(Adirondacks High Peaks: Mt.  Colden attempt)

Remember even in the darkest coldest moments – The sun will always return…

So in an effort to continue this futile attempt at trying to catch up my words to my footsteps, I am plugging away posting this entry on the Summer Solstice 2016 on a day that saw 81 degrees, and reflecting on a late October day that was quite icy – and very much the opposite of the present climate. I am currently staring the Final Four in the face, of this NH48 list and looking forward to what comes next, which brings me to this list of 46 high peaks in the Adirondacks which I started last summer with my sister and attempted to continue on this cold Autumn day… but as Therese said “Sometimes the mountain wins.”

 …While I sit on the porch overlooking the deck covered with late October leaves, and just beyond, the choppy water of the lake where my reawakening took place, it is just now being put in perspective. I am finally coming to grips with yesterday’s disappointing outcome on Mt. Colden and seeing the bigger picture: that the journey is in many ways more important than the destination.

It was our second ADK trip together this season, serving as an encore to the fabulous Labor Day weekend in the Great Range, my introduction to these amazing magical mountains. That weekend could not have been better with SEVEN of the high peaks visited in two epic back-to-back hikes in perrrrfect conditions. From the moment that trip came to a close, my sister and I knew we just had to squeeze in at least one more before the winter arrived. Unable to coordinate our schedules to take advantage of peak foliage, we settled on taking the Thursday & Friday in the 2^nd to last week of October. It was well past peak and as the time grew closer, the forecast was a bit shaky but not terrible. So we pressed onward with our plans, figuring a sub-par day in the mountains is better than a good day anywhere else.

I drove to the lake house Wednesday after work travelling westward toward a bright orange sunset. Therese was giving her team a farewell dinner as a thank you for a job well done, as her final week with the company comes to a close and she moves on to the next stage of her career. The evening with her coworkers would be coming to a close shortly before my arrival. I pulled in at about 9:30, sat a while to catch the last flames of the toasty fire, ate some of her famous lasagna, washed down with an IPA as I listened to her on the phone with a coach from a college her youngest was on the verge of deciding on attending. We talked for a bit longer and then got some early shut-eye. We would make our way North the next morning to the ADK Loj where we would be staying between our two hikes.

This is a drive-up Loj as opposed to JBL where we had to hike in a ways. This time, we just dropped our things at the bunk room and hit the trail immediately, Therese kicking her heels and skipping along as if elated to be starting a new era in her life and to be able to mark it with a walk in the woods.

We decided to make the first day a flattish warm up hike to Rocky Falls toward Indian Pass, and then the second day would be a loop hike to Lake Arnold, up to MT Colden and down to lake Colden with a return through Avalanche Pass.  We went with this plan because day 1 had some rain in the forecast, although the warmer of the 2 days. It turned out the rain never came and it was mid-sixties and windy. We saw a path to a smaller Peak called Mt Joe and were contemplating trying it out, but decided to save our energy for Colden (we would need it).

The trail to Rocky falls still had some color on the surrounding trees and was a pretty hike, finishing with a less than spectacular waterfalls.

By the time we got back to Joe it was 4:00 and not knowing anything about the climb, we just took a few more side trails and headed back to the Loj, where we sat with a dozen or so other guests and exchanged stories about each other’s professions and hiking plans over a tasty feast. There was a man planning to do a solo day hike to Algonquin summit, and a group consisting of a dad and his young son & daughter who were going to set up camp at Marcy Dam and do some hiking from there. He mentioned that he was going to hang a bear bag. He barely got the words out of his mouth and a few others emphatically educated him on the ADK no tolerance policy of always carrying a bear barrel. After learning that he would be asked to leave by the rangers if caught without one, he was relieved to find that he could rent one at the front desk of the loj. When our scrumptious meal was devoured and the plates were cleared way (sometimes I wonder if these crews are wise to the fact that hiking makes everything taste better, and feed us dog food just to have a laugh) we sat for a while for an extended after dinner (one way) discussion with one of the guests that must have been lost in the wilderness for a year and was just now able to speak to someone else, before we were able to break away to our bunks to get another early start on some Z’s.

The next morning we picked up where we left off with the feeding frenzy, then packed our things and checked out. We hit the now frosty trail by 8:30 where the temps had plummeted overnight and the skies had only clouds to show us as we headed out toward the first 2.5 mile stretch and flattest part of the hike. There was a sign reading “Carry-A-Rock: Bring a rock from the pile at the trailhead to the sign at the top of Marcy, Algonquin, Wright, or Colden for Summit Stewards to use in trail work.” Somehow, I think they meant a slightly larger one than the walnut sized one I stuck in my pouch, but I was not willing to add too much weight to my load today. Maybe next time I will be more of a team player. The trail was a mix of frost and mud and the wooden walkways and bridges were a pretty slick sheet of ice courtesy of the passing showers overnight and then the freeze. Luckily, or so we thought, we had some traction for our footwear to help us out (more on that later). There were not many people on the trails so we got our solitude fix, broken up with intervals of jokes about family, friends, colleagues and memories of childhood and previous hikes. As we got to Marcy Dam, Therese pointed out toward the clouds and fog and tried to explain the nice view that is usually there. Today, I would have to take her word for it, at least until we passed this way on our return trek, when clearing was expected. Our hopes were that the “decreasing clouds” would give way to blue skies just in time for a Colden summit view, but time would tell.

The incline was steeper now as we ascended toward Lake Arnold and slowly but surely more icy sections appeared. A light coating of snow started to appear on the trees creating that winter wonderland. We’ve got our spikes so we aren’t too concerned with the gentler slope on the way up, but agreed to have an out-and-back option if the steeper southern side proves to be too treacherous. Just then, we noticed a pair of hikers coming down in toward us. The two men in approached us, one in his upper 60’s and one somewhat younger is my guess, and had a slouch and a sad face. The older of the two explains “We got beaten. Had to turn back. Very Icy. Just couldn’t do it anymore…” As he kicked the ground and was visibly disappointed and almost heartbroken, we tried to lift his spirits and assure him that the mountain would still be here when he was ready to give it another go.  I don’t know how much our pep talk worked, as he sadly walked away. We felt bad for him but continued on our way. That may have been when the seed of doubt was planted.

We arrived at Arnold and the clouds had not let up one bit. We were starting to wonder if this would be a redo, even if were successful in our summit bid. Colden is said to have one of the top views, looking down toward Avalanche Pass and to the Maclntyre Range and southeast to Marcy, Skylight and the Dix Range. To sacrifice this vision would be a crime, so if the skies didn’t clear we would definitely return on a better day. Before our break at the lake ended we decided it was about time for some traction, and put on our spikes. This is where it got interesting!!

(Click here for video of a whiteout at Lake Arnold)
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It was getting colder now and still no sign of sun. My sister is less a fan of the cold than I am and her fingers were starting to go numb. She put on a 2^nd pair of gloves and I gave her some hand warmers, which helped. For traction, I had my Microspikes on and was having no problem climbing up the icy surfaces. She had Ice-Grabbers which had smaller spikes and don’t wrap your shoes as well, but they seemed to be doing a decent job for now, in giving her some extra traction which was definitely needed more the higher we climbed.

The coating of snow on the trees was much thicker now and the transformation to winter was complete. We were at about 3700 ft. when her “spikes” started falling off and would continue to do so for the rest of the day. I held up the rear just in case they fell off unnoticed. As she continued to fix them time after time, her gloves were getting wetter and muddier, reducing their insulating properties. By this time we had conceded that this would be an out-and-back at best.

We entered the alpine zone and stopped to add some layers. My fingers and toes were getting cold now too, but as long as we kept moving I was ok. Soon after this point we reached an open vista which probably would have been an amazing view, but not today. We could not see beyond the ledge and probably only 20 ft. of visibility on the rock face clearing upon which we stood. The wind was picking up quite a bit and a coating of snow covered any trail markings, with no footprints to follow. After following a few different directions and coming to a dead end one way, and another way that seemed to head back down the mountain. Another direction let through some low lying vegetation and the opposite direction looked like a drop-off from a ledge that, for all we knew had no bottom. We were running out of options, and for a moment we thought that perhaps we had arrived! ….Success?? But this could not be it. There were short trees up here and I was pretty sure the summit was more exposed than this, leading along a ridgeline to the south side descending trail. With zero visibility it was near impossible to find our way. By this time my sister and her fingers were no longer familiar with one another.

Not knowing if what seemed to be the only way to go forward was actually the way up or down, we made the call to turn back, whether or not this was the true or false summit. We already knew we would be returning anyway, and it’s always better safe than sorry. Sometimes the mountain wins! There’s always a rematch possibility.

As we retraced our steps below tree line, the feeling started coming back in our fingers, and the layers came off one by one. We revisited Lake Arnold for some lunch now that we were warmed up, and as we did, we saw our first patch of blue in the sky above which gradually grew as the food entered our bellies.  Could we turn back and try again? No we were spent at this point. A trio of hikers arrived on the scene and told us that upon summiting Colden from the other side, then descending to a spot where they saw our confused footprints, had come to reel us back in. But we were un-reel-able, and by the way, thanks for rubbing salt on the wound. Well at least we knew that what seemed like another way down was actually the way up and it was now confirmed that the spot we reached was indeed a false summit. We removed our icy-muddy spikes, threw them in the lakes edge and finished our lunch while digesting the failed attempt. When we felt good enough to get going again, we slowly made our way down the trail, as the sky got progressively bluer and the sun made more frequent appearances. I was beginning to feel for the earlier duo we encountered on the way up and was feeling like a beaten man.

By the time we got back to Marcy Dam, it was a Dam nice day! So now I saw the valley view my sister was referring to earlier. This made me feel better for the moment, as we posed for a picture with the pretty scene as our backdrop. The remaining stretch of trail consisted of Therese picking up the pace, eager to get back to a warm hot-tub and a meal and a glass of wine. I fell behind at this point, as I was in no rush to get anywhere, and was feeling defeated, so I slowly dragged my feet along the trail and inched my way toward the finish line. Why was this bailout affecting me this way? I had certainly been through adversity before, and been dealt my fair share of curveballs from the mountains and their plans for me. I always seem to find a plan B or find the silver lining somehow, but this time I was having a hard time doing so. 

And then it came to me as I arrived to the trail head 20 minutes behind Therese – This was my first turnaround in which I not only fell short of my goal, but failed to summit any mountain. I knew it would happen eventually. Truthfully, I thought it would have happened long before this. I always thought I was comfortable with that inevitability, but until it actually happens I guess you are never truly prepared at how you will really handle the disappointment.

Therese’s words of encouragement on the ride home, along with a hot soak and some more delicious Lasagna and a beer certainly helped a great deal, but I would not be able to fully let go and be at peace with the ordeal until the following day. Therese was on her way to work and I had the lake house to myself to reflect and, well, pout a bit.

AND THEN… 

A SYMBOL OF HOPE…

…while fiddling around, reorganizing some of my gear, I pulled out a small walnut sized stone from my pouch, and stared at it for a while. I put it in a plastic bag with a note and left it on the kitchen table. Then I grabbed a pen and a pad of paper, and sat to reflect as I scratched out some words…. While I sit on the porch overlooking the deck covered with late October leaves, and just beyond, the choppy water of the lake where my reawakening took place, it is just now being put in perspective…