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