A winter ascent of Mt. Marcy in New York's Adirondack State Park.

Off in the distance we could see the clouds surrounding the summit of Mt. Marcy, also known by the American Indian name Tahawus, meaning "cloud-splitter". We were there to attempt an extremely ambitious traverse of the Great Range beginning at the summit of 5,344 foot Mt. Marcy, the highest point in New York. From there the plan was to follow the trail over the summits of Haystack, Basin, Saddleback, Gothics, Armstrong, Upper Wolfjaw, Lower Wolfjaw, Hedgehog and Rooster Comb.

So far, the trip had gone remarkably well despite our lack of sleep. We had been up late the previous week making last minute preparations and after a long day at work we hit the road at about 9:30 p.m. Wednesday night. Driving all night, stopping only for fuel and donuts, we arrived in Keene Valley, NY at 6:30 a.m., the temperature at -5° F. The previous day a storm had dropped six to eight inches of powder and the snow-covered mountains glowed in the early morning light.

After stopping to take a few photos, I woke Ron and Mike and drove on into Lake Placid. Naturally, the streets were deserted and I felt a little homesick, wishing I were home with my family who would soon be awakening to dismember the Thanksgiving turkey. We refueled the truck at the only open gas station in town and drove back to the trailhead where we shouldered our packs, signed the trail register and started up the trail.

The hike in was great, the sky was mostly clear, the temperature was up to around 20° F and the snow at the trailhead was 8-10 inches deep. The trail up Johns Brook Valley is fairly flat and rolling but does rise steadily, gaining 1500 feet elevation over five and a half miles. Unfortunately, I had a very hard time of it since I was exhausted from lack of sleep (I only got about an hour of unsettled rest in the truck), lack of caffeine and dehydration. I was very upset at my difficulty and lack of physical fitness since I've never had that much trouble on any of my trips, and this was a fairly easy trail. As we traveled on up the valley we saw more of our intended return route, and what we saw was rather intimidating. There was quite a bit more climbing involved than we had anticipated and we began to wonder if it was possible to complete the route in the time we had available. When we finally arrived at the Bushnell Falls lean-to a little after 3:30 p.m. a party of four was busy setting up tents so we dumped our packs in the lean-to and settled in. A Connecticut couple and their dog arrived shortly after us and they set up a tent a short distance away. In the lean-to across the brook were two guys from New York, one obviously experienced, the other nearly paralyzed with fear.

After staking out our sleeping spots we all got our cooking stuff out and I had my first experience with "combat cooking" - the three of us and the four people from, as it turned out, Pennsylvania, shoulder to shoulder across the front of the lean-to, which was maybe twelve feet wide. Our stoves heavily primed, we all simultaneously fired them up. Until then I had believed flare-up to be a myth, or at most a skill practiced by the terminally inept. The flames must have been three feet high and for a while I was afraid we were going to set the lean-to on fire. Eventually, we all managed to tame our stoves, boil water and cook our Thanksgiving dinners. It had gotten dark at 4:30, so we tiredly cleaned our pots and climbed into our sleeping bags. Everyone was fast asleep by 6:30, exhausted but happy.

Over a relaxed breakfast the next morning we decided to abort our ambitious plans for a traverse of the Great Range and just make an 'alpine style' ascent of Mt. Marcy. The two guys from across the brook had started very early, followed shortly by the couple and their dog. They had done a great job of route finding and trail breaking and I had no difficulty keeping a good pace. When we reached Slant Rock, Ron and Mike felt an overpowering need to answer nature's call even though they only had about 7 squares of TP between them. I had satisfied those needs before we left so I continued on, figuring they would catch up in a few minutes, especially since from here the trail began to seriously climb.

Thirty minutes later I caught up with the dog and his people who were putting on their snowshoes, so I stopped and talked to them for about ten minutes. They finally shuffled on and a few minutes later Ron and Mike appeared, babbling about "this great fall" that Ron had taken and how he had to do the "self-arrest and all that". He had apparently plunged through a snow-covered gap between two rocks and twisted his knee a bit. They were all wound up and jabbering lines from the movie "K2" and appeared to be OK so I didn't think anything of it. Continuing upward, we gradually rose into the clouds, and before we knew it we were in the krummholz zone. At this point crampons were deemed necessary, so we took a break while we resorted ourselves. The PA people finally caught up with us at the trail junction just before heading up Marcy, and it was here that the-two-guys-from-the-other-side-of-the-brook passed us heading back to camp. Plastered with rime ice, they said the wind was blowing very hard and they had turned back without attempting the summit. It was a wise decision since they weren't very well clothed, at least not for those conditions.

The PA folks said they didn't have any technical gear but would continue upward, planning to turn back at 2 p.m. They led off and we followed about 5 minutes later, but unfortunately they lost the trail and were struggling through krummholz and deep snow. At the point where they turned back I got tangled in the hidden brush and took a header into a drift about four feet deep. While I extricated myself they circled around to a high point where they took pictures and eventually started back. I had a pretty good idea where we were so we pressed on and in a few moments found the trail. From here we left the krummholz and traveled on the ice and snow-covered rock of the summit, fully exposed to the howling wind. It was here that I discovered how badly Ron had hurt his knee. I had been leading and not really watching them too closely, trusting them to tell me if they couldn't continue. Ron wanted to rest a moment, but he said he wasn't going to turn back now, just a few hundred yards from the summit. We started on up but when I stopped and looked back Ron had fallen behind and out of sight. I told Mike to go on and I went back down a short way, found Ron, and we slowly made our way to the summit at 2:30 p.m. It was 12° F, wind blowing at 30-40 mph and visibility about .25 mile. Wind-packed snow, thick blue ice and rime ice coated everything. We took the obligatory summit photos and after a few minutes I started urging them to get down off the mountain. I was rapidly getting very cold and we still had four miles to cover in the remaining two hours of daylight. Mike had forgotten his headlamp and seemed very worried about getting back before dark, so I told him to go on and head back while I stayed with Ron. I discovered later that he was in such a hurry because his hands were painfully cold. It was unfortunate that he didn't tell me because I had hand warmers in my first-aid kit just for this need.

Ron and I made pretty good time considering he was practically dragging his leg by now. We made the two miles back down to Slant Rock by 4:30 p.m. and broke out my headlamp. Earlier in the day Mike had noticed that Ron's headlamp was on. I was pretty sure mine would last for a while, but I didn't want to use them both and have them both quit a mile from camp. I gave Ron the light but that meant I had to follow right on his heels, otherwise I couldn't see the ground. It was very dark in the woods and after a while Ron said, "Ya know, if I didn't hurt so bad I would be real scared!" I laughed and told him there was nothing to be afraid of; the bears were hibernating and, besides, we hadn't seen any tracks of anything. Then not more than two minutes later Ron almost stepped on a bird (grouse?) that went thrashing off into the trees sounding like a chunk of wood hitting a dozen tree trunks.

One step at a time, we shuffled on. By then it was 6:30 p.m. and I started to worry about Mike. Had he made it back before dark? What if he hadn't? Where was he? Did I have the strength to mount a rescue after I got Ron back to camp? Would Ron make it back to camp? All we could do was keep going. At 7:30 p.m., five hours after leaving the summit, I saw a light coming our way. It turned out to be Mike coming to look for us. He greeted us with a bottle of hot chocolate and the news that we were less than five minutes from camp. Ron and I quickly drank the hot chocolate since we had been without water since breakfast, and with renewed spirits we hurried on while Mike told his story. He had indeed made it back before dark, and had boiled water for us, but we never arrived. After eating dinner he boiled more water and waited, but we still didn't arrive. Finally, at 7:30 p.m. he made a bottle of hot chocolate, told the PA people he was heading back up after us and took off, finding us just a short distance up the trail. Back in camp we made dinner, looked at the stars for a while and eventually went to bed.

We slept a little late the following morning, and after another leisurely breakfast we packed up and set off for the truck. Despite Ron's injury we made the 5.5 miles back in just under two hours where we dumped our gear into the truck, changed clothes, and took off in search of food. After stuffing ourselves with pizza we headed for home, sorry to be leaving the mountains so soon, but eagerly planning our next trip.

The Adirondacks: A Gift Of Wilderness - The Adirondack Mountains are very different in shape and content from other mountain systems. Unlike elongated ranges like the Rockies and the Appalachians, the Adirondacks form a circular dome, 160 miles wide and 1 mile high. For almost thirty years, beginning in 1872, Verplanck Colvin crisscrossed the Adirondack wilderness, supervising a state survey of the region. He used his annual reports to the legislature to call for the creation of an Adirondack Forest Preserve: "Unless the region be preserved essentially in its present wilderness condition, the ruthless burning and destruction of the forest will slowly, year after year, creep onward ... and vast areas of naked rock, arid sand and gravel will alone remain to receive the bounty of the clouds unable to retain it."

The Adirondack Mountain Club - The Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) is dedicated to the protection and responsible recreational use of the New York Forest Preserve, parks and other wild lands and waters. The Club, founded in 1922, is a member-directed organization committed to public service and stewardship. ADK employs a balanced approach to outdoor recreation, advocacy, environmental education and natural resource conservation. Public information centers are funded and staffed by ADK near the Adirondack Park border in Lake George and at Heart Lake in Lake Placid at the trailheads of the High Peaks. These facilities provide maps, guidebooks, safety and weather information to 70,000 visitors annually.

The Mountaineer - Purveyors of Fine Mountaineering and Outdoor Equipment Since 1975. The Mountaineer stocks unique, high quality gear for serious mountaineers and recreational hikers. Located in Keene Valley, New York USA.