Finding Winter on Nippletop

The topic of conversation between everyone in the north country this year is the bare grass on everyone's lawn and the icy trails in the backcountry. Everyone keeps waiting for a big snowstorm to finally hit, to give the skiers and snowshoers just a few days of fresh powder, but it's starting to look like that may never happen. Three inches of snow was forecasted to fall three days ago, but temperatures stayed above freezing and brought rain instead to most of the north country. But surely it must be cold enough for it to snow somewhere, right? In the past few weeks I've been climbing peaks, expecting that at the very least the high peaks must have a snowpack by now. Last week I ascended Phelps in search if winter but found only numerous sections of steep ice, and green trees on top. Tabletop was much the same, with some snowpack on the ground but not on the trees. What makes winter hiking so beautiful though isn't the snow on the ground, it's the snow and ice on the trees that make the landscape so spectacular. A wintry landscape has been tough to find this winter, but yesterday I found that if you climb high enough, you can still find it.

Our group of 6 ascending Elk Pass

Yesterday I embarked on my first ever group hike, with a wonderful group of 6 people from the Adirondack High Peaks Forum, an informal group of people on-line who share information such as trail conditions and advice on outdoor gear. I've always been leery of group hikes, since I prefer to hike in solitude and spend a long time at the top of the peaks just taking it all in, whereas groups usually keep moving. But group hiking has its advantages, such as safety in numbers, motivation, and conversation to keep your mind off how many miles are left. In the winter the safety advantage is the best selling point for me, as I don't feel safe hiking alone in winter and in steep icy spots extra hands are a great help. I'm sure that some groups are better companions than others, but I have to say that I couldn't have asked for better companions in yesterday's hike up Nippletop and Dial. The group had such a great sense of comraderie, everyone helping each other across tricky spots,  keeping one another's gear in working order, and making sure everyone was in good spirits. And the pace was enjoyable, with enough breaks to keep the pain in check but few enough to make it back to the car in daylight. I've been converted, and hope to go on more group hikes (at least in winter) in the future.

Our hike was a 13.1 mile trip from the Ausable Club parking lot up Elk Pass (known as one of the steepest trails in the Adirondacks) up to the summit of Nippletop, down to the summit of Dial, then up and down a smaller peak known as Bear Den and lastly up and over the shoulder of Noonmark to loop back to the 

parking area. It can also be

View from top of Elk Pass

The summit of Nippletop looming ahead

 travelled in the opposite direction, but I'm really glad we chose to go the way we did, since the incredible experience on Nippletop made the entire hike worthwhile and gave me the motivation needed for the rest of the hike. At the parking area, where there was barely a dusting of snow on the ground, we all decided to leave our snowshoes behind because recent trail conditions haven't warranted using them. Everyone started the hike in microspikes, and about half of us wore crampons from Elk Pass to the end of the loop. While the microspike wearers were able to get by with the help of the people in crampons, I was happy that I paid $15 to rent crampons from EMS the day before, as it was definitely the best footwear for the icy conditions. Once we reached about 2000 feet in elevation there was a fresh layer of 3-5" of snow, which was a welcome comfort to the bottoms of our feet and made traction a little easier. When we started the steep climb up Elk Pass, it finally started to look like winter. At about 4000 feet the balsam and spruce trees began to be blanketed in snow, and in some places there were snow drifts up to a foot deep on the trail (turns out we could have used snowshoes after all). At .2 miles below the summit of Nippletop the trail diverges to Dial, and it was from this junction that the best part of the hike began. It was late morning and the sun was peeking through the clouds, making the snow sparkle on the trees. Here, at about 4400 feet, was our first sight of trees that had been encased in ice for weeks, with icicles hanging from their boughs and a fresh blanket of snow covering all the needles. This part of the hike was like walking through a crystal fortress, and I couldn't stop taking photos. Ahead of us we could see the pointed summit of Nippletop, poking out of the sky, with the snow-flanked slides of Dix right next to it. The view from the summit was incredible, looking out over the Great Range to the snow-capped slides of Gothics, the pure white summit of Marcy, and the trails of Whiteface, as well as countless other peaks. The sun was shining and the wind was calm, it was the perfect moment, and definitely the high point (in more ways than one, as we were at 4600 feet) of the day.

Panoramic view from Nippletop's summit

Having reached our highest destination the hike was far from over, as there was still 6.5 miles of up and down hiking left. We descended to the col between Nippletop and Dial, with great views of Dial ahead of us. The summit of Dial is just a single large boulder that affords a nice view of the great range, which had begun to be obscured by clouds by this time of day. After a few photos we continued our descent, which involved climbing over two more smaller peaks, neither of which were easy with our tired feet. We anticlimactically climbed over the hump of Bear Den Mtn, which had a sign at the summit but no view. The hardest part of the hike was climbing up over the shoulder of Noonmark, which itself is just shy of high peak status and has very steep sides. Climbing up over the bare rock shoulder, recently cleared by a forest fire, took every bit of energy I could muster, but at least from there it was finally all down hill, though the last 3 mile descent was frustratingly icy and slow going. After 9 1/2 hours of hiking we made it back to our cars, a long exhausting day, but well worth the effort.

View from Dial's summit with clouds rolling in

People who know me and know my dislike for winter are baffled by the fact that I've been climbing so many mountains this winter. It's true that as much as I love the outdoors I usually hibernate through the winter, happier to be in a warm house than out in the bitter cold. But since my first wintry climb back in November in the White Mountains, where I saw snow-capped twisted balsam trees for the first time, I have a whole new outlook on winter. I have a hard time putting the experience of walking in the alpine zone when everything is covered in snow and ice into words, and the only words that come to mind are ethereal and spiritual, like you've entered another world. I never thought that I, of all people, would work so hard to seek out winter at 4600 feet, but sometimes life surprises you.

The unwelcome view of Noonmark's shoulder, our final climb

The slides of Dix

Trail below the summit with Whiteface in the
background

Cascade in Winter

Nearby Porter Mtn with Algonquin in
 the background

Last week I set out to climb Cascade Mountain, the easiest and most accessible of the 46 Adirondack high peaks. With a trailhead that is located right on a state highway and starts halfway up the mountain, Cascade is arguably climbed by more people than any other high peak in the Adirondacks. The climb up Cascade can instill a false sense of confidence to aspiring 46ers, since it is only 2.7 miles to the top and lacking any really steep pitches. It is quite the contrast to the the other high peaks, most of which require at least 10 miles of hiking round trip, and many of which require some hand-over-foot climbing to reach the summit. Of course, ease of difficulty is all relative to the person's climbing experience. I have to admit that the first time I climbed Cascade, shortly after moving to the Adirondacks 11 years ago, I would not have described the hike as "easy", and certainly found it a challenge to make it to the top. I suspect that many of the Lake Placid tourists who attempt Cascade as a leisurely family hike would say the same. But for those of us who've hiked so many other peaks, Cascade really is just a leisurely walk compared to the other peaks, which makes it the perfect peak to climb in wintry conditions.

Ice rime on the trees near the summit

I have to admit that I have never been a fan of winter hiking, and usually can count on one hand the number of mountains I climb in a winter. On cold snowy days sitting by my fireplace with a good book just sounds so much more comforting than navigating snow and ice to reach a peak where its unlikely that the snow showers will break long enough for me to have a view. Not to mention that I have very little tolerance for cold, and after a winter hike I'll be chilled to the bone for days. I've never been able to see the draw to winter hiking, since a landscape covered in snow just isn't as exciting as a summer landscape full of life. It took a friend of mine dragging me up one of the White Mountains in November for me to realize the draw of winter hiking to reach snow-capped summits. Reaching above treeline and looking down at a stand of stunted balsams so covered in ice rime that they look like a crystal fortress is really a surreal experience, and creates a much more interesting view than a landscape covered in green. In the summer every minute of my hike is exciting because I'm always taking note of a bird singing, a wildflower in bloom, or a mushroom at the base of a tree. Winter isn't as full of life, but the snow still tells a story that I can read as I pass through. Tracks in the snow tell me that there is life--like grouse, marten, squirrels, and hares--but that I just don't see it because my footsteps crunching the snow loudly warns them of my presence.

The final rock scramble to the top, bare in late January

Another advantage to winter hiking is that it is much easier to find solitude in the mountains, especially on a weekday. Even in winter the trailhead to Cascade fills with cars on the weekend, but mid-week there may only be a few cars if any. I chose a fairly warm, clear day for my hike, and so I was not entirely alone but passed only a couple of others on my way. In winter I actually prefer the company of others for safety, since the likelihood of falling is much higher in winter, and especially in this winter. This has been a very poor winter for snowy activities, with each snowstorm being followed by a warm front that reduces the snowpack to ice almost immediately. The entire trail to Cascade was a sheet of ice, and I feared that the final scramble to the top over bare rock would be too icy for the gripping ability of my microspikes. On the way up I passed a hiker with a pair of snowshoes and a set of crampons in her pack, but she informed me that she never used anything other than microspikes to reach the top. I wondered how that could be, but when I came to the final rock scramble I saw the reason why--rather than being covered in ice the rock above treeline wasn't covered at all, it was mostly bare. This was quite a shocking discovery for the middle of winter in the Adirondacks, and made my final ascent fairly simple. I met another hiker near the top and he was simply hiking in bare boots, no traction devices necessary (he was also only 2 peaks shy of becoming a winter 46er). I was exhilarated to reach the top, as it seems I have only about a 50/50 success rate with winter hikes, often choosing to turn back if I reach a steep pitch. Just last week I didn't even make it to the top of little Owl's Head because of one steep section near the top, a result of too much ice and not enough snow. I suppose that the purchase of some crampons and an ice axe would expand my winter hiking capabilities, but with winter more than half over I think I'll save that investment for next year. Usually my snowshoes would be sufficient for the peaks I wish to climb, but with the lack of snow all I've been able to do so far this year is carry them around in my pack in the hopes that I find enough snow to wear them.

View from Cascade, Left to right is the Great Range, Marcy, Algonquin and Wright.

If you've never ascended a peak in winter, I highly recommend Cascade for an incredible view of the high peaks and Lake Placid below. The 360 degree view is amazing any time of year, but in winter I think it's really special. Such a hike does require purchasing microspikes or snowshoes, but it is well worth the investment and opens up the possibilities for many other hikes. Winter hiking is certainly more challenging than other seasons, but the key is just to go slowly and think about every step. You'll get there eventually and it will be well worth the extra effort.

270 degree view from Cascade with the village of Lake Placid on the right