Adirondack High Peaks
(Dix Range: #31-35, Allen: #36, Cliff/Redfield: #37-38, Sewards Range: #39-42, Santanoni Range: #43-45)
Well it’s been an incredible summer in the Daks. I have so many stories to tell. In the interest of catching up, I think I will try to keep my ramblings brief for a change. We’ll see how I do for this 5 part series. Each one of these hikes deserve a full description. So, it may end up being long-winded after all, but i’ll give it the old college try (whatever that means).
When we last left our heroes, summer had just begun with two epic hikes: the first with my niece Janelle bound for Sawteeth that started out amazing and ended up with a word I wished I hadn’t learned – Ketoacidosis, and the 2nd with none other than my trusty companion awesome sis Therese, deep into the wilderness for a tribute to an amazing dog upon the summit of Skylight, followed by Gray. We hit the trails with everything we had after that for a total of 17 additional peaks (2 in Vermont), and now as I begin to write this, and summer comes to a close, we are looking forward to OUR FINISHING PEAK -Colden for #46!! We will finish this one where we left it two autumn seasons ago, when we had to bail due to unexpected conditions, and maybe some lack of preparedness.
It’s so hard to believe this journey is nearing an end (as I begin this writing). I have learned so much about myself and been so blessed to share this experience and strengthen the bond with my sister. I have seen so many heavenly places, and trudged through hellish lands, en-route to this final achievement and have met many wonderful people along the way that seem to open their hearts and genuinely care to offer helpful advice and share their stories, welcoming a stranger into their world.
So many elements on so many levels went into the realization of the dream. I am forever grateful for each stride, step, scramble, twist, turn, backtrack, reroute, stretch, hop, sink, slip, slide, stray, find, soak, push, pull, ache, pain, poke, prod, grunt, groan, huff, puff, sweat, scream, curse, curse, curse-some-more, whistle, crash, crawl, scratch, shuffle, freeze, thaw, scare, malfunction, thirst, hunger, tear, shred, claw, tears, laugh, story, trail, road, lot, ladder, bridge, leaf, branch, tree, rock, bolder, cliff, scree, slime, snow, ice, slush, MUDPIT, bog, swamp, spider-web, field, forest, glade, vista, stream, brook, river, lake, pond, flood-land, waterfall, fog, mist, sunshine, cloud, sky, sign, cairn, trail-marker, lodge, alarm, nightmare, dream, bird, critter, dear, MOOSE, bug, snake, breakfast, lunch, dinner, fourth-meal, fifth-meal, snack, drink, blister, scrape, cut, burn, rash, chafe, headache, heartache, muscle-ache, joint-ache, “fuck”, “fuck”, “fuck”, redirect, recovery, sound, silence, smell, taste, touch, moment, memory, discovery, mission, victory, defeat, bliss, blunder, mistake, decision, reward, sigh, peace, gift, blessing, view, view, view, view, epiphany, prayer, research, plan-A, plan-B, plan-C, plan-A (again), pack, unpack, repack, purchase, refund, frustration, realization, discussion, dispute, agreement, promise, compromise, disappointment, lesson, breakthrough, hallelujah, hoot, holler, celebration, rejuvenation, transformation, revelation, alteration, stipulation, condemnation, vindication, rebirth, beginning, hope, despair, strength, weakness, perseverance, glory, prize, (Well, you get the picture. Shall I go on?)…Thankful for all of this and more. For they have all been stepping stones upon the path before me that has brought me to this point in the endless journey, which is always waiting to lead me to more amazing places unseen. I truly cannot wait to see where it leads me next.
Well so much for being brief!! Let’s try that again! We begin with a trip into The Dix Range…
Part 1 Dix Range 7/15-7/16/17: Having exhausted most of the day-hike options in the Daks, we began to plan some backpack trips to get some of the lengthier adventures underway. 
The first of these trips was on the cusp of being a very long day trip, but we decided to make it an overnight so that we could enjoy more of the trek and not have to race through or hike by moonlight. The Dix Range consist of 5 summits in the easternmost reaches of the high peaks. We drove in on Elk Lake Rd with high hopes. The overflow hiker parking lot near Clear Pond had a sign posted stating that the Elk Lake lot was full and hikers would need to park here and walk the road. We decided to see for ourselves, and good thing too because just as we arrived at Elk Lake a group was finishing up their hike and we got to take their spot.The weekend’s leftover morning drizzles we knew would be the only drops encountered as we made our way into camp near Slide Brook Shelter. 
We made short work of the hike in, set up camp by 3:30 and found ourselves twiddling our thumbs. Neither of us brought a book or a deck of cards, and it was too late to squeeze in a peak, so we took a stroll down the trail a ways, and enjoyed the slower pace of the forest, having nowhere to go. Some of the finer quiet gentler details of the woods awaken when you pause: the trickling of a small stream, the glitter of the sunshine against the raindrop coated leaves, a critter scurries by, a bird calls and another echoes in the distance.
I share with my companion, how as much as I needed those solo days in NH, I am loving having her company these days. It just seems like having someone to share the experience makes it that much more enriching and enjoyable.
As we heat up our first camp meal, a snake slithers in to investigate. Our only neighbor set up across the clearing in a hammock, arrives from his hike as we are chowing down. After some chit-chat we pack it in early to get our morning start at first light.
The hike up the crumbly Macomb slide brings back memories of Tripyramids and Owls Head from my NH days. I share with Therese a few tricks I learned along the way of traveling up loose rock, such as not traveling directly behind the other downhill in case of a dislodged tumbler, to yell “ROCK” if you send one rolling, and if you are the receiver turn and face downhill so the rock hits your pack rather than your face. Being out in the open like this has its advantages too, such as the glorious sunshine and the increasing views behind us.
A large precariously balanced boulder marks the top of the slide and soon after we reach our first of 5 peaks and #31 overall – Macomb Mt. The day is young at 9am, but there are many peaks to visit, so we enjoy our view for a while and continue along.
After a short descent into a wooded col, we rise again up some open rocky scrambles with even more impressive vistas, and enter tree-cover once again. We pass over the summit of South Dix without seeing any markers, but press on to our 3rd stop Grace Peak (aka East Dix). Greeted with a surprisingly striking panorama of near and distant peaks, we pull up some rock slab and get comfortable over an early lunch.
Another visitor lets us know about the hard-to-find markings on South Dix, and we take note as we have to pass back over before T-ing off to the 2nd leg to reach our last two peaks. We enjoy the show some more, while fueling up, and retrace our steps over to the tree with the small high yellow summit marker and smaller carving of SDIX down lower.
The next climb is the most relentless of the day. There is some serious Houghing and Puffing going on and finally up a rocky ledge and a plateau, arriving on peak #4 Hough. Another hiker is sprawled on the tiny sitting area, apparently littering the area with orange peels, and repeatedly bragging about how few peaks he has left to finish the 46ers list. We are happy to see him go, and salvage some well deserved enjoyment out of our view, with the steep pointy false peak known as Beckhorn in the distance and none other than the great Dix Mountain beyond that. Well that thing aint gonna climb itself! Time to keep on keepin on!
I don’t think we spoke a word from that moment through the climb up and over Beckhorn and up to Dix Mountain. For that matter, there wasn’t much to say during our extended stay at the summit. Sometimes, the scenery just speaks for itself, or should I say to you through itself. Or perhaps (no I’m sure of it) It is something else speaking to us, something bigger and better than all the paradise we see before us. If this is indeed a slice of heaven, it’s no wonder so many strive to get there, and yet somehow so many of us lose our way. Indeed, we could all use some brushing up of our navigation skills. “MAP… COMPASS… KNOW HOW TO USE IT!” Well for now we won’t try to solve the world’s problems end enjoy another slice while our feet recover from the miles…
Eventually breaking ourselves away from the grand finale of our amazing trip, we backtrack to Beckhorn, and head down the steep (AND MARKED) trail of the same name. There’s no use in pointing out the pain in our knees or our throbbing feet, anymore that there is to point out how blessed we have been to witness the glorious spectacle before us. All we can do is experience it for better or worse and come out of the woods that much better for it.
Even when Therese jambs her arthritic toe on a rock and snaps her trekking pole in half somewhere around Lillian Brook, the bigger and better picture stays with us. How can it not. It is so big. It is so good. And we are so small. We make it back to camp and make quick work of the breakdown, so that we may ride the wave of this vision engraved in our heads and hearts, before fatigue gets the better of us, and has us longing for nothing but a slice of pizza, a shower and a soft mattress. On the ride back to civilization, we are already scheming about our next adventure- the often-dreaded Allen Mountain. What is wrong with us??
Part 2 Allen Mountain 7/26/17: So, ten days later we awake before the sun at The Hoot Owl Lodge to finally get the monkey off our back and take on the beast of all beasts – Allen Mountain. 
The part that makes this such a grueling hike for most, is the long flat (sometimes soggy) approach through logging roads and along state/private land borders, met with a steep slippery climb up the slimy slide to a wooded summit. We would soon find out for ourselves just how “tough” it was.
We signed in to the trailhead register at 6:09, dipped down and crossed the Hudson on a recently reconstructed bridge, and were on our way on this foggy start to a long day! 
To get our heads wrapped around this long trek, I used an approach that had served me well previously on NH’s Owl’s Head (a similar-in many ways- slog deep into the Pemi-Wilderness of the White Mountains), and that was to break the hike into chunks, and think of it more as 3 separate hikes. Hike #1: The hike along the yellow marked trail 123 to flowed lands and hanging spear falls. Hike #2: The climb along the unmarked heard path, up the slide, to the summit, and back down. Hike #3: The hike out at the end of a long day.
Therese liked this idea as I explained it to her and gladly adopted the approach. Our packs have some extra amenities today, to make the journey more bearable. We each have 3 pairs of socks with us, and Therese has an extra pair of trail-runners. We also, after a tip from a fellow Aspiring 46-er, are carrying microspikes to assist with the ascent up the slide and the infamous “red slime”. Plenty of water, nutrition, and energy-boost items, should keep the pep in our step.
We make our way past Lake Jimmy in the morning fog, and into a grassy meadow where we wasted no time soaking our footwear and legwear, brushing against the tall wet grass from last night’s rainfall. As the sun began to do its work to burn off the fog and we reached our first road-like section, Therese proceeded to break into a jog. I reluctantly followed suit best I could. It wasn’t long before we reached our first muddy area. We did our best to step on solid footing but quickly realized this effort was futile.
We reached the Mt. Adams split-off and an old caretaker’s cabin, followed by more meadow sections, some overgrown trails (now soaking our shirtsleeves), some more road-like straightaways (with more jogging) and finally a spooky swampy (beaver inhabited?) section where the last remnants of smog hovered amongst the bare stripped, scorched trees, and dew-drops clinging to thousands of creepy spiderwebs, glimmered in rays of a low-lying sun. I remember thinking of this place as “death-valley” but in a good way! We strolled through this area stopping often to take pictures, but knew we couldn’t dilly-dally too long with the miles ahead of us.
Another new bridge led us across the Opalescent River and then we got a glimpse of Allen through the trees. Shortly after this we left the marked trail and began Hike #2 as we made 2 small water crossings on logs and rock-hopping across Lower Twin Brook, then started to gain some elevation, finally!
This felt more like the Adirondack forests we had come to know and love, although a bit more removed from the mainstream heavily trafficked areas, and a more tender enchanted remote back-woodsy feel. We made our way past a few trail junctions and some more unassisted but very doable water crossings over Skylight Brook and then Allen Brook at a small waterfall. 
The slick bare rock scrambles began as we started up the Allen slide, and soon enough we felt the grip of our soles slip out from beneath us as we encountered our first patch of red slime.
Therese immediately donned the spikes, but I decided to wait until it was more widespread. I found myself regretting that decision as I managed to get myself in the middle of a larger patch of the slime on a steeper incline with no convenient spot to sit and strap on the spikes. But somehow, I managed to get them on and make may way out of the slip-n-slide. And just like that the slipping gave way to gripping and we enjoyed the rest of the steep climb with ever increasing views behind us.
The trail kicked off to the left and into the now shortened trees and we could feel ourselves getting close. I stopped at a clearing for a view and then heard a distinct “woot-wooot” call in the distance that could only mean one thing- we had arrived! 
As I hurried to catch up to my sister I could hear the muffled chit-chat of her voice and two others. When I arrived the father of the other group shouted “you made it” then gave me a high-five, followed by some more friendly chit-chat, and getting him to snap a summit photo of me and my companion.
Then the father/son duo departed to leave us to enjoy our victory. We sat on our perch just beyond the summit and gobbled up our food, changed our socks and enjoyed our view as we prepared to do the whole thing in reverse.
Aside from a bashed shin and general fatigue, the descent went smoothly and before we knew it we were on Hike #3 and finishing up the day on a high note. This had the “thankful for an awesome day” vibe to it as we passed each area with a now familiar look. We gleefully splashed across the brooks, sloshed through the muck, jogged the straightaways, recalled the now web-less “death-valley area”, shuffled our way through the now dry meadows, pleased at how pleasant this experience had turned out.
We knew we were in for an adventure as we signed in to that trailhead register at sunrise. 11 ½ hours and 19+ miles later, all I can say, is that this peak definitely gets a bad rap. I guess it’s all in the attitude. We had an amazing day experiencing the beautiful variety that this journey possesses. Yes, it was a long (3 pair of socks) day with plenty of mud and some steep slippery scrambles, a few bumps and bruises, and some cursing. But the good far outweighed the bad and gave us yet another a truly memorable day in the Daks. So thankful I get to experience all these amazing places with my sister.
Part 3 Cliff-Redfield 8/8&9/17:
“Day one of an epic overnight that gave us more than we expected or wanted, deep in the Daks. It all started with the long hike in, set up camp, and the steep scrambles and mud-fest of CLIFF ooooh Sooooo much mud!”
After another wake-up at Hoot Owl Lodge, we got another early start from Upper Works to get to base camp near Uphill Brook Lean-to for our 2nd backpack trip of the summer. We could have tried to cram this into one very long day, but I think we made the right choice stretching it into two. Little did we know how good of a decision it would prove to be.
Once again, we picked the only few dry days of the week, in the wettest summer in recent records. Right away, the trail is giving us an early taste of things to come, as we place our feet on submerged rocks and twigs that are swimming in…yep you guessed it… MUDD! This weekend we have made hiking a priority, over my son’s birthday and Therese’s anniversary, so needless to say we are committed to finishing our 46er quest by the upcoming fall.
We walk along and across the now well-acquainted Calamity Brook and discover a side trail that reveals a monument giving us a harsh reminder that people really DIE out here!
Then another clearing gives us a glimpse at an old friend (scratch that – an old foe) of days gone by. If you’ve read my previous chapters, you know the villain of which I speak. Then sure enough, around the corner we spot the cairn that no longer lives beneath feet of snow, and I decide to give it a proper salute.
Then we are treated to a couple of more friendly and familiar scenes, in Flowed Lands and then Lake Colden before we bang a right and head into unexplored territory.
Because it worked so well on Allen, we are breaking this into 4 hikes: The hike into camp, Up and down Cliff, Up and down Redfield, and the hike out. We even come up with a rhyme for each one. I forget them now but I think the first was something like “Hike number one, a day in the sun, now isn’t this a lot of fun?”
The travel along Opalescent River offers some dramatic water features, making the long trip into camp much easier to take, and the miles melt away in no time.
At one of our stops, overlooking some gushing rapids, we meet up with a solo hiker and his dog for some brief chit-chat. We exchange each other’s destinations, and learn that his list is shockingly extensive. He is on vacation from a long-distance drive (I forget where he was from) and he had a close encounter with a Bear last night in his camp on Ma… Ma… Ma… (no I cannot speak the name) …and then he named about 10 peaks he is “supposed to be at” in the next 24 hours (geez don’t sound so thrilled! That doesn’t sound much fun). I didn’t have the heart to tell him that at the rate he is moving and the amount of gabbing he is doing, he probably won’t make it. Not to mention the fact that he is carrying an outrageous amount of gear in two large overstuffed backpacks, one on each shoulder. After a while we nickname him “2-PAC” and have quite a few chuckles at his expense.
Shortly after our encounter we come to the most impressive gorge yet. As I cautiously lean over for some photos and vids, I remember thinking “boy, one slip and it’s over”!! …and then, right on cue, as I started to back away from the ledge, I tripped on a root and fell (thankfully) BACKWARDS. There I was, like a flipped turtle struggling to get upright and struggling to control my laughter. Therese was nowhere in sight, so I eventually managed to get on my feet. About an hour later we make it to camp and find a spot that’s reasonably dry amongst the muddy surface, grab a bite to eat, and head off in our much lighter day packs to grab our first peak.
Cliff is the shorter of the two climbs so it’s a good choice given the time of day and the effort we have put in already just getting here. Every time you make the drastic switch in weight, it seems as though you can fly. It’s a good thing too, because we soon find out this will be some steep scrambling, but before that we avoid the worst mud we have seen yet (…avoid the worst of it for now anyway). 
Up the steep cliffs of Cliff we get some fantastic views behind us. In front of us, the final scramble leads to the pathetic summit sign of our #37 – Cliff Mountain! 
The summit is nothing to “oooh” and “aaah” over so we make our way back down the cliffs, many times on our butts, and reach the muddy area once again. By now we are pretty tired and want to get back to camp to relax, so perhaps a bit careless in our choice of footing we (and by “we” I mean mostly Therese) become victims of the massive MUDPIT. Therese, at one point, plunges waste deep into a particularly nasty one. I think this sets the record for sure! “Hike number two, trudging through goo, and there is still so much to do.”
Just as we change into clean dry clothes and get dinner on the stove and pull up a log to unwind, another group arrives and makes their presence known LOUD AND CLEAR. We both look at each other, eyes rolling, as if to say “Are you shitting me?” and try to drown out the noise with some music from my iPod. After a while thankfully they did settle down and we enjoyed some peace and quiet and drifted off to sleep to rest up for another early start.
“Day two: Even after all these miles and all these smiles, we are still learning lessons in the woods. A little scare (ok a big one) tested our skills reasoning and composure, and in the end, humbled us and made us stronger and closer than ever…”
We were up, done with breakfast, and off on our way just as our neighbors were waking. The idea was to stay ahead of them today so we could enjoy the peaceful wilderness. Today was supposed to be the sunnier of the two days, but so far, it’s just cloudy and foggy. Be that as it may, we are hopeful for a great day. Our first order of business was to restock our water supply. Therese, having a larger water filter, was finished with the task before me, and started out ahead. When I was ready I set out to catch up. This is when things took an unsettling turn.
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After walking a bit, I looked down at my All-Trails app and noticed that it wasn’t tracking me correctly, thinking I was reclimbing Cliff. No big deal, I would let Therese know when I catch up that she had the only working app today (She uses Gia, which seems to be a bit more reliable). I also noticed that I had forgotten to move my Spot locator from my large pack to this one. Still not a huge deal, as Therese had her Garmin with her. Looks like Therese is the prepared one today. Thank goodness for hiking partners. Ok now let’s catch up to her.
The gushing Uphill Brook we were now travelling along, offered still more impressive water scenes and I couldn’t resist leaning over the ledge for some photos. Of course, this put me further behind, and I picked up the pace to race ahead and rejoin my partner. In my rush and haste, I soon found myself in an oddly sparse heard path. In the Adirondacks, the so called “heard paths” were really well defined to this point. So, seeing something this faint struck me as a bit strange. Still, I had been on paths like this before, in the Whites while setting out for Owl’s Head, so I continued on.
As I marched further onward and upward the path grew more sparse and overgrown. This is a 46er in the Daks. It’s very peculiar that so many must come through here and don’t leave a more worn path than this! Why isn’t Therese waiting for me? It’s been at least 20 minutes and we usually aren’t apart this long. I called out to her but all I could hear in return was the trickling of water on the stream I was following.
Something isn’t right. For sure she must be as confused as me as to why this trail is so scant. I walked a bit further and then hit a dead end. I had lost the “trail” entirely. I bushwhacked for a few feet to see if I could find it, to no avail. So, I backtracked a bit to where I thought I was still on track (or at least on this track). I called out for my sister again, but still nothing. Then I tried my whistle – just running water.
I went back n forth a few yards one more time to see if I could find where this trail lead. But there was nothing. At this point I knew for sure that this could not be the right trail. The question was, where was my sister? Was she also on this trail further up the mountain? Had she found a split-off that I missed? Had she backtracked when I failed to catch up? Or worse had she got lost or hurt somewhere off trail. I did what they always tell you to do when lost and stopped (although I can’t say I was really lost, as I knew that I could easily follow this path back down to the main trail). I whistled in groups of three (universal distress signal), on my lame whistle included on the sternum strap of my pack.
Then I made the decision to backtrack to the trail and perhaps all the way back to camp. I continued to blow that whistle in 3’s, with an occasional call out to her and listened for an answer while I made my descent. The other group should be on their way soon. Maybe they have seen my sister or could get a message to her if she had indeed continued up the moutain. I hope she is ok! And if she is, I hope she isn’t too worried about me! How could I have made such a stupid mistake after all these miles? I wish this stupid water would shut up for a second so I could hear her. “Therese!!!” “Toot-Toot-Toot” God why doesn’t she answer? Stay calm Mike- Everything is ok. “Toot-Toot-Toot” Water growing louder now, so I must be close to the main brook, but now she really can’t hear this thing! “Toot-Toot-Toot” ….and then at last an answer – a faint “Tooooooooot” in the distance! I answer back with a “Toot-Toot-Toot” and hear it echoed back. This could be her, but it could be the other group. God, I hope it’s her, but either way this is good news and a sense of relief (although an uncertain one) washes over me. We continue to answer each other back in various patterns as the whistling gets louder and louder and when I hear that the sound is right around the corner, I end with a “Toot-t-t-Toot-Toot…”
…and then the best thing in the world finally appears- my sisters face looking very relieved! “OH MY GOD. YOU’RE ALIVE!” she says. “I WAS SO WORRIED THAT YOU HAD FALLEN IN THE GORGE!” Then a big hug and a “Why did you go that way? That’s not the trail!” I respond “I know that now! I am done! Unless you know where the trail is” Then she points to a small cairn “It’s that way!”
Man did I feel stupid at that point! How could I miss this? A cairn and 2 arrows pointing the way. Then I notice some blowdown brush blocking the path at the point where I veered off-trail. How could I have missed this obvious roadblock? 
Well I suppose none of that mattered now- We were reunited and safe. Then she let me know that she had hit the SOS button on her Garmin. Oh great! I’ve been avoiding that thing at all costs. Now we’re gonna be another Facebook story and be scrutinized by our peers! Then she demonstrated the features of her upgraded GPS and after some satellite text messaging back and forth with Garmin, and with uncle Keith, they were able to cancel the Search & Rescue call, and (long story short) all was back to normal. NOW LET’S BAG THIS PEAK ALREADY!
We talked the rest of the way up about what I went through, what she went through, and the lessons learned from this ordeal. We talked about things we could change in our routines, emergency plans we could put in place, equipment upgrades, and most of all about how thankful we are to have each other in our lives and how we should never take that gift for granted.
We eventually summited a socked in Redfield and although the sun and wind tried to clear up the fog for us, we never really got our view that day. But we didn’t care. We got so much more, and kept what is truly important – A brother and sister and our love of each other and the mountains. I don’t remember the rhyme we came up with that day, but I think this might be the gist of it:
“Lessons learned, with one wrong turn, the best laid plans can crash and burn. Hike #3, no views to see, but so much more than it seems to be.”
We packed up camp and made the long trek out, enjoying the scenery along the way, happy to be back on marked trail, and thankful that we kept our wits about us in the face of adversity, avoided any catastrophe, and were reminded to treasure our precious moments while we are allowed to make our muddy footprints on this earth. We would have some stories to tell for this one for sure.
“Hike #4, our feet are sore, but we will soon be ready for more…”
Part 4 Seward Range 8/25-27/17: The great Eight lie before us now. We can taste our victory getting closer. In perhaps the most remote section of the Adirondacks lies 4 peaks and half of our remaining destinations on this journey. By now we have experienced enough physical and emotional turmoil, that we are honestly feeling pretty invincible (although we know we are far from it). We are in the zone and ready to enjoy every moment left in our amazing 46er quest!!
We have been enjoying these multi-day backpack trips so much we are planning one for this range as well. Actually, there is really no way not to. The Sewards require another fairly long approach, as is often the case in the Daks, before you begin your ascent. You would need at least one night between the two climbs, one being Seymour with the other 3 peaks, Seward, Donaldson, and Emmons, grouped together.
Many choose to approach the 3 peaks from the west along Calkins Brook in a single day hike, avoiding the steeper northern approach to Seward from the Ward Brook trail, and then return another day to bag Seymour. 
We think it is more efficient to camp at the junction near Ward Brook lean-to (since at least this much is required to get to Seymour), then on day two, bite the bullet and grab the other 3 peaks. How steep can it be really? I doubt it is much worse than we’ve encountered to this point. Of course, this also means we will be summiting Seward and Donaldson each twice, where the other approach would only double up Donaldson. Be that as it may, we are up for the challenge, and this also gives us an excuse to spend a second night in the woods and hike out on day three, maximizing the enjoyment factor.
For once, we are not dodging raindrops to find our window of opportunity, as it has been a rather dry week. How luxurious!!
That’s our plan and we’re sticking to it, unless some unforeseen circumstances present themselves, which is always a possibility, often a probability, in the mountains. A few things are adjusted or in the works since our ordeal in the Cliff-Red trip. First, we are using gators to help fend off the mud and keep our feet dry longer. I have upgraded to Gia from the old All Trails app. Therese is having Keith order me a Garmin In-reach (like hers) so we can have better communication on these trips. It hasn’t come in yet, but possibly we will have it for our upcoming Presi Traverse in the Whites next weekend. She is joining me for the southern half on day two, so it would be good to upgrade our communication while I am doing the more strenuous Northern half solo on day one. If it doesn’t come in by then, we will work out a signaling system with my Spot locator and cell phones when cell signal can be had. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Back to the trip at hand.
We made our way pretty easily along the initial red-marked flattish 4 mile approach on a sunny day. Once the parallel horse trail branched off to the right, we started seeing property boundary flags for the Ampersand Club – Oh about I’d say every 4 feet or so!!! I guess they really like their property untouched.
About halfway into this stretch we thought we would get a view of Blueberry Pond on the left but pretty thick brush and trees with no pathway that we saw, found us past the pond without sight of it. Still some nice forest sights and brooks along the way though.
After putting out an abandoned smoldering fire-ring at Blueberry Lean-to, and turning onto the truck trail road, we noted the spot following a brook leading to our three day 2 peaks and continued to Ward Lean-to and found a nearby clearing to set up camp.
By now, it seems we have our backpacking routine down pretty good, and started morphing into our lighter packs to head back out to the trail and bag our first summit. We found our split-off at another brook and began our ascent. Feeling weightless now, we few up the mountain in no time at all and got some pretty awesome views, personally my favorite of the trip.
Starting to feel the late afternoon mountaintop chill, we headed back down to some warm pasta primavera and a LEGAL (for once) CAMPFIRE before retiring for the day.
Waking to the sounds of forest birds and critters, we refueled with some instant Starbucks, oatmeal Munkpacks and HB Eggs, then headed out to the first brook split off. This ascent was quite steep and scrambly but the day was young and full of hope so we powered up past cliffs and blowdowns (and occasional views to our backs) to our meeting with Seward Mountain.
A solo hiker approaching the summit shortly after us from the other direction was bearing a fresh wound, and we offered some first aid, but he said he had this minor cut under control. So, we parted ways and headed out to our 2nd peak of the day.
With some sporadic glimpses over the treetops to the valley floor below, this was a much easier undertaking, and we reached Donaldson in time for a quick noontime snack and a nice 180 view with a duel pano shot. 
We plunged into a col now and into some MUD pits (ala Cliff Mountain) and maneuvered our way around and through like experts – well we should be by now! Climbing back up along the ridge, we passed the western Calkins Brook split-off and now traveled a slightly more populated trail with the 2 paths merging, amongst lush jungle-like greenery, toward our final peak of the trip. 
Emmons was already populated by a few gabby fellows when we arrived at 1pm for our #42, but we found a spot to sit and devour our lunch over a so-so view through the treetops. Once the gabbier of the gentlemen left we were rested enough to share some 46er battle stories with the other, who oddly enough had some of the same final peaks as us down the stretch and was also planning to finish on Colden.
Now all there was to do was retrace and resummit in reverse! We were getting tired at this point, but still excited that we had reached the “FINAL FOUR” stage in our journey, and started scheming about how that would go down, as we made our way up and over and down and up and over and REALLY DOWN.
The steep descent back down to Ward Brook required some careful and slower footing and some tree swinging assists along with some but sliding down sheer rock faces. We were managing fairly well, when all of the sudden a heard a loud scream of agony from behind! My sister must have hurt herself badly, as I have never heard her scream this way. I raced back up to where she was, expecting to see a detached limb or something. Thankfully, all body parts were still in place, but she was hunched over clearly in some profound pain, with eyes closed trying to regain her composure with long deep breaths. I asked her where it hurt, and she responded softly – “my knee.” “What can I do?” I asked. After a few additional deeper breaths, she answered “Nothing. I’m OK I think.” I advised her to take her time and sit for a while and offered a knee brace or ace bandage. After some bush-style treatment and stretching, she was able to continue. My sister is a tough cookie!! It takes a lot to break her spirit.
Now we descended much more slowly and deliberately so as not to further aggravate the injury. Whew! That could have been a tough evac situation, being in such a remote and precarious location. I made my way ahead slowly, always checking back on her, and she crept behind favoring her leg. It was pretty quiet now, as the mood was understandably shaken. But eventually we made it back without further incident.
All was much better in the morning after some rest and some vitamin-i. We packed up camp and retraced our way along the flattish trails back to the safety of my sister’s car and then enjoyed a long drive down the western side of the Adirondacks along Long Pond and a few other nice areas. Therese pointed out and shared stories about, having visited these areas, camping and whatnot, early in marriage and family upbringing. Another 4 peaks hard earned in the books and another 4 to go!! One thing we have learned, chasing this dream, is that the Adirondaks don’t give you anything easily. But these struggles, whether physical or emotional, somehow manage to make it more meaningful.
Part 5 Santanoni Range 9/17/17: …She didn’t say it at the time but I believe it took her until today for her injury to fully heel. We had planned to do an epic hike in the Presidential range the following week, and she never said boo about not being up for the task. So greater forces stepped in to change our plans and give us an unexpected gift on the off-week, until we returned to the Daks for one more hurdle before our final steps in our 46er journey!!
These greater forces came from Ma Nature of course. She conjured up some freezing temperatures and 80mph winds on Mt Washington smack dabbed in the middle of our would-be trip (courtesy of Harvey remnants). So, with a heavy heart and an empty wallet (from the non-refundable AMC Hut reservation), I pulled the plug on the whole thing. Instead, we asked Vermont to save the day yet again. Boy did it deliver! It could not have been a more different feel than a rugged Presi-traverse, but the prize turned out to be just what we needed. We strolled along the Long Trail from Ellen to Abraham with the soft rolling hills and enjoyed the day, highlighted by a huge Bull Moose sighting in close range, munching on the forest greenery. What a treat!
The next week, we met once again at Hoot Owl Lodge and awaited our next treat in the form of a new face. 
We have a third party joining us for this trip into the Santanoni Range. Back at the end of last winter, Therese had met up with a few other aspiring 46ers to tackle Street and Nye. That day Anna and her hit it off pretty good and they have been trying to get another hike arranged ever since. Today is the day.
While my sister and I chill on the porch with the lodge to ourselves counting spiders at sunset, Anna is up in Lake Placid wrapping up a long day in the High Peaks in the McIntyre Range, and the dreaded Marshall. We are sitting in bed reading at about 10pm when Anna arrives all wound up and tells us the details of her harrowing ordeal and her “fucking loop” in her Portuguese/French-Canadian accent, and I immediately like her and the energy she brings to the table. She left the room to grab the rest of her stuff from her car, and I turned to my sister and said “Well she’s a spunky one!” This is gonna be a fun day I can tell. All of the sudden I am no longer tired and can’t wait for it to start!
We wake the next morning grab some breakfast, fill up out water supplies, and head out to the trail head just before Upper Works. The first 1.8 miles on Santanoni Rd are a breeze. We spend some time here talking about family heritage, the lifespan of pets, our work professions, and just getting acquainted with each other. 
The trail to Bradley Pond branches off the right and now we are doing some descent hiking at last. The leaves are already showing signs of autumn as we make our way to the pond along Santanoni Brook, which gives us a few scenic vistas on the way with falls cascading down rock ledges into pools.
At a few points the trail crosses the river on a pretty sad excuse of bridge which we negotiate with some pretty creative maneuvering.
We take note of the Express trail on our left coming down from Santanoni Peak, which will be our return route, and continue until we reach Bradley Pond.
The “Santas” consist of 3 peaks, Santanoni, Panther and Couchsachraga. Right now, Therese is pretty set on getting Couch “out of the way” first, since it is the furthest trek and if for some reason we couldn’t get all 3 today, we will at least not have to make the haul out there again. 
After following Sananoni Brook for a bit, there is a herd path that leaves the blue marked trail about 2.5 miles on the left, just before the shelter, through a beaver dam and skirts the northeast shore of Bradley pond. We find this marking and get a bit confused at the swampy area, where Anna and I cross over the wrong waterway which she sinks her foot in, and have some difficulty returning over the log bridge.
Therese hangs back and ends up finding the right path and getting a good laugh at our expense watching us trying to get back across. Eventually we right our wrong and make our way up some steep-ish climbing to a clearing known as Herald Square. 
The choices here, are to take a short jaunt up to Panther to the right, or another quicky to the left where another clearing called Times Square gives us the choice of the much longer trek to “Couchie” or a climb up to the title peak.
Since we knew we’d be finishing with the express trail, and not returning back to Bradley Pond, that ruled out Santanoni. So, it was either Couch or Panther. Anna to our surprise informed us at this time that she was having a hard time keeping pace with us (perhaps due in part to her long hike the day before) and that she had not been drinking as much water due to a strange taste it had (she had filled up at the lodge sink, and I do remember smelling a sulfury odor) and to feel free to go ahead as she was used to hiking solo. This of course was not an option as far as we were concerned. We all came in together, and we will leave the same way! We had the rest of the day and had no issues slowing down if need be. (As it turned out, it need NOT be. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves )
…After some discussion we opted for some early gratification of hitting at least one peak now, for a metal boost more than anything else, and headed out to bag Panther. This ended up being a good call, and the views were arguably the best of the day.
Next, we retraced back to Herald Square, onto Times Square, and set out for Couchie. Newly energized from the views on Panther, and now traveling downhill, we all cruised along at a good clip. 
Couch is the one high peak that lost significant elevation after the more recent survey. It’s actually only 3,793 ft but the original list remains intact, even though there are a few peaks that were revealed to be higher than 4,000 ft that were not added to the list. So, we continued to descend our way westward and making good headway, knowing we would have to climb back up on our return.
We came to a clearing in the trail where there was a good view north to the Sewards and decided that this could be a good spot to break for lunch later, if there was nothing good on or near the summit. But we weren’t hungry just yet for anything but our arrival at our 2nd peak, so onward and …downward????
Eventually we came to the col and the infamous boggy area. We maneuver across the muddy area, not quite on the trail, on the squishy sinking dead limbs and stay fairly dry. Not nearly as bad as we had expected. Certainly, the floating log bridges near flowed lands en-route to Skylight and the mud pits on Cliff were much worse than this.
Then we finally did some climbing and Couchie was within striking distance. “I’m liking Cooch” Anna says. “I have a funny picture to take at the summit”. Now my wheels start spinning on what her mind could be conjuring up. “Cooch… It sounds very rap to me…” Close to the summit Anna spots a lookout with a view. “I think a found our lunch spot!” But we don’t stop, because our summit awaits.
And then at long last, we arrive at the wooded area that bears the long hard to pronounce name- Couchsachraga. The 3 of us take the obligatory selfie, and then Anna poses for her rap shot.
Time for lunch! So far, I would say, much like Allen, this hike’s notorious reputation is grossly exaggerated. I for one am enjoying myself thoroughly. I don’t know maybe it’s the extra company.
After lunch we retrace our steps in the upward direction back to the clearing and to Times Square where we begin our final climb of the day.
About an hour later we complete the mission with some great views to the McIntyres and our finishing peak, which is next on the list for Therese and I – hard to believe! – And Anna is now down to single digits. We get our last summit shots of the day and treat ourselves to some fresh socks before we begin our plunge down the express trail.
The express has some pretty steep sections. Therese these days has understandably become more cautious on steep descents thanks to some recent injuries, so she is taking it slow. 
On the other hand, Anna has a sudden burst of energy and races ahead. For a while, I am monkey in the middle trying to keep up with Anna then hanging back to make sure Therese is ok. I ultimately give up on the late-day trail runner and hang back with sis. We are pleased with today’s victory and that we have made it past the final hurdle before NUMBER 46! I’m glad to have made a new friend before all was said and done on this journey. Hiking can be a pretty solitary undertaking and although passers-by are always friendly, it’s not often you get to connect with someone new.
We make it back to the road and break into a jog to catch up with miss Speedy Gonzales back at the car and take the drive back to the lakehouse where some heavy-duty pampering awaits! COLDEN is around the corner, but right now, Pasta, Beer, Lake, Hot-tub, Sleep all sound much better!
…And that’s where summer came to a close. Longer days giving way to the crisp cool air and colors of autumn. We have one peak waiting for us 2 years after I started this quest. Soon I will be looking forward to a new adventure, with my sights toward 13 peaks Maine to finish the Northeast 111 and the New England 67. Before we know it the cold of Winter will be upon us and I’ll be back in New Hampshire to chip away at my Winter-48, while helping Therese finish her overall NH-48. I will definitely miss the Adirondacks though. They have challenged me and fulfilled my soul like I could not believe. I am not sure if I will go for the Winter-46 or not. But I know I will not be able to stay away. I must find a reason to go back, as if I needed one…
TO BE CONCLUDED… (or maybe just continued)