Lone & Rocky Mountains - 3721 & 3508 feet

Time becomes your enemy when you climb mountains in the late Fall and Winter. Especially since we had just made the change to standard time, it's important to plan your hikes so that you get off the mountain by 4pm. That being said, yeah, well... it didn't happen. There's no reason that my last two mountains shouldn't have been filled with drama, but then again without it then this post wouldn't be interesting.

0800 Sunday, November 14th - An early meeting to start heading towards the two most remote mountains of the Catskills 35. From my hotel room in the middle of nowhere, it still took almost an hour to get to the trail-head which after a long drive to start with it still started at the dead-end of Denning Rd., a 10 mile long trip through a beautiful valley that fit the usual characteristics: it starts off as a two lane divided road that narrows down to a paved two lane road, that narrows down to a one lane paved road that narrows down to an un-paved road that narrows down to a dirt trail to the dead-end where there is a parking area for crazy people who apparently want to get completely away from civilization. This is where I would meet with other aspiring Catskill 35'ers to complete my last two regular climbs.

I went on my first group hike back on September 19th to Friday and Balsam Cap Mountains. If you dig back far enough on this blog, you will find descriptions of both and the drama that ensued. I initially took on that group hike in order to get experience on how to find the "needle in a haystack" canister on the top of these trail-less summits. It was an "eye-opening" experience that left me initially concerned that there was no way that I would be able to do some of these on my own. Enter... technology. As I have said in past posts, a cell phone was once thought of as an evil device, not to be brought on long hikes where it would ruin the nature experience. It was just a reminder of everything that people were trying to get away from. Now, as we all know they can be life-savers and most climbers wouldn't be caught out there without one. At some point in the future, I think the GPS will share the same sentiment, but for now some people still refuse to think that their compass is not all knowing. This, of course is just an argument about "old school" and "new school", but I will start it out with my personal disclaimer that says: "have a compass, good maps and know how to use them... always"

Lone Mountain - Once you do a couple of these group hikes, you meet up with people that you have seen before and will see again on future hikes. Some fun, some not so fun. Some will just plain annoy the "shit" out of you... My wife will tell you that I probably need medication, but there are some people that just really irritate me. These groups tend to always have at least one person that talks entirely too much and one out of shape, beyond middle age female that should really reconsider her weekend activities. Twenty two people showed up for this climb and the Park Rangers really don't want groups of more than eight to venture out together due to the effect that it has on the environment, so this large group was split in half. I initially ended up in the first group that would be led by an experienced hiker, but not an official 3500 club leader. I had no problem with this because I really thought the he would likely move along a little faster. Now... I refrain from using any real names because eventually someone that I have gone with on a group hike in the past will stubble upon this blog and I'll end up with a bunch of comments about hurt feelings, but after an individual with a reputation for not "ever shutting up" all day made his way to my group, I took the first opportunity to jump ship and join the second group. This too, would come back to haunt me. This new group included a younger female hiking in a skirt who I never could quite figure out, a couple other folks who I had climbed with before, and oh... that one lady who should probably should have reconsidered.

From the dead end of Denning Rd., you start off on the Phoenicia East Branch Trail. A wide, old wood road that is relatively easy for the first mile that brings you to the blue blazed trail that would take you on to Table and Peekamoose Mountains that I already completed on October 6th. After two stream crossings that included the "bridge of death" you have to break off on the unmarked "Fisherman's Trail" that follows the Neversink Branch to a point where finally after four miles into the hike you actually start to head up Lone Mountain. (maybe this is one of the reasons that they call it "Lone") At over 3700 feet, there is still a long steady climb to the top. I kept a close check on my GPS as the group leader took us up based on his compass bearing. He had commented on my GPS earlier and asked me from time to time what I thought. I respect the time and responsibility that these volunteers take on to lead groups of varying abilities to the tops of hard to find summits and never try to overshadow them or tell them how to do their job. Unfortunately, every once in a while somebodies got to be in charge...

With time being much more of a consideration than it was to me last month, we found our way to the summit of Lone Mountain and it's canister a little later than I had hoped, but at that point there was no cause for concern. You move at the pace of the weakest climber in the group and that is fine, because for safety reasons, you never want to get too separated. Our group leader made the good decision not to spend too much time at this summit once everyone signed into the canister, but once he made the call to move on, one person in the group (guess who) commented that she "didn't feel very well and didn't know if [she] could go on." There are no roads to or near the summit and we are more than five miles into the wilderness. The happy ending to this part is that she was just slightly dehydrated and the electrolyte boost from a bottle of Gatorade was all she needed to get back on track. The down side... the delay caused our guide to rush his decision when finding our next bearing for the trip to Rocky.

At 3508 feet, Rocky Mountain is the smallest of all the Catskill 35 peaks. You actually have to come down 200 feet in elevation from Lone to the summit of Rocky, however it is very difficult due to the thickness of the Balsams and undergrowth between the two summits. Instead of following the correct bearing however, we took the "path of least resistance." As much as I wanted to stay in "retired" mode, I commented that we might be heading in the opposite direction from where we needed to be. Our guide assured everyone that this was the way he wanted to go because the next ridge down was level and he wanted to walk around the "bowl" to Rocky. I continued to pay close attention to my GPS and as my concern grew, I said said once again... "we are heading in the complete opposite direction of where we need to be." This second comment caught the attention of several other people in the front of the group. Our guide stopped, pulled out his compass, checked the bearing and said "well I am a little off where I wanted to be, but this is still what I wanted to do." From there, the next hour became a war of wills. The cross over to Rocky should have only taken 45 minutes. We had gotten to the point where each time the guide stopped and said we need to "go this way," the group would all look at me and I would have to just point off in a different direction. Each time that my GPS was right, the guide would "yeah, but I needed to keep this rise of land over here" or something else to save face. Finally when he realized that we were way off course, he actually looked at me and said "why didn't you say something?" Fighting off what the real Dale wanted to say, I just replied that "I did... twice." I really hated the whole thing because the guy really knows what he is doing, but just got off track a little bit. (okay, well a lot this time) At one point a lady from the group said, "if we have to go to the life boats, I want to be in yours." The tough trick here was hitting a small col between the two mountains which was actually kind of flat and then pushing through the thick evergreens to the next canister. By this point our guide had accepted the GPS reading and kept asking me what I thought. Once again, the machine (the GPS, not me) lead us directly to the canister as it had done for me numerous times throughout this quest. The guide thanked me but I told him as I have said before, the GPS is not "old school" but it is fool-proof as long as you have batteries.

His plan to get back down made good sense. The contour of the land funnels you down in between two streams. In the late fall you can see Slide Mountain and as long as you keep it in front of you and head slightly to the left, you will make your way back down to the "Fisherman's Trail" where you start a long six mile hike back out. The only problem... we have lost much valuable time and the sun sets earlier in deep valleys than anywhere else.

At this point, (and I don't blame him) our guide starts off like a man on a mission. At least two hours behind, we need to make up as much distance as possible before dark sets in. We are on a trail but many parts of it were washed away during the floods that I was here to witness back in September. This included several deep stream crossings where our guide, who was likely tired and trying to make time, walked across with high top Gortex boots, leaving me to try to find stable rock crossings for some of the ladies that didn't need or want to get their feet that wet, especially with night closing in. Somewhere around this point, one of the group, a guy that had been near the front all day complained (and rightfully) that we were moving way too fast and that he was hurting too much to continue on at that pace. The decision was soon made to put on head lamps and continue on slower, and making sure that we weren't getting separated by too much. The Fisherman's Trail is sometimes hard to follow even in daylight because of the recent storms and at night as you may imagine it is much worse. Moving slower so that everyone could keep up, we finally reached the marked "blue blazed" trail that led back across the bridge of death at night and then to the last mile back out along the wood road to the parking lot. My GPS recorded it as a 12.9 mile hike, the longest of any that I had done in order to complete the Catskill 35's. I guess that it's only right that the last should be the hardest, but I guess that I actually planned it that way. I do love a challenge. We came out of the woods at 6:00 pm, an hour and a half after dark set in. I was equipped to spend a night in the woods if necessary, but I really didn't want to in NY in November.

When I was on top of Indian Head Mountain on October 11th and knew that it was time to head back home for a while, I looked down and saw a white stone on the ground beneath the canister that looked different than anything else around it. I picked it up and put in my pocket and when I got back home I set it on my dresser as a reminder that I wasn't done and I needed to go back. I carried that stone back up there with me and when I signed into the canister on my last regular hike, (#35) I dropped it on the ground to the finish the connection of the "35 peaks in 30 days." The timing was a little off, but the task is complete...

Back to Climbing - Fir Mountain (3620 feet)

The completion of this part of the quest started at the Raleigh NC Amtrak Station early on Thursday, November 11th. I haven't used a train much since I was in college back in the late 70's, but it was nice to leave the driving to someone else while I had time to plan or sleep if I wanted to. The Silver Star picks you up in Downtown Raleigh (ironically right across the street from the old "Raleigh Police Academy" that I went through in 1985. It is a homeless shelter now.) It then heads west to Rocky Mount and then north along the I-95 corridor. A lot of stops later and a couple of beers in the lounge car brought me to New York City's Penn Station and an hour layover. Since 9/11 there are no longer any lockers in the station to secure personal belongings, so there was no way to use the down time to walk out into Manhattan with my two bags. (my Camelback backpack and a black Courdera bag) The connection took me up along the Hudson River to Rhinecliff where my brother-in-law picked me up...

On Friday morning I headed back into the Catskill Mountains after a month away and took care of the logistic work that I needed for these last three peaks. First, some new equipment. In North Carolina, November 12th is still considered early Fall and not normally cold. In New York, there has already been snow and conditions can change dramatically. I found an outfitters just outside of Kingston and bought Micro-spikes and Gaiters in case of snow or bad weather. I'll jump ahead here and say that both days turned out warmer than any day that I had been there during September or October. Oh well... better safe than sorry.

For the rest of the day, I took pictures of waterfalls, checked out trail-heads, parking areas and access roads for the mountains that I would be climbing the next two days. The next step... finding a place to stay. The issue at hand is that I had saved the three most remote mountains for last. The phrase "you can't get there from here" really comes into play. There are no "equiped" towns close to the access points that I had chosen or had been chosen for me in the case of the group hike on Sunday. As I drove around, I saw a sign that I had passed several times last month for the Alpine Inn (http://www.thealpineinn.com/) Off season, I got a great deal on a clean room in a great location. So, the next morning, the adventure continues...

Fir Mountain - I had read a lot on the Internet about the best way to approach this summit, but the best advice came from a lady I met on a group hike last month who said to take the Pine Hill-West Branch Trail up from County Road 47 to the Biscuit Brook lean-to and then "bushwhack" Northeast to the summit of Fir. The approach to the lean-to consisted of a short, but steep initial climb and then about a mile and a half flat walk to the shelter. At that point, I switched to GPS and followed a steady climb up a ridge toward the summit. It was again, one of those thick undergrowth climbs that completely slows your progress and threatens to untie your shoes and steal all your equipment. Towards the top, you work your way around a couple of rock ledges and actually get to see a little snow in places that the sun can't reach. This ended up being one of those summits that I'm glad that I turned around once in a while because the "herd paths" were not easy to follow and I may have missed the canister if I didn't look back and say "damn, there it is."

Luckily, I hadn't lost all my physical conditioning in my month back home, but nothing about this mountain was easy. The two mile trail walk before you even start climbing made for a long two walk back out on tired legs. To make matters worse, when I started back down, I didn't keep a close watch on my GPS and managed to miss my ridge and came down a much steeper path than what I went up. As I had found out on earlier mountains, if you miss the ridge and even get a little to the left or right of it, it becomes almost impossible to get back over it. As much as you try to bare to one direction or the other, the terrain forces you to go where it wants you too. That ended up taking me close to a half a mile beyond where I wanted to join back up with the trail at the lean-to. Even though the trip back out was mostly flat, those two miles seemed like forever. The round trip ended up being about eight miles altogether and I had to keep reminding myself that I still had 11 miles and two mountains to go the next day.

"Mission Accomplished"

I really do hope that this title doesn't come back to haunt me as it has others in the past. I could always rename the blog "35 Peaks in 61 Days", but in the end I was still able to accomplish the task in much less time than it takes the vast majority of others. Many climbers work on these mountains several weekends a year for a number of years. Of course most of them have jobs and don't have the benefit of being retired and having entirely too much free time on their hands.

I actually managed to make a name for myself in the New York Catskill Mountain climbing community and also with those that are current or aspiring members to the Catskill 3500 club. As I met up with people along the trails or on group hikes and shared stories and tips about past climbs and mountains already completed, I was consistently met with "oh, you're that guy doing the 35 in 30..." When I would tell them that I only managed to get 32 in 28 days and then had to come back a month later for the last three, they would tell me how they have been working on this for the last 5, 10, or even 15 years. So for me, this first difficult and most time consuming step in the process has been accomplished. Every required regular mountain (35) has been climbed with pictures taken and cannisters signed to document each achievement. All that remains is to return during the winter months and climb Slide, Panther, Balsam and Blackhead again. No small task since weather and ground conditions can change suddenly as you go up in elevation. These are all marked trail summits and none are overly remote, however there's nothing easy about it, since winter climbing is uncertain at best. I guess the next step will be a challenge, as it should be....

The Equipment...

I am only a week away from heading back up to New York and completing the 35 climbs. These are the "in-season" climbs and I do know that I have to go back and get four more mountains in the winter before fully completing this task. Since being back home, I have done a number of "retired and trying to keep my self busy jobs" and it is great to be home with Sandy, but I do have to finish this out.

So... on November 11th, I am taking the train out of Raleigh up to NYC, where there is an hour lay-over and then on to Rhinecliff where my brother-in-law will pick me up. I'll get a rent-a-car from there and make my way back into the mountains to finish off the last three. Fir Mountain will be the first on Saturday. That will include a combination of a trail hiking and then branching out following my GPS for a bushwhack to the top. My accommodations that night are TBA but I'm sure that it will be part of the adventure. The last two, Lone and Rocky Mountains, which are the most remote of the entire region will be done on a group hike on Sunday, November 14th. A small bottle of champagne will be cracked open when I sign into that last canister.

The Equipment

Just being in good physical shape alone won't get you through these mountains. Last year during the winter season, a hiker died on Blackhead Mountain of hypothermia. Each year, someone not paying attention slips and goes over the edge of one of the 1000 foot drops. (It's not the fall that kills them, just the sudden stop at the end...) This past weekend someone visiting friends died of hypothermia in the same area near the cabin that I had been staying in and although I'm not sure of all the particulars, it may just have been a drunk who wondered out into the woods and couldn't find his way back. All in all, as you get farther into to winter season, the climbing gets more difficult and much more dangerous. This makes the equipment that you chose that much more important. So the following is a glimpse of what I carry with me and what I think is most important:

GPS - First and foremost, is my GPS. When I did my big hike on the AT years ago, people thought that cell phones were a futuristic gadget that took away from the nature experience and were better left at home. Today, they are a necessary safety tool that most people carry in case unfortunate problems require emergency assistance. Fast forward to 2010, a GPS (although certainly not "old school") directs you to the summit, gives you an exact bearing, lets you know your altitude, finds the least "ass-kicking" climbs and gives you a return track if you happen to get a little off the mark. My DeLorme Earthmate PN-40 did all that and then some. Maybe someday I'll actually find the time to sit down and read the book and find out everything that it is capable of.

Camel Back and Hiking Stick - All technology aside, if you are not properly hydrated, you will not survive. I carried a 70 oz Trailblazer Camelback each day and only ran short of water one time. (On Sherill and North Dome, which ended up being longer and harder than I planned) I also carried a "Pur (now Katadin brand) water purifier" but I would have felt comfortable drinking directly out of any of the many mountain springs that I found if necessary. I have been using the same hiking stick for many years. It is always nice to have a stick on the trails for a number of reasons, but it becomes priceless on the down hills. The down-hills kill your knees and test your fight against gravity. The stick helps take a lot of the pressure off of that and for photo ops, the top knob unscrews and it becomes a camera tri-pod.

Maps and Compass - The New York-New Jersey Trail Conference puts out a great set of maps for all the trails within the Catskill Park. All the trailed summits are easily found by keeping up with the blazes, but the "Bushwhacks" are a lot tougher. You work with a combination of your map, compass, and GPS to find the summit canister and then work your way back the long track down.

Shoes - I brought a combination of three different types of hiking shoes. An old sturdy pair of Merrell's for wet and muddy conditions, a pair of light weight high top Rocky SWAT boot's for times when ankle support was important and a new pair of low cut Merrell's for ideal conditions. There were several times when I wish that I had made a different choice of shoe in the morning but it all worked out for the best. Since I am taking the train up this time, however, I will have to survive on just one pair regardless of the conditions.

The Rest - I tried to go light since this was "slack-packing" and I didn't have to camp out each night, but still carried anything that I might need in case of an emergency. Toilet paper is always high on the list but I also managed to carry a head lamp, Surefire flashlight, space blanket, Leatherman tool (in addition to the Spyderco that I had in my pocket), small first aid kit, whistle, mirror, extra compass, Blackberry and parachute cord. The walkie talkies in the picture came in handy when we were using two vehicles at different staging areas because cell phones were completely unreliable. Even though I wasn't camping over night, I always brought one extra days worth of food with me just in case I got stuck on a mountain over night.

The last piece of equipment that I always had on me was my Glock 26. It's a compact 9mm that is easy to carry but is also easily concealed. I really wasn't worried that there would be a "Deliverance" moment up on the mountain, but I was concerned that Sarge might wander up on a bear or coyote. For the most part, I think Sarge is smart enough to just get away and not fight, but then again I didn't want him leading any really pissed off forest animals back to me. The gun caliber is hopefully just big enough to get them off our asses and back to their own business.

The Towns... (Part 2)

Some of the towns in the area didn't serve any logistical purpose, but just provided a destination to get something different to eat or drink.

Woodstock - This is a town still stuck in the sixties but that's the way they like it. Their marketing is still playing off the nostalgia of the 1969 concert that bears the same name but actually took place many miles away in Bethel, NY. Left over hippies still walk the streets and head shops and psychedelic clothing can be found all through town. Sandy and I ate lunch here on her first day in the mountains before the floods hit. We didn't shop, the "it's 4:20" theme plays out quickly for me.

Saugerties - A historic Hudson River town with a vibrant down-town filled with antique shops, restaurants and a couple of bars. One bar in particular, the Exchange Hotel Bar and Grill, fit the bill while my son and his friends were up there just because it was one of those places that had the same people sitting on the same bar stool they were twenty years ago, only older and heavier. Draft beers are only $1.50 a mug and the place is dark and old. Very NY and just the way I like it.

The Towns...

Unlike my long trip on the Appalachian Trail years ago, I wanted to make sure that I had daily access to food, supplies, cold beer and of course, my computer this time. The ability to climb one or multiple mountains during the day and still come back to civilization (such as it may be) in the evening made for a more comfortable and interesting trip. The towns in the area played an important part because no one town had all the necessities that I required to sustain me and since I had to cover a lot of ground each day just getting to the trail heads, I had the opportunity to visit (and make use of) many of them.

During the early part of the 20th century and continuing on into the mid 1960's, the Catskills were known for being one of the entertainment capital's of the world. People would escape the heat of metropolitan New York City and make the two hour drive to the fresh air and peacefulness of the Catskills for rest and distraction. Many notable comedians, such as Rodney Dangerfield, Lenny Bruce and Don Rickles to name only a few, got their start as well as many other nationally known performers at the large resorts in Sullivan, Orange and Ulster Counties. Although it was mainly recognized as the "Borscht Belt" or the "Jewish Alps" during this time, there are many other areas of the Catskills where other ethnic groups such as the Irish and Germans settled and also created their own vacation destinations. Unfortunately, modern conveniences such as air conditioning and the availability of cheaper airfare lead the next generation to travel to more exotic vacation destinations and the Catskills began a slow descent into obscurity. Most of the large resorts either have been demolished, burned to the ground, sit in ruins or have been re-purposed into retreats for Orthodox Jewish families. The towns that once thrived on the resort crowd have been left to survive on summer hikers and campers, Fall leaf peepers and the ski season. The recent decline in the economy has added to the problem and many restaurants, businesses, and motels sit closed and empty.

The town's for me were somewhat of a life-line. A few had coveted cell-phone service, others had actual grocery stores, Phoenicia had an outfitters, Tannersville and Arkville had Laundromats and most had at least one interesting bar to sit, relax and listen.

The Catskill Park consists of 700,000 acres. Each of the many towns, villages and hamlets that lie within the "Blue Line" (Boundary of the Catskill Park) have their own quaint little post office, but there are too many to mention. I'll try to touch on just a few that had the provisions that I needed to keep this trip going:

Phoenicia - This was home base. If you look at a map of the Catskills or if you match up the four main Catskill Trail maps you find that Phoenicia is pretty much the geographical center of the park. It has an energetic village (especially on the weekends) with diverse shops, a dependable outfitters store and several good places to eat. I happened upon Phoenicia about ten years ago when I was planning an 18 mile hike on the Escarpment Trail with my son Dave. I researched the history of the town and found out that the Hotel Phoenicia had served the likes of "Babe Ruth" and the famous gangster "Dutch Schultz." www.castkill.net/purple/schultz.htm It seemed like a great place to stay and it didn't disappoint. The bar was great, (they actually let me bring Sarge in) the rooms were clean but small since you could probably sit on the toilet and take a shower at the same time. There were likely some ghosts, but it was such a great place that we came back the next year with Kaiyln and my younger son Dan for another go at the Escarpment and a good conversation with some of the hotel regulars. Unfortunately, like so many other historic places in New York, it burned to the ground in 2007.

Phoenicia is also known as the setting for the "B" movie Wendigo [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/wendigo_(film)] Decent story, poor special effects, but some of the filming occurred in downtown, especially at the Phoenicia Pharmacy. The historical part of the town's legacy is the fact that it was the first mountain town to receive rail service but today it is mostly known for "tubing the Esopus River." Large tire tubes with wooden boards tied to the bottom side to keep your "ass" from bouncing off the rocks as you negotiate the rapids. It's fun and Sandy survived it last year, so it's safe too.

For my purposes, there was a good bar... the "Sportsmans." This is attached to Brios Restaurant which had the best NY pizza and very good mexican food. There is a higher level Italian restaurant, Ricciardellas, down the street which I tried to eat at but was closed and Al's, a sea food restaurant that was quiet and good place to take Sandy for dinner while she was there.

Although I have made fun of this town in the past, calling it the "place where hippies not cool enough for Woodstock go to retire", I hope that the old guy with the long grey beard pulling the oxygen tank around downtown yelling at everyone will forgive me. If Phoenicia just had a Laundromat, I might not ever have had to leave. Unfortunately, I was here for a month and didn't have a month's worth of quality hiking clothing so laundry had to be done at least once a week. So that takes me to Tannersville...

Tannersville - I really don't mean to make this a history lesson, but Tannersville was founded in the 1800's around lumber mills and the tanning industry. This town comes alive during the ski season, but if you come here in September in-between the summer and fall leaf seasons, the place closes down. But... it does have a Laundromat. I brought my dirty, sweaty and sometimes blood stained clothes here on several occasions. At times, I was there by myself and at other times this was laundry central for all the locals. In the land that time forgot, only about 75% of the washing machines worked and maybe 50% of the dryers. All in all, it was the least expensive of the Laundromats that I would use and had the best (and fastest)dryers.

Tannersville also had a Grand Union grocery store for fresh meats, vegetables and fruit and a gas station that I happened to have a card for. The one open bar in town during this season gave me a place to have that one perfect beer at the end of the day while my clothes where drying.

Hunter - Hunter Mountain is the second highest moutain in the range and is also the location of one of the most popular ski slopes. It is a quiet town with most of the tourist activity at the resort area at the base of the slope. This used to be the site of Hunter Village Inn which also burned to the ground several year ago but there is one nice Irish Pub in town and there are great off-season views of the ski area.

Arkville - A small old railroad town as you continue west on NY Route 28. It get busy during the fall season as weekenders board the train to view the fall colors. There isn't much else here other than a pizza place and another laundramat. It is cleaner and better maintained than the one in Tannersville, but is also more expensive. It does actually have a bathroom which saves you having to run around to the back side of the building.

Glossary

As I finally get around to writing thank you notes for the retirement gifts that I received, I am going include a note explaining the delay due to my trip to the Catskill Mountains. I thought that while I was up there that I would have had plenty of time to complete them, not realizing that each day would end up consisting of: get up, drive to trail head, climb a mountain or two (or three), return to the cabin, eat, go to bed early, repeat...) Since I plan to include a link to this blog for anyone that is interested on that note, I thought that I might try to set the stage for any newcomers.

Some mountain terms are universal and understood almost anywhere, but there are some that are unique to the Catskill Mountains and Hudson Valley due to the original Dutch settlers of the area. The following terms are used by most all hikers in the Catskills and are repeated frequently in my posts:

Bushwhack - An off-trail hike, usually requiring a compass and map. (or GPS)

Cairn - A pile of stones that marks a summit or the route.

Cannister - PVC container located on train-less summits of Catskill Mountains more than 3500 feet in elevation containing a notepad ledger and pencils. (bushwhacks)

Col - A pass between adjacent peaks in a mountainous chain or a low spot in a ridge.

Clove - A narrow valley.

Herd Path - An unmarked, unmaintained path created by hikers or animals.

Hollow - A small valley.

Kill - A Dutch word for waterway, creek, or river.

Lean-to - A three sided shelter with an over-hanging roof for camping.

Logging road - A crude road used to haul logs after lumbering.

Notch - A narrow pass.

Summit - The top of a mountain.

Vly - Dutch word for swamp or marsh.

Woods road - An old unmaintained road or logging road.

Since the most recent posts appear first in the blog and work their way backwards to the early planning stages of the trip, I hope this may be helpful to those who may have just started reading.

Packing up (for now)

The map board gives the overall big picture of the trip. 32 completed mountains spread out over the four NY Counties that make up the Catskill Mountain range. I put over 1200 miles on my truck driving back and forth to trail heads that were mostly found at the dead end of long valley roads along brooks and streams with great scenery all around. The small number of pictures that I was able to post can't even begin to do it justice. Hopefully during the interim before I come back to finish the last three (non-Winter) hikes, I'll be able to keep the blog going by putting up some of the numerous other pictures that I took and explain some of the back stories that went on behind the scenes when I wasn't on a mountain.

The planning for this trip began several months ago, some of which probably occurred on City time, but even while in the mountains it continued on a nightly basis. As a firm believer of "no plan survives the first contact intact," I often had to re-adjust take off points, change the order of climbs, modify the gear in my pack depending on terrain, find different trails away from streams due to water levels and and re-route drives to the trail head due to flooded roads.

All things considered, this part of the trip has been a complete success. Especially due to the fact that early on, after my first bushwhack climb to Friday and Balsam Cap Mountains with the group, I questioned my ability to find canisters on my own and had downgraded my overall goal to possibly 25 or 27 total mountains for the trip. Everyday proved to be a learning experience and through a combination of planning, perseverance and just plain being stubborn I managed to find 8 of the 14 canisters on train-less summits on my own. (and a little help from my GPS) Three others were achieved on group hikes leaving only the last three remaining Catskill 35's to go.

So, on Tuesday morning October 12th, I shaved, cleaned the cabin, packed up the truck, loaded up the dog and said good-bye to the town of Phoenicia and the Catskill Mountains for a little while. I'll try to write more about Phoenicia (and the other mountains towns that I frequented) in another post, but I think it can be best summed up as the "town where hippies not cool enough for Woodstock went to retire." It is quaint, but odd.

For now... a trip across the river to have lunch with my brother and his girlfriend and then the 11 hour drive back to North Carolina. In about a month, when I have things back in the right perspective... I'll be back.

Big Indian Mountain - 3700 ft.

(This post was re-edited on 10-14-10 with new material)

Today was the first day in about three weeks that my legs were still pretty shaky in the morning. Yesterday's climb took a lot out of me and totally did in Sarge. I can't blame him because I would have laid on my bed most of the day too if I could... I didn't, I got up and went on to Big Indian.

In order to reach this peak, I would have to re-cover some ground that I had already gained twice in the past. I started at the Seager Trail head which had also been the take-off point for Eagle and Double Top. The only good part is that the water has had more of a chance to recede making stream crossings easier and in some cases actually possible. The first two miles are flat until you get to the Shandaken Creek lean-to shown above. At that point, you cut back east and start a one mile steep and rocky climb to the col. Still a little irritable and tired from yesterday's "ass-kicker", I had a lot of time to dwell on the fact that this mountain could have been done and out of the way on two occasions already. When I climbed Eagle on October 2nd, I had made the very same steep ascent that I was cursing my way up right now. This trail makes 85% of the elevation gain you need for both mountains. When you reach the intersection of the blue blazed Pine Hill trail at the col, a left turn will take you a mile to the top of Eagle and a right turn goes a mile and a half to Big Indian making it very possible to back track and hit both in the same day. (This would added another three miles round trip, but would have "killed two birds with one stone") Having planned most of these climbs out over a month ago, I chose to just get Eagle since Big Indian was supposed to be included in an upcoming two summit group hike. (If you read my October 9th post about that hike, you know that we never made it on to Big Indian after wandering around aimlessly on the summit of Double Top for more than 30 minutes and a general lack of group majority interest) So... with one missed opportunity on my own and one cancellation with a group, I find myself losing another precious day finishing a peak that should have already been done when I had climbed 8/10 of the way up it the first time. To make matters worse, over the last couple of days, more than three weeks into this and with 31 mountains behind me, my patience is starting to wear thin and I have started making some things more difficult for myself than they need to be. Big Indian is technically a bushwhack, but considered one of the easier ones because a marked trail passes very close to the summit leaving just a short 2oo yard trek through the woods. Over the years, the vast number of hikers who have gone to the summit have left behind a well used herd path leading right to the canister, or at least that's what I had read while planning this. When I hadn't come across it by the time I thought that I should have and the trail seemed to be starting down the other side, I second guessed myself, pulled out the GPS and broke left off the trail into the thick underbrush towards the summit. It ended up taking me about 45 minutes to go 200 yards and locate the canister myself when a little more patience would have taken down the original trail a short distance further where the obvious rock cairn would have pointed the way to the obvious path that led right in.

I took the usual summit picture, but this time did so with a smile on my face, because I had used the solitude of the climb to come to a good decision. A variety of factors had me pushing myself harder than intended lately. I had originally planned in four rest days (one each week) to give my body a chance to recover. Those would have been more than made up by the number of multiple summit days that I would be doing. (Seven multiples completed, an eighth had to be broken into two consecutive days due to rain and a ninth was lost to poor planning) The weather proved to be an uncontrollable and relentless factor to deal with. Four days where lost to torrential rain and flooding. I had already taken one of the rest days prior to the storms and took another one afterwards to help with Fall chores at my mother's house, giving me six total days completely off the trail.

Another factor that was pressing me for time was the calendar. Although I named this blog "35 Mountains in 30 Days", in reality I only had 28 days since the cabin was only leased for four calendar weeks. It was Monday, and although theoretically it was possible to finish three more in two days, I came to the realization on the mountain that afternoon that I had recently started doing this for the wrong reason. For the first three weeks, each day was an adventure and I looked forward to getting on the trail every morning. For the last several days, I'd become a machine, adding in extra miles and summits to make up lost ground and powering through climbs just to get them done and out of the way. It was starting to take a toll on my legs and my common sense and that is when you tend to make mistakes that you can pay dearly for above the cloud line.

I've decided that when I complete this challenge, I want it to be a celebration on top of that 35th mountain. Not... "I'm so glad that this shit is over!" With what have been described to me as the two most difficult and remote peaks left to go, I think that it is time to call a time out and pack up and head back home to civilization and refresh for about a month. One of the nice things about retirement is that I don't have to check my schedule in order find time to come back. I'm guessing that my calendar is pretty clear.

To be continued...

Mount Sherrill & North Dome - 3540 ft. and 3610 ft.

This ended up being the most deceiving climb of the trip so far. Being two of the lower mountains in elevation, you get lured into the false sense of security that you can hit both of them in the same day with no problem. The maps did tell a different story when I studied them, but I don't think that I took them seriously enough. The other problem is that bushwhacks are always a "wild card." First off, I'm sure that they are called a bushwhack, because every bush snaps back and whacks you in the face. Some that I have done had well used unmaintained trails or herd paths that lead you right to the summit. Some have gone through open forest without much under growth to slow you down. Some have been steep climbs with rock scrambles, but this one seemed to incorporate all of the worst parts of every other one.

First, it was a long climb to the first mountain and the elevation gain from the parking area coming out of the valley was one of my highest. The climb to Sherrill started out following a wood road, but once that phased out, I had to make my own way. Even with the GPS, staying on the ridge you want can be difficult because the terrain forces you to follow it where it wants you to go sometimes. The ascent to Sherrill is about two miles "as the crow flies" but who knows how much you actually go when you have to cross through hollows and avoid obstacles in your path. It ended up being another one of those mountains that you start to see light up ahead of you and think the summit is coming up only to find out that there was another steep climb over huge rock ridges beyond that.

This was a pick up hike and my mother was going to be at the West Kill Mountain trail head (Devil's Path) where I had planned to bushwhack my way down to at 1:00 pm (my normal 2 MPH estimate for this mileage) By the time I made the summit of Sherrill, I was already close to a hour behind. Cell phones are mostly useless in the Catskill Mountains except at most summits and unfortunately this one was remote enough that it didn't count.

This gives me a chance to make my next complaint about bushwhacks... you lose things. (not the mountain's fault, just poor planning) I almost lost my camera a couple of weeks ago because coming down the backside of one mountain a tree branch grabbed the strap and pulled it out of my camera case. Luckily not long after, I actually went to take a picture of Sandy and noticed it wasn't there. A quick back track (although up hill) found it hanging from the branch. Yesterday apparently some low growth grabbed my Spiderco knife. The low growth finds a way to get under the clip and snatch it away without you noticing. Today, Sarge (who is lower to the ground and constantly burrowing through the brush) lost his pack. There was only a leash and a collapsible bowl in it, but the pack did cost 40 bucks. I didn't have the time or energy to go look for it, so I just called it a loss. Luckily a little later when a tree actually grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket, I felt it happen and was able to recover it from the branch where it was hanging neatly by carrier clip. I have had both my sun glasses and presciption glasses snatched off my head and thrown a long ways by the whipping motion of the branch...

The next pain in the ass about walking through low growth... it unties your shoes. It only took me a couple of times to realize that I had to double tie them, but after about an hour, the vegetation manages to untie those too. All this was just after one mountain and I still had another one to go and a long walk out. I signed in at the canister and had the best orange that I have ever eaten in my life and once again had the thought "WTF was I thinking?"

The push on to the second mountain required a steep descent down (and several Sarge carries) to a very narrow col. At maybe a hundred feet wide, missing it would have required a thousand foot descent into the valley on either side and that much of a climb back up. This would be another one of the times that I appreciated my investment in a good GPS and I hit it exactly. This made the difference in dropping only to 3000 ft. instead of 2000 ft. The climbs back up to North Dome were a little more gradual with several easier humps over less challenging ridges. My first discernible herd path of the day finally led me to the canister after a long walk on a mostly flat summit. It was the first canister that if I hadn't thought to look back every once in a while, I might have missed it.

Since I was so far behind in time, I took the "teenage girl type self portrait" to the right without my trusty gorilla tripod and one picture of a geological survey stamp and pressed on.

Trust me, "all down hill from here" are famous last words. You can't go off the back side of North Dome from the summit because it is a shear cliff, so you have to negotiate a drop that takes you down along a ridge that I wanted to take me to the Devil's Path and back to the Mink Hollow pick up point another two miles away. Walking sideways down a mountain is tough on the ankles. In my 25 days of climbing, I can honestly say that I only fallen where my butt actually hit the ground three times. Today, I busted my ass, six times. I couldn't get over the ridge to where I needed to be to meet the marked trail out, so when I ran out of water and my legs were starting to cramp up, I heard the sound of a road and took the first wood road that I could find down to private property ( I do apologize to all the land owners) but at this point I just needed some level ground. I came out about a half mile from the parking area but the asphalt was such a better walking surface. My father's Toyota pick up was a great sight in the lot, but I had to go find my mother about a hundred yards up the trail where I think she was either going to look for us since we where late or call in the search and rescue.

Long day, toughest hike of the trip and quite possibly the toughest thing that I've ever had to do in my life. I think that I've gone on long enough to start a book here, but a short blog can't fully explain this day. I got off the mountain and downed a Diet Pepsi (and I hate Diet Pepsi) and then about two gallons of water and a quart of Gatorade. Oh... and three beers right after I finished at the Middlebrook Inn while having lunch with my mother for picking me up...

Mountains #30 & #31. Enough said...