Mount Marcy

It’s late 2016, and I have the itch for a solo getaway.  For the entirety of the summer, I had taken the family up the more challenging hikes around DC, where they wheezed and panted their way through.  I, however, barely broke a sweat.  Hiking, unfortunately, shares many characteristics with drug abuse.  The same dosage, so to speak, fails to have the same effect.  The DC Area hikes, which once delivered a heavenly sensation, now did nothing for me.  I needed to do something more challenging to get the same high.

I needed to get away from the clutter of metropolitan DC.  I yearned to hike to the point of exhaustion.  I wanted to feel my body break.  The 1 to 3 thousand foot summits in the area simply could not cut it.   I know I needed to get up to 6000 feet to feel it.

I thought of what I already had under my belt.  I had climbed Mount Washington (6289 ft) twice.  I had done the Smokies a couple times, including Mt. LeConté (6594 ft), as well as notable peaks on the Blue Ridge, including Mount Mitchell (6683 ft), the tallest point in the eastern US.

Then, I thought of the Adirondacks and Franconia Ridge.  Previously, I passed up doing them because both ranges are under 6’000 feet and I felt there would not be much challenge.  However, I had the radical idea of doing them back-to-back.  I would climb Mt Marcy (5344 ft), the tallest point in New York, on Friday, and do the Franconia Ridge loop of Mt. Little Haystack (4760 ft), Mt. Lincoln (5089 ft), and Mt. Lafayette (5249 ft) on Saturday.  I figured four peaks in 2 days at approximately 5000 ft each would surely get the itch under control.

So, I scheduled some time away and made reservations for a lean-to at the Adirondack Loj Wilderness Campground, near the base of Mt. Marcy, where I would camp the night before my summit attempt.  Right upon arrival at my campsite, I knew the Adirondacks was a special place.  I arrived on Thursday night and there were no lights in the campground, so I could not see anything.  However, I felt the uniqueness of the place when I heard the noises of the forest and breathed in the air.  I built a fire and enjoyed the calm listening to it as I reviewed the map in my tent and made plans for the next morning.

I did not spend long in my campsite in the morning.  Though it was not the weekend, I heard this was a busy hike and I wanted to get an early start to avoid the crowds.  I simply made coffee, ate a Mountain House freeze-dried breakfast, and was off.

The route is 7.4 miles southeast on Blue Trail 61 (15.2 miles round trip) with 4684 ft total elevation gain.

I started the trail at 15 minutes before 8 in the morning.  There was already a line to sign the trail log, so I feared I was already too late and that I would have to deal with crowds all day.  However, I was pumped on adrenaline, made fast progress, and soon found myself mostly alone.

I decided to hike the Adirondacks thinking that the terrain and forests would resemble what I was accustomed to from hiking other areas in the eastern US.  Though hundreds of miles apart, I’ve found that forests in Tennessee, for example, are similar to those in the Shenandoah, and those are similar to the ones in Pennsylvania and even the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

The Adirondacks, however, have a different quality altogether.  I wish I was knowledgeable in the specific botany and vegetation of the area so that I could speak of them in an educated fashion.  In my uneducated vernacular, however, I will say that it seems that the Adirondacks is predominantly pine forest, where trees were packed close together and tended to wear thick, waxy needles instead of leaves.  Surprisingly, it reminded me more of hiking in South Korea and the Quebec province of Canada rather than anything else in the United States.

The Adirondacks is also unique in that instead of dirt trail with a lot of switchbacks, much of the way up consists of rock scars that go straight up the mountain.  This became apparent following the Marcy Dam and I now understood why the route on the map was so straight.

Still on a mission to avoid crowds, I opted to take in the scenery on my way down, and continued to keep a rapid pace on the way up.  There was, in fact, only one other person I saw for the rest of the ascent.  He ascended faster than I did, but took a lot of breaks, leading to an interesting exchange every half-hour or so where either he would pass me or I would pass him.  He was extremely friendly and I soon found out that he was one of the 48ers, which are a proud group of people who climbed all 48 peaks in the Adirondack Range.

After 3 hours or so since beginning my hike, the trees finally started to thin and I found myself above the treeline and in the Alpine Zone. Until this point, I did not find the climb that challenging.  However, I soon found out that Mt. Marcy did not give up its summit that easily.  The final push on bald rock was truly challenging.  However, after half an hour, I found myself on top.

It was about 11:30 am when I reached the summit.  The only other person who beat me to the top that day was my 48er companion.  Finally feeling like I could relax, I put my pack down for the first time that day and enjoyed lunch.  I spent over an hour at the top taking in the view and feeling that catharsis that only the mountains could deliver.  As I did, the people I passed on my way up hours ago made their way up in a slow trickle.

It was 12:30 when I finally decided to make my way down.  It’s funny – the way down the mountain always feels longer than going up.  The thrill of the ascent subsides and the pain sets in.  Like predicted, I ran into many groups of people ascending.  I kept a swift pace, though, knowing that I needed to make it to my camping accommodation in New Hampshire that day.  I only stopped by Indian Falls on the way down, where I sat doing nothing in particular.

Before starting my trip, I flirted with the idea of spending the entirety of my trip in the Adirondacks.  However, the Adirondack backcountry mandates the use of bear canisters for those camping overnight and fines people without them.  I understand this kind of policy is meant to prevent amateur hikers from creating dangerous situations for other hikers.  However, I found this policy very difficult to achieve.

Bear canisters are not only expensive, but large and heavy.  For light-weight solo backpackers like myself, it’s a burden.  The Adirondack Park Service, I believe, should place more trust in its campers to not only observe safe bear practices, but also to recognize when other hikers are engaging in dangerous practices and to either correct or avoid them.

I reached my car around 3pm and left the Adirondacks.  I liked it a lot and will probably make my way back at some point much later.  It’s just a bit too popular, easy, and restrictive for my tastes right now.