I decided to do another bushwhack round of the 46 and while the forum was under bot attack I began with Dix. I finished a 46-B 6 years ago on Basin and it had been a fun ride. One peak per hike and several years in the making. Along the way I quit using and then even carrying a GPS and honed my navigation skills. I have nothing against GPS and tech in particular but the nav challenge is something I enjoy. I also got into the habit of concocting complicated and what I thought were interesting routes.
The east ridge of Dix is long and curvy. From its east end to the summit there is an elly gain of 1800' and the length is 2 miles. I approached it whacking due north from 2000' elevation on the Boquet Valley herd path to Grace. What follows is a copy-paste of the TR I posted on FB and ADKHP.
46-B2 Kickoff with Dix via East Ridge.
I spun the mental wheel of fortune and it stopped on Dix so I did some research and Sylvie dropped me off at the junction of Rte 73 and the North Fork of the Boquet River. I opted for crossing the N Fork at beautiful Shoebox Falls and continued on the herd path until I was following the South Fork at 590 meters elevation – about 90 minutes out.
At that point I began the bushwhack and proceeded due north sticking to 600M elly and kept a close eye on my elapsed time when I heard what I was looking for: a stream -the N Fork again closer to its headwaters. It looked pretty small but I was 90% sure it was my drainage so I checked the map and switched bearings. Before long I knew something was wrong because my bearing had me side hilling after only 70 meters of elly gain. Then I heard a much bigger drainage up ahead and looked up to see my ridge.
No time or distance was lost by mistakenly using the first drainage as a landmark. After crossing the real North Fork I began a stiff 700' climb to the long and winding east ridge of Dix. The woods were wide open and the sun had the sweat pouring off of me. It felt like I was barely moving with a HR 90 BPM above my resting rate, which is under 50. (aside: I like to keep an objective (ie. instrument-derived) eye on my HR and I continuously slowed my snail-like pace to stay below my Zone 3. This goes a long way to staving off exhaustion on long and physically demanding hikes.) However, my altimeter indicated a rate of ascent of 24 feet per minute, which is perfectly good by my personal bushwhacking standards.
Nearing the crest I saw plenty of cliffs and open rock that I walked around and out to for views. Then I headed due west for a short spell to gain the absolute ridge-crest and get re-oriented. I made a radio call to Sylvie who was now on Giant having a snooze. The woods were very open with beautiful seams carpeted with glowing green moss and I caught an excellent view of Noonmark. The only way to go was up but I used the map, compass and altimeter to keep exact tabs on my position and desired direction. The ridge offered no views now and it was more of a long hill with the occsional knob and single-contour drop. Hence my desire to keep tabs of my exact whereabouts. As I ascended, the open seams became fewer and further between. The black spruce had very long interlocked branches that were extremely gnarly and resilient. You could get impaled on one if you ran head on into its tip. Thus, wide detours were constantly required. It was very enjoyable and I kept finding open seams. The only negative were the swarms of black flies that would not leave me in peace. They gradually fizzled out as I gained elevation.
I got even with the array of slides on my right (the ones whose common base, known as the wrist, the Dix trail crosses) and the slope became very gradual. The woods were delightfully open here and there was a lot of standing water-easily avoided. To my left I caught glimpses of the Beckhorn Slide. A faint but obvious herd path sprung up underfoot and was easy to follow as it wound its way along the line of least resistance. The woods became tighter and my progress slowed. The herd path gave way to the odd scuff mark, which like me, followed the line of least resistance. Snow patches were showing up here and there. At 1:30 I made a second scheduled radio call to Sylvie. I was about 150 meters vertical below the summit and could hear voices. But, I knew it was still a long ways off effort-wise due to thickening, obstructive and tortured vegetation. I was easily an hour out still. The term “open seam” took on a new meaning. I came upon a wicked fir wave directly in my path but was able to deviate around it on its leeward (climber's left) side. Then, over to my right I saw air indicating a steep drop and tried to work over to it for views but the woods were extremely bad and it was descending so I passed on by, not wanting to re-climb through such a mess. At 1350 meters the ridge narrowed to an isthmus and the vegetation had many impenetrable sections that I was able to squeak my way around, scramble up open rocks and catch little “open” seams.
I was on the final approach and the scuff marks led me on until I suddenly came out onto the trail. I decided I was too far from the summit so I went back into the woods and began a very slow and chest pounding traverse attempting to get directly under it. The remaining snow patches were of help. However, the cliff walls, vegetation and 45 degree slope got the better of my recklessness and I allowed myself to be led towards the trail. I hit it a stone's throw from the summit, made a quick trip there, eyeballed "my" ridge and called it a day.
I made one more radio call to say I would be out in no less than 3, no more than 3h30 and I began the l-o-o-ong hike out (took 3h20) to Round Pond where Sylvie was waiting. At our campsite cold beer, chips, dinner and our tent beckoned.
One down, forty-five to go.
The east ridge of Dix is long and curvy. From its east end to the summit there is an elly gain of 1800' and the length is 2 miles. I approached it whacking due north from 2000' elevation on the Boquet Valley herd path to Grace. What follows is a copy-paste of the TR I posted on FB and ADKHP.
46-B2 Kickoff with Dix via East Ridge.
I spun the mental wheel of fortune and it stopped on Dix so I did some research and Sylvie dropped me off at the junction of Rte 73 and the North Fork of the Boquet River. I opted for crossing the N Fork at beautiful Shoebox Falls and continued on the herd path until I was following the South Fork at 590 meters elevation – about 90 minutes out.
At that point I began the bushwhack and proceeded due north sticking to 600M elly and kept a close eye on my elapsed time when I heard what I was looking for: a stream -the N Fork again closer to its headwaters. It looked pretty small but I was 90% sure it was my drainage so I checked the map and switched bearings. Before long I knew something was wrong because my bearing had me side hilling after only 70 meters of elly gain. Then I heard a much bigger drainage up ahead and looked up to see my ridge.
No time or distance was lost by mistakenly using the first drainage as a landmark. After crossing the real North Fork I began a stiff 700' climb to the long and winding east ridge of Dix. The woods were wide open and the sun had the sweat pouring off of me. It felt like I was barely moving with a HR 90 BPM above my resting rate, which is under 50. (aside: I like to keep an objective (ie. instrument-derived) eye on my HR and I continuously slowed my snail-like pace to stay below my Zone 3. This goes a long way to staving off exhaustion on long and physically demanding hikes.) However, my altimeter indicated a rate of ascent of 24 feet per minute, which is perfectly good by my personal bushwhacking standards.
Nearing the crest I saw plenty of cliffs and open rock that I walked around and out to for views. Then I headed due west for a short spell to gain the absolute ridge-crest and get re-oriented. I made a radio call to Sylvie who was now on Giant having a snooze. The woods were very open with beautiful seams carpeted with glowing green moss and I caught an excellent view of Noonmark. The only way to go was up but I used the map, compass and altimeter to keep exact tabs on my position and desired direction. The ridge offered no views now and it was more of a long hill with the occsional knob and single-contour drop. Hence my desire to keep tabs of my exact whereabouts. As I ascended, the open seams became fewer and further between. The black spruce had very long interlocked branches that were extremely gnarly and resilient. You could get impaled on one if you ran head on into its tip. Thus, wide detours were constantly required. It was very enjoyable and I kept finding open seams. The only negative were the swarms of black flies that would not leave me in peace. They gradually fizzled out as I gained elevation.
I got even with the array of slides on my right (the ones whose common base, known as the wrist, the Dix trail crosses) and the slope became very gradual. The woods were delightfully open here and there was a lot of standing water-easily avoided. To my left I caught glimpses of the Beckhorn Slide. A faint but obvious herd path sprung up underfoot and was easy to follow as it wound its way along the line of least resistance. The woods became tighter and my progress slowed. The herd path gave way to the odd scuff mark, which like me, followed the line of least resistance. Snow patches were showing up here and there. At 1:30 I made a second scheduled radio call to Sylvie. I was about 150 meters vertical below the summit and could hear voices. But, I knew it was still a long ways off effort-wise due to thickening, obstructive and tortured vegetation. I was easily an hour out still. The term “open seam” took on a new meaning. I came upon a wicked fir wave directly in my path but was able to deviate around it on its leeward (climber's left) side. Then, over to my right I saw air indicating a steep drop and tried to work over to it for views but the woods were extremely bad and it was descending so I passed on by, not wanting to re-climb through such a mess. At 1350 meters the ridge narrowed to an isthmus and the vegetation had many impenetrable sections that I was able to squeak my way around, scramble up open rocks and catch little “open” seams.
I was on the final approach and the scuff marks led me on until I suddenly came out onto the trail. I decided I was too far from the summit so I went back into the woods and began a very slow and chest pounding traverse attempting to get directly under it. The remaining snow patches were of help. However, the cliff walls, vegetation and 45 degree slope got the better of my recklessness and I allowed myself to be led towards the trail. I hit it a stone's throw from the summit, made a quick trip there, eyeballed "my" ridge and called it a day.
I made one more radio call to say I would be out in no less than 3, no more than 3h30 and I began the l-o-o-ong hike out (took 3h20) to Round Pond where Sylvie was waiting. At our campsite cold beer, chips, dinner and our tent beckoned.
One down, forty-five to go.
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