Hiking Scared: Slide Mountain

Ok, I wasn't scared, but hiking anxious didn't have the same ring.  As a rule of thumb hiking alone in wilderness areas isn't the greatest of ideas, there's no cell reception most of the time, no one to help in case of an accident, and the trails are scarcely traveled so no one will come across you for some time if you get injured.  On those marvelous notes, I decided to solo climb the highest mountain in the Catskills since Brian was working, Allie was sick, and I had the day off.  I've been so antsy to get outside I've been writing trip reports from old ADK hikes.  I got up a little behind schedule and was totally misty eyed for some reason; I'm normally pretty quick to shake off the morning dust.  I left in a hurry and forgot, well, everything.  I left the memory card for my camera, my phone charger, the directions and right about everything else of use.  I chose the Catskills because I wanted a short hike outside of the Adirondacks where I only hike with my Bears, unfortunately this meant I had no idea where I was going.  After taking the super long route through some beautiful mountain towns, I arrived at the Slide Mountain trailhead.

Slide is 4,180 feet tall, small by Adirondack standards, but it is actually the tallest mountain in the Appalachians between Virginia and Vermont.  The hike was supposed to be quick (5.4 miles roundtrip), fun, and easy, instead it was continuously unnerving.  Literally 20 feet into the trail I was confronted by a creek turned river due to the snow melt and rain.  I wanted to turn back, I wanted to find a bar and call it a day after a frustrating ride, but instead I waded through ice cold waist deep water and crossed onto the trail; I was instantly miserable.  My brand new Merrell Norsehound hiking boots were rendered worthless after the soaking, even after I dumped a pint of water out of each of them with frigid fingers.  Since it was my first solo hike I kept feeling like someone was behind me, a crazed hillbilly or a Lord of the Rings monster, but that feeling faded pretty fast.  I started to enjoy the hike quite a bit until I realized I forgot my memory card for my camera.  I didn't think of it much until the most cool/terrifying moment of the day.  I saw I was the only one on the mountain when I signed the hikers log, and could see the tracks from the sole hiker the day before.  When I got 2/3 of the way up I noticed the biggest paw prints I had ever seen, then quickly realized they abruptly started and stopped after 20 feet.  Bear!  I took a quick peak around me and bolted.  After coming to my senses I realized the print was melting with the snow around it, so it must of been a bit old, but nonetheless frightening and exhilarating all at once.

I reached the summit where I had no views as the day was cloudy with a winery mix.  I wanted to make good time back so I hustled quite a bit.  When I got back to the aforementioned creek, it had turned into a torrent of rapids.  There was 20 feet of water between me and my Jeep, and did I mention I cant swim?  This was probably the most freighting point of the day.  I knew I couldn't wait it out; the temperature was dropping and I was already soaked and freezing, so I bushwhacked about a quarter mile upstream until I found a narrow enough section to leap rock to rock all the way across.  It didn't work quite as planned when my last leap came up short and soaked me further, no matter, the Jeep was in sight.  After sitting in the warming car for a while I got a whole new appreciation for my hiking buddies, even if it was just to share the pain with.  I have more solo hikes planned, but it's nothing like when I have the crew.

Note the trail marker on the right and Jeep in the background.

The Adirondack Lower Great Range

Peaks: Sawteeth, Gothics, Upper Wolfjaw, Lower Wolfjaw and Armstrong
Distance: ~20 miles
Trail Map


Peak bagging: [peek bag-ing] verb; An activity where hikers summit multiple mountains in a single hike or overtime.
Peak bagger: [peek bag-gur] noun; One who engages in the act of peak bagging.

The ADK Great Range is so great in size (pun intended) that it can only be hiked in two separate trips.  The Upper Great Range contains a staggering five mountains in the chain, which can be summited on a twenty mile loop.  Me and the crew made the fateful decision to combine this hike with two more twenty mile loops over a period of three days, but more on that disastrous plot when I get to the Nippletop trip.  We took off from Johns Brooke Lodge off route 73.  The area is a bit bizarre to me because it houses the Ausable Club, a private organization of people who do.....well I don't think anyone knows but them.  However, you have to hike through their golf course, tennis courts, "clubhouse" (read mansion), and then down a private road (to another "clubhouse") before finally reaching the Arnold Weld Trail.  It all strikes me as a bit much for being nestlesd in the wilderness, but I digress.

The hike up the Weld Trail is as beautiful as it is brutal.  One of us had to use natures restroom, ran up ahead, then yelled "holy crap!"and sent the other two of us into a panic.  No, it wasn't a bear, just the first glimpses of the beautiful Rainbow Falls.  The waterfall was the last pleasurable part of the hike for a while.  The hike then turned into the most brutal one I've ever taken.  The grade of the trail was so steep that as some points we had to bear crawl up some of the exposed sections of rock.  With our thighs burning and sweat stinging our eyes we reached the first target of the day, Sawteeth.  It's a partially wooded summit so views were only mildly impressive, but it felt good to conquer our first target.

The decent to the col between Sawteeth and Gothics went quick, far quicker than actually getting to Gothics.  Gothics is the 8th tallest and most stunning mountain in the Adirondacks due to its large rockslide that gives it a gothic appearance.  It also has quite the ridge line too, with several false summits.  Since Gothics was Brian's and my 17th peak in the ADKs we continually yelled "17!", until we realized it was just another faux summit.  Around the third time around, we were finally there!  Gothics has 360 degree views that make you want to stay all day, but we had to get to Armstrong, number three for the day.  To tell you the truth, Armstrong is the least memorable mountain I've ever climbed, so much so I can't remember why it was so uninteresting, and with no photo evidence I would guess I dreamed the whole thing if I didn't need to climb it to get to the last two mountains.

Courtesy of Allie

Upper Wolfjaw was next on the list and by then it was break time.  After fighting the urge to sleep we took off for the last peak, Lower Wolfjaw, the lowest and most insect covered of the day.  We took in the limited views for a brief second while swatting at the late season Black Flies and were off again.  By the time we were closing in on the end of the loop we began to run out of water.  By the time we reached the end of the loop we looked like were in the backcountry for days and were ready for a beer....or 6.  It was a successful trip; 5 mountains, 20 miles, and many thousands of vertical feet gained in elevation, but the mountains demanded a sacrifice that was payed the very next day when we tried to repeat this task on another range, that's another story though.

Around the World on a Greyhound Bus

The circumference of the Earth is 24,901 miles.  According to my Greyhound Road Rewards (the frequent flyer equivalent for us Greyhounders), I've made 92 one way trips between Syracuse and New York City, 25,116 miles in 460 hours; take that Earth!  That's not counting the dozens of trips I've taken but forgot to sign into Road Rewards, nor the times I took Megabus (forgive me Greyhound).  All in all, I'm probably halfway to going around the world again.  And folks, when you spend that much time on a bus you see some things.

I've been on buses with no AC in August and others that had no heat in January; I've seen the soft orange glow of flames coming from the engine illuminate the walls of the Port Authority bus station as the bus belched thick smoke into the night air; I've fallen asleep on beautiful strangers who were too kind to wake me, and I have been fallen asleep on by more obese men to count; I've made friends with a Canadian mother taking the treacherous 12 hour ride from NY to Toronto to see her daughter for Xmas.  Another time I made a friend from Kentucky who offered to drive a complete stranger, dressed like AC/DC guitarist Angus Young, two hours out his way because they had missed their bus.  I've caught glimpses of Rhiana and Lady Gaga in Times Square while waiting for the bus to depart;  I've been hit on by homeless men, women, and cross-dressers; I've seen a driver jokingly state that our "coach" (never a bus) was heading express to Miami Beach and sent a Serbian couple into a panic.  I know the exact point to look right in the Delaware Water Gap and catch a glimpse of the Appalachian Trail, and the exact points to look up and catch the first views of Syracuse or the Manhattan Skyline.  I've devised ways to make sure I am the last person on the bus you would ever want to sit with, and also ways to not smell like the distinct funk the busses have when I get off.

I feel like the experience has made me tougher, my tolerance for aggravation has had to go up quite a bit in order to deal.  With grad school coming to an end though, so will my weekly trips to and fro; yippie!!!!  From there on out I'll ride when I need a lift to a trailhead someplace, but until then I have a few more months of the circus which is Greyhound, a circus I appreciate very much.  So I leave you with the words of my favorite driver:

"I hope you enjoyed the ride and have a pleasant day.  Remember to cover your mouth if you need to cough; no one wants your germs. Take care and God to bless."