Hiking in the AMR, 2021

(Summit view from Dial Mountain)

 

I was curious about the new Adirondack Mountain Reserve (AMR) pilot parking reservation system and decided that I would try it out for my annual solo hiking retreat.   I chose to be away the nights of June 15 and 16, and reserved a campsite at Heart Lake, part of the Adirondack Mountain Club's property within the High Peaks Wilderness area.  Next, I would reserve a parking spot in the AMR lot.

 

(Weather was a bit ominous upon my arrival at the Heart Lake Campground)

The Adirondack Mountain Reserve is 7000 acres of privately owned land nestled among high peaks and lakes in St. Huberts, New York.   The land includes the elite Ausable Club.  In 1973, New York State and the Ausable Club worked out conservation and foot traffic easements on some of the club’s land.  

In 2020, an unprecedented number of people chose to be outdoors in the Adirondacks.  Overuse and parking issues became a hot topic.  Often bandied about was the controversial idea of a permit system for parking and hiking.  As a private entity, the AMR had the ability to join the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation in working out a 2021 pilot parking reservation system solely for the AMR lands.

 

(A young hardwood forest near the Noonmark Shoulder, perhaps new growth since the fire of 1999)

I wondered if I would like registering for a parking permit on a specific day and for a particular time slot for hiking.  When my daughter, Meredith, and I were hiking the 46 High Peaks of the Adirondacks, we often changed our plans based on weather or other factors.  A permit system would make spontaneity out of the question.

Still, I jumped right in.  On the requisite day, two weeks in advance of my camping days, I went on the AMR website and reserved parking and hiking time slots for the two consecutive days that I would be camping.  In the intervening weeks before my trip, I mulled over which trails I hoped to go on, now that I was technically through the gate.

(The Noonmark Shoulder whets the appetite to continue up Dial, at left)

Immediately before my departure days, the weather forecast predicted 100% rain for part of June 15.  I decided that I would skip hiking that day and drive up to my campsite in the afternoon. Before I left home, I cancelled my parking reservation for the 15th.  My cancellation went through instantly and I was able able to book the 17th as my second hiking day just moments later.  I was pleased with this efficiency.

True to the forecast, it started to pour within 30 miles of my destination.  As I pulled into the campground, the tumult lessened to a drizzle and I quickly set up my tent.  Then I took my salad-with-chicken dinner and folding chair to the lake before the rain settled in again.  The air was chilly and windy, and clouds hung heavy on Street and Nye Mountains across the lake.  No question, though, it felt great to be there.

(The summit view from Dial Mtn.)

There is nothing quite like being cocooned and dry in a small tent with my sleeping pad and bag laid out, my battery light and book ready for some evening reading, while the rain pounds on all sides.  When I got tired of reading, I listened to the rain and to music on my iPod. 

Later, I awoke to silence and stepped outside.  I could see brilliant stars through the trees above and decided to walk a few feet to a clearing.  The milky way crossed the black sky in glittering lights.  The next day would be perfect for hiking.

(I had been hoping to see lady's slippers on this hike, but did enjoy coming upon a lush community of bunchberry)

The night temperature had gone down into the low 40s. Daytime highs would rise to a comfortable 65.   After my yogurt and granola breakfast, I drove the half-hour to the AMR in time for my choice of an 8:30 a.m. slot.  A cheerful young man checked me in and instructed me to park between chalk lines.  How leisurely to arrive at the relatively late hour of 8:30 and not have to worry about a parking spot!

Of the many options, I had decided that on this, my only full day, I would hike to the Noonmark Shoulder of Dial Mountain.  From there,  I would decide whether to continue on to Dial's summit, the 41st of the 46 Adirondack High Peaks. 

In 1999, a forest fire burned 90 acres of the Shoulder's forested ledges clearing the terrain to bare rock.  Hikers have since been treated to an impressive view. 

Alone on the rocks, I had a snack and a short rest.  I checked my watch.  Only 10:30 -- why not continue on to Dial's summit?

(Heart Lake on a cool clear evening)

High peaks are difficult hikes, both going up and coming down, but the rewards are great.  Dial is not one of the most difficult but it's still challenging and a hefty workout.  Whenever I hike a peak by myself, I feel slow and plodding, yet I am always within my expected time frame.  When Meredith and I hiked them together, we commiserated about the tough parts and she sometimes sang songs along the way like the Allman Brothers', "Everybody's Got a Mountain to Climb."  

These days, I hike a couple of high peaks a year because the views are unparalleled in New York State, I love being up high, and because I like knowing that I can still do them.  If I can hike high peaks, I am pretty sure I can hike just about any mountain that I am likely to come upon during the year.  I like heading out and feeling competent.

(I was still hoping to see lady's slippers, but this princess pine was very pretty)

From the rocky top of Dial, I could see many familiar mountains with their slides, humps and hollows. After I had soaked in the view long enough to carry it in my mind's-eye, I turned and headed back the way I had come.  

The hike from the AMR parking lot to Dial's summit and back is 10 miles, with 3000 feet of elevation gain.  I saw only three people on the trail all day.

(A very nice view of Giant Mtn. from Round Mtn.)

Evening light was stunning on Heart Lake when I walked from my campsite to the dock to soak my feet in the lake's cold water. I had picked up a take-out meal from the Ausable Inn in Keene Valley for my post-hike dinner and spread it out next to me on the dock while minnows nibbled my toes.

A loon swam alone in the distance and then in a great splashing ran across the top of the water flapping its wings hard as if it could not take off...until it rose above the lake.  It flew four times around the small lake.  As it passed overhead, I could hear the loon's wings propelling its flight until it took off over the trees and out of sight.  

 

(Relaxing with Giant behind me)

 

The next morning, I packed up my campsite, since I would drive home after this day's hike, and ate my breakfast quickly in order to get to the AMR parking lot by 8:30.  I would hike the loop trail to Round Mountain. This hike is 5 miles round-trip with 1800 feet of elevation gain -- a great half-day option. Round Mountain was new to me and I was excited to start out on this spectacular cool clear day.

(A portion of the grand view from Round Mtn.)

I had read that Round featured an excellent view of Giant Mountain. After a steady uphill climb, I was ready for a sit-down when I reached the outlook framed by deep green spruce trees. I sat on a rock surrounded by soft moss and ate my snack. 

I continued on a hemlock needle path for a short distance when the trees opened to a large outcropping and an immense view from the Champlain Valley in the east to Whiteface Mountain in the northwest.  Nothing I had read prepared me for such a magnificent scene!

 

(Looking towards the Champlain Valley and Vermont)

I didn't stay too long at this summit, but checked out the panorama from every ledge, and then began my descent.  I was almost to the end of the hike when I decided to take a break.  After poking around in the open woodland a minute, I found a fallen birch log to sit on.

I fished in my backpack and pulled out the mango that I had been carrying all day.  It would have been a good idea to cut up the mango before I began the hike and put it in a container, but I hadn't wanted to bother to take the time to do that.  With my father's Opinel knife, I peeled it, cut off sections, and ate the sweet juicy fruit with my fingers -- an exotic treat here in the northwoods.  After I collected the peels and pit and stowed them in a sandwich bag back in my pack, I rinsed my hands in a tiny stream that trickled between the rocks.

(A perfect spot to take a rest and enjoy the forest...and a mango)

 

I had met only four people all day.  

As I reached the end of the trail, I saw the young parking lot attendant coming down the road.  We walked the last quarter-mile together.  He told me that the response to the AMR parking reservation system had been positive.  "I only get about one person a week who is angry about it,"  he said.  Given that the lot holds 70 cars, which would be 490 cars in a week, each car generally carrying a few people, I guess one grouchy hiker isn't too bad.  I gave him a very positive report.  You just have to think ahead, be a little flexible, and book a couple of days in case of bad weather.

Hiking the 46 Adirondack High Peaks

I am thrilled to be able to share this article, written by Gillian Scott, about Meredith's and my experience hiking the 46 Adirondack High Peaks over a 15-year period.  The article appeared in the August 7, 2015 Times Union.

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Outdoors-Mother-daughter-complete-High-Peaks Adventure (Times Union)

by Gillian Scott

Hundreds of people become Adirondack 46ers each year, joining the ranks of thousands who

have climbed all 46 High Peaks with summits of more than 4,000 feet. The luckiest ones find

more than adventure or challenge or even natural beauty — it's the people they hike with that matter the most.

Virginia Boyle Traver and her daughter, Meredith Traver, finished their 46er quest in mid-

June, bagging Algonquin and Iroquois on a wet, miserable day. The tough slog in dangerous

conditions felt anti-climactic.

"We were definitely not excited," said Virginia, the outings chair for the Albany Chapter of the Adirondack Mountain Club.

"We'd been looking forward to it for so long," Meredith said. "And then we couldn't see

anything and it was so windy and cold and rainy."

So one bright, sunny weekend in July, Meredith hopped back on a bus and came up to Albany from her home in New York City. The women slept in Virginia's car in the parking lot at the trailhead and got an early start the next day. They hiked the same mountains they had done a few weeks earlier, this time soaking in sunshine and ample views. Then they drove back to Albany, and Meredith got on the bus again. A music therapist for Hospice home care, she was back at work the next morning. Finally, they had closure.

The hike was the culmination of a 15-year experience for the two women, one that started when Meredith was just 16. Virginia would take the kids — Meredith and her brother, Thomas — camping for a week before school started every year. And every year, she'd take them hiking. Both Thomas and Meredith were "blown away" by Cascade, their first Adirondack High Peak, but it was Meredith that decided, almost right away, that she wanted to climb them all.  "It was just gorgeous up there and you have that 360-degree view," Meredith said. "I was just immediately inspired."

Up until that point, Meredith said, "I absolutely hated every mountain we did." So it's

understandable that Virginia had some doubts about her daughter's sudden ambition. The two started out with some Adirondack classics, like Marcy and Algonquin. They took two trips a year, chipping away at the mountains, and pretty soon they were determined to finish. "As the numbers add up, you get a little bit hooked," Virginia admitted. Virginia actually started hiking High Peaks with her father when she was 14 — they did about a dozen together, climbs she would repeat for Meredith.

"I think she thought at some point maybe I would bring my fiance and maybe he and I would do a hike," Meredith said. "Or maybe I'd have some hiking friends and we would go and do them. But I was like no, this is what we do together."

Some hikes were particularly hard — like when they hiked all five peaks in the Dix Range in one day — or particularly scary — like the steep cliffs between Basin and Saddleback. A hike would end on a summit socked-in with clouds, or the trail would be deep with mud, and they'd wonder, "Is it worth it?" But the next trip out would be better, and they'd be re-inspired.

That rainy June day on the trail to Algonquin and Iroquois, Virginia and Meredith talked over their long quest, discussing what they'd like to do next, which High Peaks they'd climb again and which they wouldn't, and what the whole experience meant to them.

Virginia talked about gaining confidence in her abilities on unmarked trails. Meredith talked

about learning resilience, the ability to keep putting one foot in front of the other, no matter

how hard things get.

And both of them talked about how much the time together meant to them.

"For me, there was nothing like spending that time with her," Virginia said. "To spend that

much time in the woods with your child is an amazing experience."

From the year Meredith was 16 until she was 30, she and Virginia had those long days together, twice a summer, to camp and climb and talk and just be. They worked around Meredith's summer jobs in college, a year abroad, and her move to New York City and a new career.

Meredith said in the past few years, she and Virginia have chosen to camp or backpack to hike peaks they probably could have done as day trips. "But it really was about enjoying the woods, enjoying each other's company and making the most of it," she said. "It really became about the whole experience."

Changes are afoot for the Traver family. Meredith is getting married this month, and Thomas and his wife are expecting a child. Virginia and her husband of 36 years, Bill, are about to become first-time grandparents.

Virginia and Meredith would like to keep hiking together, at least one weekend a year, but are not planning to move onto another list. The Catskill and New Hampshire peaks will

remain unhiked. "It really was about the Adirondacks," Meredith said. "Now it will really be about doing it for pure enjoyment."

gvscott.gvs@gmail.com • http://blog.timesunion.com/outdoors/

8/7/2015 Outdoors: Mother, daughter complete High Peaks adventure - Times Union

http://

Treadway on Tuesday

(Virginia, cool and clean, at the campsite)

If it happens three times, it's a tradition!  My original Adirondack Mountain Club Women's Camping Overnight has become an annual event that has moved beyond the ADK and morphed into a gathering of friends with shared gifts and responsibilities.

(Deb Wein prepares a salad for our evening feast)

This year there were just four of us. Although we had camped at Lake Durant State Campground in 2011 and 2012, this time I chose Putnam Pond because I wanted to paddle across the pond and hike Treadway Mountain, a mountain I had not hiked in 15 years. I sent out an email in May to nine women who had voiced interest, stating my thoughts on where we would go and what we would do. In the end, many people had schedule conflicts, inevitable in the summer or any time of year. Four of us agreed on a date and began an email exchange filled with exclamation points.

Donna (Punkie) Frederick, prepares the fire for marshmallows.

On Monday, we set up camp, went swimming, and paddled around the entire pond with its island and coves.  We took advantage of a vacant water campsite, reachable only by boat, to swim off rocks in a secluded location.  We feasted on a shared dinner in the evening, and toasted marshmallows for s'mores.

(Karen Lydon steps into the stream to dip her bandanna in the cool water)

But it was hot.  When weather.com forecasted 92 degrees for Ticonderoga, the nearest town to the campground, we knew the marshmallows wouldn't be the only thing roasting.

While swimming and kayaking felt great, Treadway Mountain beckoned.  Unfortunately, Punkie had had recent knee surgery and was not ready yet for a hike. On Tuesday, she and Deb chose to spend a relaxing afternoon in the water, while Karen and I headed across the pond to the trailhead.

(a pretty marsh along the trail)

Not only is it fun to kayak to the trailhead, but arriving by boat makes the hike up the mountain only five miles round trip instead of eight if you walk in from a car parking area. After a nice paddle on calm morning water, Karen and I stowed our boats in the woods at the edge of the pond, and began the hike.

(it wouldn't  be the Adirondacks without some gooey black mud)

The humidity was already high and mosquitoes came out in force. We knew this day would be a scorcher. The trail had a classic Adirondack beginning through hemlock forest, but we took little time to admire it as we tried to outpace the bugs. 

(all the dampness creates a lush field of moss)

Now and then, Karen commented on the rich aroma of balsams.  And we appreciated the soft needled earth underfoot--all the better to keep moving!  So often Adirondack trails are like walking in a stream bed...sometimes, the trail literally is a streambed.

(a trail like this is a treat, despite the mosquitoes)

After a mile or so, the path opened into drier terrain.  We left the bugs behind as we clambered over rocks and walked on bedrock.  Over the years, rock cairns had been built at frequent intervals.  Often we would have had trouble discerning the right turns without them.  Although the change in landscape was beautiful with its  piney scent brought out by the heat and humidity and its interesting quartz rocks, we were now exposed to the sun.

(rock cairns are a welcome guide in the higher open ecosystem)

A pay-off was the proliferation of blueberries.  A number of times as I hiked along, watching for direction from the rock cairns, I would lose track of Karen behind me.  One time I was concerned that perhaps she had missed a cairn and might be heading the wrong way.  When I called to her, she said, "I just stopped to pick berries.  They are so sweet."

(my face may be beet-red from the heat, but I'm sure not going to pass up these blueberries)

Another time when I missed her, she had found a sheltered stream to dip her bandanna.  Then she wrapped her wet bandanna around her neck for cool momentary relief.  I wore my blu-bandoo.  A blu-bandoo is a bandanna filled with dry gel beads.  When soaked in water the beads swell up and stay cool for hours.  I dipped my bandoo in the occasional stream too. 

Karen and I are very compatible hikers, and have hiked together many times on ADK outings.  Stopping for delectable wild berries is one of the gifts of a mountain hike in July, and would that there were more cool streams for splashing the face with water on a hot humid day.

(these blueberries won't last long in my dirty sweaty palm)

The last three-quarters of a mile to the summit of Treadway Mountain is along a ridgeline.  At an elevation gain of 800 feet, the entire ascent is so gradual that we could keep up a running conversation most of the time.

(long stretches of rose quartz rise along the ridge)

And then there are the summit rewards. Views of the Pharoah Lake Wilderness Area are gorgeous with Pharoah Lake front and center.  Despite the haze, we could see rows and rows of mountains in the distance.

(Pharoah Lake Wilderness Area)

The rocks were hot, but a large cloud gave us enough shade for our hiker's lunch.  Peanut butter never tastes so good as at the top of a mountain!

(I admire the summit view of Pharoah Lake from a rocky promontory)

We poked through the trees to rocks on every side.  Open areas offer views in three directions.  Some of the trees had grown since I had been here with my father years ago, but they only added a more dramatic color contrast to the scene.  Karen said that a friend of hers claims Treadway as his favorite hike in the Adirondacks--a very strong affirmation for this outing.

(views abound, including this one toward Wallface and Algonquin)

When the sun came out again in earnest, Karen and I began our descent.  This time we rarely stopped for berries, and the bugs did not seem so bad on the lower part of the trail.  Was this because they are less vicious later in the day or were we hiking faster and really did get ahead of them?  Whatever the reason, our new goal was Putnam Pond. 

(I can see water through the trees!)

We had left our bathing suits with our boats at the trailhead.  We expected to re-join Punk and Deb for a swim after our return to the other side of the pond, but, first, we planned to jump in as soon as possible.  It took only seconds for us to peel off our sweaty clothes and get into our suits.

Even better than peanut butter at the summit, is a swim at the base!  Heat and fatigue melted away as we submerged ourselves.  Up and under, over and over, we felt like dolphins.  Eventually, we climbed into our kayaks for the paddle back to the campground.

When we met up again with our friends, they described a thoroughly enjoyable wilderness day paddling to a remote campsite and swimming off the rocks with loons nearby.  Then the talk turned to next year--would we return here? what might we do differently or the same?    There was never any question that we would want to camp together again. 

(Karen heads out in her Hornbeck back across Putnam Pond)

As we loaded our boats onto our cars, we all wished we could stay longer.  As hot as it was here, it would be hotter in Albany.  We reminded ourselves that this is what a getaway is--a moment in time, spent with wonderful people in a beautiful location.  Here's to another Women's Camping Overnight in 2014!

(Note: Pharoah as in Pharoah Lake is the Adirondack spelling of the word pharaoh.)

The Seward Range

Meredith and I continued our journey towards hiking the 46 High Peaks of the Adirondacks this weekend in the Seward Range, known as one of the wildest areas in the Northeast. We put three of the range's four peaks on our weekend agenda: Donaldson, Emmons,and Seward. In bright sunshine, we drove nearly four hours to the trailhead in Coreys and then backpacked three miles.

We found a small area of flat enough ground within legal distance of Calkins Brook for our little tent. With brute strength, Meredith uprooted two maple trees to clear a space and then "appeased the tree spirits" by replanting them nearby(see photo).

Early the next morning we headed up the Calkins Brook trail, first climbing Donaldson. Temperatures began to rise, and with little breeze, I felt sluggish. Meredith, however, has gotten a daily workout in New York City, hauling her guitar, flute, music and other baggage, up and down subway stairs and across miles of the City to her Music Therapy home patients. She hiked with energy and ability.

From a rocky promontory, Donaldson has fabulous views looking east to the Great Range (photo above). Emmons, farther on, is an enclosed summit, but its trail faces west and south, opening occasionally to Long Lake and Tupper Lake far below. From Emmons, we returned to Donaldson, and then continued on over open rock faces with nice views to Seward where the summit is wooded (see photo above of two diesel women). Ranges like this in which mountains have to be done as a series are a challenge. This one, however, was manageable; we had no death-defying moments such as when we climbed Colvin and the trail suddenly disappeared into a hole that dropped thirty feet, or on Gray, where a rock face had a ledge just boot-width to walk on, reminding us that one gesture of imbalance could send us falling to broken bones.

Returning to our tent, we determined that we were the only people within eight miles--an isolation hard to imagine, especially given that Meredith would be back in her Upper East Side studio apartment in New York City the next evening. None of the few hikers we had seen during the day was camping in the area. In addition to the three miles that we had hiked in from the trailhead, five more miles of dirt road were between us and the nearest house.

The first night, I finally managed to get to sleep when Meredith tapped me on the head, "Are you awake?" she whispered. I grunted. "Good, listen," she said in a barely discernable voice. Her head was up, tense. I heard a rustling in the leaves. "It's a squirrel or a chipmunk," I said, not happy to be woken up; then I added unsympathetically, "We probably put the tent over its hole and it's trying to get home." I put my head back down, hoping to go back to sleep.

A few minutes later, Meredith nudged me. In a slightly exasperated tone, I said, "It's just a small animal. Hear how quick and light the movements are?" She jumped, exclaiming, "Something bumped my hand! It's freaking me out!" I had to face it, sleep would have to wait. "It's not a bear or anything, really," I said. I pulled my sleeping bag over my head, and soon heard her rhythmic breathing of sleep long before I, too, drifted off.

The second night, we were determined to sleep well after hiking eleven miles over three peaks, but distant flashes of lightning lit up the woods followed by rumbles of thunder, and a rustling of leaves began near my head. Meredith grabbed my arm. "The hike was easier than this," she lamented. When I mentioned years of previous camping experiences, she said, "I haven't camped in a long time." And, of course, I had mentioned a few times earlier, with great satisfaction, that we were at least eight miles from the nearest human.

Now I began to think that the animal could be bigger, maybe a porcupine or a raccoon. Curiosity got the better of me, and I sat up focusing my headlamp outside to the woods, hoping to see some interesting wildlife in its own habitat, but each time I shone the light, the noise stopped. All I saw were large toads. Finally, after a great scuffling, loud crackling, and thumping, I spotted the culprit--a tiny brown woodland mouse! It worked hard, pulling the label off one of our water bottles, its long tail winding over a log. It tugged and yanked, rolling the bottle in the leaves. After a good view and a few laughs, we both settled down and slept until rain pattered the tent roof.

We walked out the three miles to the car, occasionally singing along the way, and scaring a ruffed grouse who reprimanded us in full plumage. I was disappointed that the hot weather had made me listless on the mountains, but was pleased with the views and our camping experience including the wildlife. I am now a 36er. Meredith was happy with her agility and strength. She took many pictures of wild flowers and of the lake views. With a great sense of accomplishment, she is now a 30er! We drove back through the Adirondacks, chatting along the way, and stopped for the obligatory meal at the Noonmark Diner.