Ouluska Pass has a bad rep. Know I know why. 10 years ago, Glen and I did a Seymour East-Seymour-Seward whack and sidewsiped Ouluska, to the south of and below the pass summit. On this day I decided to whack it from the Ward Brook Lean-to and ascend Seward via the Scooter Slide, which Glen and I had climbed when the slide was only 1 or 2 years old. This way I would cross right through the pass and proceed beyond the cliffs of Seward before curling westward. This would allow me to bear the full brunt of whatever this pass had to offer.
After we set up our tent next to the Iron Bridge on Coreys Road, Sylie dropped me off at the trail-head at 9 am. and headed for Ampersand, which was her first hike since January due to her broken arm. After some hemming and hawing I told her to pick me up at 6:30pm for a 9h30m outing. Fresh as a daisy, I strolled to the LT in 1h45m and ate a chicken salad sandwhich while I checked my map and set my compass. Then I walked between some hammocks and tents and made my way up. It seemed like I was always on an ancient grown-in skidder road as I wound my way upwards. But gradually something began to niggled at me so I stopped and turned on my GPS. Sure enough the LT is incorrectly indicated on the map as being on the wrong drainage. Never trust man-made structures on a map! I would have been half-way up Seymour before figuring it out.
I corrected my course, picked up the right drainage and continued the moderate bushwhack towards Ouluska Pass. Then I saw some flagging, a cut log and an axe blaze all at the same time. I was suddenly on a trail, which I followed into the pass. Old axe blazes had been made at regular interals but the term trail is used very loosely here. As a I entered the pass proper the views towards cliff-lined Seward were absolutely stunning and I dutifully recored it on my camera. From the beginning of the pass area until my key waypoint, entitled Rocky Stream, I had about ¾ of a mile to go. Took me an hour through terrain that varied from wide open fen whacking (with soaking wet feet) to muti-layered blowdown on steroids and vegetation thick enough to make a grown bushwhacker cry. The trail at times was evident if you knew how to see it and much quicker to follow. Then it would be blocked by massive blowdown. Deviating around it was at times a monumental job and if I went left but the trail was to the right I had no way of knowing. As a result I blundered my way through the pass in the blazing sun while the insects feasted on my blood. The worst was when I couldn't determine if I was stepping down onto something solid or whether my whole leg would crash through rotten logs up to my knee. I always worried that such an event would cause me to fall and I would snap the bone in two like a dried twig. So, I always took extreme care and although I did step into a few camouflaged femur-eating holes I was able to maintain my orthopedic integrity. On one occasion I stepped into a hidden hole into a foot of water. The wild chaos and ruggedness of Ouluska Pass contributed to a feeling of profound aloneness and heightened my sensation of vulnerability.
Finally, it was time to leave Ouluska Pass behind me and turn my attention to a key waypoint entitled Rocky Stream. It seemed I couldn't drink fast enough to remain hydrated so I took on 2 more liters of water and made my way upwards through half-decent woods. Well before my key “Rocky Stream” waypoint I heard it flowing. However, when I got to it, Rocky Stream was flowing very generously and I renamed it Wet Black Mossy stream. Where Glen and I had quickly rock-hopped in low water on grippy rocks I was progressing slowly, carefully and with more expenditure of energy. The woods alongside were very thick but I had no choice but to take to them again and again. It was at this point that my energy felt completely sapped and my progress seemed to be approaching 0.0 mph.
During phases where I am working my way back into shape I wear my heart rate monitor and now the numbers were alarmingly high. When I paused to rest it took a long time before my HR dropped to 130 (my resting HR is in the upper 40s-low 50s. I can normally ascend Phelps at a good clip with a HR around 135. Now, after only a half-dozen steps it quickly soared to 150-155 and I would stop and rest to get it into the 140's. In fact, my progress felt so slow and my fatigue level was so high that I wondered if something was wrong with me. Nevertheless, my altimeter indicated that I was gaining elevation. I had predicted 4 hours from the LT to the summit but hadn't bargained on Ouluska as being as slow as it was. I looked to be on target for 4h30m.
The terrain grew very steep and there were cliffs on both sides of me as I steasfastly plodded and hauled my way upwards between the cliffs towards the slide. Very inhospitable terrain! I had to stop often and catch my breath and allow the incessant pounding in my chest subside. Finally I stepped onto the slide and it bacame clear to me why I had been struggling so badly. It was broiling hot. Way too hot for I what I was attempting. The heat had been crushing me all day without me understanding what was happening.
I was keen to observe the slide that was now 12 years old, having seen it in its infancy. The Scooter Slide is a bit like a staircase with steep and flattish sections that alternate. The flat sections had retained soil when the slide occurred and are growing in rapidly with spruce and birch that are over 6 feet tall and many other plants and bushes. The rock is still bare and very clean. There was no lichens or moss to speak of. I looked up, way up at the top, which in reality was not that far away or high above me. At most the slide has 300 vertical feet of rise. I was wearing La Sportiva Raptors for this very occasion, which was good for two reasons. The obvious is for their superior traction and the less obvious is because I stepped into water on many occasions from the pass to the trip up Rocky Stream.
I climbed in short spurts then sat down to drink, rest, take pictures and enjoy the view of Emmons, Long Lake and the Santanoni range. The sweat was pouring off me. Before I knew it I was at the steep headwall, which I ascended on climber's right. I checked my map and headed NNW through very thick and difficult vegetation up steeep terrain until the pitch relented and the woods opened up. A few steps put me on the strip of muddy trail and I punched the lap timer on my device. 4:20m for a running total of 6:20. Pretty close to my predicted time in spite of the difficulties. I did not break stride at the summit marker but descended to the first viewing rock. I paused for 10 minutes to eat and drink and remove my sopping and disgusting shirt and put on a dry short-sleeved t-shirt. I deployed my hiking poles and began the first descent towards the Calkins path. My previous trips to Seward had been made in wintery conditions and a packed snowy trail is infinitely better, easier, more pleasant etc. etc. than a slippery muddy herd path. If I was going to do the entire trip in 9:30m I had 3:10 to get from the summit to the parking lot. I caught up with John Stevens and Shelly close to the Calkins crossing and we chatted for a few and then I kept hoofing it. As it turned out I made it out from Seward in 3:12 for a total of 9:32.
Sylvie was waiting in the car with a cold 6-pack and a bag of chips. Back at camp I went into the tent to change (mosquitoe-free zone) and my back, shoulders and arm pits were a vivid red-crimson color from the sweat and chafing. In clean shorts I lay on my mattress revelling in the relaxation for 10 blissful minutes. We set up our chairs on the bridge and went to work on the post-hike treats while trying to ID various bird calls with an App called Merlin on Sylvie's phone. I ID'd a Robin with no technical assistance. That night we were treated to coyotes and Barred Owl calls as well as sounds we couldn't identify. Over leisurely morning coffee we had a Magnolia Warbler flit about in front of us for a few minutes. Then we packed up and headed home.
On the way home we stopped at the trail-head for Loon Lake Mtn and explored the beginning of the route. It was 85 degrees and the trail was on an old logging road fully exposed to the noon-day sun. Jurassic Park sized horse-flies buzzed us incessantly and pierced our flesh. We got back into our air-conditioned vehicle and headed to Canada.
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