An unexpected hike up Saddleback Mountain

Johns Brook

It's been a rough summer for people like me in the Adirondacks, who would normally be hiking at every chance, as the rain has put a halt on a lot of summer activities. I work early mornings, so I usually get out off work just in time for the afternoon thunderstorms to roll in. So when we finally had a day without rain, and then another, and the short-term forecast showed dry weather and low humidity for the next few days I had to jump at the chance to hike. A coworker of mine was planning to hike into Johns Brook to hike the Great Range, and invited me and another coworker along. Neither of us are in shape to hike the entire Great Range in one day, and peak-bagging isn't quite my style, but we decided it would be fun to hike in and camp together and then hike a peak or two on our own the next day. So on Thursday evening we set out for the interior outpost at Johns Brook, with the intention of getting up early to hike the Wolfjaws the next day.

Orebed Brook

Very long staircase up the slide

We woke up at 6am as planned, but the rest of the day did not follow the plan at all. At 6:30am we set out from the interior outpost and crossed Johns Brook on an impressive and fun suspension bridge to reach the Range Trail. The Range Trail begins a slow but steady ascent from Johns Brook and stays at this pace for the next 1-2 miles, passing scenic brooks and waterfalls along the way. After about an hour we came to a lean-to, which I assumed was the Wolfjaw lean-to, and figured we had another .9 miles to the trail junction between Upper and Lower Wolfjaw. Well, shortly after that the trail began to climb more steadily and after hiking a bit we came out to an open slide with impressive piles of debris from hurricane Irene. Around this time we heard our first Bicknell's Thrush of the day, as well as the high pitched call of Blackpoll Warblers, indicating that we were well above 3000 feet. As we scrambled over open rock and fallen trees we started to wonder if we were on the right trail, as I hadn't read about any open slides on the way to the Wolfjaws. About halfway up the slide we came to an extremely long set of ladders to help ascend the remainder of the slide, and at the base of them was a sign indicating that we were at 3500 feet. I puled out my map and noted that the junction for Upper and Lower Wolfjaw should have been at 3400 feet, and started to wonder how we could have missed it. When we reached the top of the last ladder and there still was no junction we started to realize that we were weren't climbing the mountain that we thought we were climbing, but we were certainly climbing something so we might as well go on. After the slide the trail became relentlessly steep, with numerous rocky pitches to climb and many wet rocks and roots to navigate. When we came to a sign indicating that we were at 4000 feet we just laughed, because we still had no idea which mountain we were climbing, which added a fun element of adventure to the whole hike. But shortly after that sign we finally reached a trail junction indicating that Gothics was .6 miles one way and Saddleback was .5 miles the other way. I pulled out my map and realized that we had missed the turn for the Wolfjaw trail many miles ago and had been on the Orebed trail the entire time! We laughed about that for a while and then continued on to the summit of Saddleback Mountain, which would also be a new peak for all of us. The last .5 miles was steep and tricky in spots but we made it to the top and were treated to gorgeous views Gothics, Marcy, the McIntyre range, and the eastern high peaks with the Ausable lakes below in the distance. It was a perfect day of blue sky, few clouds, low humidity, and cooler temperatures, and it was only 10am so we could stay a while and enjoy it.

View from the summit of Saddleback Mountain, with Gothics in the foreground, Marcy just behind it, the McIntyre range on the right, and eastern high peaks on the left

I'm actually really glad that we climbed Saddleback by accident, as it is a really impressive peak and was on my list to do in the near future. Most consider Saddleback to be the most difficult of all the high peaks to ascend, so we were quite proud of ourselves for climbing it. The most difficult part of the trail is actually on the west side, which we avoided by ascending from the east, but the east trail certainly had its challenges as well. Most hikers continue over Saddleback to Basin, which requires descending Saddleback on a series of steep ledges which are dangerous and more difficult to climb than any other trail in the high peaks. I'm not a thrill seeker and vowed a long time ago to avoid that section by hiking the peaks separately, so I will return to Basin someday from the opposite side. Unlike most hikers we descended Saddleback the way we came, surprisingly without any accidents, at a much faster pace than we expected. On our way back we were able to figure out where we went wrong when we reached the junction for the Range, Wolfjaw, and Johns Brook trail and saw that the sign for the wolfjaws was facing away from the direction at which we had come from the outpost. A simple mistake that changed our entire day, but fortunately it changed it for the better. And now that I know the right way to go, I suspect that the wolfjaws will be my next adventure, if this warm dry air sticks around for a while!

View from the lower summit of Saddleback Mtn

Whitney Wilderness Area

Despite the forecast for scattered thunderstorms that has plagued the Adirondacks for weeks now I decided it was time to get out into the woods anyway this past weekend. I had a friend visiting the Adirondacks for the first time so I needed a place that would showcase just how beautiful and amazing this place can be, a place that feels like true wilderness. For that I chose to spend the weekend on Lake Lila, in the William C. Whitney wilderness area between Tupper Lake and Long Lake, and it turned out to be a perfect choice.

Lake Lila in the Whitney wilderness area

The Whitney wilderness area encompasses a number of lakes and ponds that allow non-motorized boats only and provide access to some of the most remote areas of the park. The three main bodies of water that paddlers use are Round Lake, Little Tupper Lake, and Lake Lila, each of which has a number of first-come first-serve backcountry campsites along their shores. Adventurous paddlers could paddle all three lakes via connecting streams or portages, as well as a few smaller ponds. Each of the three lakes is accessed by Sabattis Road, which happens to be an excellent birding spot. Sabattis Road passes through boreal habitat and stopping along the road can produce Black-backed woodpeckers, Palm Warblers, and Lincoln's Sparrows. The outlet of Little Tupper Lake has an excellent diversity of wetland birds and can also be a good spot to see otters. The first parking area one approaches is the put in for Round Lake, which is accessed by paddling a mile up a wide, slow-moving river that connects Round Lake and Little Tupper. This short paddle also goes through lovely boreal habitat and can be a good place for uncommon wetland species and is one of the few places I've seen breeding Ring-necked Ducks. Round Lake is a small lake with a few islands, about a dozen campsites, and at least one pair of nesting loons, making it perfect for a day long paddle or a short camping trip.

Dawn on Lake Lila

Little Tupper is a much larger lake, 6 miles long, with minimal development along the shores. The boat launch is located next to a cluster of DEC buildings which are inhabited by Americorps trail crews each summer. A few private residences owned by the Whitney family are also located on Little Tupper. I haven't had the chance to explore this lake much beyond the boat launch area, but by its size it seems like the perfect place for an extended camping trip. Those seeking a sense of true wilderness usually continue further down Sabattis Road to the access road for Lake Lila, which is a 4.5 mile slow-going drive to the parking area. When I arrived at the parking area on Saturday morning I was shocked to find the lot almost completely full--there was barely enough space to park my little hatchback. This of course led me to fear that there wouldn't be any open campsites on the lake, but fortunately a ranger was present to inform us that there were plenty of sites left. The small lot provides parking not only for Lake Lila, but also for hiking Mt. Frederica, or paddling on to other connected lakes, so a full lot does not necessarily mean all sites are full. Relieved to hear there were sites we carried our much-too-heavy-for-portaging canoe and then all of our gear down the .25 mile path to the lake. As challenging as such a short portage can be I do appreciate when a small portage is required, as it forces people to bring only what they need and I like to think it weeds out some of the rowdier people that tend to camp where there is easy access. We paddled out onto the lake in search of a site, trying our hardest to travel quickly against the wind that was tossing rain clouds around the sky, knowing that the sky could break at any moment. I said a small prayer to the rain gods asking them to allow us to reach our site before unleashing rain and thunder upon us, and it seemed to work. We paddled along the left shore with the hope of finding a site near the outlet for Shingle Shanty Brook, which I wanted to paddle the next day. We rounded the bend to find that the first four sites were taken, which wasn't surprising since they are prime sites with nice beaches and are near the brook. We paddled around the shore of the bay and just when we decided that there were no open sites on that side of the lake I caught a glimpse of a yellow campsite marker which turned out to be a nicely secluded wooded site on the edge of the bay. It didn't have a beach, but with the increasing threat of rain we decided we couldn't be picky, which turned out to be a good decision because about 10 minutes after we got the tent up the rain began to fall.

Sunset rainbow

Sunset over Lake Lila

Being resigned to your tent for three hours while wilderness camping isn't most people's idea of fun, but it provided a good opportunity for an afternoon nap and fortunately the rain stopped in time for us to make dinner and enjoy the last hours of daylight. While making dinner we came to the realization that we may have chosen the buggiest site on the entire lake, as there were so many mosquitoes that bug repellent was futile. So to avoid being bombarded by bugs all evening we decided to paddle out onto the lake for sunset, which was a gorgeous display of colors with the scattering rain clouds. An added bonus was the beginnings of a rainbow that shone right over our site. A perfect end to the day. The next morning we awoke to a mix of sun and clouds and decided to get an early start paddling Shingle Shanty Brook, which runs through some of the most remote boreal habitat in the Adirondacks. I had paddled this stream on a day trip a few years ago in search of Rusty Blackbirds, which have disappeared from all but the most remote areas of the park, and was anxious to return to this beautiful area. We only paddled for about an hour upstream, but in that short time I saw Gray Jays, Olive-sided Flycatchers, and even a Rusty Blackbird. The alder-lined banks of the stream were full of Red-winged Blackbirds, Yellow Warblers, and Swamp Sparrows. When I paddled this stream years ago I had to cross over numerous beaver dams, but the exceptionally high water of this year carried us over them making for a very pleasant paddle. Blue Flag Iris and Sheep Laurel were in full bloom along the banks that were lush with ferns. When we started paddling the sky was overcast and threatening to rain, but as we floated back downstream the clouds began to give way to sun and blue sky, which reflected beautifully off of the calm waters of the lake. We never saw another person while paddling, and it truly felt like wilderness.

Blue Flag Iris along the brook

I wish we could have stayed more than one night and explored more of the lake, climbed Frederica Mtn., and maybe camped at a less buggy site, but we only had one day to enjoy the lake. Fortunately Sunday
turned out to be a perfect sunny day, so after our paddle we moved to a site with a beach and fewer bugs and spent the day lounging on the shore with our feet splashing in the water, listening to the songs of wrens and thrushes and the haunting call of the loon. Most of the campers that were in that bay left early that morning, so we didn't see another person all afternoon until we returned to the parking area. Even though there is no such thing as "true wilderness" in the Adirondacks, I think that the state has done an excellent job maintaining places that feel like wilderness by balancing recreation and solitude. Even though there were at least a few dozen people on that same lake it felt like we were all alone, and that's what wilderness should be. Even our campsite looked like wilderness, it was only a small clearing tucked into the forest that, if unused, would revegetate itself within a few years. The site was surrounded by remnants of old growth forest, trees that were left intact to preserve the shoreline when everything else was logged in the last century, making it look like true wilderness. Few places like the Whitney Wilderness still exist in this world, so I highly recommend exploring it sometime. Just don't forget the bug spray.