Mount Van Hoevenberg -- Winter

(Virginia on the summit of Mount Van Hoevenberg)

I had been excited about hiking Mount Van Hoevenberg for days. It felt like forever since the June solo trip I made here while I was recovering from Lyme disease.  (see my blog post http://nooksandvales.blogspot.com/2017/07/lyme-escape-mount-van-hoevenberg.html)  On that day, I told myself that I would return to lead an Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) trip in the winter and now, I couldn't wait.

(Frozen pond with Mt. Van Ho in the background)

I had decided to ask fellow ADK leader and friend, John, to co-lead the trip with me.  I said, "I want to share the responsibility of making decisions about winter driving and trail conditions."  John agreed in seconds.

True to his good leadership, John and his wife scouted out the trail on their own and hiked Mt. Van Ho just days before our scheduled adventure.  "There was some ice and some mud," he reported, "but nothing that would prohibit us from having a good day."

(Our group ascends the mountain)

For two days, my friend, Karen, sent me emails from her north country "spies," people she knew who lived in the mountains and could give "on the ground reports."   Ice in quantity, and treacherous trails, were phrases that repeated from one email to the next.

ADK participants emailed me about joining the trip.  I told them to bring microspikes for the ice.

The day before the outing, I called the High Peaks Information Center.  "There's a few inches of fresh powder," the respondent told me.  His voice had a touch of annoyance.  How many phone calls had he had like mine?  "So microspikes will do?"  I asked.  "As long as there's less than 8 inches of snow," he added.  Department of Environmental Conservation regulation in the Eastern High Peaks area requires snowshoes if there are eight or more inches of snow.

I told our participants to bring snowshoes just in case.

(We have to duck under laden boughs on the trail)

In three cars, our group of ten headed up the Northway.  A heavy wet snow had fallen in much of the state a few days' previous, but the north country had gotten little.  We lamented the dull brown terrain as we passed Lake George, Warrensburg, and North Hudson, on our journey north.  "But it's always beautiful, regardless, right?" Karen said with a hopeful sigh.

(The dark area is where the trail comes out of the forest to an expansive view)

We entered Keene Valley, and continued on into Keene and close to Lake Placid.  Snow began to appear in the woods and fields.  Powdery snow.  Drop-dead gorgeous snow.  We turned into the Adirondak Loj Road and the powder deepened.  We peered out the car windows, enthralled by trees coated in thick white. Who could have imagined this winter wonderland?  When we arrived at the trailhead, John got out, scuffed the snow with his boot, and determined that, yes! snowshoes would be the footwear of the day.

(Filigreed snow decorates summit trees)

John said, "This is a different world from just a few days ago when I was here with my wife."

I don't think I have ever seen ten people so unanimously happy about a serendipitous day.

(Clouds hang on the peaks)

(this June view shows the peaks under high fair-weather clouds)

Just one lingering thought niggled at the back of my mind. I said, "I will be a little disappointed if I get to the summit and we can't see the peaks."  Mount Van Hoevenberg boasts views of at least a dozen high peaks.  Seeing all those snow-covered mountains would be almost as good as being on one of them.

(Karen in a winter wonderland)

I ate my words.  I was not disappointed.  We couldn't see the tops of the high peaks, but it didn't matter.  Instead, we could see an intricate variation of texture in the snow-covered hills and valleys in front of us.  The scene made me wonder how many of the supposed 50 words for snow Arctic people could identify here, in what almost seemed to be a picture etched in black-and-white.

(Snowy textures are fascinating)

We took photos of the views and of each other.  Some people continued on, hoping to find more viewpoints beyond the two we had come upon.  Others listened to John read from pages he had copied describing the geological and historical significance of this mountain.

(John regales the group with interesting information)

Over lunch, sitting in the summit powder, one person said, "If we could see the tops of the snow-covered peaks with a clear sky, it would probably be too windy to sit here."  "That's right," another added.  "We would have to go back into the trees for shelter."  We had a glorious and highly satisfactory view.  I was just one of ten in harmony with the serenity of this early March day.

(Can't beat this lunch location!)

We began to feel a chill -- time to begin our descent.  Our snowshoes glided along the path we had made earlier.  We continued to admire the snowy woods, but when we reached the pond, we decided that the scene had been prettier on the way up before the light had changed in the course of the day.

Sometimes on a hike, I have to remind participants to look around and take in the beauty of the landscape.  Not this group.  Every member had been attuned to the exceptional surroundings and camaraderie on Mount Van Hoevenberg.