Allen Mountain-A Rite of Passage

With a hike of over 16 miles I feel like Allen Mountain is like a right of passage for an aspiring 46er. Once you've climbed Allen, there's really no reason to turn back. I've heard many things over the years about Allen, most of them intimidating. Mostly I've heard about the river crossings that can all be a challenge in wet seasons, and I'd also heard about some infamous red slime that makes ascending the bare rock sections of the trail a little perilous. And of course I knew that the distance alone, 16.2 miles, was not an easy feat for a single day, and that such a distance usually requires hiking in the dark in at least one direction. Because of that it's not easy to find someone who is willing to hike Allen just for fun, they have to be looking to check  it off their list. So when a friend of mine asked if I wanted to join her and another aspiring 46er on a hike to Allen, I figured I should take the chance despite knowing that it would be the hardest thing I've done so far.

Allen Mtn. itself isn't much of a giant, at 4340 feet it is only the 26th highest peak, but what makes it so challenging is the lack of easy access, which means a 6 mile hike into the base of the mountain. From there the trail eases into a moderate grade for the next mile or so, and then the final mile is a steep, slippery slope to the top that is made all the more difficult by the fact that you've already been hiking for 3-4 hours. The round trip hike can take anywhere from 10-14 hours depending on one's ability, so an early start is essential. A late start was our first mistake of the day, as some miscommunication due to poor cell phone reception caused us to start an hour later than we had planned, at 8:30am. We knew we were going to have to keep a strong pace all day if we wanted to be back to the car before dark, which meant walking quickly, taking only short breaks for food and water, and no naps on the summit--it was going to be a rough day for me. After only about 5 minutes on the trail we came to the first river crossing, over a narrow stretch of the headwaters of the Hudson. Fortunately a dry August meant the water level was low enough to cross fairly easily, though we did take our shoes off to do it. Ten minutes later we reached another crossing, over what looked like a slow moving river but what is actually a small lake, and made our second mistake of the day. I had read that the bridge over Lake Jimmy was out but that a new trail had been made around it, but didn't realize that Lake Jimmy was so close to the start of the trail. The old bridge was mostly intact except for the first two stretches of bridge, so we chose to wade through the mucky water to take the bridge across. The first person to go became the guinea pig, and when she sunk up to her waist in water the next person across found an easier route. With my pants rolled as high as they could go I managed to get just the bottoms wet, and was thankful that I at least managed to keep my underwear dry--for now.

Due to our grueling pace and pouring rain this
is the only photo I took on our hike as we
descended the streambed

After the lake the trail follows an old road for a while, where raspberries and blackberries made excellent snacks. The trail eventually becomes more heavily wooded and a soft carpet of dirt and leaf litter make for easy walking. The Opalescent, a gorgeous river on every stretch I've seen it, was easily crossed but I could see it being a challenge in other seasons. After 6.5 miles the trail comes to a nice cascading waterfall, and from there the real climbing begins. Like may herd paths the trail meanders around a brook, which means a steep, rocky, and wet trail. We quickly found ourselves combating the infamous red slime, which made the rocks extremely slick even at the slightest grade.This and other challenges makes the climb up the last 1.5 miles very slow going. We had been hiking at a little over 2 miles an hour to that point, but it took us another 2 hours to make the final "ascent". Why the quotation marks? Well, our third mistake of the day was following the stream all the way to the top, even though we knew by our maps that the trail should veer to the left from the streambed at some point. We were definitely not the first people to make this mistake, as we were clearly following a trail, but it was not the right trail. We realized this was probably the case when the balsams started to close in around us, as my gut was telling me that with thousands of 46ers even a herd path should be much more distinct. So why did we continue on? That had something to do with the rumbles of thunder that were starting to get closer and closer as we neared the top, and we figured at the very least we would come out near the summit and the trail we were on would still guide us to it. We came out to a summit that was concealed by trees, and spent a long time convincing ourselves that we were on the summit, even though we could see a higher summit a short distance away. As we debated our true location the thunder got closer and the wind was starting to rip through the trees, so we knew that trying to bushwhack to the true summit wasn't possible, that we needed to get off the "top" of the mountain. As we hurried down the herdpath we started to hear voices to our right, and when we got to an open rock slide we ran into three guys who had just come down from the real summit. Conveniently we met them at the exact spot where we had gone astray, where the trail veers left from the slide. I was very disappointed to see that there was no cairn or any other marker at this crucial turn, which is why we so easily missed it. At this point the rain was starting to fall, and the thunderstorm was just about over us. Of the three guys one told us that the summit was only 20 minutes away and we should get it while we're here, one gave us a sympathetic look, and the other told us that our lives were more important than reaching a summit in a thunderstorm. For one of the people I was hiking with Allen was her 43rd peak, and she had plans to finish the 46 with family and friends on Porter next week, so she needed that peak. So we all started up the slide, but when it started downpouring and we passed a nice rocky overhang that could keep us dry two of us decided to seek refuge while she raced up to the top. She made it, and good for her. As for me, it looks like I'll be climbing Allen again someday.

Our hike back definitely ranks as my most miserable descent of a mountain, as the rain continued for at least another hour until every inch of our bodies were soaked. The rocky streambed that was partially dry on the way up had become a roaring stream. The same dry footholds we had used on the way up became small waterfalls on the way down. My pants were soaked and chaffing my skin. My shoes squished every time I took a step. I changed my socks once, which stopped the squishing for a bit but when you're exhausted it is nearly impossible to keep your feet dry for long because you just don't care about going around the puddles anymore. One the way back we only took 2 breaks in 8 miles--once at the waterfall and once at the trail register that is about halfway. Other than that we walked the fastest pace we could, which for me was a little slower than my companions. My body ached more than it ever has, and three days later I can still feel the effects of Allen. We made it back to the car just as the forest was growing too dark to see, at around 8:00pm, after 11.5 hours of hiking. We all changed into dry clothes and had a much-deserved celebratory beer in the parking lot, because despite how wet, tired, and incredibly sore I was, despite the fact that I hadn't even made it to the top, I felt like celebrating simply because I survived. What we did was just as hard as making the summit, maybe harder since we had to bushwhack, and I felt that I had made the rite of passage anyway. I was more exhausted than I've ever been, but I still felt exhilarated by what we had done. And I had learned many important lessons that day, so that the next time I climb Allen Mtn., I'll be ready. Allen Mtn., we will meet again, but next time it will be an overnight trip on a clear sunny day.