Pharaoh Mountain - 28 Jun 2014

I went for a run up Pharaoh Mountain a few weeks ago, to work on my ability to run up and down steep terrain, and also to get some elevation.  The views were fantastic, but the mosquitoes were vicious.

I parked at the end of Crane Pond Road, and started getting ready to run.  The mosquitoes were already out and looking for a meal, so I went for the picaridin right from the bat.  While I was getting my stuff together, I chatted briefly with another runner, who said he was going up to the trailhead and then running back.  He and his dog set out fairly quickly, and I thought about how great it would be to live close enough to this system that a 4 mile run would be worth the drive.

I set out, along a wide woods road, trying to take in as much as I could while still moving quickly.  I heard and then saw a small waterfall off to my left, running strong from the recent rains.  The other runner passed by on his way back, moving at a quick pace.  There was one car parked at the trailhead for Goose Pond, which was all I expected to see, but then there was another at a small bend in the road.

Then the road dipped down, all the way down until we were in the drainage plain of Alder Pond.  I had been able to avoid the puddles until now, but a road-sized muddy puddle stood before me.  It was impossible to see the bottom, but I knew what to do.  I plunged bravely in, trying to avoid widening the ... road ... and immediately stumbled.  I expected it to be 6-8", but it was much, much deeper.  At least 18", though it wouldn't have surprised me if it was 24".  Down I went, and my left knee smashed into what must have been gravel in a shallower section of the puddle.  I had gone to the puddle near the right edge of it, and it only occurred to me after I had shredded my knee to pieces that the edges of the puddle would be the deepest, due to vehicular traffic.  Where my knee had hit was where I should have been running.

It looked like I had a small gash on my knee.  Nothing too bad.  I could fix it up when I got home.  I pushed on, and found myself standing in a large, pine needle covered parking area.  There were at least ten trucks and SUVs there, though I didn't stop to count.  The moment I stopped running I was swarmed by mosquitoes.  The trailhead was off to the right, and I pushed on, stopping for a moment to clean the mud off of my hands in the outlet of Crane Pond.

The road had been fairly level, never flat, but very runnable.  The trail was fairly runnable, too, and in some places it was as wide as a road, an indication that it might have been one, at some point.  The trail register wasn't too far beyond the bridge over the Crane Pond outlet.  I stopped to register, and then pushed on, still hounded by the mosquitoes.  After a few more strides I stopped, put my pack on a rock, and applied another round of picaridin.  It stung on my knee, but it worked.  The mosquitos backed off once again.

Again I pushed on, taking a left at the next junction, heading south now, toward the mountain.  Whenever I stopped, I was swarmed, so I did my best to just keep pushing.  I reapplied the picaridin a few times, and the effect was the same.  As long as I was hiking, I was generally ok.  Once I hit the steeper portion of the trail, I decided to just keep hiking, to see if the mosquitoes would stay away.  It worked, for the most part.

The trail guide describes the hike as exposed ridge, and that's technically correct, though inaccurate.  The portion where the trail is has been eroded away down to the bedrock in many places, but this is not, in any way, shape, or form, an exposed ridge.  There is a small, 15' section that is exposed (about 10' of exposure) on a herd path paralleling the trail.  That's it.

Exposure has three meanings here, so, in case that wasn't clear:
1) You are hiking on bedrock that has been exposed through erosion.
2) You are not very likely to fall.  (There are cliffs near the summit area that you could fall off of if you REALLY tried.  Keep your kids on their leashes.)
3) You are never above the treeline.  (There are a few large tree-less areas on the summit, and that helps with the view.)

Despite never actually getting above the treeline, there are *fantastic* views from the summit.  After getting up to the summit area, I headed left, scrambled up some rocks and soaked in the view.  I could see Schroon Lake, Desolate Swamp, and the High Peaks off to the northeast.  It wasn't immediately obvious which peaks I was looking at, though I could make out some of the Great Range, which helped with orientation.  The PeakFinder app helped fill in the pieces: the three most prominent peaks I was seeing were Marcy, Dix (the Beckhorn), and Giant.  That struck me: I was standing on the highpoint of one wilderness area and looking at the highpoints of three others.

After a snack and a few glorious bug-free moments in the sun, I went to explore the rest of the summit area.  Just beyond the turn off for the summit proper is a trail leading to a designated camping area.  (I didn't realize there were any designated camping areas on summits, especially prominent summits like this, but it makes sense to keep people in an area that can take it.)  I found the remnants of a fire there, but the flies buzzing about kept me moving on.  Beyond the camping area was another massive open slab, which I explored a bit.  Eventually I was driven away by flies, and I started heading back.  Just before I left the summit area, I found a small wooden structure, like a stash box, a few feet off of the trail, and further down the trail, a small cave that didn't seem to go anywhere.

I wasn't able to run on the steeper section due to the water on the bedrock, which kept the rocks slick.  Once I was past the exposed bedrock, I was able to run some, and that's when I started to run into a steady stream of hikers: one miserable looking guy with a bug net, an older couple resting on a rock, who warned me about the troop coming up the trail, followed by several other smaller couples and even a few small dogs.  When I got down to the water there were canoes out on Crane Pond, and as I ran the road back toward my car, I had to step off several times to make room for the vehicles coming through.  I also saw what I had missed the first time through: a small herd path through the weeds right next to the road where the puddle-trap was.

I made it back to the car more or less intact, and stopped at the Stewart's in Schroon for a snack before making my way back home.

I think I'm more or less done with running on trails in May, June and July.  I can keep the mosquitoes at bay fairly well with long sleeves and picaridin, but it fails utterly and miserably when I'm wearing short sleeves and sweat enters into the equation.  The other non-DEET sprays I've tried, using citronella or oil of Lemon Eucalyptus, follow the same pattern.  So I think it makes more sense to stick to double track when the bugs are at their worst, where I can move more quickly and not bother with bug spray.

Moreau Lake State Park - 1 Jun 2014

I went for a run today at Moreau Lake State Park, to explore the 15k route some, and to continue my mileage build-up for Savoy.  I parked at the Baker/Western Ridge trailhead again, off of Spier Falls Road, with the intention of running down the Western Ridge Trail, over to Mud Pond, then up and over the ridge to pick up the Western Ridge Trail on the other side.  My goal was 6 miles, and I hadn't spent a whole lot of time plotting it out, figuring I'd adjust my route as I went.

As I was getting sunscreen and bug spray on, I chatted with a couple who had driven up shortly after me.  They said they were heading up the Western Ridge (the other way), and I chuckled a bit, saying that it was a bit steep.  They asked how steep and I said that it climbed a couple hundred feet, and they shrugged it off and said it would be fine.  I haven't actually walked up that trail, but running down it was steep and intense.  I said I'd see them out there, and headed off.

I started out way too fast, and it took a while for me to slow myself down.  It's mostly downhill from the parking lot to Mud Pond, and my body was screaming "let's go fast!".  I managed to rein myself in after the second stream crossing, where the trail heads up for a little bit, and settled in to a more reasonable pace.  The trails get nicer around there: fewer rocks and a lot more stable footing, but it was hard to enjoy.  There was what looked like bear scat along the trail, and I'd find more of it every few minutes.  (It was large; the smallest animal it could have come out of was a coyote, but it looked like the animal had been eating mostly berries.  I looked around for the source of the berries that the animal had been eating, but couldn't find them.)

Once I got down by Mud Pond, I started seeing other people quite a bit.  I ran around what I thought was the pond, and did my best to pick out the trail based on my memory of the race course map from last year.  In actuality, I ran around the northern portion of Moreau Lake, and then over an isthmus with a small break to allow boat traffic to travel between the two portions of the lake.  After that point, I was at the beach area proper, with several hundred (possibly a thousand) other people, from the look of the parking lot and the crowds gathered on the beach and at the various picnic areas.  It was *crowded*.

I made my way along the beach, and breathed a sigh of relief as I got away from the crowds.  I ran in front of the cabin along the white trail, which was occupied, and eventually came to a portion of white trail that was too overgrown to use.  There was a blaze right before the overgrown area, so I was certain that I hadn't stumbled upon a herd path.  My choice was to either run through the water next to the trail, or switch over to the road.  I crossed the road, looking to see if the Red Oak Ridge trail connector I was looking for was there, but it wasn't, so I ran through the water, which was shallow.  I'm not quite sure how that trail will look in September.

From there, I got to a boat launch area across from the Warming Hut.  I stopped to use the restroom (between the crowds and the mosquitoes, a wise choice), walked right past the trailhead for the ROR trail, and continued along the white trail.  I got to the point where the white trail hits the road, and started scouting around for a connector that I had seen during the winter.  The sign or marking was gone, as far as I could tell, but I could see the ROR trail, so I walked over to it and started running along it.  Not long after that, I came to a point that I remembered from my winter run through here.  Now, seeing it in summer, it looked like a herd path, and the real path appeared to run down to the Warming Hut.  I ran down, hoping to get some insight, but the trail ended right at the hut.  Frustrated, I turned around, and made my way back to the herd path I had just seen.  Sure enough, there was a blaze, and it seemed to indicate that the way I had just gone, down to the Warming Hut, was correct.  Stubbornly, I took the herd path.

I wasn't very far along when I came to the eroded portion I remembered from the winter, where it felt like I was going to fall down the hill at any moment.  Eventually I came back to the trail, and turned right to see where it went.  Sure enough, I found myself back at the Warming Hut, on the other side of the parking lot from the trail that I had decided was wrong.  I stopped to take a picture of the sign that I had walked right past almost a mile ago, and then headed up.  The mosquitoes got worse as I headed up.  I did my best to run, but the heat and the terrain left me walking a lot.  I made it up to the Moreau Overlook trail, passed by a gaggle of beach-goers having a walk in the woods, and pushed up to the top.  I chatted with a few other people admiring the view, which was fairly clear today, and then headed off again.  I had intended on running along the Ridge Run as far as the Cottage Path trail, but my unintended diversion had eaten up distance and time.  Not long after starting out on the Ridge Run, I turned around, and headed the other way on it, with the intention of picking up the Baker Trail back to the parking lot.  As I ran past the Moreau Overlook again, I saw that the party I had passed were just now pulling in to the overlook.  I smiled as they gawked over the view, and pushed on.

I kept rolling my ankle on the descent, nothing serious, but I think I was a bit tired.  I made it back to my car in one piece, and dove in to avoid the mosquitoes that were starting to swarm around me.  The drive back home was uneventful.  I had seen a couple dozen Tour de Cure participants on the way in, and I saw what appeared to be a few more finishing up on the way home.  That must have been a long day for them!

Anyway, I think that's it.  I'm getting excited about Savoy, and doing the Moreau 15k, if they hold it this year.

Oh, one more note: I read Jake Stookey's report on the 2012 race, and I can't believe he ran it barefoot in 2 hours!  He went on to win the 2013 edition of the race in huaraches, which seems like a more logical choice.  He even set a new course record in 2013, coming in at 1:27:11.  I love being out and about barefoot, and while I can imagine hiking this course barefoot, I cannot imagine running it barefoot under race conditions.  I'd be hobbling by the end.

Anyway, be excellent to each other, carry plenty of bug spray, watch out for ticks, call your mother, and tip your waiter.  Until next time...

Moreau Lake State Park - 10,17 May 2014

(Sleep deprivation is fun.  I could have sworn that I didn't post the report for last week's long run, but.. I did.  I'm leaving this report the way it is, regardless.  This report is more accurate; it's the "Palmertown Range", not "Palmertown Ridge".  Also, the map I was using didn't have a name on the Baker Trail, it was just a green blazed trail.  The newest trail map calls it the Baker Trail.)

I took my last two long runs on Grant Mountain in the Palmertown Range.  If you haven't heard of either geological feature, don't be surprised; both names appear only on USGS maps, as far as I can tell.  This is the mountain that stands just west of Moreau Lake, and this is the mountain that the Moreau Lake 15K runs up, around, and back down.  I haven't committed to doing that race yet, but I figured I should go check out the trails.  So far, I'm very impressed.  This system is an excellent model for training for the High Peaks.  More on that in a bit.

Access

This part confused me quite a bit when I first started investigating this trail system.  There are three trailheads along Spier Town Rd, and there is, of course, access from the campground, too.  You can find maps here: http://nysparks.com/parks/150/maps.aspx.  I am describing landmarks as if you were driving north/east along Spier Falls Road.

Western Ridge Trail

[I have not tried to run or hike from here, yet.]  There is a tiny pull-off near the western end of the Western Ridge trail (yellow), however, on the most recent Trail Map, there is no indication of a parking lot.  It was listed on the 2011 version of the map, and it is still physically there. Heading north, the road goes through several turns, and then when it gets close to the Hudson River, it straightens out.  Right after it straightens out, there is an access road on the right.  This is gated, so don't park here, but there's a small turnout a little further on, with what appears to be a spring.  The trail itself appears to start out following the access road.  I will investigate it further as time allows.

Cottage Path

[I have not tried to run or hike from here, yet, either.]  The parking lot for the Cottage Path trail is further along Spier Falls Road, and is very obvious.  Near the bend in the road, where it goes from following the Hudson to crossing a col in the Palmertown, there is a large access area for boats, with ample parking.  The Cottage Path trail (orange) is accessed on the other side of Spier Falls Road, a short distance to the south.  It appears to follow a stone wall for a while.

(Please note that as of May, 2014, a sign at the third parking area indicates that there is currently construction along the power line corridor, and that trails may be subject to closure.  No trail was indicated on the sign, but the trail most likely to be affected would be the Cottage Path trail.)

Western Ridge / Baker Trail

This is my favorite of the three areas, though extra caution is needed due to the single lane access road and blind turns.  Heading east along Spier Falls Road, the access road is a gravel road on the right, and it is just past the col.  As soon as the road starts to descend, look for gravel on the right.  Turn right into here, and then proceed to the parking area.  (Note that this gets gated off during the winter.  Also note that there is ANOTHER access road that intersects this access road.  DO NOT take this other access road.  I'm fairly certain that it's intended for large electrical utility trucks, and unless you have a big truck, you're likely to get stuck.)  You'll find the parking area a short distance on, and there are three paths you can take out of here.  The first is on your right, just before the parking area; this is the eastern portion of the Western Ridge Trail (yellow).  The second is blocked by a large boulder, along the same road that you drove in on; this is the western portion of the Western Ridge Trail (yellow).  Finally, between the two is another wide trail, marked in green, this is the Baker trail.

(The sign indicating closures due to electrical work could also apply to this access road; so keep an eye out for a closed gate when you're turning on to it.)

Hunting Notice

Please note that Spring Turkey season is in effect during the month of May in New York.  The Spring season runs from an hour before sunrise until noon.  Vermont and Massachusetts have similar Spring Turkey hunting seasons.  Since the season only lasts for half the day, it's courteous to give hunters the first half of the day to themselves.  Turkeys are apparently difficult to hunt, due to their eyesight and intelligence.  If you are out in the woods during hunting hours, stick to popular trails, and wear orange.  Avoid wearing red, white and blue, as this mimics the colors of the male turkeys being hunted this time of year.

Last Week - 10 May 2014

Both weeks I found myself bounded for time between the Spring Turkey season and commitments in the mid-afternoon.  On the 10th, I ended up getting out the door a lot later than I had intended, and decided to cut my run down to an hour, instead of my intended two hours.  I started off strong, heading up the Baker Trail, but I quickly found myself out of breath.  Running uphill is nothing like running along flat bike paths, or even the rolling terrain I had been running on.  After a while the path leveled off a bit, and I was able to catch my breath a bit, but I found myself alternating between walking and running the entire time I was out.

The Baker Trail intersects the Ridge Run Trail.  Without consulting my map, I decided to go left, and I choose wisely.  A short while later I found myself in a still open deciduous forest, clearly high ground, and there were long exposed sections of parallel rock, which appeared to be the remnants of glacial erosion.  This whole section would have been under the ice sheet (the whole state was), and it looks like the movement of the glacier cut these gouges out.  They are beautiful, regardless of their origin.

Just past this area was what appeared to be a view point.  I ran up to it and it was indeed a view point: the Moreau Overlook.  From here I could see Moreau Lake and the country beyond.  What really caught my eye were the Taconic peaks off in the distance.  They were hard to make out, but they were there.  The following week I spent a little more time up here, and confirmed that I was correct: Equinox, Little Equinox, Bear, and Grass are all distinct and visible, and there are are a host of other peaks visible as well.

When I first ran up to the Overlook, I noticed that there were two people, a man and a woman, sitting on a rock nearby, taking in the view.  From their clothes, and the braids in the woman's hair, I assumed that they were runners, too.  We exchanged hellos, and the woman asked if I could take their picture, and offered to return the favor.  After we had taken pictures, we chatted a bit, and then they were off, down the blue Moreau Overlook Trail.  As for me, I lingered briefly, and then continued along the Ridge Run trail.  I knew I had limited time, so I consulted my map, trying to get a sense of what was possible given my constraints.  I saw that there was a loop to be had: if I kept making right turns, eventually I would end up on the Western Ridge Trail, and that would take me back to my car.  Off I ran.

The terrain up here was great.  Baker Trail is mostly loose rocks, but once you're up high, the trails are a lot softer; mostly leaves and loam.  The Western Ridge is a different story, though.  There's plenty of loam, for sure, but there are also sections where you're running along exposed bedrock, not unlike the rocks I had stopped to admire higher up.  It's a lot of fun, but I can imagine that they'd be slippery when wet.  Once the Western Ridge starts to descend in earnest, it has a few short sections of loose rock, and an eroded section near the end of the descent that is fairly steep.  I found myself monkeying along the trees in there at one point.  Once I got past the steeper section, the trail leveled off again, and it was relatively level (though not even close to flat) for the remainder of my run back to my car.  The views looked fantastic along the Western Ridge, but I didn't stop to admire them since I was in a rush.

This Week - 17 May 2014

 This week I decided to check out some more of the Western Ridge, to the east of the parking area.  The Western Ridge drops down to Mud Pond, over fairly gentle terrain.  It had rained the night before, and the streams were going strong.  I ran past the white blazed Turkey Path, and almost took it, but I wanted to get a better sense of the full climb, so I pushed on.  The Western Ridge Path ends at an intersection with the the Mud Pond trail; I went right, along a beautiful corridor of trees, and the over a wide bridge.  From there I hit a woods road, and I went right again, searching for the red-blazed Red Oak Ridge Trail.  I had run the other end of this trail over the winter, and I followed it to the same intersection I had come to back then.  This time, though, I decided to UP the Moreau Overlook trail instead of using it to bail out.

This section was steep, and I had trouble running up it, but I did my best to push myself into a run on the flatter sections.  Eventually I came to a decent sized talus pile and decided to just hike it.  I'm fairly certain that this is the "Staircase of Death" referenced on the event page, or perhaps the whole trail from the ROR/MO junction up to the Moreau Overlook is the "Staircase of Death".  Whatever.  It's steep.

Once I was past the talus pile, a little push put me back up at the Moreau Overlook.  I stopped for a few minutes, trying to enjoy the view and confirm that I was seeing the peaks I thought I was seeing, but the insects were feasting on me, so I had to get back to running.  My pace on the way up had been slow enough that they had found me, but once I started running steadily again, they mostly left me alone.  It was getting to be time to head home, so I ran back to my car, along the Ridge Run and then the Baker Trail.  When I got to my car, I felt like I needed a little more, so I ran along the Western Ridge for a minute just to get a little bit more out.  (Sitting here, writing this, I still feel like I have energy that I need to get out.  I might need to go for a run tomorrow.)

Closing Thoughts

 When I was getting ready to write this, I reviewed the run in Strava, and I was astonished at the elevation profile.  I didn't think it was *that* steep, but I climbed from just under 400' at 1.3 miles to just under 1200' at 2.4 miles.  It's fairly typical for a trail to ascend 800'-1000' in the space of a mile near the top of the High Peaks.  You could run and/or hike up and down the length of the Moreau Overlook trail a few times and simulate the final push of a High Peak trail fairly well.  Furthermore, the trails themselves are typical of the trails found further north in the Adirondacks: a chaotic blend of rocks, bedrock, loam, and roots.

On a different note, I have to say that this park has the most considerate trail system I've ever been on.  There are numbers on the map at each junction, and those numbers are also posted on signs on trees at the junction.  I've never seen that before, but it makes a lot of sense, and I can think of many systems that would benefit from this enhancement.

Continuing on with the non-sequitor, I'm still reviewing gear, trying to figure out what I like best for this particular terrain.  I tried out both pairs of shoes that I had bought from Fleet Feet last autumn when I was finally healed up enough to start running again.  Last week I ran in my ASICs GEL-Scouts, and this week I ran in my Brooks PureFlow 2s.  The GEL-Scouts did very well with the terrain, and I felt in control, but their high heel drop (8-10mm) tends to bug my knee while running, and on this run it was no exception.  The PureFlows are my go-to shoe for running on pavement, where they offer a smooth ride; out here on the trails they felt hard, like I was running in a minimalist shoe, and I felt like I was slipping a few times on the descents.  They're treaded for road running, so I would expect them to have trouble gripping in some off-road situations.  I was just curious to see how they'd do.  Anyway, I still haven't narrowed down my shoe for this terrain.  I'm going to alternate between the GEL-Scouts and the Trail Gloves a couple of times, to try and see if it's just in my head or if there really is a difference in how my knees feel during or after the run.

Well, that's about it.  Next weekend I might try to run the entire 15k course, if time allows.  I've explored roughly half of it between my last three runs here.

...

Oh, before I forget, there's another option for a fall race, a newly created event called the Shawangunk Ridge Trail Run/Hike.  There are three distances: 20, 32, and 74 miles.  Details are here: https://www.facebook.com/SRTRunHike/info, and I've pasted the gist of it below:

"SRT Run/Hike is an endurance event for trail runners and through-hikers celebrating the preservation of natural lands along the Shawangunk Mountains.
...

The inaugural edition of SRT Run/Hike will take place September 19-21, 2014, offering three divisions:
- 20-mile, starting in Minnewaska State Park Preserve, Sunday morning, Sep 21
- 32-mile, starting at Sams Point, Saturday morning, Sep 20
- 74-mile, representing an entire "crossing" of the SRT, starting at High Point State Park, NJ, Friday afternoon, Sep 19"

Looks like fun!  It's the same weekend as the Saratoga Palio, so I wouldn't be able to do both.  I've still got time to decide, though.  Anyway, until next time, be excellent to each other...

Moreau Lake State Park (Palmertown Ridge) - 10 May 2014

I had intended on staying out for two hours on this weekend's long run, but ended up with only an hour due to other commitments.  So, I did the best I could do with that time.

I parked at the parking lot at the northern end of Moreau Lake State Park, just east of the high point of Spier Falls Road, the only car in the lot at the time.  From there, I started running up the green trail, and quickly found myself out of breath.  It's amazing how much elevation changes the game.  Once I had gotten past the initial burst of steepness, the trail leveled out, but it was rarely flat.  I made my way over to the junction with the Ridge Run trail (red), and headed left, toward Moreau.  A short while later I found myself in a deciduous forest, still winter bare on this hot May day, and I stopped to admire the beauty of the landscape for a moment.  There were several exposed ridges, and they were captivating.  I headed on, and a moment later I found myself at the Moreau Overlook.  The view was fantastic, and there were two other runners up there admiring it as well.  We chatted briefly, and one of the runners asked me if I could take their picture.  I said sure, snapped a few pictures of them, and then she returned the favor.  We chatted a bit more, and then we were off on our separate ways.

I was alternating between walking and running a lot throughout the run, and it reminded me of when I was first starting to run on level ground, and made me think about how far I've come since then.  I made my way along the Ridge Run Trai, and then headed over to the Western Ridge Trail.  The Western Ridge runs along long, thin stretches of exposed bedrock before it starts to descend in earnest, and it was really fun to run along.

The Western Ridge was interesting to descend, and I did my best to stick to fast footwork instead of my typical descent pattern, which involves a lot of fear and cautious shuffling.  It worked, though I did revert to walking when the terrain got sketchy and I was worried about loose rocks on top of steeply angled ones.  All told, I did four miles in an 1:11; nothing to write home about, but the terrain definitely added an extra element to the run.  If I had been hiking here a few years ago, I'm convinced that it would have taken 2 hours, possibly 3.  I remember looking down at my GPS a few years ago, walking back from Awosting with my brother, and saw that we were going 2.5 mph, on level, easy ground.  My pace on hikes before I started hiking was typically 1 mph for steep ground (800-1000' of ascent per mile) and 2 mph the rest of the time.  Descents were as slow as ascents, due to the constant fear of falling.  Using my poles helps a lot, but trusting myself and keeping my feet light seems to help even more.

I can't wait to get back up here, hopefully next weekend, to explore more of the trail network and work on making myself stronger.

A few closing thoughts: the descent down the Western Ridge trail was very much like a descent down a High Peak, and I think it's a good training ground.  The trail themselves are a mix of rocks, loam and exposed bedrock.  This is fairly typical for the Adirondacks, and I think it'll be a good training ground for hiking and running in the High Peaks.

Also, I can totally understand how people get lost on the 15k race.  The trails aren't always obvious; and there's a lot of terrain that looks like a trail.  I also saw what appeared to be several herd paths or true game trails, further complicating things.

Five Mile Trail - 13 Apr 2014

Today is Monday.  The winds have been blowing hard all day, and tomorrow the rain will likely come, pushing up our already swollen rivers and streams.  Mud Season is upon us in earnest.

Last Tuesday, I ran through the park, through sublimation fog, and fell twice on slick ice.  My hand still bears the marks.  I ate my lunch, a hummus sandwich, when I hit solid ground, attempting to figure out what my stomach can and cannot handle on runs.  I didn't last very long, but it was the ice that shut me down, not the food.  It was everywhere.

On Wednesday, I did a quick make-up session along the Spring Run, which was dry except for a couple of spots.  There was also a patch of late season ice; more like rock or glacier than the slippery stuff that had foiled me the day before.  I did some interval training, but my knee was hurting me, and my pace suffered.  On the way back to my car, I picked up a couple of hot dogs from Awesome Dogs and ate them as I walked.  I don't think I could handle that on a run.

On Thursday, I went back to the park, without food, but with a Heart Full of Soul and a shining sun.  Unfortunately Soul didn't get me very far, though the sun felt nice.  I again ran some intervals, attempting to salvage something of the week.  The ice that remained slowed me down, though, and on the last leg I came across ice that I was unable to cross.  It was angled up, I had no traction aids (it's April!), and it was too slick for me to climb up.  I was several feet onto the ice when I finally turned around, and I fully expected to fall.  I convinced myself that if I got up it, I could get down it, and carefully I made my way back down without falling.

On Saturday, we went to a park down in New Paltz to meet up with some friends.  The kids had fun playing together, and they kept us on our toes.  It was hot; more like June than April.

On Sunday, the kids and I went to my mom's house for breakfast.  Afterwards, they played outside for a while, and then we all pitched in a hand to help with some yardwork.  By noon it was close to 70; another hot day.

Later that day, after a week of horrid runs, and one and a half days of being outside in the sun, I went for a long run.  It was still hot out when I set off around 3:45.  I settled in to a 12:00 pace and did my best to mentally prepare myself for 10 miles of this.  The bike path I was running on was level, and clear of water and debris; as easy as a run on pavement is going to get.  When I hit an unpaved section, I was surprised to find it firm underfoot.

As the path made its way along route 50, I received a reminder of why I prefer to avoid roads: cars.  In this case, it was a car with a half-witted human inside, who decided to compliment me on my choice of hat (a thin explorer's style cap, to keep the sunburn off of my nose and ears).  It was gone before I had a chance to thank them for their kind remarks.  I thought that perhaps on my next run I should run with a ridiculously long multi-colored scarf, so that another kind soul would have something else to compliment me on as they drove in to 'Toga to get drunk.

After that point I decided to make my way over to the mall area and then run the Five Mile Trail, away from roads.  First, however, I needed to start my fueling experiment.

I'm training for a race in May, and I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to do about fuel.  I decided to try out one strategy I had read, I think in Runner's World, which was to start fueling after 30 minutes and then fuel every 15 minutes after that.  I ate half a package of salty jelly beans, which were really difficult to choke down.

The winds whipping across the mall were strong, and I was happy to be in the woods once I got to the other side.  The ice that had been present in the woods three days earlier was now gone, and even the mud was noticeably drier.  I made my way down to the picnic area, past a decomposing possum and a gaggle of people enjoying the day.

The section along Geyser Creek had a little bit of ice left, past the tufa pile.  The air was noticeably cooler down there, too.  I made my way up the stairs as fast as I could, but my muscles were quite upset about being asked to climb stairs after having already run a few miles.  At the top I noticed that it was time to fuel again.

I ate the second half of the salty jelly bean packet, which tasted a lot better this time around.  I swung over to the Orenda Spring to top off my water bottle with some mineral water.  I started feeling strong at this point, and probably should have just stopped fueling for a little while.  Instead, I continued on with the experiment.  As I made my way over to the western entrance, I drank the shot of salty sugar water I had put in my flask.  This tasted delicious: a magical cherry beverage, but I crashed pretty quickly after that, and my pace started to suffer as I made my way through the wetlands.  By the time it was time to fuel again, I opted for a gel.

I'm not really sure...

I think...

I think I'd rather carry a tub of rice pudding than eat another of these gels.

The flavor was described as vanilla, and the taste was somewhere between vanilla pudding (evil vanilla pudding) and these packages of pre-made vanilla shakes that I used to drink twelve (or so) years ago.  It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good.  My hands were sticky afterwards, and I wasted water rinsing them off so that I wouldn't spend the next few miles trying to obsessively wipe them off.

I finished up the trails and made my way back over to the mall.  I ate the last fuel of my run, a stroopwafel.  (I'm at least 1% Dutch, so it's legit.)  It took me by surprise, though: they are definitely sweet, but the taste ended up bitter.  I'm not sure if it was the lingering bite of the gel, or the effect of the run, but it was strange.

I made my way back over to the bike trails, to finish up my 10 miles, and I found myself running on empty.  I pushed on, but mile 8 was spent in a trance, and not the good kind.  By mile 9 I was feeling better, and I picked up the pace a bit.  I was still zoning out, but it was an "almost done" zone.  At 9.5 miles, I gave up.  My feet were hurting, both knees were hurting, and I had no desire to run any farther.

That last bit is significant: my feet hadn't hurt yet on these long runs.  I'm not quite sure where that was coming from, though I'm guessing the mud and water in my socks may have had some impact on it.

I felt drained afterwards, and all the next day.  I have two more long runs to get this right, before the race.  It's clear that the strategy I used this week is not going to work well.  I'm switching to lower GI food, and increasing the interval between intake.  I'm contemplating three options for fueling: a trail mix that worked very well on Sawteeth last year, o-nigiri, and/or some No Meat Athlete energy bars.  O-nigiri is a portable rice dish, which Matthew Inman (aka The Oatmeal) mentioned in a link off of his running comics (he got the recipe from Scott Jurek's book, Eat & Run).

Lincoln Mountain State Forest - 18 Jan 2014

(I think I spent more time writing this than actually running.)

I took a run today over at Lincoln Mountain State Forest.  I had visited there once before, in December of 2012, but that visit had been cut short.  My goal today was to explore the roads a bit, and to explore the area that appeared to be the summit of Lincoln Mountain.

I found it quickly enough.

I parked at the small parking area a quarter mile or so past the gate on Cohen Raod, and got out to check out the ground cover.  The drive in had been a bit sketchy, even with AWD, and when I set my foot down it was immediately apparent why: the road was covered in at an inch or two of ice, topped with another inch or so of snow.  The weather patterns over the past week or so matched what I saw: warm weather, enough to clear up whatever was there, or at least turn it to slush, followed by a torrential downpour on still frozen dirt, followed by a freeze, followed by snow.  I had brought YakTrax and snowshoes, and opted for the YakTrax.

I set out down Cohen Road at a trot, took the obvious left, where an arrow marks the turn of the Jeep trail and snowmobile trail, and started to head up.  I was at the top 8 minutes after setting out from my car.  I tromped around a bit, looking for the highest ground, and it looked like the small patch of dirt, surrounded by the road and a small turn-off, was it.

This was the summit, in all its glory.

Summit?

Sort of.

There's no indication of where Lincoln Mountain actually is on the USGS maps.  None.  It is part of the Palmertown Range, which includes 6 features labeled as "mountains" on various maps with only one obvious col between them, where Spier Falls Road runs through.  The labeled features are:

• Lincoln Mountain, which is identified by the fact that there is a state forest named after it, and a road, which is labeled as Hollister Road on the old USGS maps, but Lincoln Mountain Road on newer maps.
• Mount McGregor, which sits on the eastern edge of the range.
• Corinth Mountain and Wilton Mountain.  The road that runs past Mount McGregor between Route 9 and Spier Falls Road is labeled as both Corinth Mountain Road (on the Wilton side) and Wilton Mountain Road (on the Corinth side).
• Grant Mountain: this is an actual mountain label.
• Palmertown Mountain: this is also an actual mountain label.

The range, massif, whatever it is, fades out slowly to the south and southwest, but drops off precipitously to the east and north, as well as to the west where the range encounters the Hudson.

So where does that leave us?  Palmertown Mountain is clearly defined, and Grant Mountain is clearly defined, and there is a several hundred foot col between them.  Grant Mountain tops out at 1260'+.  Following the features over to Mount McGregor, which tops out at 1070'+, the col appears to be at about 1010', near Lake Ann, giving it a prominence of 60'.  It's a subpeak at best.

With regards to Wilton or Corinth Mountain, I have to assume that these are place names and not peak names, i.e. "Wilton Mountain Road" means that this is the road to Wilton over the mountain, and vice versa.

Looking further along the ridge, at Lincoln Mountain, I see that Lincoln Mountain road drives up to a point higher than what we've currently labeled as the summit of Lincoln Mountain.  The road crosses the 1000' mark near the point where it transitions to Hollister Road.  Clothier Road runs right through a section of 1040'+ land.

Furthermore, between that section of land over 1000' and the 960'+ "summit", there's another bump of land that's taller than our "summit" (as defined on peakbagger.com).  It tops out at 980'+.

I hope to find some historical basis for the name "Lincoln Mountain", and through that figure out where the peak lies.  Until then, I have a hard time calling this point Lincoln Mountain.  If anything, this should be labeled as the Lincoln Mountain State Forest High Point (or something along those lines), though the actual highest point within the State Forest might lay in the higher ground to the northeast.

Topographical quibbling aside, I topped out and explored the area around the summit.  While I was checking out an old cellar hole, my YakTrax got caught on a small stump or root on the ground and I ended up snapping the rubber so that one of the coils was dangling free.  I fixed them as best I could and then decided to continue along the Jeep trail.  It appeared to run on for quite a while.  I eventually crossed off of state land; looking back I could see a sign announcing emergency DEC contact information.  I kept my eyes open for No Trespassing or Posted signs, but the only signs I saw were on a road leading off to the right, by a large turn-around or parking area.

A little ways after that, I came to a junction.  I could tell from my phone's topo maps that state land was over to the left, and I could see a clearing or pond not too far away, so I went over to check it out.  Eventually I crossed back on to state land, marked by a prominent "No Motor Vehicles Allowed Beyond This Point" and yellow paint splotches on the tree.  A little ways after that I came to what appeared to be a frozen beaver pond.  There were tracks leading across it, but I didn't trust the ice, so I returned to the road, which led around the flooded area.  Eventually I passed by a large parking area on my right, and then found myself heading toward Lincoln Mountain Road.  Standing at the edge of the road, I caught a glimpse of the Kayaderosseras Range: my only view of the run.  I had seen this range as I drove in to Lincoln Mountain State Forest along Locust Grove Road, and they beckoned me to come explore them, instead.  (I've already explored one of the peaks in that range, Spruce Mountain.)

I contemplated taking off the YakTrax and running the roads back to my car, but decided against it.  I had come out here to be in the woods, and I'd rather be running and walking over snow-and-ice-covered woods roads than blacktop any day.  I started to head back the way I had come.  When I passed by the beaver pond earlier, I had noticed a clearing through the trees, like an old lane, that followed an old stone wall (there are stone walls everywhere in these woods).  It looked as if the old lane was heading along the narrow strip of land owned by the State.  I followed it now, for a little ways, until it disappeared into some wetlands.  If it was a road at some point, it's lost now.

Disappointed, I headed back the way I had come.  As I was on my way back up to the "summit", I passed by the only other people I saw in the forest that day.  (By the prints, another person was here today or yesterday; they parked off of Lincoln Mountain Road and walked up to the summit area of Lincoln Mountain, then turned around and went home.  He or she was the brave soul whose prints led across the beaver pond, along with a few other, older tracks.)  Anyway, I stopped running as I approached the other party because they had a dog and I wasn't sure if I would spook it if I ran past.  We exchanged pleasantries, though they looked at me like I had an extra head or something.

I got back to my car, then explored a little of the woods just past the parking area, looking for trails or other clearings.  I found what appeared to be an old, disused woods road and signs of old logging, but nothing very exciting, so I headed back home.

The 2002 Draft Unit Management Plan [http://www.dec.ny.gov/docs/lands_forests_pdf/saratogawardraftump.pdf] for this forest is available online, and contains a wealth of information about these woods.  (If the link ceases to work, search for "Unit Management Plan for State Forests in Saratoga and Warren Counties".)  According to the Draft UMP, which refers to Lincoln Mountain State Forest as "Saratoga I":

Saratoga I contains a major “truck trail” which connects with Cohen Road and traverses state land for about one mile to the southern boundary. This is classified for motor vehicle use. Two other access roads, one east and one west, provide access to parts of state land and for some private adjacent landowners. An easement exists for the road which runs easterly off Cohen Road. The westerly road has been barricaded by the current owner where it crosses his property. The west end of this road is accessible from Green Road. These two roads total about 2600 feet.

I've visited two of the other forests managed under this plan: Ushers Road State Forest, which links up to the Zim Smith Trail south of Round Lake, and Daketown State Forest.  If you look at satellite pictures of Daketown it looks like a tree farm from above, which was part of the reason why I went to check it out.  It looks like a tree farm from the ground, too, because it is, or was.  These are working forests, and the trees are used for lumber.  Middle Grove State Forest also has a seed orchard, supplying the Saratoga Tree Nursery with seeds.

Lincoln Mountain has some other interesting features, including some very old trees.  According to the same Draft UMP:

As a result of Neil Pederson’s research, it has been determined that an “old age” stand of Black gum (Nyssa sylvatica) exists in the northern wetlands in Saratoga I off Cohen Road. Neil is a doctorate candidate at the Tree-Ring Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory and Columbia University. Trees up to three feet in diameter have been found and after aging a number of these trees (using an increment borer and cross dating), Neil has found ages dating back to the mid 1400's (or well over 500 years old). Over 30 trees have been aged and recorded to date (see Appendix 10).

Amazing.

That about wraps it up.  Given that the amount of state land available for running is fairly small, and that I can't find much in the way of details about the easement along the Jeep trail, I have a hard time recommending this land for runners.  You could, in theory, follow the Jeep trail off of Cohen Road down to Woodard Road in Wilton, and then run back up the mountain (an ascent of roughly 500').  It's hard to say for certain whether or not the road is open the entire way, and whether or not the landowners would be OK with this use, though.  So I'm going to keep looking elsewhere.

One final note: this forest is very active with hunters during deer hunting season.  Out of respect for their sport, and concern for everyone's safety, I suggest not entering these woods during the main deer season, unless you are hunting.  This forest sits in the Northern Zone, which is bounded by Route 29 in this area.  Full details are available on the DEC site.

Saratoga Sand Plains - 12 Dec 2013

The past few weeks have been quite stressful, and despite my best efforts the stress is starting to catch up with me.  Yesterday I decided to go for a quick (1 mile) run on my lunch break to try and get that stress under control.  It didn't really work, since I'm still stressed out, but I did get a chance to finish exploring the portion of the Sand Plains adjacent to Route 50.  The yellow (horse) trail is a 0.8 mile loop that takes the walker or runner around a mostly open field.  There's another loop possible to the south, which is about 0.9 miles; a runner can link the two of these together in a figure 8 or a big loop, if they so desire.


I don't think I've done a report on the Sand Plains yet, but they seem to be primarily the remains of old farms that are being allowed to return to wild growth.  There are a few trails available, and at least two trail heads with parking.  I've only parked off of Route 50, but there's a small parking lot off of Scout Road, too.  This land sits adjacent to the Camp Saratoga land, with the train tracks dividing the two.  I saw the tracks on my run this week, along the yellow trail.

This is what the view from the Route 50 lot looked like this week:


When you first walk in to the Sand Plains, you get a choice of right or left.  It basically works out to a loop, with a few junctions thrown in along the way.  If you go left, and walk to the first T, then look back, this is what you'll see.


If you go right at that junction, you'll end up on a spur trail that in theory goes over to Scout Road (though I haven't confirmed it yet).  If you go left, you'll immediately come to another junction, which is where the two loops come together (the squishy part of the figure 8).  Looking back from that junction, you see this:


One final note of caution.  There are a few times during the year, generally between May and July, when you won't be able to move very fast along the trail, due to the plethora of tiny blue butterflies underfoot.



The Karner Blues were everywhere that day in July.  It was a challenge to walk without stepping on them, and a delight to be in their company.

That's about it.  I have several more reports to write, all older than this, so this blog is going to run backwards for a short while.  It'll be like we're in the TARDIS.  Except I'm not quite sure that I'm bigger on the inside...

Five Mile Trail - Oct 2013

I mentioned in my previous post that I thought I had lost the Five Mile Trail between the Orenda and Hathorn pavilions, but after reviewing the map, I don't think this was the case.  The markers are definitely scarce right around there, though.

The map for this year's route is available on Saratoga Spa State Park's Facebook account:

Five Mile Trail

So, I think this draws the mystery to a close.  The Five Mile Trail was created for this race, and after reviewing other posts on the park's Facebook page, it looks like the route has changed over the years, which explains why the are legacy markers scattered here and there.

There's a certain temptation for me to enter the race this Sunday: I really enjoy this trail, and it would be fun to run it in a race setting.  Hopefully I'll be fully operational next year.

Pause. Resume. Let's roll.

It has been several months since my last post, and I've got quite a bit to catch up on, so let's get to it.

The lump on my tendon is nearly gone: at times I can't find it, and at other times it's about the size of a mosquito bite.  I made the decision a couple of weeks ago to temporarily switch back to shoes with a higher heel drop, and it has made a significant difference.  Today, I wore my zero-drop Trail Gloves around the office, and I could feel soreness in my tendon just from the small amount of walking I had done.  So, I'll take that as a sign that I need to keep wearing the higher lift shoes for a while, and work on slowly re-transitioning back down to zero-drop.

To that end, I have also picked up a few new pairs of running shoes; the lovely folks down at Fleet Feet were able to get me set up with a pair for the road and a pair for the trail.  I'll have more on those shoes once I've had enough time to really get to know them.

I also have been exploring various reserves and trails around the area, and I have a few posts that I want to write regarding these opportunities.  Along those lines, it looks like the Five Mile Trail is used for the Fall Back Five race, happening this weekend at Saratoga Spa State Park.  The start and end of the trail is on the green near the Hall of Springs and the Little Theater, respectively, and the rest of the trail is generally how I had laid it out.  It does flow counter clockwise, which is not the way I had it going.  I followed the trail a bit on my weekend run last Saturday, and shortly after turning left past the land bridge between the Orenda and Hathorn pavilions, the markers disappeared.  Specifically, they disappeared between the gravel road that links the picnic area and the Hathorn pavilion.  I knew where the trail would be, so I was able to pick it up again, but I got the impression that I wasn't supposed to take the left onto the marked segment: the trail was intended to continue on to the Hathorn pavilion.  There were parties at both pavilions so I didn't linger to investigate the matter further, but I will in the future.

Five Mile Trail, Saratoga Spa State Park

I also have several mountain hikes to describe, including a trip up Mt. Equinox in August.  What a strange experience that was.  It was nothing at all like what I had expected.  The Taconics are truly an interesting range.  Let's just say that the woods are lovely, dark, deep, and most definitely possessed.

One final note: make sure you're wearing orange out there!  Regular deer hunting season is in full swing in the Northern Zone (in the Saratoga area that means north of Route 29).  The Southern Zone opens on November 16th this year, and both zones run until December 8th.  Details are here, http://www.dec.ny.gov/outdoor/65231.html, and please be respectful to everyone you meet out there.

Five Mile Trail - 04 May 2013

This isn't exactly a trip report; more of a trail description.  After three full passes, and several shorter forays, I'm comfortable writing up a trail description for the Five Mile Trail at Saratoga Springs State Park.  I'm sure that I've made mistakes, and potentially omitted sections, so please consider this a work in progress.  The tag "Five Mile Trail" should take you to the latest trail description, if I decide to update it in the future.  I also plan on making a GPX file of the route available, once I've got a clean one.



This route may have been originally designated as a racing trail and may still be used today.  I haven't been able to dig up anything definitive with my (very) limited searches to date, but there are references to five mile races being held at Saratoga Springs State Park (which could have been held along any number of roads or trails).

At any rate, without any further chitter chatter, here's version 1.1.

---

Five Mile Trail
Saratoga Springs State Park
Doug Harple, 8 May 2013, v1.1

These directions describe the route from the Orenda Pavilion.  Due to reservations at this pavilion, it may be easier to park near the Hathorn Spring #3, or near the Roosevelt Baths.  Both parking areas lie along the trail itself.  It is also possible to pick up the trail at numerous points from the picnic area near the Geyser pavilion.

The marking along this trail is occasionally sporadic, so it is important for the user to keep their eyes open.  The trail starts and ends at the grassy area near the Orenda pavilion.  Look for a pair of yellow "Five Mile Trail" signs near the head of the pavilion, and follow those into the woods.  The trail quickly descends down almost to the paved walkway before climbing back up to the level of the pavilion.  Poison ivy grows freely in these woods, and thickets of it have been observed in this area during the summer and fall.

The trail follows the pavilion green momentarily, and then heads back down again.  Keep your eyes open for signs in this area.  After a short distance, the trail makes its way down to the paved walkway.  Continue left, toward SPAC, past the Orenda spring, and under the SPAC walkway.  Head down the stairs, and then continue along the Vale of Springs trail back toward the Island Spouter.  The portion of this trail that crosses the runoff from the Orenda spring is always wet, and will leave a mineral residue on your footwear and/or feet.  Once past the Island Spouter, head left along the road and then take another left as the trail once again heads off into the woods.  Climb up to the SPAC fence, head right along the fence, and then head right once again across the Roosevelt Bath's parking lot.  Watch for markers, as there are a number of trails in this area.

From here there appear to be two possible routes.

I am describing the main route as the main route only because there is a mileage marker along this route.  It could very well be that someone stole the arrow marking the route, and that the alternate route is the correct route.  They could have also moved the 1 mile marker sign.

Main route: Follow the trail toward and past the Ferndell pavilion.  After a small open area, continue along in the same direction, toward a yellow sign that looks slightly different.  This is the 1 mile marker.  Follow the obvious path as it swings around and then heads over to the Ferndell parking lot.  As it approaches the parking lot, look for a trail heading slightly to the right, and run along side the road before heading to the right again.

Alternate route: As you approach the Ferndell pavilion, a marked FMT path to the left leads off just past another trail coming in from the right.  The turn is not marked.  Follow this to the road that leads to the Baths, and head right, through the grassy area, running parallel to the road.  Find the marked FMT trail markers on the other side of the grassy area, and follow them through a criss-crossing network of trails.  Head left once you get to the Ferndell parking area, and then take an immediate right.

Which ever route you took, you should now be running along side the North-South Road.  Avoid the trail going down and to the right, and take the second right, heading off into the woods, but more on the level.  Follow the well marked path through the woods, staying at roughly the same elevation now.  The trail loops around the cliffs above the picnic area as it makes its way over to the Columbia pavilion's parking area.  After a hard right, the trail immediately ducks away to the left, at a 45 degree angle.  Look up to find the signs.  Follow this well-marked section as it makes its way around the Columbia pavilion.  Watch out for a hard left that can be easy to miss.  A 1.75 mile marker is found in this area.  After a short while, the trail comes to an open field.  Head straight across, then down a short hill, and around a bend.  Cross over a small culvert, and make your way toward the road to cross the creek.  Watch out for traffic, as you have to actually walk on the active road for part of this crossing.

On the other side of the bridge, head right along a wide, grassy lane.  The 2 mile marker is found on the right along the creek.  This is the last mile marker on the course.  The trail heads gently to the left as it prepares to cross the road at a crosswalk, then follows the creek briefly.  Take the first obvious left, toward the Karista pavilion, and then head left again when possible, to pick up the trails heading up the cliff.  Follow the signs to get to the top.

Once you have reached the top, head generally to the left, following the row of trees, and make your way around the massive field.  This is a picnic area around the Peerless Pool.  The trail is mostly unmarked at this point, but follows the edge of the woods.  Avoid the trails leading back down the cliff, and instead follow the edge of the woods until you come to a squared off clearing.  Diagonally across the clearing is a trail that leads through a small strip of woods.  Once through the woods, head directly across the grassy area and make for a small stand of birches at the far end of the grassy area, directly ahead.  You will be walking parallel to the East-West Road at this point.  After crossing over the two access roads for the Peerless Pool, start looking for the trail.  The trail heads through the woods now, making a left as it goes to cross the East-West Road.

The trail now merges with the blue-marked Wetlands Overlook trail.  Follow the blue markers around a swampy area until you find yourself at a junction with a very wide grassy lane.  Head left along this lane, then take the next right to pick up the blue blazes once more.  Follow this trail, passing by the park fence and the wetlands overlook, before crossing over a small bridge that meets up with the same grassy lane.  Continue moving in the same direction, heading toward the road that's visible in the distance.  Cross this road, making for the paved walkway on the other side, and pick up the trail as it heads diagonally off into the woods once again.

As of 2013, this section has had recent improvements, and much of this next stretch is gravel.  The trail crosses the picnic road and then heads left at a T-junction.  A short distance later it heads left again, running through an occasionally wet area before crossing a walkway and ducking back into the woods around the Peerless Pool.  Take a left at the next T-junction, and then a short distance later head right.  At the junction with the gravel road, go right, and start looking for a marked trail heading off to the left, about 20' down the road.  Follow this for a short distance, before coming to another junction.  Go right at this junction, following the wide dirt lane as it crosses high above a stream and then crosses the picnic road once again.  Head right, following the signs, and find yourself once again standing at the Orenda pavilion's green.

---

So, that was my first attempt at a trail description.  This trail weaves in and out of the park, using many other paths for its route, and can be quite confusing at times.  My first attempt at following this trail was a dismal failure, but my second attempt was much better.  That left several questions unanswered though, so I headed out for this third trip to try and solve them.  Aside from figuring out what is going on near the Ferndell pavilion, I think I have it worked out.  I used the mile markers to figure out that the most likely starting and stopping point is at the Orenda pavilion, which aligns with my theory about this being a racing trail, since you would need an open area to stage the start and end of the race.

At any rate, as always, I welcome any comments, suggestions, or even the occasional "hey, idiot, the official trail description is over here".

Virtual 5K Trail Race at Camp Saratoga - 20 Apr 2013

I had been looking for something to do to support the victims of the Boston Marathon Bombing, when I came across a decent-sized list on Runners World.  One of the things that caught my eye was a virtual 5K race hosted by NYCRUNS (https://nycruns.com/races/?race=runners-for-relief-a-virtual-5k-supporting-boston-marathon-bombing-victims).  I decided to go for it.  The money would go to the Boston One Fund, and it would give me something to focus on beyond the death and devastation so close to my home.  Again.

Mind you, this was my first race.  Ever.  I knew there was a marked course over at Camp Saratoga, as I had run it a few times before (and gotten off-course almost every time).  There's a loop near the beginning, and both of the junctions can be confusing if you don't have your wits about you.  There's also a hard right turn right after the only road crossing that's easy to miss if you're not paying attention.

Fortunately, today I did have my wits about me, and I stayed on course.  I wasn't entirely sure where the course ended, but I knew from a picture on one of the sites associated with the course that it ended somewhere on the parade ground.  So, I guessed.  I had intended on stopping at the posts that used to hold a volleyball net, but I ended up running to the hanging grills instead.

The course itself is hilly, with a few steep ones at the very beginning that almost always have me walking as fast as I can (which today felt faster than normal).  After that the course goes up and down a bit, with one climb just past the second junction of the loop that also had me speed walking (actually I think trail runners are supposed to call it "power hiking" or something like that).  Anyway, I made decent time through most of the course, keeping my pace roughly between 11:00 and 12:00 (my intended range, and the range that I had decent success with last weekend).  As I got into the last kilometer, on the hilliest and most treacherous part of the course, I pushed a bit harder, and started running up the hills.  At the end I was watching the watch, trying to figure out where the end of the course was supposed to be.

I should probably explain that last bit: the course is marked with white markers that say "5K".  There's one bit of trail that appears to have been added specifically for the racing route, and the rest of it follows the roads that we used to use to walk and drive around Camp Saratoga when it was still a Boy Scout camp.  On the last section, the 5K route dives down to a single track hiking trail that runs beside Delegan Pond that used to serve a few of the campsites.  It rushes past the cabins, bends left around the pond, crosses the dam, and then exits out onto the parade ground.  After that, it isn't marked.  So, I guessed.

I crossed the "finish line" at around 36:09, giving me a pace of 11:34 for the course, which the GPS measured at 3.13 miles (a hair over 5K, but GPSs aren't always accurate).  After that I went for a walk to cool down.

Done.

Most interesting of all, for me, was the psychological aspect of this.  I wasn't racing against anyone, and yet I was, in a sense, since a winner will be chosen from the entrants into the race.  While I was eating my lunch beforehand, and getting my gear together, I noticed that I was visibly shaking.  I managed to calm myself down some, but I was definitely still in a competitive mood / mode.  The psychological aspects continued on the trail, as well.  After the first mile I felt like I was moving at a snail's pace on the trails, despite the fact that I was running the entire time (minus the few short hills), and generally moving very well given where I'm at, physically.  I know that I could have run faster, but I also knew that if I ran too fast, I would end up having to walk a lot, which would throw off my overall pace.

Anyway, this event was also a chance for me to try out fueling a bit.  The short of it is:

Swedish Fish: bad.  Too big and too chewy.  Hard to chew and swallow while running.  The smaller ones might be OK, but I think I'm going to try out other options.

Fruit leather: possibly good.  I brought two along but didn't eat them until I was done.  They were OK to eat then, though I did notice that the wrapper has to go immediately into a baggie.  Stowing it in a pocket is just asking for trouble, due to the inside of the wrapper being insanely sticky.

I hadn't intended on fueling at all until around mile 2, so that I would have an extra kick on the last bit.  Around mile 1, however, I started feeling sluggish, so I opted to fuel early.  I had intentionally gone the sugary route since I knew that anything complex just wouldn't be useful on such a short course.  It worked, I guess, but I still have a lot to learn about fueling.  I'd rather not fuel at all on these short courses, but after last week's run I've realized that I need to pay more attention to it, and figure it out.

Also, my lumbar pack was a bit big for a race.  It's great for general trail running, since it'll hold a lot of gear, but when it comes to a race, which is generally supported, I think something lighter would be better.  Maybe just a water bottle and something to hold a few essentials.

Finally, while the race was fun, but I can't help thinking about everyone who was injured or killed during this past week.  Especially the poor guy who had both of his legs blown off and shown for the world to see, Jeff Bauman, and the victims killed outright by the blast: Martin Richard, Lingzi Lu, and Krystle Campbell.  Even for those not physically injured, I know that the psychological injuries can cut just as deep, and take just as long to heal, if they ever do.  To anyone and everyone affected by this, my heart goes out to you.  It was such a senseless, horrifying, and despicable act.

Searching For Answers

My heart and my thoughts go out to the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings and their families.  For those who were not wounding physically, I know that that psychological scars cut just as deep, and you are in my thoughts and my heart as well.  It is a senseless tragedy.

I had intended today's post to be a trip report, or rather a series of reports.  I had an excellent run on Sunday, and found that I was at a fitness level that I hadn't realized I was at.  I also have several older trip reports to catch up on.

Most of them will have to wait.  Probably indefinitely.  I'll relate portions of two reports in this post, and that'll be enough for now.

One of the things that pushed me on Sunday, and especially on an impromptu run a week before, was grief.  Last Saturday, April 6th, marked the 35th birthday of my friend Suzy Lyall, who disappeared 15 years ago, on March 2nd, 1998.  All these years later, I still invariably get hit with what feels like a ton of bricks on one or both of those dates, and this year was no exception.  I was in a funk all day, despite having taken measures to avoid it.  A few years ago, I lined up a chronological playlist of her favorite band, RUSH, in iTunes, and used it as a mechanism for channeling and focusing the grief and the rage.  I had started a traverse through that playlist on Friday, but it still wasn't enough.  I was barely functioning, though I couldn't see it.  My wife had told me to go take a drive, go for a run, anything to clear my head, but I was so far gone that I resisted, insisting that I was fine.

Eventually I went out.  I headed to Target to get a chocolate bar for dinner.  (Dinner of champions, I know.  There are very few chocolates left that I can eat without getting sick, and Target sells one of them.)  It was something to do and it got me out.  When I got back to my car, I broke down.  I don't know how long I sat there, texting my wife while tears were rolling down my face, but I eventually snapped out of it long enough to come to a clear decision: go run.

I drove over to Camp Saratoga, and ran.  The park was closing soon, I was in street clothes, my pants were falling down, and my hiking shoes hurt my feet, but I ran.  I picked up some of the older pathways, just faint herd paths now, and crossed some decaying bridges that had been pivotal in my younger days as a Boy Scout.  In effect, I ran into the past, the distant past, to a time when I still had a naive world view.

It helped.  A lot.

Fast forward a week, and Sunday rolls around.  I had a chance to go for a run, so I did.  I built upon the catharsis from last week, channeled that grief and rage, and anger, and confusion, and pain, and ran.  I thought about Paula Barton Viesturs' comment to her mountaineer husband, Ed, after the deaths of Rob Hall, Scott Fisher, and so many others, and "(ran) like I have never (run) before".  Before the snows hit, I hadn't been able to run for longer than a mile before my body screamed for a break.  When I was running on the snow, I could last for... 90 seconds... before I had to shut down and switch to walking.  On Sunday, I set a good pace, and ran for a good 42 minutes at a 12:00 pace for 3.5 miles before I took my first walking break. I know it's nothing to write home about, but it was a major step forward for me.

I was also running in and out of my history here as well, at Saratoga Spa State Park.  At one point I ran down an old road and suddenly was faced with the backside of a view that I had seen many times before in the 90s, when a few friends and I had come here to cook out, including Suzy.

So, the theme for today's post / trip report was supposed to be about these runs, about finding relief, and channeling grief into something productive.  There's a lot more to the story that I think needs to be told.

Instead I'm sitting here, dumbstruck, wondering why some idiot or idiots would choose to (apparently) detonate bombs or IEDs in the middle of people waiting for runners in the Boston Marathon.  I don't understand the increase in violence that has occurred over the past year or so.  Mass killings are becoming a regular occurrence in this country.  I don't understand what makes a man walk into a movie theater and start firing, or a school, for gods' sake, and start shooting elementary school children.  I don't understand how someone can willingly bomb crowds of innocent people, here in the USA, or abroad.  It doesn't make any sense.

I also don't understand how so many people disappear each year.  So, I'm still sitting here, searching for answers, for today and for yesterday.  Perhaps I always will be.  The only conclusion I can come to is that we have to live our lives to the fullest, because you never know what will happen tomorrow.

Pharaoh Lakes Wilderness - 9 Mar 2013

(This is from the weekend before last.  I've got a few more runs to write up, hopefully soon.)

I had a chance to go hiking on Saturday with Ken, but the snow wouldn't have been ideal for the gear that we have, so we opted to pursue our individual sports.  He went for a bike ride on Sunday, and I went for a run on Saturday.  I had initially decided to go for a run on the east side of Lake George, out of Dacy Clearing, but after doing some research I found out that the route I was intending on taking is part of an established snowmobile route.  Having already shared the trail twice with snowmobiles, I wasn't interested.  I wanted something with a little more wilderness.  I thought about going over to the Northville-Placid trail, but ended up choosing the Pharaoh Wilderness instead.  It turns out that was an excellent idea.

(Actually, I thought about going to numerous different trails, all over the state and across the border.  More on that later.)



I got a late start, having wanted to give my wife a chance to sleep in in the morning.  Once I was in my car, I had expected to get to the trailhead by 1:00, but ended up getting turned around near Brant Lake and didn't get to the trailhead until 2:00.  No matter, I thought, a little is better than nothing.  The trailhead was packed, and people were parked along the edge of the road leading to the parking area.  I chose a decent spot, doing my best not to block the driveway of the lucky soul who lives right near the trailhead.

In truth, it's an old woods road, and there's no gate across it.  The snow was packed hard, and made for an excellent running surface.  I quickly put on my running shoes, made my way over to the snow (the approach road was pure mud), and put on my snowshoes.

For this run, I chose to ditch the Sketcher 505s I had used on my last two snowshoe runs, and opted for my standard running shoes, my Merrell Trail Gloves.  Despite the fact that they have absolutely no waterproofing whatsoever (except perhaps the rubber on the bottom), my feet were fine.  My toes were a little bit cold at first, but I never felt like I was in danger of getting frostbite.  Despite the snow on the ground, the air temperature was in the high 40s, low 50s.  I had my usual cold weather running socks on (a pair of Darn Tough hikers [at least I think they're hikers]).

The biggest difference I noticed, however, was in the way my feet felt afterwards.  With the 505s and the snowshoes, I literally felt like I was running on concrete, and my feet were sore all over.  With the Trail Gloves, the only thing that was sore afterwards was my left achilles tendon.  Since that's a normal ache point for people transitioning to minimalist footwear, I'll take it.

I managed to travel at about 2.7mph, average, between running, hobbling, and walking fast.  I had hoped to get in to Pharaoh Lake itself, and possibly even circumnavigate it, but given my late start and my slow speed, I only made it in to Pharaoh Lake Brook.  After realizing that I wasn't going to make it in to the lake in time to make it home for some other commitments, I turned around, half-heartedly.  Fortunately for me, I decided to check out a designated camping area that's right near the bridge across the brook.  It turned out to be an excellent decision.

Pharaoh Lake Brook drains the lake itself, and right before it flows under the bridge that the trail uses, it flows right past a beaver den.  Presumably due to these beavers influence and engineering, the area is therefore a marshy one.  Standing on the edge of this marshy area, not far from the campsite, looking across the marsh, I laid eyes on Pharaoh Mountain.  The view was breathtaking.  Not something you would expect to find along an old logging road, standing beside an area that, during the spring and summer, must be swarming with insects of all kind.  Yet there it was: sheer beauty.



I plan on coming back soon, and starting to work on running around Pharaoh Lake and up Pharaoh Mountain.  There's a huge network of trails back there, and it's a perfect training ground for an exploratory run I'd like to do later in the year.

Hennig Preserve - 4 Jan 2013

The wind here has a name, an unpronounceable one, and it screams this name until you look up to try and see where it's coming from.  That's when you realize that there's a wall of snow moving swiftly towards you.  You have a precious moment to throw your hood over your head, before the snow does its best to creep down your shirt and chill you to the core.  Sometimes you're successful, sometimes you're not.  You could just leave your hood up, but the thumping, creaking, squeaking and screaming all around you makes you constantly look from side to side, just to confirm once again that the sound is yet one more tree grinding against another.  Such was my existence for two frozen hours on Friday, while I attempted to work out the gearing and layering that I would use for future training runs and hikes in this strange land of sugar icing.

I was testing out my new snowshoes at the Hennig Preserve, a large preserve in the town of Providence, NY, only a stone's throw from the Adirondack Park itself.  The preserve reminds me of the Adirondacks, though I can't get a good look at the ground to confirm that, because of the snow that covers it.  All of the trails on the south side, where I spent most of my time, were well-packed by other snowshoers.  I was pleased when I saw this; I didn't want to mess with ski tracks, since skiers apparently get upset when you do this, and I didn't want to cut new trail for the entire time, because I wasn't wearing snowshoes meant for that.  I was wearing snowshoes that were meant for running on groomed trails, because I'm in the middle of training for an upcoming snowshoe race, and I thought I might try some novel form of training, such as putting snowshoes on and running in them.

It turns out that running in snowshoes isn't as difficult as I thought it would be, at least from a logistical standpoint.  I automatically increased my stride so that I wouldn't trip on my own shoes, and according to my recorded track, I was able to get up into the 15:00s.  Nothing to write home about, but pretty good, I thought, for a total beginner.  The major limiting factor, it turns out, was my heart.  After less than a minute I was reaching for the 170s and starting to shut down.  This was completely disheartening, since on snow-free routes I'm able to run a mile in the 12:00s, and my heart stays in the high 150s to low 160s.  Again, I know it's nothing to write home about, but my point is, running in snowshoes is significantly more difficult than I had anticipated.  Trying to make the best of the situation, I resolved to push on and just hike as far as I could for as long as I could.  I broke into a run a few times, but for the most part I hiked.

Personal problems aside, the trail and the woods were beautiful.  There was a trail labeled as "Esker Trail" on the map, and I was cautiously optimistic that it was a trail named because of an esker, and not because of a certain Mr. or Mrs. Esker.  As I slogged up a slight uphill that marked the start of the trail, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was, in fact, standing upon an esker.  It wasn't very tall at first, but as the trail traversed the ridge, the ground below the deposition grew further and further away.  The esker itself does more undulating than it does winding, and it doesn't show up on any topo map that I've found, but it's most definitely there.  You can see it from Glenwild Road, as well, on your approach to the preserve, and you can see the road from the end of the esker.  From the map, it doesn't look like it goes any further; there's something that looks more like a kame on the other side of the road, with a gravel pit excavated from one end of it.



I should also add that I loved being on top of the esker.  I had made it a goal of mine last year to visit one, after reading about the eskers in the Five Ponds Wilderness and seeing them laying there like serpents upon the topo maps of the region.  The experience itself was a bit surreal, both from the slopes falling away on either side and from the physical reminder that thousands of feet worth of moving ice once stood above this very spot.  I can't wait to check out the massive eskers at Five Ponds.

The wind made itself known while I was up there, as it had while I was gearing up on the road, but once I descended off of the esker, the valley on the other side was sufficiently sheltered for me to warm up and consider dropping a layer.  I didn't, mostly because I just wanted to keep moving and cover as much ground as I could.  It was late in the day, and I knew that I had to keep pushing on.

At one point I came across a barely frozen stream, with the loud rush of a small waterfall only barely hidden from sight.  In one spot a hole had opened up, and I could see the water rushing past.  I awkwardly forded the stream, following another soul's foot placements.  This was repeated several times on the hike, and it was always a bit nerve-wracking.

The other end of the blue trail meets up with the end of both the orange and the green trail, as well.  I contemplated going back on the orange trail, which would have led me back to my car by the most direct route, but I choose to go the long way instead.  It was on the green trail, on the back side of a small ridge (possibly the same esker line), that the wind started whipping through the trees, dumping snow on me and the forest ahead in a moving wall of snow.  It was also back here that I heard some of the strangest noises coming from the trees as they rubbed together.

The green trail travels through some lovely country, and I found myself wanting to linger on several occasions.  Twice along the green trail, I crossed over another trail (or road) without P.L.A.N. signs on it, and there were several other points where I thought I saw herd paths or old trails.  I also passed by a snow-covered, barely visible old stone wall that I only noticed when I glanced back at one point.

The only people I ran into were four seasoned gentlemen who were coming out as I was heading in.  We stopped to chat briefly, but in my haste to get moving, I forgot to thank them for breaking (or re-breaking, more likely) the trail for me.  If any of you happen to read this, thank you!

All in all, this was a fun trip.  My legs were sore afterwards, especially the outside of my thighs, so I'll count this as a decent workout even without being able to run very far.  The preserve is beautiful, and the Hennigs and now Saratoga P.L.A.N. have done a good job in keeping the land pristine.

The trip also convinced me that I'm not ready for this race.  My pace for the day was 27:56.  On the 2011 Camp Saratoga 8K Snowshoe results page, the slowest runner ran a 19:22 pace over the course.  If I were to perform like I did today, it would take me over 2:18 hours to complete the course.  I'm simply not ready for it, and I don't want to make some poor souls sit around in the cold waiting for me to prove that I'm not ready for it.  So, I'll skip this race, and start looking toward a race in the fall or late summer, as well as a snowshoe race next season.  In the meantime, I hope the snow sticks around so I can train some more in it!

For more information on the Hennig Preserve, please visit Saratoga P.L.A.N.'s website, here: http://www.saratogaplan.org/HennigPreserve.htm.

Gray's Crossing - 22 Dec 2012

I went to Gray's Crossing for the second weekend in a row today.  I had gone there last Sunday, to check out the park that I had seen a few times while driving down Northline Rd.  It's a cute park, with a small picnic area right next to several bends in the Kaydeross (aka the Kayaderosseras Creek).  I had seen a trail leading off to the left of the picnic area, almost immediately, and when I saw a sign stating "Burl Trail", I got my hopes up that I had found another place to run in the area.  Unfortunately, it dead-ended after about a tenth or two of a mile.  The dead-end was a fenced off area, curiously with the words "Protected Area" on a sign on the OTHER side of the fence.

Today I went back, after having confirmed that I missed a turn to the left, and that I also missed the other half of the trail going off to the left right near the start.  I scouted out the area, using My Tracks so that I could see my (approximate) position on the map and compare it to the mapped version of the trail.  I scoured the area, but could find no evidence of a trail to the left.  The only conclusion I could come to was that the trail itself had been fenced off.

So, I backtracked and went down the other half of the trail, only to run into ANOTHER fence.  This one cut across the trail at a diagonal, and extended off in either direction.



This leads me to believe that either a) Saratoga Spa State Park fences off the trail during mud season, b) it's closed off due to the construction, or c) something else is going on and I'm completely missing something obvious.  I guess I'll go check it out again in late spring.