Photos: http://ift.tt/2lArSuD
ArGoSaw! Armstrong, Gothics, and Sawteeth provided me with an argosy of experiences. I think the trips that stir your emotions, that challenge you, move you, are the ones that are most memorable and gratifying. Such would be the case on Super Bowl Sunday.
My day began with a memorably contrarian reply from a US Customs and Border Protection Officer. The Nexus lane's barrier was open, the booth was manned, but the overhead illuminated sign clearly indicated "Closed". Not wishing to appear illiterate, I drove to the non-Nexus lane and took my place in the queue. My turn came quickly and, after a few simple questions, the officer cleared me for entry. I then asked why the Nexus lane was closed. He replied it wasn't closed. I explained its overhead sign said it was closed. He retorted crisply "The sign may say it's closed but it's open." I imagine this makes sense somewhere but not in my head. Seeing that I had already been cleared, there was no profit in challenging his reply. Nor in recounting that, one time, I did enter the Nexus lane when its sign indicated "Closed" and the furious officer explained "Closed means closed."
The Ausable Club's parking area had fewer than ten cars. I ministered to the needs of my feet and my phone. Oh poo. I forgot to bring my ear buds. I guess I won't catch up with all the podcasts I downloaded. I greeted a couple that just arrived and headed up the road to the trail-register.
I left my car wearing what I'd wear the entire day, namely a lightweight baselayer and windshell. It wasn't terribly cold (-5 C, 23 F) but it was windy. Later in the day, atop very windy Gothics, the temperature dipped to -10C (14 F) and I added a second shell (Rab VR). The wind gusts were brief but intense and it was one of the few times I felt the gusts through my softshell pants (mostly through the zippered pockets).
I signed the trail-register's logbook (8:58 AM) and checked to see if I'd have company today. Ahah! A party of two had left 45 minutes earlier for Armstrong and a party of three left over two hours ago for Gothics. Another group had left 2.5 hours earlier for Sawteeth. There was a good chance I'd meet someone and maybe even take advantage of their groomed trails.
The Lake Road was packed down by snowmobile traffic and allowed me to bare-boot without any problems. My feet quickly proceeded to do their usual weirdness of going numb. It takes at least an hour's worth of hiking for the numbness to diminish. I really should get around to talking to my doctor about this "glitch".
I arrived at the Beaver Meadows junction and paused to consider the age-old question "Clockwise or counter-clockwise?" I've hiked Gothics a bajillion times via the Weld Trail so maybe it was time to try Beaver Meadows. Besides, we were overdue for a reckoning.
The last time I hiked the Beaver Meadows Trail in winter, was six years ago. I was a newbie winter-hiker and a poster-child for the Dunning-Kruger Effect. The details are here but basically I got "schooled". I exhausted myself and, while bailing out, I lost my way high up on the Beaver Meadows Trail. The markers were buried in deep snow and there was no "trail gutter" to follow. Losing your way on a marked trail, how embarrassing! I found my way down (obviously) and then, chagrined, I reviewed what I thought I knew (and what I didn't).
Today, six years later, I'm older (and how) and have come armed with a headful of practical, navigational experience (and a "cheater-box"). Long story short, no part of the Beaver Meadows Trail proved to be a navigational puzzle; it was a gutter from top to bottom.
The section of Beaver Meadows Trail between the Lake Road and the Eastside Trail doesn't appear in OpenStreetMap (OSM). I took the time to follow it carefully (easy with the gutter in place) and mark the location of all junctions. Eventually I'll get around to adding the data to OSM.
Beaver Meadow Falls was a block of ice. Actually, it looked more like a giant mass of refrozen vanilla ice cream. In the event of a sudden and intense spring-thaw, the last place I'd want to be is standing in front of that wall of ice.
Refrozen ice cream.
Beyond the falls, the trail climbs steeply up a tall ladder. Its rungs were barely visible but stubbornness got me to the top. Beyond the ladder, the trail was iced over and it now seemed like a reasonable time to choose an appropriate weapon. I opted for Trail Crampons.
The ascent from the falls to the ridge is about 2.2 miles and 2400 feet and, at least for me, didn't go by in a flash. My tracklog claims 1h50m total and 1h15m of that was actual moving time. Yeah well, it felt more like 3 hours non-stop so I guess my fitness level needs work. Along the way I caught up with the group of two who had signed in for Armstrong. We shared our itineraries, wished one another well, and then parted company. The trail was now pristine but, with less then an inch of fresh snow, there was still no trail-breaking involved. Easy-peasy.
I paused at the Range Trail junction and got an eyeful of Gothics. Brr! Spindrift whirlwinds danced around the summit giving it both a magical and forbidding appearance. I had second thoughts about proceeding to Gothics but I'd reserve that decision for later. First there was the simple matter of visiting Armstrong.
As expected, the winds caused drifting along the Range Trail. Fortunately the drifts were minor (a foot tall) and didn't impede my pace or ability to navigate the gutter. There was only one spot where it "forked" and made me check out both tines of it. I concluded the right one was better formed and added to the flattening.
Armstrong's ledge was remarkably windy. I stood back from its edge, close to the mouth of the trail, to take my requisite selfie. The lighting was "flat" and the landscape was completely monochromatic. The distant peaks of the upper Great Range was shrouded in gauzy veils of snow and looked ghostly. It was both beautiful and eerie.
Armstrong's view of Gothics and friends.
Halfway back to the junction, I passed the team of two bound for Armstrong. I returned to the Beaver Meadows junction and continued along the Range Trail for another 0.1 miles to a sunny, sheltered area. I added a layer and munched on a PB&J while considering my next move. Today I could've hiked the Macs or ArGoSaw. I chose the latter because it was more sheltered from the forecasted winds. However, after seeing Gothics' snowy dandruff blowing helter-skelter, I had second thoughts about continuing to the top.
So what Jedi mind tricks could I use on myself?
I was now ecstatic to be on the ridge and pleased to have overcome my reservations and doubts. Gothics' and its North Face were indescribably beautiful. I'd been to Gothics in December, January, and March yet this was the first time I paused to appreciate it from this vantage point. Days later, I looked through my old photos and realized I had probably missed it because I was overly focused on traversing the snow cornice. Heading downhill, it's very easy to forget to look back.
Oh my Gothics!
I waited patiently for the sun to break through and snapped several photos in the hope one of them would capture the moment. There was simply no way my phone could frame the totality of the North Face and retain a sense of its height and breadth. I settled for the summit and its twirling snow dervishes.
It was time to move on and close the deal. The cornice is forming well and if the trend continues should be impressive by March. I paused to consider where the trail might run and then decided it was an academic exercise to follow it. I stayed on the leeward side of the developing cornice and, upon clearing it, I was greeted by a stinging faceful of spindrift. The wind-scoured summit was now visible and merely a few yards away.
One of the eyebolts used by Verplanck Colvin's survey team was slightly exposed. I stood next to it and snapped a selfie. I looked around and discerned faint traces of someone's passage but not nearly as distinct as I had expected. I guessed the "team of three" had left long ago and the wind erased their tracks. After a few more pictures of my surroundings I continued south towards the junction for Pyramid.
Gothics' version of the Terracotta Army.
The amount of pristine snow I encountered made me realize the team of three may have never reached the summit. Upon reaching the junction it was almost unrecognizable and the path east to Pyramid was heavily drifted over. Nuts! It would appear I would not have a nice gutter to follow after all. If they made it to the summit, there was absolutely no evidence of it.
In winter, the little col between Gothics and Pyramid gives me pause. It's steep and often blanketed in deep snow. I can't imagine anyone getting lost in that short stretch but there's opportunity for a lone hiker to tumble or get mired in spruce traps. Maybe it's none of these things but I've had the misfortune of believing in that narrative! OK, game face on, recite Alan Shepard's prayer, and down we go!
The initial long steep drop goes well and things get easier after that. Route finding becomes a touch more challenging as I approach the col because now many avenues appear and all seem viable. I stick to the north side where I repeatedly find tell-tale signs of the trail (says I). I pause in the col for a breather. I'm covered in snow and staring at an untracked slope. I'm now convinced no one has been here today; they must've turned around on Pyramid. Even if they were in the col, I'm not benefitting from their passage. I trudge uphill, sinking no more than a foot, and quietly pound out a path to Pyramid.
Gothics in Cinerama.
Pyramid looks no more traveled than anything I've seen since Armstrong. Bah! I stop playing the game of "find other people's tracks". Pyramid is very windy and the forecasted snow has started to move in. The upper Great Range is barely visible and I pause only long enough for a few photos. I rush off the summit and choose the most obvious (and wrong) path. I'm surprised by the amount of snow I encounter. As I crawl under a fallen tree I think to myself "Wow! This is gonna be a looong descent!" Within yards I intersect the obvious trail and laugh at my stupidity. The balance of the descent to the col is a no-brainer.
Upon reaching the junction, I check my watch. I had promised my wife I would call her at 5:00 PM, at the latest. It's now 2:10 PM. I need to exit, change into dry clothes, and be on the I-87, where I can get cell service, by 5:00 PM. I can do, but it'll be close!
The duo who had signed in for Sawteeth had succeeded because the trail to the summit was flattened by skis and Zambonied by someone's butt. I plodded upward in my snowshoes. Sawteeth's summit offered few views because the air was now thick with falling snow. The next order of the day was to descend "rapidamente"! I switched to Trail Crampons because they'd give me far better control on the paved trail.
Still life; frozen Rainbow Falls.
The zippy descent to the dam took about 40 exciting minutes, including a brief pause to appreciate the "still life" of frozen Rainbow Falls. After 50 minutes for the Lake Road, I signed out at the trail-register at 4:09 PM. I hustled off to my car and, long story short, managed to call my wife before the 5:00 PM deadline. Mission accomplished!
These mountains continue to move me and for that I'm thankful.
ArGoSaw! Armstrong, Gothics, and Sawteeth provided me with an argosy of experiences. I think the trips that stir your emotions, that challenge you, move you, are the ones that are most memorable and gratifying. Such would be the case on Super Bowl Sunday.
My day began with a memorably contrarian reply from a US Customs and Border Protection Officer. The Nexus lane's barrier was open, the booth was manned, but the overhead illuminated sign clearly indicated "Closed". Not wishing to appear illiterate, I drove to the non-Nexus lane and took my place in the queue. My turn came quickly and, after a few simple questions, the officer cleared me for entry. I then asked why the Nexus lane was closed. He replied it wasn't closed. I explained its overhead sign said it was closed. He retorted crisply "The sign may say it's closed but it's open." I imagine this makes sense somewhere but not in my head. Seeing that I had already been cleared, there was no profit in challenging his reply. Nor in recounting that, one time, I did enter the Nexus lane when its sign indicated "Closed" and the furious officer explained "Closed means closed."
The Ausable Club's parking area had fewer than ten cars. I ministered to the needs of my feet and my phone. Oh poo. I forgot to bring my ear buds. I guess I won't catch up with all the podcasts I downloaded. I greeted a couple that just arrived and headed up the road to the trail-register.
I left my car wearing what I'd wear the entire day, namely a lightweight baselayer and windshell. It wasn't terribly cold (-5 C, 23 F) but it was windy. Later in the day, atop very windy Gothics, the temperature dipped to -10C (14 F) and I added a second shell (Rab VR). The wind gusts were brief but intense and it was one of the few times I felt the gusts through my softshell pants (mostly through the zippered pockets).
I signed the trail-register's logbook (8:58 AM) and checked to see if I'd have company today. Ahah! A party of two had left 45 minutes earlier for Armstrong and a party of three left over two hours ago for Gothics. Another group had left 2.5 hours earlier for Sawteeth. There was a good chance I'd meet someone and maybe even take advantage of their groomed trails.
The Lake Road was packed down by snowmobile traffic and allowed me to bare-boot without any problems. My feet quickly proceeded to do their usual weirdness of going numb. It takes at least an hour's worth of hiking for the numbness to diminish. I really should get around to talking to my doctor about this "glitch".
I arrived at the Beaver Meadows junction and paused to consider the age-old question "Clockwise or counter-clockwise?" I've hiked Gothics a bajillion times via the Weld Trail so maybe it was time to try Beaver Meadows. Besides, we were overdue for a reckoning.
The last time I hiked the Beaver Meadows Trail in winter, was six years ago. I was a newbie winter-hiker and a poster-child for the Dunning-Kruger Effect. The details are here but basically I got "schooled". I exhausted myself and, while bailing out, I lost my way high up on the Beaver Meadows Trail. The markers were buried in deep snow and there was no "trail gutter" to follow. Losing your way on a marked trail, how embarrassing! I found my way down (obviously) and then, chagrined, I reviewed what I thought I knew (and what I didn't).
Today, six years later, I'm older (and how) and have come armed with a headful of practical, navigational experience (and a "cheater-box"). Long story short, no part of the Beaver Meadows Trail proved to be a navigational puzzle; it was a gutter from top to bottom.
The section of Beaver Meadows Trail between the Lake Road and the Eastside Trail doesn't appear in OpenStreetMap (OSM). I took the time to follow it carefully (easy with the gutter in place) and mark the location of all junctions. Eventually I'll get around to adding the data to OSM.
Beaver Meadow Falls was a block of ice. Actually, it looked more like a giant mass of refrozen vanilla ice cream. In the event of a sudden and intense spring-thaw, the last place I'd want to be is standing in front of that wall of ice.
Refrozen ice cream.
Beyond the falls, the trail climbs steeply up a tall ladder. Its rungs were barely visible but stubbornness got me to the top. Beyond the ladder, the trail was iced over and it now seemed like a reasonable time to choose an appropriate weapon. I opted for Trail Crampons.
The ascent from the falls to the ridge is about 2.2 miles and 2400 feet and, at least for me, didn't go by in a flash. My tracklog claims 1h50m total and 1h15m of that was actual moving time. Yeah well, it felt more like 3 hours non-stop so I guess my fitness level needs work. Along the way I caught up with the group of two who had signed in for Armstrong. We shared our itineraries, wished one another well, and then parted company. The trail was now pristine but, with less then an inch of fresh snow, there was still no trail-breaking involved. Easy-peasy.
I paused at the Range Trail junction and got an eyeful of Gothics. Brr! Spindrift whirlwinds danced around the summit giving it both a magical and forbidding appearance. I had second thoughts about proceeding to Gothics but I'd reserve that decision for later. First there was the simple matter of visiting Armstrong.
As expected, the winds caused drifting along the Range Trail. Fortunately the drifts were minor (a foot tall) and didn't impede my pace or ability to navigate the gutter. There was only one spot where it "forked" and made me check out both tines of it. I concluded the right one was better formed and added to the flattening.
Armstrong's ledge was remarkably windy. I stood back from its edge, close to the mouth of the trail, to take my requisite selfie. The lighting was "flat" and the landscape was completely monochromatic. The distant peaks of the upper Great Range was shrouded in gauzy veils of snow and looked ghostly. It was both beautiful and eerie.
Armstrong's view of Gothics and friends.
Halfway back to the junction, I passed the team of two bound for Armstrong. I returned to the Beaver Meadows junction and continued along the Range Trail for another 0.1 miles to a sunny, sheltered area. I added a layer and munched on a PB&J while considering my next move. Today I could've hiked the Macs or ArGoSaw. I chose the latter because it was more sheltered from the forecasted winds. However, after seeing Gothics' snowy dandruff blowing helter-skelter, I had second thoughts about continuing to the top.
So what Jedi mind tricks could I use on myself?
- I know the route well.
- The section from the col to the summit is easy. There's just one significant dog-leg and, of course, there'll be no trace of the route on the ridge.
- The group of three that left hours before me has probably tagged Gothics. They would leave me some piece of mind in the form of a groomed trail down Gothics and over Pyramid.
- I've experienced worse conditions.
I was now ecstatic to be on the ridge and pleased to have overcome my reservations and doubts. Gothics' and its North Face were indescribably beautiful. I'd been to Gothics in December, January, and March yet this was the first time I paused to appreciate it from this vantage point. Days later, I looked through my old photos and realized I had probably missed it because I was overly focused on traversing the snow cornice. Heading downhill, it's very easy to forget to look back.
Oh my Gothics!
I waited patiently for the sun to break through and snapped several photos in the hope one of them would capture the moment. There was simply no way my phone could frame the totality of the North Face and retain a sense of its height and breadth. I settled for the summit and its twirling snow dervishes.
It was time to move on and close the deal. The cornice is forming well and if the trend continues should be impressive by March. I paused to consider where the trail might run and then decided it was an academic exercise to follow it. I stayed on the leeward side of the developing cornice and, upon clearing it, I was greeted by a stinging faceful of spindrift. The wind-scoured summit was now visible and merely a few yards away.
One of the eyebolts used by Verplanck Colvin's survey team was slightly exposed. I stood next to it and snapped a selfie. I looked around and discerned faint traces of someone's passage but not nearly as distinct as I had expected. I guessed the "team of three" had left long ago and the wind erased their tracks. After a few more pictures of my surroundings I continued south towards the junction for Pyramid.
Gothics' version of the Terracotta Army.
The amount of pristine snow I encountered made me realize the team of three may have never reached the summit. Upon reaching the junction it was almost unrecognizable and the path east to Pyramid was heavily drifted over. Nuts! It would appear I would not have a nice gutter to follow after all. If they made it to the summit, there was absolutely no evidence of it.
In winter, the little col between Gothics and Pyramid gives me pause. It's steep and often blanketed in deep snow. I can't imagine anyone getting lost in that short stretch but there's opportunity for a lone hiker to tumble or get mired in spruce traps. Maybe it's none of these things but I've had the misfortune of believing in that narrative! OK, game face on, recite Alan Shepard's prayer, and down we go!
The initial long steep drop goes well and things get easier after that. Route finding becomes a touch more challenging as I approach the col because now many avenues appear and all seem viable. I stick to the north side where I repeatedly find tell-tale signs of the trail (says I). I pause in the col for a breather. I'm covered in snow and staring at an untracked slope. I'm now convinced no one has been here today; they must've turned around on Pyramid. Even if they were in the col, I'm not benefitting from their passage. I trudge uphill, sinking no more than a foot, and quietly pound out a path to Pyramid.
Gothics in Cinerama.
Pyramid looks no more traveled than anything I've seen since Armstrong. Bah! I stop playing the game of "find other people's tracks". Pyramid is very windy and the forecasted snow has started to move in. The upper Great Range is barely visible and I pause only long enough for a few photos. I rush off the summit and choose the most obvious (and wrong) path. I'm surprised by the amount of snow I encounter. As I crawl under a fallen tree I think to myself "Wow! This is gonna be a looong descent!" Within yards I intersect the obvious trail and laugh at my stupidity. The balance of the descent to the col is a no-brainer.
Upon reaching the junction, I check my watch. I had promised my wife I would call her at 5:00 PM, at the latest. It's now 2:10 PM. I need to exit, change into dry clothes, and be on the I-87, where I can get cell service, by 5:00 PM. I can do, but it'll be close!
The duo who had signed in for Sawteeth had succeeded because the trail to the summit was flattened by skis and Zambonied by someone's butt. I plodded upward in my snowshoes. Sawteeth's summit offered few views because the air was now thick with falling snow. The next order of the day was to descend "rapidamente"! I switched to Trail Crampons because they'd give me far better control on the paved trail.
Still life; frozen Rainbow Falls.
The zippy descent to the dam took about 40 exciting minutes, including a brief pause to appreciate the "still life" of frozen Rainbow Falls. After 50 minutes for the Lake Road, I signed out at the trail-register at 4:09 PM. I hustled off to my car and, long story short, managed to call my wife before the 5:00 PM deadline. Mission accomplished!
These mountains continue to move me and for that I'm thankful.
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