Zim Smith Trail - 3 Nov 2013

I'll forever have mixed feelings about this trail.  It was built on an old railroad bed, one of two abandoned railroads that defined my childhood exploration.  What was once a muddy, rutted highway to fun is now a paved trail to various destinations.  In a way, it feels like the trail has been paved over a piece of my childhood.  On the other hand, thanks to their efforts, the trail is now a National Recreation Trail, and should therefore have some permanence.

The other railroad bed, an abandoned trolley line, is now closed off.  It's a shame, really, since it was by far the more picturesque of the two.  I've heard that a piece of it has been reopened, and connected to the Zim Smith Trail, near where it crosses under the Northway.  I hope to check it out soon.  I have fond memories of wandering down that path with my brother: near the end, it gains a little bit of elevation, and provides wonderful views of the valley below.  Ok, so the valley was usually a swamp, and the horseflies and deer flies are atrocious out there, but it was fun, nevertheless.  There was also a small bit of water near the head of the track, where we could usually find crayfish, and another tiny pond at the other end, which, now that I think about it, was probably either a kettle hole or the remains of a septic system.  Nostalgia is funny like that.

I mention all of this in an effort to extend sympathy and understanding to the residents of Oak Street in Ballston Spa.  The newest section of the Zim Smith Trail terminates at the end of their (presumably) once quiet dead-end street.  The news articles mentioning the opening of the trail mention the increased traffic associated with the trail, which is understandable, though it should settle down to a steady state once the novelty factor is gone.  Shenantaha Creek Park and Round Lake Road both provide better parking areas and easier access, and should remain the more popular trail heads.

On the positive side, there is now a relatively car free trail running between Ballston Spa and Round Lake.  The trail is well engineered, makes use of an existing corridor, and provides excellent recreation and exercise opportunities.  The trail goes all the way from Oak Street in Ballston Spa to Coons Crossing Road in Halfmoon, a tiny stretch of road that runs between NY 67 and Ushers Road.  There are plans to extend the trail further, east into Mechanicville and north to Saratoga Spa State Park, which would be fantastic.  The county literature even describes the trail as being the backbone or spine of a trail system that will eventually run the length of the county.  There's some evidence of this already: the piece of trail I described, linking the railroad line to the trolley line, is intended to link the user up with trails over in Luther Forest.  That's another network I intend on checking out soon.  I just hope that some of this network gets left as dirt or grass instead of pavement.

At any rate, the Zim Smith Trail, as it stands at the end of 2013, is 9 miles of trail, running past a park (Shenantaha Creek Park) and a state forest (Ushers Road).  There's even a Stewart's along it, where it crosses East Line Road.  Access to Ushers Road State Forest is via a connector trail, and if you add in the ~2mi lollipop route through Ushers Road State Forest, you can get a 20 mile out and back run.

I'm not even close to the point where I'm doing a 20 mile long run, though.  My long run last weekend was 2.5 miles.  I set out from the Oak Street end, and intended on doing a 5 minute walking warm up, 1.25 out, 1.25 back, and then cool down with the walk back to my car.  It never works out the way I intend, though.  After half a mile, I spotted a carved mushroom over to the left, and knew that I had to stop to check it out.  I had seen several other carvings over on the Louden Road Trail and the Edie-Bullard Trail, and I remain intrigued by them.  So, I decided to run for another mile, and then turn around.  I ran past wetlands, past fields, over access roads, over a creek, and under a big road (NY 67) before finally turning around in the middle of an open field not far from Curtis Lumber and heading back.

To build fitness I decided to kick up my pace some on the final stretch, and I ran the last half mile at around a 9:32 (compared with 11:03 the first mile and 11:41 the second).  Of course, along the way I passed a painted rock that I desperately wanted to stop and take a picture of, but decided not to in the name of keeping my pace up.  It was, after all, why I was out there.  I finished up my 2.5 miles at the mushroom, took a few pictures, and started walking back.  I almost walked back to get a picture of the painted rock, but decided against it.  I'll get one next time.  There was a painting of a bear, in a style reminiscent of Native American artwork, along with other symbols.

Magic Mushroom

The rest of the walk back was uneventful.  The entire time that I was out there I saw 3 other people, two walkers and one other runner.  This is in sharp contrast to the older sections of the trail, especially between Shenantaha and Round Lake, where you're likely to see a dozen or two people during any outing.

One final note: the main deer hunting season in the Southern Region of New York starts next weekend, November 16th, 2013, and runs until December 8th.  Please remember to wear orange, even on paved and open trails like the Zim Smith.  Please also remember that hunters can and do use the trail for access to private and public hunting areas along its length, and that they deserve the same courtesy and respect that any other trail user deserves.  In general, it is best to avoid State and County Forests during the main deer hunting season, for both safety reasons as well as respect for the hunter's sport.  It is also best not to be out in the woods during the early morning and early evening hours, since that is when most hunting takes place.


If you're looking for a place to explore in the Saratoga area during hunting season, I suggest Saratoga Spa State Park.  It's closed to hunters but has many miles of paved and unpaved trails waiting to be explored.  Also, any popular trail heading directly up a mountain is generally unappealing to hunters.

Be safe, have fun, and be excellent to each other!

Links:

• Zim Smith Trail entry in the National Recreation Trail Database
• Saratogian article about the newest leg of the Zim Smith Trail
• NYS DEC Hunting Seasons

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.

Reflections on Footwear, Part 2: Insufficient Data, Experimentation

After reviewing my previous post, it occurred to me that I really don't have enough data on barefoot hiking to draw any conclusions on its effects on erosion.  While I would consider myself to be a somewhat experienced hiker, I haven't logged enough miles without shoes to really comment on it.  I've logged 70 miles on trail and 45 off trail with minimalist shoes since September of last year, but I've only logged 8 miles on trail and 5 off trail while barefoot, since May of this year.  By comparison, I logged about 90 on trail / 105 off trail miles in traditional boots, shoes, and sneakers last year, and 30 on / 60 off this year, before I gave them up.  So, basically, what I'm saying is that I don't know anything about barefoot hiking.  I'm working on that, though.

Three weeks ago I decided to see if it was possible to just give up footwear entirely.  All of my shoes were hurting me, in one way or another, and I was getting frustrated.  It has been an extremely interesting transition.  When I first started walking around barefoot outside, the thing that worried me and hurt the most was hot asphalt: the black material collects the heat of the sun and can get quite hot.  After dealing with it day-after-day for a short while, asphalt generally just feels warm now, although occasionally it's still hotter than I can handle.  (Interestingly enough, it retains the heat of the sun long into the night, so that even on a cool night, the asphalt can still be warm.  Excellent.)

It hasn't been an entirely positive experience, however.  Carpet, of all things, has been giving me problems.  My skin doesn't tolerate polyester very well, and it seems that most of the carpeting that I walk upon contains polyester fibers.  My skin tends to get irritated when I'm in contact with it for any length of time, and after a while it starts to get physically damaged.  Last winter I tried out SmartWool's touchscreen-compatible gloves, which have a polyester-and-unspecified-metal material on the tip of the thumb and first finger of each glove.  Despite it only being a small amount of fabric, and despite the fact that they were only my hands for a short while each day, I still developed cracked and irritated skin in the area where the polyester was.  So I suppose it shouldn't be too much of a surprise that polyester carpet would irritate my skin, and the edge of my heel would get cracked from being in contact with it so much.

Before going barefoot, I had noticed a few times that my feet would get irritated on the carpet at home.  Now I find myself looking for any opportunity to get my feet up off of the carpet.  There (apparently) is polyester carpet all over the place: on the floor at work, on the floor at home, and even in the floor of my car.  I think that in the past I was subconsciously avoiding being barefoot on the carpets around the house.  I would prefer to stand on the linoleum-covered areas, or the one nylon carpeted room that we have (the only carpet that we've had to replace so far), or I would have socks on.  This is just conjecture, of course, but it seems to be true when I think about it.

So where does that leave me? I'm not entirely sure. I really enjoy walking around barefoot. It's amazing how much sensory information we ignore while in shoes: the ground offers a variety of textures, temperatures and resistance, and very little of it gets through our shoes, even minimal ones. I feel a psychological benefit, as well, in that I feel very happy while walking barefoot. It's hard to say if that's a short-lived, novelty-of-the-moment happiness, or something more.  That happiness is diminished, regardless, by the irritation of polyester underfoot.

I'll figure out some compromise soon, I'm sure, or my soles will adapt like they did to asphalt.  It remains to be seen.

Until next time, "be excellent to each other."

Reflections on Minimalist and Imaginary Footwear, Part 1: Erosion

... so think positively and do not let the shod see you wincing.

- Richard Keith Frazine, B.D., The Barefoot Hiker

I have logged over 110 miles in minimalist footwear since last Fall, split up between running and walking, over a variety of terrain.  I have also logged 6 whole miles without any footwear whatsoever over the last month.  My imaginary footwear, if you will.  What follows are my observations and reflections on this experience.  This will be broken up into several posts, with each post focusing on a theme.  Today's theme is erosion.

This past weekend I had the pleasure to go off and hike one of the Adirondack 46rs.  While the majority of the peaks are still under a voluntary closure, due to the trails being sodden, a few are on the "OK" list, including Big Slide, which I hiked up with four companions: two humans and two canines.  I did this trip in a pair of Vibram FiveFingers, specifically a pair of Bikila LSs, and this was my second time hiking up a mountain in this pair of shoes.  Their intended purpose is for running, but I have found them adequately suited for hiking.

There was a bit of mental tennis about going out and doing it barefoot, but Mr. Frazine convinced me, through the book quoted at the top of this piece, that this would be a very bad idea for a first barefoot hike.  I did get out yesterday to do a shorter hike in my bare feet, over relatively flat terrain.  Yesterday's hike was over well-drained, sandy ground, so some of what follows is necessarily hypothetical and not empirical.  I have never walked through six or more inches of blackened standing water in my bare feet, and I have no intention of ever doing so.

I would like to address one of the stated reasons for wearing minimalist footwear on the trail, which is to reduce damage.  The idea is that you are stepping with less force, in footwear that weighs less than a traditional boot, and therefore you are damaging the trail less.  This was mentioned in The Barefoot Hiker in Chapter 4, although he also talks about damage to grasses or other plants, which does not come in to this piece.  I am talking strictly about well-established hiking trails here.

I understand the concept, that wearing less on your foot would reduce erosion, but until a controlled study has been done, we're only left with empirical evidence.  The only thing that comes close to a study of this that I am aware of, is the Leave No Trace pratice of always walking through muddy areas, which has been shown to strengthen trails and reduce damage.

Here are my thoughts and observations:

1. Over dry ground, I do not see a difference between the various forms of footwear, or lack thereof.
2. When the ground is damp, I do see a difference.  Minimalist footwear or bare feet will often leave only a slight impession, whereas a boot will often leave a deeper impression.  So, over slightly wet terrain, I agree with the hypothesis.
3. When there is standing mud, this becomes less true.  The minimalist or barefoot hiker must will themselves to step into the mud of unknown depth.  This does get easier over time, but I found it to be a constant effort.  In boots, an inch of mud is no problem, whatsoever.  It doesn't even touch the upper.  A few inches of mud is generally not a problem, either, and it only ever really becomes a problem when the boot is submerged past the lowest point of entry (usually the top of the boot, but occasionally the tongue, in a poorly constructed boot).  In minimalist footwear, an inch of mud will soak your foot.   When barefoot, you run the risk of stepping on something hidden in the mud, and so must take great caution.  The natural tendency in minimalist or imaginary footwear is therefore to avoid the mud, and to walk on (and therefore erode) the edge of the trail.  This tendency can be overcome, but it takes willpower.
4. When this mud gives way to deep pools of standing water, I feel that the barefoot hiker is at a loss.  Unlike a stream which can generally be peered into, the mud puddle is impossible to penetrate with the eyes, and the water itself must be avoided, regardless of the footwear.  This is especially true for the barefoot hiker, for whom the pool provides almost certain danger, in the form of unseen sharp objects and a large supply of microorganisms feeding off of the decaying material.  This is further complicated by the fact that the dead wood and slimy rocks that we walk along to traverse these deep pools are, well, slimy.  It's easy to fall off of them.  I would not want to risk this while barefoot.  I would go around.  At least in the minimalist footwear, I can accept a slightly higher risk factor, and balance along the logs and rocks placed haphazardly in the mud.  I still do not want to fall in, since I could still suffer a puncture wound.  In boots it becomes much less of an issue.  The worst that will happen is that your foot might get wet if you fall in.
5. Finally, continuing the empirical evidence, in my experience over the weekend, I found that I displaced as much mud in the deeply muddy sections as my boot-shod companions.  Every time I watched them walk through a muddy section that was several inches deep, and then watched myself walk through it, the mud displacement was very similar.  Granted, I weigh slightly more than they do, so it would be good to repeat the observations with someone who weighs the same as I do; preferably someone who weighs the same when gear and clothing is taken into consideration.

So, in conclusion, on this first point, I do not see minimalist footwear or bare feet causing any less erosion on the most sensitive terrain I have encountered: muddy trails.  The weight of the user is far more important than the style of footwear.   I would love to see this disproven or confirmed through repeatable tests, but in the meantime, all I can do is observe.  I would also advise hikers and runners to look for and respect voluntary trail closures, to help keep the trails in the best shape possible.

P.S. On a personal note, I will say that I enjoyed walking through the mud and streams.  I alternated between rock hopping and simply walking straight through the muddy sections, and found that I preferred just walking through them.  Yes, my feet were sodden by the end of the hike, but I had already anticipated this, and had a towel and a clean pair of sandals waiting for me in the car.  The rock hopping was actually more painful in the Bikilas than it is in boots, presumably because of the extra impact on the ball of my foot.  The streams felt refreshing, and it was interesting to see how much of the mud would be scrubbed off by the action of the water alone on each iteration.  While I expected them to be wiped clean every time, a decent amount of mud remained after a few seconds in the running water.

Well, that's it.  Until next time, "be excellent to each other..."

Spruce Mountain - 25 May 2013

I have had a bad, bad case of wanderlust for the past few weeks, and this weekend I finally got to satisfy a small chunk of that.  For the most part, I have spent this year on level ground, working on cardio fitness and overall training.  It has been fantastic, and while I feel great and have had some wonderful experiences, it’s time to get some elevation.

I also needed to test out my gear, since I am pushing myself to transition fully into minimalist footwear.  Since, I knew that none of the shoes I have are waterproof, I wanted to know how bad it would really be.  Saturday looked like the best bet, and when the opportunity presented itself that afternoon, I geared up quickly and headed out.  The day was cold and rainy, so I stopped at the Stewart's in Greenfield Center to get some coffee.  I was at the trailhead by 15:15, and headed up the trail by 15:20.

The trail itself is comprised primarily of multiple logging roads with a few single track segments thrown in to keep you guessing.  There are very few markers, and some of the markers that do exist lie boldly to your face.  “The trail goes this way!,” they whisper, knowing full well that no one believes them.  Only an idiot would choose to blunder out the door without at least reading the trail description one more time, so as to be forewarned about these myriad follies.

I am that idiot.

And I stumbled through myriad follies.

I managed to guess correctly at the first junction, based on a trail marker that consisted of the remnants of a piece of paper stapled to a tree.  I wish I was joking.  When I arrived at the point where trail cuts back on to private land, I wasn’t convinced that I was supposed to proceed across the private land, and instead followed what appeared to be a trail that went off on the public side of the property line.  That turned out to only be a herd path, going nowhere, fast.

Backtracking, I started to head back down the trail, looking for an unmarked junction that I must have missed.  Eventually I gave up and consulted my phone; I confirmed that the trail did, in fact, still proceed over private land.  Eventually the trail dwindled down to a grassy old woods road with a single track running through it.  To keep up the excitement, it disappeared briefly right near a junction.  To the left, I could see a woods road that was still in use, based on its condition.  To the right, I could see the grassy remains of a wood road, with a broken single track pretending to wander down it as it had down the previous lane.  After a minute or two of Pooh-ish pondering, I headed up the right-hand track, which turned out to be the correct route.  Eventually I saw a few cairns marking the path, and knew I was on the correct course at last.

The excitement was short-lived.

After the grassy section, the trail heads into the woods again, following a stream up the mountain.  I stopped and took several pictures of the first honest marker I had seen that day: a white Saratoga PLAN marker.  As the trail proceeded upwards, the stream got wider and wider, until there was no distinction between the two.  This was good for my LNT training, since it gave me ample opportunity to walk through the wet sections.

Not far up the trail, I came to a proper pond, the size of any respectable kiddy pool.  To the left, just a short way up, I could see a Saratoga PLAN marker.  I waded up, only to find that I was quite literally walking up a stream.  There was no sign of a trail at all, except for the markers on the trees that told me I was heading in the right direction.

They lied.

This was the abandoned side trail that the ADK Guide Book authors had warned me about.  Once again my decision to not give the guide book a proper read came back to haunt me.  I blundered onward, and came out to an old woods road, which I would have been able to follow had I gone straight at the kiddy pool instead of angling to the left.

C’est la vie.

The rest of the trek was uneventful, aside from losing the trail several times over the next quarter mile.  Eventually I came to realize that the trail just kept splitting and rejoining itself, and that it didn’t really matter.

By 4:30 I was standing on the summit.  I took a few pictures, had a snack, and then headed over to check out the fire tower.  Right next to the fire tower was an interesting looking pool.  It wasn’t immediately obvious what was feeding it, but it seemed to fall away at the far end.

As for the descent, well, the service road that went back down to where I had parked loomed right behind the fire tower.  The wind had picked up, and it was still raining, so I opted for the easier route down.  Down I went.

The road leads past several buildings and numerous side roads. Perhaps the most interesting feature of the road and the surrounding land was how open it was, often with grassy fields on the side.  At one point, I came to a junction with a map and several signs sitting on one side of the field.  Walking over, my first thought was that it was some kind of promotional sign, but it turned out to be a map for snowmobilers.  The map showed where the user was, and the trail network in general. There was also a junction sign on the other side of the clearing, similar to what you would find on a hiking trail.  To top it all off, there were route markers (corridor 8) and real, reflective trail markers leading off into the woods.

Near the bottom I passed one soul enjoying his or her (or their) cabin.  I realized that that was the first sign of another person that I had seen on this hike.  A few minutes later, I was back at my car.  I cranked up the heat, downed the rest of my coffee, and headed on my way.

This trail crossed private land, so I’d just like to say “thank you” to everyone who opened up their land for us hikers to enjoy.  Thanks!

P.S.  I realized while I was posting this that I forgot to describe how the shoes did on the hike.  I intend on writing a full post on this in the future, but for now, here's what I wrote on the Flickr picture, which I think sums it up:

So, this was my first hike up a mountain wearing VFFs.  They did very well, in terms of traction, but this particular model (Bikila LS) has no water resistance at all.  They breathe really well, which works on warm days, but doesn't work so well on wet ones.  Especially not trails that have been turned into streams by the May rains.

So, I'm looking in to my options.  There are a few water-resistant models (no GoreTex, though). There's always wax/oil, as well.

Despite the permeability issues, I had no blisters after the hike, which is the main reason why I transitioned into them: to reduce blisters caused by my feet getting crushed inside traditional boots.

One other positive aspect is how well they flex; on several occasions I felt more of my foot go against a slanted or rounded surface than would have made contact if I was wearing a traditional boot.  This extra traction was a plus, and I can't wait to see how they perform on more difficult hikes.

Thanks for reading!  Until next time: "be excellent to each other!"

Slide Mt - 30 Mar 2013

Ken and I set out from his house around 9:00, and made our way down and around to the trailhead on the west side of Slide Mountain.  We made it to the trailhead by 10:25, and by 10:40 we were on our way.  We opted to hike using micro-spikes instead of snowshoes; the trail was hard packed, and we figured that we would switch whenever we hit softer snow.  The first stretch of trail stays mostly level for a little while, and then it starts to climb up, at a steeper grade, to meet an old woods road.  We were on the road by 11:00, and 10 minutes later we were at the next junction, which would take us up to the summit.

The trail was still incredibly hard packed, so we continued on in our spikes.  It was mostly flat along the woods road, and then beyond, but it wouldn’t last forever.  After a few stream crossings the trail started to climb again.  Through this stretch we met a few people, including the requisite man-twice-our-age-and-in-better-shape.  We were also passed by a guy and his dog who was trail running; it wasn’t obvious until he passed us on the way down, though.  On the way up, at least where we saw him, he was hiking fast.

Around this time the trees started to shift from mostly deciduous to mostly evergreen.  To our right, we could see a valley, and on the other side of the valley was another of Slide Mountain’s shoulders.  As we ascended, the grade started to ease off slightly, and we found ourselves at a hard left turn in the trail.  A short distance later, and a hard right turn, and we were on the ridge that we would follow to the summit. It was wide, relatively flat, and offered decent-to-excellent views at select spots along the way, always on the left (north).

At one point, we stopped and took a measure of the snow depth with Ken’s walking stick.  It was somewhere between 2’ and 3’ (I know, very accurate).  I couldn’t believe it.  The snow on the packed trail didn’t move underfoot when we walked on it, and when I jammed my trekking pole into the snow beside the trail, it barely went in a foot.  Yet, the snow itself was actually well over two feet deep.

That snow depth explained how tight the foliage around the trail was, though.  At times we had to duck quite low under the partial blowdown that was ubiquitous up here.  I could imagine how fierce the wind must be up here at times, since it’s the highest point around by several hundred feet.  There was a section of heavy blowdown at one point, off to the right, possibly the remains of the eponymous slide.

We got to the summit itself at 12:40.  The only way that you can tell is that the trail ahead starts to go down instead of going up or staying on the level.  There was no view at the summit, but a short distance down the trail there’s an open area where a couple of other groups were stopping to lunch.  We could see Wittenberg and Cornell, and a bit of the Ashokan Reservoir, and the landscape beyond, but trees blocked the majority of the view.

The best view, by far, was actually seen five minutes before we got to the summit.  We were standing near the top of the col between two of Slide’s shoulders; the one that goes roughly north toward Panther and Giant Ledge was on our left, visible but unobtrusive.  The whole of the Catskills were laid out before us.  Panther was visible, over the shoulder, and peak after peak after peak stretched out before us.  I could even make out a bit of the Blackhead range, way off in the distance.  What struck me the most was how level the tops of the peaks looked.  For the first time, the geological history of the Catskills really settled in to my mind.  I could see the plateau that had once been here, before it eroded away to form these mountains.  In many ways, the plateau still exists, in the peaks of these summits.





Lunch was relatively uneventful, aside from my ever continuing experiments on hiking food.  I decided to bring a can of tuna, and eat it on some rice crackers.  I had gotten the idea from my friend Justin, who often brings a can of sardines with him for lunch.  The tuna worked out well enough, but it didn’t sit as well in my stomach as I would have liked.  The granola that I had made the night before did, however, and that will be accompanying me on future hikes.

At around 13:20 we started heading back down, and an hour later, we were back at the trailhead.  The descent was uneventful, aside from slipping a few times.  Oh, and the couple headed up whose gear consisted of a cloth shopping bag.  At least they’ve got the “going lightly” bit mastered.

On our way back, we took a slightly different route, and ended up going right past Hunter mountain, the second highest Catskill peak.  The snow in the valley had completely melted, but there was still plenty of snow on the mountain itself, and it was a warm day.  We saw a few skiers getting in their last runs of the season, taking advantage of the nice weather.  In a way, it paralleled our own hike.  This would be our last snow-enhanced trip until next winter, and we were completely taking advantage of the mixture of warmer weather and snowy terrain.  All-in-all, I had fun.