June 14 - Finally became an Adirondack 46R!

To say that the Adirondacks hold a special place in my heart is an understatement.  Every time I drive through or near them, a smile appears on my face and I feel at home.  Starting at about age 9 or 10, I began climbing the peaks of the Adirondack Mountains of upstate NY.  This turned into a near-obsession in my later high school years and formed the basis of my love of the outdoors and eventually ecology.  At some point along this journey I decided to climb all 46 peaks over 4000' and become an official Adirondack 46R.  I knew a few of these elite individuals growing up, and they always somehow seemed like towering figures to me.  From early on in pursuit of this goal, I decided to leave for last the most remote trailless peak; Allen Mountain.  Probably more than a decade ago, I finally climbed the last of the trailless peaks, leaving Allen alone as my final challenge.  With this most recent trip to New England and NY, the opportunity came with a prediction of fair weather and a spare day on my calendar.

I started out this adventure by going to Long Lake, NY, for a major gourmet burger to get beefed up for the long hike.

Then I found a camp site at Harris Lake, only 10 or so miles from the trailhead leading to Allen near Tahawus.  I had a lakeside site that was gorgeous!

Woke up at 4:44 AM the next morning!  Why so early?  Because this was going to be a long hike - perhaps my longest ever in one day.  And I was excited.  I quickly packed up sleeping bag, pad and tent, hurriedly ate my breakfast of granola bars, fruit and OJ, and hopped in IBRK4NRG to head to the trailhead by 5:30.  My first obstacle was a tree which had fallen across the road overnight.  But I noticed tracks on the shoulder around the crown and thought, what the heck, I have a Prius!  Offroad I went.  No problem.

Reaching the trailhead of the Yellow trail leading to Flowed Lands, the next obstacle became clear quickly - a large sign saying 'Bridge out at Opalescent River, 3.8 mi.'  Well the Opalescent isn't too huge; I could ford that.  So I packed up my gear in a day pack and headed out.  Within 0.2 miles I encountered my third obstacle - the Hudson River (headwaters, yes, but still a river!) with another sign "Bridge Out - Ford Here".  Hmmm.  Hurricane Irene of the previous fall had clearly done her damage here in the Adirondacks as well as in Vermont!  It looked deep.  I wondered what to do.  Take the longer route through Flowed Lands or ford this river too!  I re-checked the map and decided the hike via Flowed Lands was questionable for a one-day trip.  Ford it was.  I returned to the car to get my old running shoes which I had decided to sacrifice to the river gods.  Just then a Mini-Cooper pulled up and a gray-haired woman, only slightly younger than me, hopped out and said "You looking forward to your Allen climb today?"  Slightly startled I said..."Ah...yes! You?"  Sure am.  I then warned her the bridge at the Hudson was out as well as the Opalescent.  She said "Yes, I know, but the one over Lake Jimmy could be the worst of the 3".  Would the obstacles never stop appearing?

I plunged on into the river, as did she.  It was not as deep as it looked.  We both donned our shoes on the far side, and she took off running down the trail. Whoa!  Maybe this trail was farther than I thought, if you had to run to finish in one day!  I took off at a pretty quick walking pace.  Within half a mile, I reached Lake Jimmy and the 'floating bridges of doom'.  It was beautiful:

And treacherous.  Actually only the first bridge was bad; they were tied together loosely with straps, shoestrings and such.  One end of the first bridge simply sank when you approached it while the bridge you were supposed to hop onto, did not.  I ended up getting wet almost up to my waist and was quite glad I had placed my keys and wallet in my high pack pocket!  After this, the yellow trail was fairly easy to follow.

The hike was a cornucopia of sights, sounds and smells from my past, from the wildflowers, to the balsam fir trees.  Gray-cheeked thrushes, hermit thrushes, and veerys serenaded me as a walked through paper birch and spruce.

 Clintonia borealis  

                                                                Cornus canadensis


Once the hike left the Yellow Trail to head 'off trail' toward Allen it followed a well-trodden herd path for much of the way.  Directions in the latest High Peaks hiking guide were reasonably good.  As the path got steep and ascended seriously, I was following this streambed, slipping on muddy rocks and hanging onto branches to get past the worst spots.  Somewhere along this stretch, I encountered my fellow Allen Mt. hiker friend - she was on her way back down - fully 2 hours ahead of me!  But she was encouraging, suggesting the view would be well worth the climb.

At one point I was relieved to see nice dry rock to climb in the middle of the trail.  I started up, only to find that it was getting quite steep and there was absolutely nothing to hang onto.  Maybe this was a mistake!  But there was no turning back; I went straight up the middle on all fours, like a turtle.  Here is the rock:

Reaching the top, I noticed my heart was beating fast; I decided I would take a different route on the way down...

Another half an hour of strenuous climbing brought me out of the stream bed and onto a ridge top.  A few moments later, attaining the top was pure joy.  I yelled at the top of my lungs; "Yahooooo!!!"

The views were stupendous, the air was clear, the neighboring mountains my same old friends from long ago.  Front and center was Mt. Marcy, at 5344', as magnificent as ever.

These aren't the jagged, tall, rugged, spectacular peaks of the west, that I have also come to love; but the quiet rounded giants of the east, with bald tops and a remoteness and ruggedness all their own.

I took a half hour to munch on snacks and reflect on my journey to this point in time and space.  What a journey it has been.  Though I found myself alone on the mountaintop, I kept thinking about the people who have journeyed alongside me through my life, through the valleys, along the rivers, up and down mountains, to the arctic, the desert, to coral reefs, and to the tropics.  How amazing and wonderful it has all been.

The sound of a plaintive white-throated sparrow jolted my mind back to the present.  "Old Sam Peabody Peabody Peabody".  I smiled.  I remember telling my students as these little sparrows migrated through West Virginia in the spring - their songs would always make me think of my Adirondacks.

Mountain tops give you that unique kind of pleasure.  Associations with sights, and birds and plants that stick with you for life.  There truly is a 'heaven up histedness' that happens on these mountains, as Old Mountain Phelps used to say.  Maybe that's why I've always been attracted to them - that feeling I get, of pleasure, of perspective, of realizing I am on top of the world.  Of being home.



The trip down was somewhat anticlimactic.  I stopped to examine a beaver pond I had quickly skirted on the way up.

And contemplated the effects of these ecosystem engineers on so many other forms of life.

I returned to the car by 5:30 PM after 11 hours of hiking (plus 1/2 hr for lunch).  I don't know the precise distance of the  hike, but 18 - 20 miles seems about right.  I felt surprisingly good, and decided to go to Lake George for some dinner, and a celebratory beer.

Somehow, this particular beer seemed like just the right one from the menu.  Finally, I had become a 46R.  Here's the final bit of proof!