I'm starting to get excited about the upcoming Savoy Mountain Trail Race. I was on the fence, until I read this post, at which point I realized I had to do it (read the comments, too). 15 miles seems like a lot, but I've run 10, and I know I can hike 15, so why not try running 15? I'd like to get into longer distances in the future, as time allows, so it makes sense to keep building this foundation.
To that end, I've started building up my mileage. I even went so far as to create a training plan. It's interesting, seeing target distances for a week. My mind keeps thinking about trails I've run and hiked, and which route fits which distance. This week I'm planning 6 miles for the weekend, and I'm probably going to do 2/3s of the Moreau 15k course. It's tempting to just do the whole thing, but I'd like to get a gauge on where I am at before I push too hard. My longest runs will be 13 miles, and I'm hoping to do a route from Dacy Clearing, up and over Black Mountain, and then up and over Sleeping Beauty on at least one of them, if the timing works out. I'm really excited about that for some reason. Hopefully the trail will have dried out a little bit by then, and I won't have to swim too much.
Other than that, I'd like to review the course itself on a couple of runs, to get a feel for the terrain and elevation, so I can dial in my training a little more. There are so many variables when it comes to trails. I follow several runners on Instagram, and it was interesting to hear one of them, from Washington state, complain about rocky trails in an arid part of the state. I got the impression from that statement that the rest of the trails out there must be mostly loam. In the Northeast, it's common to see a lot of rocks and roots on popular trails, and a lot of softer ground on the less used routes. We also get a lot of exposed bedrock, which is like running on uneven concrete. Anyway, I think knowing what the trail surface is made out of will help with picking the best training routes. There's a map of the course on the Run WMAC website, so between that and the maps produced by BNRC and Mass DCR, I should be able to find my way around the course. I'll still do some training on pavement, too, to keep my legs used to it.
One more interesting note: the race is named after the state forest in which it takes place. The route itself involves running around some of the trails in the state forest, and then running up and over Spruce Hill, which is the highest point of the course, from what I can tell. To further complicate things, there are actually two Spruce Hills listed on the USGS map of Savoy Mountain State Forest, and, much like Lincoln Mountain State Forest, there doesn't appear to actually be a Savoy Mountain. More than likely the entire massif itself is called Savoy Mountain. There's also a gigantic train tunnel running under Spruce Hill, just to keep things interesting.
Well, that's about it. Have fun, and be excellent to each other!
Ten Feet Square:
Reflections on Hiking, Trail Running, and Getting Unstuck.
Occasional geek-outs.
Showing posts with label Taconic Mountains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taconic Mountains. Show all posts
30 May 2014
13 January 2014
Equinox Mountain - 29 Aug 2013
(The TARDIS takes us back to August of 2013 now, and there's singing in the distance... not quite elvish, not quite dwarvish...)
Finally, one clear winter’s day, I was driving along Northline Road in the Ballston area when I came across a view that made me pull over and gawk. Instead of seeing a single peak or a double peak, I saw peaks. Plural. Several of them. I snapped a few pictures for later analysis and moved on. When I posted the pictures to Flickr, a kindly gentleman named Kevin was kind enough to show me Peakfinder, which is an excellent utility that takes a location and a compass bearing and displays an approximate view of the mountains in the distance, complete with labels. Once I had that I was able to confirm that, yes, I was seeing Equinox, and Little Equinox, and their neighbors, including a smaller mountain over in Greenwich called Willard. To the south of Equinox I saw Grass Mountain and its neighbor Spruce Peak. (I had mistaken Spruce Peak for Stratton Mountain, which sits across the valley and is a Green Mountain, not a Taconic.)
Just confirming the names of the mountains that I had been fascinated with was enough for the time being, and I was a bit put off by the topo for the Equinox summit trail. It looks treacherous. I decided to put it off until the snows had gone. Come August, I found myself with a spare day, somewhat unexpectedly, and I decided to go climb Equinox. I drove over to Manchester, VT, found the correct back road(s) and parked at the Equinox Preserve and Trust parking lot.
The lot was nearly full, which was a bit surprising for the middle of the week, but it seemed like most of my fellow hikers were just enjoying the trail network down below. There are miles of trails at the foot of the mountain; from what I could see they were almost entirely old woods roads, wide and a bit eroded. It reminded me a lot of the Gunks, with their quaint old roads leading through beautiful woods.
I made my way up the red trail and then the Blue Summit Trail, past a heavily graffitied water tower, a small information booth, and numerous junctions. At the final junction in the lower section, with the Maidenhair trail, there was a sign attached to a post, warning hikers that a trip to the summit was a strenuous hike. Well, they were right, though it was nowhere near as steep as it looks on the map. The trail climbs steadily for about 2600’ over about 2.85 miles, which is on par with an Adirondack High Peaks hike. The key difference between climbing Equinox and climbing a High Peak is that there isn’t a 2-4 mile walk-in to start climbing, which is often the case for the High Peaks. The other differences were that the majority of the Equinox trail is wide and gently rising, and the only exposure I got was in a section even more eroded than the rest.
Around 12:30, an hour after setting off, I came to a bench by the side of the trail, and a junction. The left side of the junction led to a spring in 250’, and the right continued the hike. I chose to skip the spring for the time being and just focus on summitting, so I headed right. The trail immediately narrowed and steepened. At once I felt like I was transported to the Adirondacks or Catskills - the mud was much darker now, and the roots of nearby trees were visible and ready to catch a toe or two.
The trail continued up, occasionally clinging to the edge of the mountain, but generally proceeding up on a reasonable slope. Eventually I came to an especially damp and dark section, which wouldn’t have looked out of place along the Porter ridgeline. The woods were gorgeous, and they marked the point where the trail really started to level out. A few minutes later I was in the summit woods, surrounded by stunted trees and on a different trail network. Ahead of me, the summit trail continued on, and to my right a path led over to Lookout Rock. Another trail led off to the left, unmarked.
I continued toward the summit, and in a very short time I came to a bizarre metal building with a chain-link fence attached to it. The trail continued around it, as did I, and I immediately came to another junction. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I had come upon what appeared to be the remains of an old road, one that used to climb over the summit and continue on down to Beartown Gap and Dorset. This wasn’t obvious at all from where I stood, but as I headed left toward the summit, I passed an old road sign on rocks that looked far too narrow to support motor traffic. Later, when I hiked over to Lookout Rock, I found another pair of road signs, along the same track, as well as a wide corridor through the trees that looked a lot like an old road. I suppose it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise: there are roads all over this mountain, and there were roads all over the other Taconic peaks I’ve visited to date. The trail to Mt. Berlin is entirely on an old woods road, with roads coming in from all different directions at regular intervals. When I mentioned that I had hiked to the summit of Mt. Berlin, a buddy of mine told me that he had wheeled up it years ago. The Greylock massif is covered in paved roads that provide motoring tourists with summit access, as on Equinox. People really like driving over the Taconics.
I found the summit not long after heading left at the junction. The summit of Equinox is viewless, or at least it was that day, due to some low clouds. Just off of the summit is a massive aerial - well over 100’ tall. What really caught my eye, though, was the visitor’s center. I had read about it, briefly, but when I first saw it, it looked more like a shrine to a Christian saint than an actual visitor’s center. There was a massive, larger than life painting, presumably of St. Bruno, facing the summit. It was illuminated in the gloaming, presumably as a call to the faithful. I hope he wasn’t too disappointed.
I circled around the mist enshrouded building, self-described as the “Saint Bruno Scenic Viewing Center”, and found that there were several people on the other side: a summit steward of sorts and 4 or 5 motoring tourists. The steward was explaining to the motorists that people also hike up to the summit from Manchester, using me as an example. I smiled at the motorists, said “Yep!” and kept moving. I don’t particularly like being made into a spectacle. As I was wandering around the outside of the building, the steward stopped me for a few minutes to discuss my choice of footwear; she was astonished that I had hiked up in my FiveFingers. I stopped myself short of saying “well, I almost hiked up barefoot, but the gravel near the base would have slowed me down way too much” and instead just explained that I had been getting nasty blisters from my boots, and the FiveFingers worked much better for me. We chatted a bit more, and I took my leave.
I headed back the way I had come, and then headed along the old road towards Lookout Rock. I passed by a few pet burial sites, and arrived at Lookout Rock a short while later. At least I assume it was Lookout Rock, since there are a few vantage points along the way and none actually bear a label. The view was nice, and the clouds had parted slightly, but it wasn’t anything spectacular. I could see the Green Mountains, and Manchester in the valley below. The view is probably better without clouds obscuring it, and I have to assume that the view from the summit viewing center is much better, since it sits at a better vantage point, and is, after all, a “viewing center”.
I would have liked to explore the old road some more, and head down towards Beartown Gap a bit, but I needed to get home, so I left it for another day. I was thrilled to at least have seen those signs at this point along the mountain, since I had seen the old road on the USGS topos, but couldn’t find anything about it online.
I took the yellow trail from Lookout Rock back to the first summit trail junction I had come to, which was a much prettier route than the old road, and then started my descent back down the Blue Summit Trail. I stopped to check out the spring, which, to my surprise, was running through a gigantic white pipe thrust into the hillside. The rocks below the pipe descended in a cascade of brilliant green moss. I didn’t dare walk over to sample it.
Yet my eyes are drawn towardI grew up in between the Adirondack and Catskill mountains, and visited both frequently, with my family and with the Boy Scouts. From our house, and from the surrounding land, however, neither region was particularly visible. Despite this lack of visibility, there was a mountain that I saw on a regular basis, off to the east. The vision of it was so ingrained in my head that when I saw it again, a few years ago, I stopped in my tracks and stared at it in wonder. “Which peak is that?” I asked myself that question over and over again, stopping whenever I visited my old hometown and attempting to take seat-of-the-pants measurements. There’s no good place, really, to stop and take a bearing, since all of the good vantage points are along a busy road. Nevertheless, after months of obsessing I was fairly certain that I was looking at Equinox Mountain, which belongs neither to the Adirondacks nor the Catskills, but to the Taconics, the stubby remnants of ancient giants that run through four states. I drove over to take a look at it a few times, though never when I was able to get out and actually walk up it. From up close Equinox looks even more impressive. I don’t know how the Taconic peaks do it, but they all look much larger and much more difficult than they generally are.
The mountain in the east
Fascinates and captivates
Gives my heart no peace
The mountain holds the sunrise
In the prison of the night
Till bursting forth from rocky chains
The valley floods with light
...
I do not know of dust to dust
I live from breath to breath
I live to climb that mountain to
The Fountain of Lamneth
- Neil Peart, RUSH, The Fountain of Lamneth
 |
| The View |
Finally, one clear winter’s day, I was driving along Northline Road in the Ballston area when I came across a view that made me pull over and gawk. Instead of seeing a single peak or a double peak, I saw peaks. Plural. Several of them. I snapped a few pictures for later analysis and moved on. When I posted the pictures to Flickr, a kindly gentleman named Kevin was kind enough to show me Peakfinder, which is an excellent utility that takes a location and a compass bearing and displays an approximate view of the mountains in the distance, complete with labels. Once I had that I was able to confirm that, yes, I was seeing Equinox, and Little Equinox, and their neighbors, including a smaller mountain over in Greenwich called Willard. To the south of Equinox I saw Grass Mountain and its neighbor Spruce Peak. (I had mistaken Spruce Peak for Stratton Mountain, which sits across the valley and is a Green Mountain, not a Taconic.)
Just confirming the names of the mountains that I had been fascinated with was enough for the time being, and I was a bit put off by the topo for the Equinox summit trail. It looks treacherous. I decided to put it off until the snows had gone. Come August, I found myself with a spare day, somewhat unexpectedly, and I decided to go climb Equinox. I drove over to Manchester, VT, found the correct back road(s) and parked at the Equinox Preserve and Trust parking lot.
The lot was nearly full, which was a bit surprising for the middle of the week, but it seemed like most of my fellow hikers were just enjoying the trail network down below. There are miles of trails at the foot of the mountain; from what I could see they were almost entirely old woods roads, wide and a bit eroded. It reminded me a lot of the Gunks, with their quaint old roads leading through beautiful woods.
I made my way up the red trail and then the Blue Summit Trail, past a heavily graffitied water tower, a small information booth, and numerous junctions. At the final junction in the lower section, with the Maidenhair trail, there was a sign attached to a post, warning hikers that a trip to the summit was a strenuous hike. Well, they were right, though it was nowhere near as steep as it looks on the map. The trail climbs steadily for about 2600’ over about 2.85 miles, which is on par with an Adirondack High Peaks hike. The key difference between climbing Equinox and climbing a High Peak is that there isn’t a 2-4 mile walk-in to start climbing, which is often the case for the High Peaks. The other differences were that the majority of the Equinox trail is wide and gently rising, and the only exposure I got was in a section even more eroded than the rest.
Around 12:30, an hour after setting off, I came to a bench by the side of the trail, and a junction. The left side of the junction led to a spring in 250’, and the right continued the hike. I chose to skip the spring for the time being and just focus on summitting, so I headed right. The trail immediately narrowed and steepened. At once I felt like I was transported to the Adirondacks or Catskills - the mud was much darker now, and the roots of nearby trees were visible and ready to catch a toe or two.
The trail continued up, occasionally clinging to the edge of the mountain, but generally proceeding up on a reasonable slope. Eventually I came to an especially damp and dark section, which wouldn’t have looked out of place along the Porter ridgeline. The woods were gorgeous, and they marked the point where the trail really started to level out. A few minutes later I was in the summit woods, surrounded by stunted trees and on a different trail network. Ahead of me, the summit trail continued on, and to my right a path led over to Lookout Rock. Another trail led off to the left, unmarked.
I continued toward the summit, and in a very short time I came to a bizarre metal building with a chain-link fence attached to it. The trail continued around it, as did I, and I immediately came to another junction. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I had come upon what appeared to be the remains of an old road, one that used to climb over the summit and continue on down to Beartown Gap and Dorset. This wasn’t obvious at all from where I stood, but as I headed left toward the summit, I passed an old road sign on rocks that looked far too narrow to support motor traffic. Later, when I hiked over to Lookout Rock, I found another pair of road signs, along the same track, as well as a wide corridor through the trees that looked a lot like an old road. I suppose it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise: there are roads all over this mountain, and there were roads all over the other Taconic peaks I’ve visited to date. The trail to Mt. Berlin is entirely on an old woods road, with roads coming in from all different directions at regular intervals. When I mentioned that I had hiked to the summit of Mt. Berlin, a buddy of mine told me that he had wheeled up it years ago. The Greylock massif is covered in paved roads that provide motoring tourists with summit access, as on Equinox. People really like driving over the Taconics.
 |
| The Summit of Equinox |
I found the summit not long after heading left at the junction. The summit of Equinox is viewless, or at least it was that day, due to some low clouds. Just off of the summit is a massive aerial - well over 100’ tall. What really caught my eye, though, was the visitor’s center. I had read about it, briefly, but when I first saw it, it looked more like a shrine to a Christian saint than an actual visitor’s center. There was a massive, larger than life painting, presumably of St. Bruno, facing the summit. It was illuminated in the gloaming, presumably as a call to the faithful. I hope he wasn’t too disappointed.
I circled around the mist enshrouded building, self-described as the “Saint Bruno Scenic Viewing Center”, and found that there were several people on the other side: a summit steward of sorts and 4 or 5 motoring tourists. The steward was explaining to the motorists that people also hike up to the summit from Manchester, using me as an example. I smiled at the motorists, said “Yep!” and kept moving. I don’t particularly like being made into a spectacle. As I was wandering around the outside of the building, the steward stopped me for a few minutes to discuss my choice of footwear; she was astonished that I had hiked up in my FiveFingers. I stopped myself short of saying “well, I almost hiked up barefoot, but the gravel near the base would have slowed me down way too much” and instead just explained that I had been getting nasty blisters from my boots, and the FiveFingers worked much better for me. We chatted a bit more, and I took my leave.
I headed back the way I had come, and then headed along the old road towards Lookout Rock. I passed by a few pet burial sites, and arrived at Lookout Rock a short while later. At least I assume it was Lookout Rock, since there are a few vantage points along the way and none actually bear a label. The view was nice, and the clouds had parted slightly, but it wasn’t anything spectacular. I could see the Green Mountains, and Manchester in the valley below. The view is probably better without clouds obscuring it, and I have to assume that the view from the summit viewing center is much better, since it sits at a better vantage point, and is, after all, a “viewing center”.
I would have liked to explore the old road some more, and head down towards Beartown Gap a bit, but I needed to get home, so I left it for another day. I was thrilled to at least have seen those signs at this point along the mountain, since I had seen the old road on the USGS topos, but couldn’t find anything about it online.
 |
| In case there's any doubt, THAT is the Yellow Trail. |
I took the yellow trail from Lookout Rock back to the first summit trail junction I had come to, which was a much prettier route than the old road, and then started my descent back down the Blue Summit Trail. I stopped to check out the spring, which, to my surprise, was running through a gigantic white pipe thrust into the hillside. The rocks below the pipe descended in a cascade of brilliant green moss. I didn’t dare walk over to sample it.
Now, at last I fall before(The TARDIS is only taking us back a week or so for our next stop, to another Appalachian feature.)
The Fountain of Lamneth
I thought I would be singing
But I'm tired... out of breath
Many journeys end here
But, the secret's told the same
Life is just a candle
And a dream must give it flame
The key, the end, the answer
Stripped of their disguise
Still it's all confusion
And tears spring to my eyes
Though I've reached a signpost
It's really not the end
Like Old Sol behind the mountain
I'll be coming up again...
- Neil Peart, RUSH, The Fountain of Lamneth
01 November 2013
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.
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.
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.
27 January 2013
Mts. Williams, Fitch and Greylock - 19 Jan 2013
There is a wealth of information on this hike available online. I will point out two pieces of information that I wish I had known ahead of time: 1) There is a sign marking the summit of Mt. Fitch, and the summit is indeed off of the trail. At least according to Wikipedia, there is. 2) The hike to Mount Williams, from the col where the Bernard Farm trail climbs up to the Appalachian Trail, is all of 0.2 miles. It looks much farther on the map.
Ken and I had originally planned on meeting up around 9:00 AM, but I overslept and we didn’t end up meeting up until a little after 9:45 AM. We donned our winter gear, took in the landscape around us, and headed off. Given the paucity of snow around my house I had only a faint hope of seeing any deep snow here, and despite my ever present worries of avalanches and dangerous ridges, there was nothing to worry about. (I suppose that’s the side-effect of listening to stories of mountaineering while taking care of the house.) The snow conditions at no point were dangerous, not even slightly. Despite walking along a ridge for several miles, there was literally no danger. The snow was also at no point deep enough for snowshoes. We set out in microspikes, instead (dull-edged, very short crampons, held to the boot by rubber).
We had originally talked about taking the farmer’s route up to the col between Williams and Fitch, and instead opted for the Notch Road approach. I figured it would be faster, and would also give us more time on the Appalachian Trail. I had never set foot upon it, despite having dreamed about it and read about it for decades now. We made quick time up to the point where the AT traverses the saddle between Mt. Prospect and Mt. Williams. At that point we stopped to have a snack and take a few pictures before heading up to Mt. Williams.
Perhaps the most difficult thing about navigating the AT in the winter is that the blazes look just like patches of fungus on a tree, and that they don’t particularly stand out against the white snow. Despite this, there was a clearly stamped trail, made by other hikers, and though we were keeping an eye out for blazes, the trail was true. There were several small, frozen waterfalls to climb up, and I was thankful that we had both opted to wear the microspikes. We made it up to the summit of Mt. Williams around 12:05, about 45 minutes after setting out along the AT. The view was decent, and there was a small register, which I signed. When I asked Ken how he wanted me to sign his name, he replied with a nickname that I won’t repeat here. I suppose that’s his AT name, now?
We made our way along the ridge, and I took the time to tromp around the summit plateau of Mt. Fitch, in an effort to find the true summit. It was completely flat, which is typical of Taconic peaks. (I found out after the fact, via Wikipedia, that there is, in fact, a marker denoting the summit. I’ll have to go back at some point.)
We arrived on the final push up to Mt. Greylock at 13:40, and topped out around 14:05. This was, by far, the hardest section of the trail, simply due to the terrain. The last 400’ of elevation gain (roughly) follows an old ski trail (the Thunderbolt trail), and the footing for hikers in the winter isn’t superb. It was also on this push that we left behind the solitude of the AT. We had seen one other party, the entire morning, and now we saw group after group after group. On our way down from the summit, in fact, we passed a large party hanging out by the Thunderbolt shelter, and we saw several more groups as we headed down.
The summit itself is crowned by a memorial to soldiers who have fought in the defense of Massachusetts. It’s also a bare summit, mostly flat, thanks to the erosion of the once great Acadian mountains that are now called theTaconic mountains. Despite having been eroded down from peaks that once stood as tall as the Rockies, the Taconics are still tall compared to the surrounding landscape, and are a beautiful range in and of themselves. In fact, the Taconics claim two of the state high points in the Northeast: Massachussets’ and Connecticut’s high points, Mt. Greylock, and the south shoulder of Mt. Frissell, respectively. We didn’t spend much time on Massachussets’ high point, however, since the winds were ferocious. We admired the summit for a few minutes and then sought shelter before exploring some more. Just off of the summit proper, there were enough buildings and trees to cut the wind. We took in the sights around us, had a quick bite, and headed back down. I had talked Ken in to taking the road back, since despite it being a longer trip, I knew we could follow it easily if we got caught out in the dark, which seemed like a possibility given how late it was. He reluctantly agreed, and we headed off.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. We stopped for a few minutes near the point where Notch Road and Rockwell Road meet, and chatted with a local farmer who had come up to check out the view. We then set off on our way, and made it back to the cars, as dark was falling, at 16:50. I honestly don’t know if we would have made better time by taking a different trail back, such as the Bellows Pipe, or heading back along the AT to the old farm trail.
At any rate, it was a fun day out. I hiked my first few miles along the Appalachian Trail, and hope to hike many more miles in the future. There are several other state high points along it, including two that I’d like to visit in the near future: High Point, in New Jersey, and Mt. Katahdin, the northern terminus, in Maine.
For whatever reason, the Taconics seem to be my go-to range for winter hiking. It isn’t a bad choice; during the summer I’ve heard that they can be quite crowded at times, and even during the winter I’ve never truly been alone on these trails. The woods are beautiful, and the rocks are different. The summits are often flat, almost plateaus. Mt. Williams’ was actually slightly knolled, which was something I don’t recall seeing anywhere else. The trails are also generally gentle, which has helped me ease into winter hiking. I suspect I’ll be aiming for more difficult routes in the near future, but for now, these are fine.
Strangely enough, both Ken and I experienced something akin to a runner’s high afterwards. I’ve never experienced this after a hike, but I hope I do again! I couldn’t stop smiling. In fact, I’m smiling now, as I write this, a week later.
Ken and I had originally planned on meeting up around 9:00 AM, but I overslept and we didn’t end up meeting up until a little after 9:45 AM. We donned our winter gear, took in the landscape around us, and headed off. Given the paucity of snow around my house I had only a faint hope of seeing any deep snow here, and despite my ever present worries of avalanches and dangerous ridges, there was nothing to worry about. (I suppose that’s the side-effect of listening to stories of mountaineering while taking care of the house.) The snow conditions at no point were dangerous, not even slightly. Despite walking along a ridge for several miles, there was literally no danger. The snow was also at no point deep enough for snowshoes. We set out in microspikes, instead (dull-edged, very short crampons, held to the boot by rubber).
We had originally talked about taking the farmer’s route up to the col between Williams and Fitch, and instead opted for the Notch Road approach. I figured it would be faster, and would also give us more time on the Appalachian Trail. I had never set foot upon it, despite having dreamed about it and read about it for decades now. We made quick time up to the point where the AT traverses the saddle between Mt. Prospect and Mt. Williams. At that point we stopped to have a snack and take a few pictures before heading up to Mt. Williams.
Perhaps the most difficult thing about navigating the AT in the winter is that the blazes look just like patches of fungus on a tree, and that they don’t particularly stand out against the white snow. Despite this, there was a clearly stamped trail, made by other hikers, and though we were keeping an eye out for blazes, the trail was true. There were several small, frozen waterfalls to climb up, and I was thankful that we had both opted to wear the microspikes. We made it up to the summit of Mt. Williams around 12:05, about 45 minutes after setting out along the AT. The view was decent, and there was a small register, which I signed. When I asked Ken how he wanted me to sign his name, he replied with a nickname that I won’t repeat here. I suppose that’s his AT name, now?
We made our way along the ridge, and I took the time to tromp around the summit plateau of Mt. Fitch, in an effort to find the true summit. It was completely flat, which is typical of Taconic peaks. (I found out after the fact, via Wikipedia, that there is, in fact, a marker denoting the summit. I’ll have to go back at some point.)
We arrived on the final push up to Mt. Greylock at 13:40, and topped out around 14:05. This was, by far, the hardest section of the trail, simply due to the terrain. The last 400’ of elevation gain (roughly) follows an old ski trail (the Thunderbolt trail), and the footing for hikers in the winter isn’t superb. It was also on this push that we left behind the solitude of the AT. We had seen one other party, the entire morning, and now we saw group after group after group. On our way down from the summit, in fact, we passed a large party hanging out by the Thunderbolt shelter, and we saw several more groups as we headed down.
The summit itself is crowned by a memorial to soldiers who have fought in the defense of Massachusetts. It’s also a bare summit, mostly flat, thanks to the erosion of the once great Acadian mountains that are now called theTaconic mountains. Despite having been eroded down from peaks that once stood as tall as the Rockies, the Taconics are still tall compared to the surrounding landscape, and are a beautiful range in and of themselves. In fact, the Taconics claim two of the state high points in the Northeast: Massachussets’ and Connecticut’s high points, Mt. Greylock, and the south shoulder of Mt. Frissell, respectively. We didn’t spend much time on Massachussets’ high point, however, since the winds were ferocious. We admired the summit for a few minutes and then sought shelter before exploring some more. Just off of the summit proper, there were enough buildings and trees to cut the wind. We took in the sights around us, had a quick bite, and headed back down. I had talked Ken in to taking the road back, since despite it being a longer trip, I knew we could follow it easily if we got caught out in the dark, which seemed like a possibility given how late it was. He reluctantly agreed, and we headed off.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. We stopped for a few minutes near the point where Notch Road and Rockwell Road meet, and chatted with a local farmer who had come up to check out the view. We then set off on our way, and made it back to the cars, as dark was falling, at 16:50. I honestly don’t know if we would have made better time by taking a different trail back, such as the Bellows Pipe, or heading back along the AT to the old farm trail.
At any rate, it was a fun day out. I hiked my first few miles along the Appalachian Trail, and hope to hike many more miles in the future. There are several other state high points along it, including two that I’d like to visit in the near future: High Point, in New Jersey, and Mt. Katahdin, the northern terminus, in Maine.
For whatever reason, the Taconics seem to be my go-to range for winter hiking. It isn’t a bad choice; during the summer I’ve heard that they can be quite crowded at times, and even during the winter I’ve never truly been alone on these trails. The woods are beautiful, and the rocks are different. The summits are often flat, almost plateaus. Mt. Williams’ was actually slightly knolled, which was something I don’t recall seeing anywhere else. The trails are also generally gentle, which has helped me ease into winter hiking. I suspect I’ll be aiming for more difficult routes in the near future, but for now, these are fine.
Strangely enough, both Ken and I experienced something akin to a runner’s high afterwards. I’ve never experienced this after a hike, but I hope I do again! I couldn’t stop smiling. In fact, I’m smiling now, as I write this, a week later.
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