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.