Whiteface and Esther 2016-12-04
Photos: http://ift.tt/2h36gEM
Sunday was a stellar day atop Whiteface! Whatever you want to call it, cloud inversion, undercast, or just fog-in-the-valley, it made for scenic eye-candy.
What started as a day to tackle Whiteface and Esther plus Cascade and Porter was distilled to simply the first two. From Whiteface's summit, I couldn't see Cascade so it seemed like a shame to end the day atop a shrouded summit. It meant my hiking day was done at 1:00 PM but the bonus was returning home before dark (4:11 PM).
The trail was a mix of mostly snow, some ice, and a bit of open water. I bare-booted everything except for the section above the Wilmington Turn where I used snowshoes.
Along the Wilmington Trail.
Esther's summit was blanketed by cloud; visibility was less than 100 feet. Along the way I met fellow forum member "Rob" and a tall speedy fellow, who had overtaken me earlier in the morning. With absolutely nothing to see, I spent less than a minute on the fog-shrouded summit. I returned to Lookout Mountain, retrieved my stashed snowshoes and continued on to Whiteface.
Still, silent, and monochromatic.
I didn't see sunshine until I emerged out of the clouds at the Wilmington Turn (~ 4300') where I was rejoined by "Rob". The ascent along the arête was a treat for our eyes. Whiteface rose above the clouds while wisps of fog curled up the slopes of its cirque. Its summit station, plastered in rime, stood like a lighthouse in an ocean of cloud.
Cloud inversion; it's beautiful!
Along Whiteface's northeastern arête.
Whiteface's eastern cirque.
I crossed paths with the speedy hiker one last time, a few minutes below the summit. Rob and I met a third hiker on top and we all marveled at our good fortune to be on one of the few High Peaks poking through the clouds. In the distance we saw Giant, Gothics, Basin, Marcy, and Algonquin. However, most of the time, only Marcy was visible.
Sentinels in the mist.
Rob and the other hiker didn't dwell for long and I had the summit all to myself. I spent time photographing the fascinating wind-sculpted formations of rime. The binocular stations, standing like frozen sentinels, were the most interesting especially one which had tripled in thickness. All had acquired amusing "faces".
Rime-encrusted binocular station.
After twenty minutes of soaking up the scenery, my tingly fingertips indicated it was time to either leave or add a layer. Seeing that I still fancied a hike to Cascade and Porter, I chose to leave. I paused at the Turn to remove my snowshoes and windshell. By now, the clouds were dissipating and so was my desire to augment the day's vertical by 2300 feet. I rescheduled Cascade and Porter for another day.
The descent was a delight. The trail's gaps were paved over by ice and old snow followed by a fluffy blanket of fresh snow. There was just enough to allow for easy "boot skiing" but not enough to create post-holes. Normally I'd wear some traction, for extra security, but bare boots were adequate. My Trail Crampons never left their pouch. Nor did my PB&J which was saved for the drive home.
I met Rob again followed by several ascending hikers. The most curious moment was when I passed two hikers and was asked if I was alone. I replied "Yes" and the one waving a roll of TP said "Oh good! I need to pee!" I left thinking about next spring's crop of "TP flowers".
Ninety minutes after leaving the summit, I was back at my car and changing into dry clothes. It was a good hike to ease back into cold-weather hiking. The switch from trail-runners and shorts to leather boots and layers wasn't terribly onerous. However, I can't say the same for the four extra pounds of snowshoe strapped, fangs out, to my pack. It'll take a few more hikes for them to become unnoticeable (again).
Photos: http://ift.tt/2h36gEM
Sunday was a stellar day atop Whiteface! Whatever you want to call it, cloud inversion, undercast, or just fog-in-the-valley, it made for scenic eye-candy.
What started as a day to tackle Whiteface and Esther plus Cascade and Porter was distilled to simply the first two. From Whiteface's summit, I couldn't see Cascade so it seemed like a shame to end the day atop a shrouded summit. It meant my hiking day was done at 1:00 PM but the bonus was returning home before dark (4:11 PM).
The trail was a mix of mostly snow, some ice, and a bit of open water. I bare-booted everything except for the section above the Wilmington Turn where I used snowshoes.
Along the Wilmington Trail.
Esther's summit was blanketed by cloud; visibility was less than 100 feet. Along the way I met fellow forum member "Rob" and a tall speedy fellow, who had overtaken me earlier in the morning. With absolutely nothing to see, I spent less than a minute on the fog-shrouded summit. I returned to Lookout Mountain, retrieved my stashed snowshoes and continued on to Whiteface.
Still, silent, and monochromatic.
I didn't see sunshine until I emerged out of the clouds at the Wilmington Turn (~ 4300') where I was rejoined by "Rob". The ascent along the arête was a treat for our eyes. Whiteface rose above the clouds while wisps of fog curled up the slopes of its cirque. Its summit station, plastered in rime, stood like a lighthouse in an ocean of cloud.
Cloud inversion; it's beautiful!
Along Whiteface's northeastern arête.
Whiteface's eastern cirque.
I crossed paths with the speedy hiker one last time, a few minutes below the summit. Rob and I met a third hiker on top and we all marveled at our good fortune to be on one of the few High Peaks poking through the clouds. In the distance we saw Giant, Gothics, Basin, Marcy, and Algonquin. However, most of the time, only Marcy was visible.
Sentinels in the mist.
Rob and the other hiker didn't dwell for long and I had the summit all to myself. I spent time photographing the fascinating wind-sculpted formations of rime. The binocular stations, standing like frozen sentinels, were the most interesting especially one which had tripled in thickness. All had acquired amusing "faces".
Rime-encrusted binocular station.
After twenty minutes of soaking up the scenery, my tingly fingertips indicated it was time to either leave or add a layer. Seeing that I still fancied a hike to Cascade and Porter, I chose to leave. I paused at the Turn to remove my snowshoes and windshell. By now, the clouds were dissipating and so was my desire to augment the day's vertical by 2300 feet. I rescheduled Cascade and Porter for another day.
The descent was a delight. The trail's gaps were paved over by ice and old snow followed by a fluffy blanket of fresh snow. There was just enough to allow for easy "boot skiing" but not enough to create post-holes. Normally I'd wear some traction, for extra security, but bare boots were adequate. My Trail Crampons never left their pouch. Nor did my PB&J which was saved for the drive home.
I met Rob again followed by several ascending hikers. The most curious moment was when I passed two hikers and was asked if I was alone. I replied "Yes" and the one waving a roll of TP said "Oh good! I need to pee!" I left thinking about next spring's crop of "TP flowers".
Ninety minutes after leaving the summit, I was back at my car and changing into dry clothes. It was a good hike to ease back into cold-weather hiking. The switch from trail-runners and shorts to leather boots and layers wasn't terribly onerous. However, I can't say the same for the four extra pounds of snowshoe strapped, fangs out, to my pack. It'll take a few more hikes for them to become unnoticeable (again).
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