing the collection of Adirondack memorabilia in the JBL historical collection, and had a damned tasty brownie as well.

Dave and I rambled back to the parking lot in Keene Valley, stopping only briefly to dodge around a young, nouveau-hippie woman meditating on one of the footbridges and for a quick reconnaissance of some other lean-tos closer to the trailhead. Then we headed up to the Adirondak Loj, (purposefully misspelled by the builder) rented a lean-to, cleaned ourselves up, and headed into Lake Placid for some beer tasting at the Lake Placid Pub and Brewery. We sampled a few of the offered beers and I took a half-gallon bottle (know to beer snobs like myself as a “growler”) of 46ers India Pale Ale back to camp to accompany dinner. Dave opted for a growler of Ubu Ale. I have had LP Brewery beers before and was hoping the High Peaks Hefe-Wiezen was available. It wasn’t...bummer. We headed back to very quiet campground and proceeded to cook up some beans, rice, and chicken. We polished off most of the beer and decided to call it an evening after we ran out of dirty jokes to tell.Now a day ahead of schedule, we headed over to the Adirondack Wild Center in Tupper Lake on Wednesday and checked out the cool stuff there. Two school groups had just beat us there, and we didn’t get to really enjoy the experience. Watching the otters swim around was neat but the school groups there made it a bit crowded, and I constantly felt like I was going to nail some poor pre-kindergartener with my knee. We stayed for about an hour-and-a-half, still not seeing everything there was to see, and we decided to start the trek home.

We stopped in Queensbury and chowed down on a Loft Burger with double bacon, cheese, onions and mushrooms. The Loft Burger restaurant is strategically located on the corner of Routes 9 and 149 just off the Northway and is a frequent stop of mine either on my way to or from Vermont. While my backcountry cookery is excellent, Dave had to admit that the Loft Burger was perhaps the greatest-worst-for-your-arteries thing he had ever eaten. I have to agree.
All in all, it was the first serious backpacking trip I took in 3 years. I was hoping we would have found better water sources or had taken more water bottles, but I didn't beat myself up and surprisingly I was only moving slow due to the terrain and conditions. We didn't bag all the peaks we planned to, but I got two more that I didn't have before. Dave has since forgotten about his original plans to section-hike the AT and now has his sights set on bagging more High Peaks. Two down and 44 more to go for him, I’m only slightly ahead of his count. Thankfully, the mountains aren’t going anywhere.
For Additional Information See:

The Adirondack Mountain Club, Johns Brook Lodge and the Adirondak Loj:
http://www.adk.org/

The Mountaineer: http://www.mountaineer.com/

The Adirondack Wild Center: http://www.wildcenter.org/

The Lake Placid Pub & Brewery: http://www.lakeplacidpubandbrewery.com/

The Loft Drive-In: (518) 793-2296