Great Range- High Peaks-Adirondacks

(Haystack, Basin, Saddleback, Gothics, Armstrong, Upper/Lower Wolfjaws: 1-7)

We are approaching Easter now, heading into Spring 2016 and looking back on possibly the best weekend of the whole summer 2015. This new chapter began Labor Day weekend. Therese and I found ourselves hiking into John’s Brook Lodge with fully loaded monster packs, and fully open minds and hearts for what was about to become the most perrrrfect bro/sis peak bagging, tree hugging, fantastic journey ever! This was my introduction to these mind blowing amazing mountains, and Therese’s renewed continued quest becoming a 46-er. My hiking quest was about to be kicked up to a new level, and my life change for the better while I, in the midst of my love affair with the Whites, was dropped smack-dab in the middle of a new enchanted land of splendor that is ADK. Now as I rewrite this entry for the SECOND TIME, and try to recall the details and recapture the magic 3 seasons later, I am so looking forward to once again immersing myself into these amazing mountains and the new journey of someday becoming a 46-er myself.

When I first put this trip into words in the days that followed, the experience was so fresh in my mind, the images so vivid, the sounds of laughter and silence so clear, the smells- both sweet and horrid still lingering, the aches and pains still throbbing, and the memories still overflowing into puddles of ink upon the page. Now, over a dozen White peaks later, as I start the countdown (“10-9-8-7…”) to the NH48 “finishing” milestone, I find myself longing for the journey to continue, and searching for what will be coming next. With just ten of a lengthy list left and having just shared my story of a day on ‘The Rockpile’ the clear front runner for the next chapter in my exploration led me back to this weekend with my sister.

So I am frantically fumbling through my disorganized pile of scribbles on note pads from past months for the record of this trip, tangible proof that the magic actually happened, so that I can finally share it all with the world (or at least the small part of the world that is following along with my steps). …Only it is not here!! I am frustrated beyond words! I have searched through every stack of books, through piles of bills, boxes of Christmas ornaments, sacks of camping gear, and somehow the writings are no more – vanished like a lost winter climber sent to his grave by the fierce rushing avalanche. So I will do the only thing I can do – dig deep into my own memory, tap into my sister’s recollections, gaze upon the trail maps, rummage through the photos and video clips, search websites and facebook pages of fellow hikers that have shared their own similar treks, and attempt to crack open a door to the archives that hold these precious memories and bring them back to life. The details may be somewhat muddled and hazy to start, but I hope that by the last words I will have brought the feel of this amazing weekend back into focus, as though it just happened yesterday. So here goes the revival…

DAY ONE:

…And so the journey begins.

We’ve been planning this for a few months now. The original idea was to make this a backwoods camping trip, but it has morphed into a few nights stay at JBL with two pretty aggressive hikes that will take us to 7 of the high peaks in the Great Range. Actually scratch that. At this point, as we are hiking in with the big packs 3.5 miles to the Lodge, the plan is to spend two nights followed by a third overnight stealth campsite and a morning hike out, but as it turns out we would enjoy JBL so much that our stay would be extended by a night, making both of our peak seekers day hikes. I hadn’t hiked with Therese since our younger days in the Whites, so this was a fitting way to start off- the person that took me and my brother on that long hike in the Bonds, is now leading me into one of the most rugged and sought after stretches in the ADK’s. That’s how we roll: no easing in, just get right down to it.Having to park in the overflow lot down the road, we took the shuttle to the completely filled Garden lot and set our extra weighted feet onto Phelps Trail, following John’s Brook upstream to our home base for the next few days. We walk up the wooden steps that lead to a large wraparound deck of this 28-bunk lodge as the mid-afternoon hour arrives. It is too late to start in on a peak but there is just enough time left in the day for a leisurely afternoon unpacking, and to settle in and get acquainted with our surroundings. We spend some quiet time by the brook, followed by a lazy lounge on the sun-drenched deck for a bit of reading and mapping out trails. Hikers start shuffling by us later in the afternoon/early evening, drenched in sweat and drained of energy from a long day on the trails. At first a feeling of guilt arrives, over our fairly easy, flat short hike in and our lazy afternoon, but we know we will be more than making up for this in the days that follow.

With dinnertime approaching we stroll into the large living area, which is filled with large wooden tables and benches and a raised stone fireplace. Off the main room is a kitchen, where the ADK staff is busy filling the place with yummy aromas, and 4 bunk rooms (2 large, 2 small). Dinner is served family style and I don’t recall what we ate but I know it was delicious. We sat and talked with the other guests – most conversations were standard friendly hiker length and content, but one guest in particular took talking to an art form. We finally found a chance to break away from the gabby woman and retreat to the deck once again to breathe the night air, before retiring to our bunks to rest up for a full day on the trails.

DAY TWO:

The next day started out a bit groggy from a night of enduring a monster snoring neighbor, but we are soon energized by a mountain sized breakfast and a cup of jo or two. We waist little time grabbing a few prepared lunches and hitting the trails to get an early start on the day with our much smaller day packs. Soon the Lodge guest chatter fades and it is just brother and sister heading southwest up the Phelps surrounded by things of green happiness. To quote Therese, “It felt so good to be in the rhythm of nature… walking, talking, joking… interspersed with periods of long silence.” We talked of childhood memories, hikes of yesteryear, things encountered in each of our family-building, career-constructing, life-shaping experiences. We joke at our siblings and parents expense and treasure the moments we all shared. We share quirky little stories of our jobs and coworkers… In the spirit of keeping an inside joke INSIDE, I will share some meaningless/ meaningful punchlines and key phrases: “Mmmm noodle soup”, and ”That’s a great story”, followed by “#coworker’s name” which led to “#pole uses” and “perrrrfect”…Maybe I’ll explain a few of these later… then again maybe not. Then just like that, the words stop and the woods tell their story once again. This how it went throughout the weekend. I would tell a work anecdote or share something learned on the trail, she would recall memory from one of her kids key moments growing up, one of us would crack a joke or witty remark, we would laugh for a while and then nothing but footsteps, breathing, poles clicking and a dramatic pause to hear ma nature sing us her song of silence, calm breezes, animal calls, and water trickling downstream.

After a photo stop at Slant Rock, our first trail junction followed. I’m not sure now if we went left or stayed right at this spot, but I remember it started getting steeper. It had been fairly flat or easy slopes up to this point, and now we were starting the real climbing. We passed a few other groups along this stretch, one of which included a girl who was climbing her first mountain ever, and having a tough time of it as she labored her way up and across jagged rocky terrain, with others in her group helping her along. I remember thinking “Wow this is one hell of a first hike!” Indeed, there were those back at the lodge that were impressed that we picked these challenging peaks as my first 7 of the 46 despite the fact that I was a semi-seasoned hiker, and this girl was taking on Haystack as her first ever! You gotta respect that ambition. I certainly hope her experience affected her positively, and didn’t discourage her from future hikes.

In any case, this place was having quite an effect on me already. It’s so beautiful here and different in many ways from the Whites, yet similar in a lot of ways too. The trail seems more neatly manicured and marked more consistently. They also seem to be used a bit less, showing less wear and tear and more spaciousness. This is by no means a knock on the fabulous trail crews of the Whites. They do an amazing job on the trails given their ever increasing use. That being said, there is no getting around the rustic look of a heavily trampled White Mountain trail. The Whites also seem to have way more options for trail routes to any given destination. They do both have their fair share of rocky steepness, rushing brooks and streams, thick forests, and of course mud.

At some point Therese tripped clumsily over a downed tree while attempting to avoid a particularly nasty mud pit and ended up landing in it. Now that’s being truly connected to nature and becoming one with the trail. It was one of those classic slow motion falls too “Nooooooooooo!” – Of course we both had a good laugh but were otherwise unfazed and undeterred in our mission.

When we reached Little Haystack (a sub-peak of Haystack), our gabby friend was there with her group, part of which was the girl and her helpers that we had passed earlier and was still some ways back from joining the group I’m sure. Another of the group, if memory serves, was set to “finish” this weekend and become part the elite group of 46ers. We chatted for just a bit while we enjoyed the views, but broke away at the first pause to get ahead of the babble. After all, we still had many miles ahead of us. The final push to Haystack was a bit of a scramble, and then at last we arrived.

The mountains seemed to extend to the end of the earth. There were even less signs of civilization here than I had witnessed in my prior travels. I couldn’t find a road or village within sight below, and we really had a sense of solitude and isolation here. We sat on the summit ledge in awe of the endless miles of raw beauty before us in every direction. (click here for Haystack Summit Video) I could barely take my eyes away long enough to take a bite of my sandwich. This, much like my first taste of the Whites was instant addiction – love at first sight. The best part was this was only the first peak. There was so much more to look forward to this weekend and beyond. Shame on me for just discovering this place now at age 48, but so thankful that I got to discover it at all. We were torn between sitting longer to soak in more of this magical place or getting on with our voyage to unlock its secrets and its promise of heaven on earth.   

With so many miles ahead and a limit to the daylight in which to witness the visions in store for us, we managed to eventually tear ourselves away and set out for the next destination: Basin Mountain.

(click here for little haystack video)

To get there, we backtracked to Little Haystack and took the State Range Trail heading Northwest. A short distance down the trail, as we ducked back into the trees, we crossed a small stream and thought that we should fill up our water supply, since we didn’t know if there would be another opportunity any time in the near future. Soon after our break, we were joined by a solo hiker we met back at Haystack, who had left his full size overnight pack at a trail junction ahead in order to summit with a lighter load. We exchanged some trail-talk with… (I forget his name) …let’s just call him Pack-man… and walked together for a while toward Basin. Then I think he stopped for lunch or something, or maybe we just pushed ahead at some point with our lighter packs. I don’t remember, but in any case we were back in silent mode… until… “OUCH!!” Therese zigged when she shoulda zagged and tweaked her knee. I know all too well about knee-tweakage and we took a breather as she assessed her pain. After a few stretches and test motions, she figured she was ok to push on. Whew, good thing! We were over halfway along our route and there were no bailout trails nearby. The only way out was up and over Basin, then up and over Saddleback before a 2.5 descent down Orebed Brook Trail. The only other option would be a long difficult bushwack through God knows what. Other than that, we’d need to send for help or find it on the trail for a possible litter evac scenario. There of course was always the last resort of pushing the SOS button on my brand new Spot Gen3 satellite messenger that I am breaking in this weekend, checking in at various points in our trip. I hope to never have to use that SOS button, reserved for life-or-death situations, and thankfully this does not come even close to qualifying as one. Even more thankfully, it seems she is ok to carry on under her own power and enjoy the rest of the day.

We make the final push to basin summit and let another amazing High Peak view with it’s warm summer breeze sooth the pain away along with some vitamin-i and a knee brace… and plenty of tiny annoying black bugs (no-see-ums) that bite! -some pleasant and unpleasant distractions. After some rest and a snack (for us and the bugs), we are good to go. Next stop- Saddleback! Carefully now, we descend into the saddle between the 2 peaks. Pack-man has caught up with us again and tags along for a while. He is now almost out of water, hoping to get an opportunity to fill up soon.

We had heard how difficult of an undertaking the scramble up the rugged south slope of Saddleback would be from some of the JBL guests, and as we approached the steep rocky ledges, we honestly felt it was somewhat over-hyped. Sure there were some pretty challenging sections, but there was always something to grab onto and footholds to lodge our boots (or trail-runners), and we aced the test with some careful planning of our steps. Even Pack-man with his extra heavy load was making it up without issue. After making it to the top of the steep stuff, we actually hiked through the summit on this one, not realizing we had gone by it, but stopped at an outlook just below with a great view to the south and east. This was to be our final view above tree line for the day, with plenty more on the way for tomorrow and still plenty of backwoods scenery to be had on the way down.

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All I remember about the rest of the day was dying to get back to a plunge into the pools of John’s Brook for a much needed cooldown after what had amounted to a long arduous day but worth every grueling step. We finally got to our ice cold refreshment and how sweet it was! We made it back to JBL just in time for the dinner bell, and I have no idea what everyone else ate, but I’m pretty sure I gobbled up everything at our table! Unfortunately, I didn’t bring any cotton or flip-flops, but clean and dry and barefoot was just fine with me on this warm summer night. We wrapped up a perfect day in the ADK’s looking up at a star-filled sky from the front deck. Who could ask for a better ending?

DAY THREE:

Once again, the snoring was brutal… or so I understand. I was so exhausted I slept right through the turbulence. Therese was not so fortunate and had resigned to moving her sleeping quarters to the main dining area. It’s Labor Day and the final full service meal before the summer season comes to an end for the Lodge staff and they switch to care-taker self-serve mode. It is now that we ask if we can stay one more night even though we had not booked it ahead. Most guests will be hiking out to Garden lot today, but we have much bigger plans for another epic hike in the ADK’s. A few other groups have plans to stay as well, but the crowds will be gone for the most part. The backpack meals I brought for camping can be our dinner tonight. So we’re all set to bag another 4 peaks today! Therese’s knee seems much better now, and although I am sore myself from yesterday, I know I’ll be fine once I hit the trail.

  

Our plan today is to hit Gothics, Armstrong, and both Upper and Lower Wolfjaws- roughly 11 miles and a bunch of elevation gain. We start by heading back up the Ore Bed Brook in reverse direction. It’s funny how the trail looks entirely different heading upward and seen through fresh rejuvenated eyes, not the exhausted ones from the day before. We continue our discussions on both silly and practical uses of trekking poles (click here for #pole-uses), and silently thank mother earth for providing these magnificent works of art upon her canvas. We are blessed with yet another postcard weather day, which is a rarity to get three like this back-to-back. I really could not be more thankful, for I have seen my share of gloomy viewless days over the past few years in the Whites. But really, in the grand scheme of things, there have been way more bluebird than black cloud days overall. Still I never take this for granted.

At some point we come upon this large boulder that of course I simply must climb, because well, we just aren’t getting enough climbing in this weekend. After several miles retracing yesterday’s steps, we bang a left onto State Range Trail and begin a steep open rock slab climb up the Gothics. At first there are handholds in the rock face to help in our effort, and then on the steepest stretch of the slab, we are assisted by a pair of ropes secured to the ledge face.
They seem to help for a while, but eventually I find them sort of awkward for me, and I switch to a pole assisted scramble. Therese sticks with the cables though, and I grab a video of her completing the second length with a healthy grunt… (we later dubbed this the “Gothics Grunt”).

(click here for “Gothics Grunt” video)

More stunning views abundant when we reach the exposed summit including a unique perspective of our tri-peak travels from yesterday’s trek. I also find my first intact survey marker of the weekend here. After a bite to eat and some lingering upon the summit (we are making an effort to extend them today, as we have no designated meal time to be back for), we drop back into the thick green saddle between these first two peaks, and then ascend up to 4,400 feet at the more wooded summit of Armstrong.

(Click here for Gothics summit video)

By now we are in the zone and words are few and far between, becoming less necessary. It would almost be pointless to try to describe this feeling anyway. You just have to live the moment. Still I feel (long after the fact) that I must at least try to capture it all with my frantic scribbles. The slower pace today is allowing the smaller details to come into the picture: A batch of red berries against the contrasting green backdrop, a golden mushroom clinging to a moss covered outcropping, the purple paint-like colorings of the leafy greens, the spider-like flowers along a manicured trail edge…

 

…and then another breathtaking summit view. This time its Upper Wolfjaw for number six, and is in no way a repeat of any that preceded it.  Each mountain has its own unique look at the surrounding landscape. I know I will be sad when this trip comes to an end, but I also know I will be returning just as soon as I can, hopefully with my favorite hiking buddy.

It is a long plunge down into the Deer Brook Valley, or at least it seems that way. We are now both thoroughly exhausted as these two epic hikes are finally taking their toll on our energy level, but we are now on autopilot riding the remaining momentum to our last peak. It is much easier sticking to the plan when hiking with a partner that’s for sure. As we approach the final junction, where ADK Range Trail, Lower Wolfjaw Trail, and Wedge Brook Trail converge, we have the option to surrender to our aching muscles and joints and continue left down Wolfjaw Brook to our home base. I turn to my sister and ask “Are you ready to do this?” Clearly drained of any enthusiasm but undeterred, she responds “I didn’t come all this way to turn back now!” So we turn upward to begin our final climb to Lower Wolfjaw.

(click here for somewhere in WJ video)

A short way up, I finally hit a wall with my energy level. I’ve got nothing left in the tank. It’s so hard to find any drive to push myself up this hill. I sit on a rock, take a gulp of semi-coolish water, grap a few handfuls of gorp and dig deep within myself to tap into all of the seeds of inspiration, planted in my soul this weekend. The seeds grow outward and carry me up the trail to that final summit, a wooded peaceful outcropping with glimpses through the trees to the now familiar views I have come to know and love. We lay down the rocks and I close my eyes and feel the warm gentle breeze. I can feel that we are not alone, that there is a spirit with us, embracing us, telling us “Stay a while weary travelers, listen to the wind and let it take hold of your heart. Rest your beaten limbs upon this rock and let the spirit of the mountain carry you home.” We laid on that rock for what seemed an eternity (but was probably closer to 15 minutes) and I can’t remember feeling so at peace with the world in a long, long time.

Whatever or whoever was with us on that mountaintop that day, or whatever we found within ourselves, seemed to give us just what we needed to push onward to the end. We retraced our steps back to the junction and beyond, dropping the final miles back to John’s Brook, and plunged once again into one of the clear cold pools along the brook, washing the earth from our skin sending it downstream. “Get off me mountain! Time for you to go home now!” my sister screams to the caked mud on her leg. Stumbling back to the lodge, we recouped with some freeze-dried goodness, and captured a photo of a Doe and her young fawn feeding in the grass outside the lodge, before taking another star gaze session on the deck. There we listened to fellow guests, 5 women in their 70s, tell their tales of how they became 46ers years before and now reunited here to see if they could still do it. They can and they did. It’s very inspiring to know that it is possible to still enjoy the mountains in our later years. So as we sat and listened and drooled over the beers they brought with them, Therese commented, and I agree, that she wants to be just like them when she grows up to be a kid someday… (or something to that affect).

DAY FOUR:

The morning after brings a drizzly day to hike out. Along the way we have a closer encounter with the Doe and fawn, and don’t even reach for the camera this time. Instead we just enjoy the moment and connect. We are sad to end this amazing trip, but so happy that we made the time for what is truly important… As a wakeup call back to reality, we are greeted at the trail head with the realization that the shuttle stops running on Labor Day, stranding us away from our car. Therese, being super-girl, marathon running warrior, decides to take a run back to the overflow lot hoping to get a ride along the way to retrieve the car. Luckily she returns a short while later in my little blue Rav4 thanks to a kind local doing some yardwork who saw her and helped out. It feels so good to change into COTTON finally, and be on my way to a beer and bacon cheeseburger!

…As I suck the greasy goodness down back at the Lakehouse while my sister rushes off to a work meeting, I already can’t wait to return. Thanks for the memories Therese and the intro to the amazing Adirondacks!

Well, that’s it in a nutshell. How did I do? Can you picture it? Do you feel the magic? I’m actually surprised I remembered everything in such detail. I guess that goes to show you, that if you hold something that close to your heart, it never leaves. I will hold you close and forever ADK.