How are Trail conditions ?
Thanks
Thanks
dimanche 20 mai 2018
Nippletop and Dial next weekend?
Hey all,
My dad and I are planning to go up Dial and Nippletop next weekend and are wondering what the conditions there are like, and what you think would be the best route to take.
Anyone been up there recently? How's the snow and mud situation? We read on the DEC website that there's still 1-3 ft of snow higher up so we'll be bringing our micro-spikes and snowshoes.
We were thinking of doing the trip clockwise but read about the steep descent down to Elk Pass --- would it be treacherous or very muddy this time of the year? Would it be a lot harder to do D-N-D instead?
My dad has gone up Algonquin and Wright (when it was icy) and Sawteeth up the scenic trail and didn't think they were too much. How would Nippletop and Dial compare in difficulty?
Thanks for the input.
My dad and I are planning to go up Dial and Nippletop next weekend and are wondering what the conditions there are like, and what you think would be the best route to take.
Anyone been up there recently? How's the snow and mud situation? We read on the DEC website that there's still 1-3 ft of snow higher up so we'll be bringing our micro-spikes and snowshoes.
We were thinking of doing the trip clockwise but read about the steep descent down to Elk Pass --- would it be treacherous or very muddy this time of the year? Would it be a lot harder to do D-N-D instead?
My dad has gone up Algonquin and Wright (when it was icy) and Sawteeth up the scenic trail and didn't think they were too much. How would Nippletop and Dial compare in difficulty?
Thanks for the input.
samedi 19 mai 2018
Stillwater
Just back from a canoe camp there and want to again complain about the campsite reservation board. It stinks. Why don't they go to first come-first served like every place else?
Turtle
Turtle
The Moshiers
May 12-17 2018
Paul Conklin (Curtis Mayfly)
This report may seem similar to a trip I made last fall, indeed, I was in the same area but little of my route was traced. One of the joys of bushwhacking is finding new ways to get to the same place. On this trip, I would concentrate on the Moshiers: the reservoir, creek and ponds.
Day 1: I began early in the morning at the end of public access on the Necessary Dam Road, where it intersects the Beaver River. This is the beginning of an impoundment known as the Moshier Reservoir. It is three miles long and varies from 500 to 2000 feet wide. With the exception of the Brookfield Power Co. dams at each end, all of its shoreline is state owned. At a little over a mile west of my put-in, I stopped to investigate an unnamed tributary from the north. The slope angle shading on my map indicated inclines of up to 40 degrees. I scrambled only a few hundred yards up the creek, which was a jumble of broken granite. Most of it, the typical dark gray we see so much of in the Adirondacks. I found a small chunk of pink and laid it on the gray for a comparison photograph.
South of the Moshier Dam, the power company provides a take-out. I was not going to continue down river but stopped to take a walk. I wanted to investigate the serious whitewater below the dam and some of the power company's infrastructure. It was near noon by the end of my excursion, I had my lunch under an aqueduct of the Beaver River.
On the reservoir, I backtracked to the north where I would begin a paddlewhack up Moshier Creek. The first mile would be an arduous carry but worth it in the prospect of the ability to paddle deep into the Moshier Ponds. I gained 140 ft. of elevation pulling the canoe up the eastern rim of the first of two chasms. Looking down I knew I had to spend more time exploring. I found a suitable camp (two trees without widow makers) and erected the tarp and hammock. I would have ample time left in the day for chasm reconnoitering.
Day 2 did not require much climbing. At 180 ft. above the reservoir, Moshier Creek leveled and became a pleasant walk, sometimes paddling. I stopped in one of the meadows to have coffee and watched a Magnolia Warbler sing from the top of a spruce tree. Pressing on, it wasn't long before reaching the first in the chain of ponds known as the Moshiers. I dallied as much I could in each of the ponds. I saw Hooded Mergansers, Common Goldeneye, Wood, Black and Mallard Ducks, a Broad-Winged Hawk carrying a squirrel, lots of amphibian eggs and some fresh bear tracks. It was mid afternoon by the time I arrived at the largest and northern most Moshier. I found the hammock trees I needed at the base of the hill west of the pond. With camp established, I ventured as deep as my enthusiasm would allow into two of Big Moshiers swampy inlets. That evening before retiring, a Barred Owl was called into camp. It perched in a tree over my hammock and gave me a quizitive stare in the beam of my headlamp.
Day 3 was planned to be a long walk west without the canoe. I wanted to spend the day exploring the environs of Pepperbox Pond. I was up early and climbing the hill west of camp by six o'clock. I like being high on a steep hillside when you are level with the tops of the trees below. You can look for birds by looking down. At the very summit of the hill was a curious balanced boulder, a large glacial erratic that looked like it might topple with the touch of a finger, but alas, it would not move.
Before leaving the summit, I checked with the map and set course for Pepperbox. I wasn't half way before it started to rain. This is where my report begins to sound familiar to the trip mentioned earlier. I was on the other side of the mountain last fall during a similar meteorological event when I sought shelter in a cave. The rock wall where I found the cave was not far away. I turned north thinking I could find it again but not before donning my rain paraphernalia. I found the granite wall and followed it to the right, which proved to be the wrong way. I was nearing the point where a rain suit doesn't feel dry anymore and my misdirection had become obvious. Before turning back, I gave one last look forward and spotted a delta shaped grotto that appeared as if it might be large enough to tuck myself out of the elements. The granite floor sloped downward at a 25-degree angle, which was quite comfortable with ones elbows resting on their knees. I settled in for what became a long sit, I was very grateful for my new Dutchware folding sit pad. There was room enough between my legs to brew coffee. The grotto acted like a parabolic big ear enhancing the songs of a Winter Wren and Black-Throated Blue Warbler who entertained before me. The rain lessened after about an hour, it was decision time, push on or return to camp. I elected for the latter as the gray sky showed no signs of clearing. By the time I reached camp the lull ended. I would have another extended wait… this time lying in the hammock, listening to the patter of raindrops on a taughtly stretched tarp. I jumped the gun and got an early start on that evening's allotment of bourbon.
It was after three before the rain stopped. Birds, especially Thrushes like to sing after a rain, I delighted in some post precipitation birding before taking the Mayfly out for another paddle. Spicy Chicken was the Hawk Vittles entrée of the evening. By 7 o'clock the sun was out, giving promise to a better tomorrow.
Day 4: I was packed and on the water before 7 o'clock, the sun felt warm on a glass smooth Moshier, a foggy mist offered some unique photographic opportunities. I did not lament the Pepperbox failure; the pond will always be there. I turned my interest to the east and some unfamiliar territory north of Sunshine Pond.
There is a rather tight bushwhack getting from the lower Moshier to the first of a series of beaver meadows enroute to Sunshine. I tried something new and believe I have improved on my past choices. I had coffee on a Deer Pond island by 9 o'clock.
I was quick to establish a camp on Sunshine. I wanted to have the whole of the afternoon for bushwhacking the canoe into Twin Pond north of Sunshine. There is a watershed point between Twin and Sunshine, an inlet source for both ponds. There were some colorful moments pulling the canoe through the tightly spaced vegetation. The Tizzle tazzle twizel tone incantation may have been on the tip of my tongue several times, but I can honestly say that at no time did I resort to wizardry on any of these bushwhacks. I busted through the thick spruce to a spectacular view of a new pond.
After an hour or so of exploring Twin I began the return to Sunshine. I stayed to the east on higher ground. I was rewarded with easier travel and some interesting rock formations, another opportunity to spend time climbing amongst granite crags. There was a brisk wind out of the south on the mile long paddle through Sunshine. Late that evening I began to experience my first hatch of black flies, swarming but not biting they dissipated when the peepers started to sing. I retired late at 9 o'clock.
Day 5: The only thing on the agenda was to safely make it out of the woods and back to the Genesee Valley. I made another improvement on the route choice to Raven Lake so except for the Kettle Hole Carry not much of this trip was in the footsteps of past adventures. There's always something new in the same ole places.
A smoker at Millers Meat market was wafting full bore but I passed on the opportunity to check it out so to make it home in time to mow the grass and get started on the report of another excellent Adirondack adventure. Come to think of it, I passed on barbeque options in Mexico Point and Oswego, What was I thinking?
Photos: https://www.facebook.com/paul.conkli...7457177&type=3
Paul Conklin (Curtis Mayfly)
This report may seem similar to a trip I made last fall, indeed, I was in the same area but little of my route was traced. One of the joys of bushwhacking is finding new ways to get to the same place. On this trip, I would concentrate on the Moshiers: the reservoir, creek and ponds.
Day 1: I began early in the morning at the end of public access on the Necessary Dam Road, where it intersects the Beaver River. This is the beginning of an impoundment known as the Moshier Reservoir. It is three miles long and varies from 500 to 2000 feet wide. With the exception of the Brookfield Power Co. dams at each end, all of its shoreline is state owned. At a little over a mile west of my put-in, I stopped to investigate an unnamed tributary from the north. The slope angle shading on my map indicated inclines of up to 40 degrees. I scrambled only a few hundred yards up the creek, which was a jumble of broken granite. Most of it, the typical dark gray we see so much of in the Adirondacks. I found a small chunk of pink and laid it on the gray for a comparison photograph.
South of the Moshier Dam, the power company provides a take-out. I was not going to continue down river but stopped to take a walk. I wanted to investigate the serious whitewater below the dam and some of the power company's infrastructure. It was near noon by the end of my excursion, I had my lunch under an aqueduct of the Beaver River.
On the reservoir, I backtracked to the north where I would begin a paddlewhack up Moshier Creek. The first mile would be an arduous carry but worth it in the prospect of the ability to paddle deep into the Moshier Ponds. I gained 140 ft. of elevation pulling the canoe up the eastern rim of the first of two chasms. Looking down I knew I had to spend more time exploring. I found a suitable camp (two trees without widow makers) and erected the tarp and hammock. I would have ample time left in the day for chasm reconnoitering.
Day 2 did not require much climbing. At 180 ft. above the reservoir, Moshier Creek leveled and became a pleasant walk, sometimes paddling. I stopped in one of the meadows to have coffee and watched a Magnolia Warbler sing from the top of a spruce tree. Pressing on, it wasn't long before reaching the first in the chain of ponds known as the Moshiers. I dallied as much I could in each of the ponds. I saw Hooded Mergansers, Common Goldeneye, Wood, Black and Mallard Ducks, a Broad-Winged Hawk carrying a squirrel, lots of amphibian eggs and some fresh bear tracks. It was mid afternoon by the time I arrived at the largest and northern most Moshier. I found the hammock trees I needed at the base of the hill west of the pond. With camp established, I ventured as deep as my enthusiasm would allow into two of Big Moshiers swampy inlets. That evening before retiring, a Barred Owl was called into camp. It perched in a tree over my hammock and gave me a quizitive stare in the beam of my headlamp.
Day 3 was planned to be a long walk west without the canoe. I wanted to spend the day exploring the environs of Pepperbox Pond. I was up early and climbing the hill west of camp by six o'clock. I like being high on a steep hillside when you are level with the tops of the trees below. You can look for birds by looking down. At the very summit of the hill was a curious balanced boulder, a large glacial erratic that looked like it might topple with the touch of a finger, but alas, it would not move.
Before leaving the summit, I checked with the map and set course for Pepperbox. I wasn't half way before it started to rain. This is where my report begins to sound familiar to the trip mentioned earlier. I was on the other side of the mountain last fall during a similar meteorological event when I sought shelter in a cave. The rock wall where I found the cave was not far away. I turned north thinking I could find it again but not before donning my rain paraphernalia. I found the granite wall and followed it to the right, which proved to be the wrong way. I was nearing the point where a rain suit doesn't feel dry anymore and my misdirection had become obvious. Before turning back, I gave one last look forward and spotted a delta shaped grotto that appeared as if it might be large enough to tuck myself out of the elements. The granite floor sloped downward at a 25-degree angle, which was quite comfortable with ones elbows resting on their knees. I settled in for what became a long sit, I was very grateful for my new Dutchware folding sit pad. There was room enough between my legs to brew coffee. The grotto acted like a parabolic big ear enhancing the songs of a Winter Wren and Black-Throated Blue Warbler who entertained before me. The rain lessened after about an hour, it was decision time, push on or return to camp. I elected for the latter as the gray sky showed no signs of clearing. By the time I reached camp the lull ended. I would have another extended wait… this time lying in the hammock, listening to the patter of raindrops on a taughtly stretched tarp. I jumped the gun and got an early start on that evening's allotment of bourbon.
It was after three before the rain stopped. Birds, especially Thrushes like to sing after a rain, I delighted in some post precipitation birding before taking the Mayfly out for another paddle. Spicy Chicken was the Hawk Vittles entrée of the evening. By 7 o'clock the sun was out, giving promise to a better tomorrow.
Day 4: I was packed and on the water before 7 o'clock, the sun felt warm on a glass smooth Moshier, a foggy mist offered some unique photographic opportunities. I did not lament the Pepperbox failure; the pond will always be there. I turned my interest to the east and some unfamiliar territory north of Sunshine Pond.
There is a rather tight bushwhack getting from the lower Moshier to the first of a series of beaver meadows enroute to Sunshine. I tried something new and believe I have improved on my past choices. I had coffee on a Deer Pond island by 9 o'clock.
I was quick to establish a camp on Sunshine. I wanted to have the whole of the afternoon for bushwhacking the canoe into Twin Pond north of Sunshine. There is a watershed point between Twin and Sunshine, an inlet source for both ponds. There were some colorful moments pulling the canoe through the tightly spaced vegetation. The Tizzle tazzle twizel tone incantation may have been on the tip of my tongue several times, but I can honestly say that at no time did I resort to wizardry on any of these bushwhacks. I busted through the thick spruce to a spectacular view of a new pond.
After an hour or so of exploring Twin I began the return to Sunshine. I stayed to the east on higher ground. I was rewarded with easier travel and some interesting rock formations, another opportunity to spend time climbing amongst granite crags. There was a brisk wind out of the south on the mile long paddle through Sunshine. Late that evening I began to experience my first hatch of black flies, swarming but not biting they dissipated when the peepers started to sing. I retired late at 9 o'clock.
Day 5: The only thing on the agenda was to safely make it out of the woods and back to the Genesee Valley. I made another improvement on the route choice to Raven Lake so except for the Kettle Hole Carry not much of this trip was in the footsteps of past adventures. There's always something new in the same ole places.
A smoker at Millers Meat market was wafting full bore but I passed on the opportunity to check it out so to make it home in time to mow the grass and get started on the report of another excellent Adirondack adventure. Come to think of it, I passed on barbeque options in Mexico Point and Oswego, What was I thinking?
Photos: https://www.facebook.com/paul.conkli...7457177&type=3
ADK Fishing Report: “Smoker” & “Undisclosed” Ponds – 5/13-14/2018
Made a quick trip to the park, late last weekend, to fish a couple of ponds.
“Smoker” Pond Summary
“Undisclosed” Pond Summary
“Smoker” Pond Summary
- The hike in – with a pack and float tube – was a challenge. Tough, final climb after crossing Unnamed Brook. I managed it ok, arrived about 9:20 am. It took me 1 hr, 20 minutes with the pack, float tube, and fishing gear.
- Two other guys fishing out of kayaks. One was using a Lake Clear Wabler and I observed him catching two fish over the course of a couple of hours…….quite a bit offshore….which ended up being a good data point.
- I started with an intermediate line with an olive AP Emerger and a Denny’s Callibaetis Nymph on the point 2-3 feet below as the point fly. I fished for about 1-1/2 hours with this rig, casting into shore and trolling just offshore…..no fish or strikes.
- A little after 11 am, I added a 3rd fly….a wine, mohair mini-leech and began trolling in deeper water (approx. 8 ft). My strategy was to troll in areas just after the bottom disappeared. I immediately started getting strikes in the pond’s southeast quadrant. The water was cold, but there was one spot in this area where it was colder. I couldn’t see the bottom, but, suspect a spring is present.
- I hooked and lost two fish, near the center portion of the pond, as I was kicking in to have lunch.
- After lunch, I resumed my strategy and immediately caught and released a beautiful Brook Trout of about 16 inches in the deeper water where I’d put in (by the western most lean-to). This was my nicest ADK Brook Trout to date.
- I ended up catching and releasing another 3 fish using this strategy. I hooked and lost another 4 or 5. Rumor has it these are all Horn Lake strain fish.
- I hiked out just before 5 pm. It took me just over an hour out. Even though its mostly downhill, I was really hurting at the end.
- I noticed and photographed a few mayfly duns on the pond. These are some sort of stillwater mayfly, but, they are not a Callibaetis. The fish did not appear to be keying in on them.
“Undisclosed” Pond Summary
- This was my best pond, last year.
- I was in the water a little after 8 am. The shorter hike and elevation gain was welcome after the previous day.
- Again, I started with an intermediate line with an olive AP Emerger and a Denny’s Callibaetis Nymph on the point 2-3 feet below as the point fly. I trolled over to and along the pond’s west side with no action.
- Repeating the lesson yesterday, I re-rigged with the wine, mohair mini-leech as the 3rd fly. This time, however, I ran the leader straight down to the Denny’s Callibaetis Nymph and tied the olive AP Emerger on 2-3 ft above as a dropper.
- I moved a little further offshore into deeper water, again, where the bottom disappears and began trolling. I immediately started catching fish and didn’t look back the rest of the day. My very first hook up was two fish…..a Brookie of about 10 inches took the AP Emerger and a larger fish of around a foot took the mini-leech.
- By lunch I’d caught and released 11 Brook Trout, lost or missed about that same amount.
- I fished for about 2 hours after lunch and caught/released another 5.
- I noticed the smaller fish took the emerger and the bigger trout took the mini-leech in deeper water. Of the 16, about 5 were beautiful fish in the 13-15 inch range. The others were 9-12 inches. If my reading is correct, these are Windfall strain fish.
- I’d had a spectacular day at “Huggy Bear” Lake, in the Catskills, exactly a week ago. It had been my single best stillwater fly fishing day east of the Rockies. Today, at “Undisclosed” Pond, surpassed that.
Fishing Report: Catskill Brookies - 5/5 and 5/7/18
Made my first two fishing trips into the Catskills, to fish a couple of Brook Trout lakes. There are very few still water trout fisheries in the Catskills vs. the Adirondacks, but, the region is close enough to do day trips. I picked “Birch” and “Huggy Bear” Lakes. I was pleasantly surprised with the quality of these two fisheries.
“Birch” Lake 5-5-18
“Huggy Bear” Lake 5-7-18
“Birch” Lake 5-5-18
- The drive from PA is about 3 to 3-1/2 hours depending on stops.
- Arrived at 9am to a full parking area. I parked in the last open spot.
- Lots of people hiking around the lake and fishing. Most of the fishers were on the lake for a few hours then left.
- There is a small inlet on the lake’s east side. Due to the water volume difference between the inlet and water spilling over the dam; I assume there to be a couple of springs around the lake.
- I fished from about 9:30 to 5:30.
- Surface water temps ranged from 55F to 58F.
- Lots of chironomid pupa shucks on the water.
- I noticed a few mayfly duns pop up later in the afternoon.
- I caught and released 5 Brook Trout. 2 were in the 13 inch range, 1 at 11 inches, another at 10 inches, and one at 8 inches. I lost several other fish. Early in the day, the trout were caught on a maroon micro-leach. Later the in the afternoon, the fish to a Denny’s Callibaetis Emerger.
- Many of the fish were in / under cover. I caught on fish in the shallow inlet area when picking up to recast after trolling through this area.
- Despite the people, I was impressed with how the lake fished. It fished as well or better than the several Adirondack ponds I hiked into last year.
- The one negative….. Just before lunch, I caught a shiner, about 5 inches…..may not bode well for the future of the fishery.
“Huggy Bear” Lake 5-7-18
- It took me 3 hours from PA, to the trailhead. I started hiking at 8 am.
- The trailhead map shows the hike to be 1.3 miles into the lake. My DeLorme mapping software puts it a 1.8 miles and internet info puts it at 1.9 miles. At any rate, it’s a pretty good climb with an 700 ft elevation gain to the saddle, then dropping about 300 ft into the lake.
- Since it was my first hike of the year, I elected to not take my fish finder. Took me about an hour with the float tube, associated gear, and pack. I handled it better than I thought.
- I eased into the water around 9:30-ish, after rigging up and taking some pictures. After pushing off from shore, I began trolling an intermediate line with a Denny’s Olive AP Emerger and a Denny’s Callibaetis Nymph on the point. As I crossed in back of the dam’s weir, I spotted a pipe or log that my flies may not clear, so picked up the line to move the flies out of the way. As I did, a Brookie slammed it. With less than 2 minutes in the water, I had my first fish.
- I spent the morning fishing the lake’s west side. I caught several trout by both trolling and casting near cover. Most of the fish took the point fly. As at “Birch” Lake, I noticed lots of Chrironomid pupa shucks in the water, along with some hatching. I did catch 2 Brook Trout off shore where these fish were working on the emerging pupa.
- There is lots of structure and big stick piles along the lake’s sides. By noon, I’d caught and released 6 Brook Trout and lost or missed several others. As I headed into shore, I trolled my flies and caught two more.
- After lunch, I continued working the west shore, eventually reaching the north end of the lake. I found the majority of the fish were tight into cover. Throwing into the cover is a mixed bag: Since you don’t know what’s under the water or how far the stick pile goes, you may hook a Brook Trout or you may hook a stick.
- At the lake’s north end, there’s a tiny inlet which flows into a large flat that’s 7-8 ft in depth. I caught and released two more in this area on a black micro leech under maroon chironomid pupa and a strike indicator. A little after 4 pm, I made another cast with this rig, and had a Brookie hit it like a freight train, which separated the leader on one of the knots just above the strike indicator. Evidently, the fish was able to unhook itself and I kicked over and picked up the lower end of the leader with the flies and strike indicator. I also spotted 2 springs in this area…..a note for later in the season.
- By 4:30 pm, I’d caught and released 14, so I started kicking towards the dam. I trolled along the way and caught 2 more and missed a couple of others.
- Throughout the late afternoon, I noticed a few mayfly duns popping up on the water. Out west, I’ve seen Callibaetis mayflies on lakes, but, these appear to be a different mayfly.
- The vast majority of the fish caught were 11-12 inches.
- I started the hike out a few minutes after 5 pm. As I left, I noticed the fish were starting to key in on the mayfly duns.
- I had the lake entirely to myself (it was a Monday). Checking the trail register, it looked like a few people were there on the weekend.
- Great lake….a good remote experience….and the best stillwater trout flyfishing day I’ve had east of the Rockies.
The Oddball Name of Rocky Peak Ridge
“Rocky Peak Ridge” is a very strange name for a peak. After all, a peak and a ridge are not the same thing. The name becomes stranger still when you learn from the “High Peaks Trails” guide book that the first, prominent peak that you come to on the ridge(approaching from Bald Peak) is called “Rocky Peak”!
I’m guessing that this is what happened: “Rocky Peak” was the first thing ever named on this ridge. It was named, not because it was the highest point, but because of its prominent appearance. (It is perhaps the most interesting point on the trail, the only place on the entire ridge where you can spin in place and have a completely unobscured view in all directions.)
After this, the ridge on which Rocky Peak was located was referred to as “Rocky Peak Ridge”. Then someone said, well, we have to give a name to the high point of the ridge. Normally, a ridge and its peak would have the same name. But the name “Rocky Peak” was already taken for the lower peak. The logic then would have been to call it “Rocky Peak Ridge Peak”. That’s ridiculous, of course. But no sillier than calling the peak “Rocky Peak Ridge”, thereby making it impossible to distinguish between the peak and the ridge.
The peak should have simply been given a different name.
Does anyone know if my guess on the origin of the name is correct?
Incidentally, “Rocky Peak” is just over 4000 feet high, and would have qualified as a 46er (and a very grand one!), except that it does not have sufficient prominence relative to the “true peak” to be defined as a separate peak. It does illustrate the arbitrary nature of our naming conventions and our “peak lists”.
I’m guessing that this is what happened: “Rocky Peak” was the first thing ever named on this ridge. It was named, not because it was the highest point, but because of its prominent appearance. (It is perhaps the most interesting point on the trail, the only place on the entire ridge where you can spin in place and have a completely unobscured view in all directions.)
After this, the ridge on which Rocky Peak was located was referred to as “Rocky Peak Ridge”. Then someone said, well, we have to give a name to the high point of the ridge. Normally, a ridge and its peak would have the same name. But the name “Rocky Peak” was already taken for the lower peak. The logic then would have been to call it “Rocky Peak Ridge Peak”. That’s ridiculous, of course. But no sillier than calling the peak “Rocky Peak Ridge”, thereby making it impossible to distinguish between the peak and the ridge.
The peak should have simply been given a different name.
Does anyone know if my guess on the origin of the name is correct?
Incidentally, “Rocky Peak” is just over 4000 feet high, and would have qualified as a 46er (and a very grand one!), except that it does not have sufficient prominence relative to the “true peak” to be defined as a separate peak. It does illustrate the arbitrary nature of our naming conventions and our “peak lists”.
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