The high peaks range of the Adirondacks in New York feels like the big country of the western Rockies. Yeah they are not as high, but they start at a much lower altitude, get above the tree line, and get that rugged, unpredictable weather of the big mountain ranges. The park is the largest in the contiguous United States. There are high mountains, lakes, marsh lands for boating, skiing, hiking, biking, ice and rock climbing, and snowmobiling. I have an even better appreciation of New York.
It was just a five hour drive north of the city. Our first night was in the small town of Keene Valley. The Inn owner told us to let ourselves in and grab some beers. We stoked the fire, sat around at midnight and reconnected with some old Peace Corps stories. The Mountaineer--an idyllic mountaineering shop--was our staging ground to get some of the gear we needed.
There was two feet of snow at the trail head and 7 plus feet at the peaks. We strapped on snow shoes and set up camp about an hour in. At a stop some well-trained bird found our snack to be as tasty as we thought. We explored the area and the next morning hiked over a pass down onto Avalanche Lake. Two hundred foot rock walls lined the entrance to the lake. The Mt. Colden trail entrance was tucked in amongst the trees on the left side of the second lake in the valley. The trail goes up and up through dense pine forest. At some points the snow was level with the trail markers.
The peak was socked in a cloud but the sparse alpine view was spectacular. The trees gave way to tough shrubs covered in icicles. For a few moments, we lost the trail and stared down some slick rock leading to the edge of the rock walls we were looking up at from the lake. At the top, we found a bare rock and chomp on some gorp and buttered French bread.
It always takes me a night to slow my internal clock to the time of nature. The first night I am restless, needing some sort of distraction--music, the computer, a movie. After a good first night's sleep in the back-country, buried in my sleeping bag, the morning is always refreshingly perfect. Throw in a little coffee and laugh at the man in black and life is good again.
This was the only break in the clouds on the day of the ascent.
The high peaks range of the Adirondacks in New York feels like the big country of the western Rockies. Yeah they are not as high, but they start at a much lower altitude, get above the tree line, and get that rugged, unpredictable weather of the big mountain ranges. The park is the largest in the contiguous United States. There are high mountains, lakes, marsh lands for boating, skiing, hiking, biking, ice and rock climbing, and snowmobiling. I have an even better appreciation of New York.
It was just a five hour drive north of the city. Our first night was in the small town of Keene Valley. The Inn owner told us to let ourselves in and grab some beers. We stoked the fire, sat around at midnight and reconnected with some old Peace Corps stories. The Mountaineer--an idyllic mountaineering shop--was our staging ground to get some of the gear we needed.
There was two feet of snow at the trail head and 7 plus feet at the peaks. We strapped on snow shoes and set up camp about an hour in. At a stop some well-trained bird found our snack to be as tasty as we thought. We explored the area and the next morning hiked over a pass down onto Avalanche Lake. Two hundred foot rock walls lined the entrance to the lake. The Mt. Colden trail entrance was tucked in amongst the trees on the left side of the second lake in the valley. The trail goes up and up through dense pine forest. At some points the snow was level with the trail markers.
The peak was socked in a cloud but the sparse alpine view was spectacular. The trees gave way to tough shrubs covered in icicles. For a few moments, we lost the trail and stared down some slick rock leading to the edge of the rock walls we were looking up at from the lake. At the top, we found a bare rock and chomp on some gorp and buttered French bread. 
It always takes me a night to slow my internal clock to the time of nature. The first night I am restless, needing some sort of distraction--music, the computer, a movie. After a good first night's sleep in the back-country, buried in my sleeping bag, the morning is always refreshingly perfect. Throw in a little coffee and laugh at the man in black and life is good again.
This was the only break in the clouds on the day of the ascent. 
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