Del Water Gap exceeded expectations!!!

Just returned from my four-day hike along the Appalachian Trail in the Delaware Water Gap.

I'll post a full report after I get the pictures. But, all in all, very impressed. It exceeded my expectations.

Having hiked most of Virginia Appalachian Trail and a small part of the Adirondacks; all I can say is that this hike, the entire Del Water Gap National Park, had some of the most impressive vistas of all my trips.

No shit.

Besides the endless miles of rocks, this trips will be one of the tops on my list. And it will be one of my first recommendations to anyone who asks which section they should hike on the Appalachian Trail.

Ladies & Germs, We've Got Vista - Adirondacks Day #3

As Day #2 of our Adirondack adventure came to a close, we started a fire, warmed our wet clothes and said a Waltons
goodnight. I hopped in my one-person tent and closed my eyes.

Then I realized something. The pitter-patter of rain had stopped.

I unzipped my tent, looked in the sky and brilliant stars greeted me with a sparkly hello (or something like that). I ripped my rain flap off of my tent and decided to sleep under the stars.

It was, hands down, the most relaxing sleep I’ve had in ages.

I awoke to a slight hangover and beautiful blue skies. Hope was renewed that today would be the day to finally see a vista. After a nice breakfast bar, some Bailey’s coffee and a package of Ramen Noodles (a breakfast staple) we got our shit together, threw away our trash and exited stage left. This place had been our home for the past two nights. In a way, it was going to be hard to leave.

Goodbye Adirondack Loj, see you in a couple of years. Time to hit some mountains.

If Noonmark and Giant Mountain were people, they would be next-door neighbors. They could borrow flour from each other with a simple shout out the window. Highway 73 splits Giant with Noonmark and Round mountain - the two peaks we were planning on hiking today thanks, in part, to a guy’s advice at the end of yesterday's journey.

Being Saturday, the parking lots were jammed. There was even an old, raggedy lady selling spots on her property to fellow hikers in search of a vista. After seeing all the cars, the first thing that crossed my mind was, "I hope all these people aren’t climbing Noonmark." Then common sense got the best of me.

If you were to compare the Adirondacks to an amusement park, Giant, Algonquin and Marcy are the major roller coasters of the Adirondacks. Noonmark is like the Log Ride. Not to say it's not a strenuous hike. It's just not that popular. But it doesn’t necessarily disappoint if you're looking for a quick hike with a great view.

KnowWhatI’mSayin?

The trailhead to Noonmark is right off of the Ausable country club golf course. We saw a couple of gruff, old men with paisley, checkered pants playing through the 13th hole as we were starting our trek. They stared at us with our stupid packs, hiking boots and camelback water containers. And we stared back at them with their retarded golf carts, stupid, shiny clubs and ridiculous golf shoes. It was like we were a totally different species sizing each other up for some sort of showdown. Had this been a Mad-Max futuristic, nuclear Armageddon and we came across each other in the wild - we could've totally kicked their Phil Mickelson asses.

After adjusting our packs and hitting the trail, I noticed that all four of us had an increased pep in our step. Other than the deep satisfaction of simply reaching the summit - today's hike was going to have a payoff, a happy ending if you will. Minus, of course, the Asian stroker.

We ascended maybe 900 feet before we got to our first, of many, great vista shots. The golf course was getting smaller and smaller in the distance - as you can see in the photo to the right.
The final 1,000 feet of the climb was actually some serious, strenuous fun. Although we were climbing some rock faces that were, in parts, 80 or 90 degrees, the overall climb was difficult, but it wasn't as difficult as the treks up Giant and Algonquin.

You know, there's a point in any great porno movie that's called the 'money shot'. Some examples of a 'money shot' in a regular, mainstream movie are: seeing Ben Stiller's balls being caught in his zipper in Something About Mary. Finally seeing the pirate ship in The Goonies. Or even Charlton Heston screaming "You Maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!" as the camera pans around to show us the Statue of Liberty in The Planet of the Apes.

Well, although the photograph doesn't give it justice, this was one, of many, money shots we saw that day:


It's been hailed on many Adirondack Hiking web sites the view from the summit of Noonmark is about as good as any in the High Peaks. Now I can totally see why. You can almost see almost every major peak, which is pretty fucking amazing in itself. Scanning the view, I kept looking over at Giant Mountain, shaking my head and saying, "I cannot believe we climbed that fucking thing" over-and-over again in mind.

After eating a lunch of Spaghetti-O's and meatballs, we hung out on the summit for a half-hour or so. A guy from Canada stopped by to talk to us. "Beautiful view, eh?" he said sounding like an extra from Fargo and Strange Brew. He told us a couple stories about Vancouver, Banff Mountain and this island up in Nova Scotia that he drove 100 miles an hour for 10 straight hours. Cape Breton, I believe.

With a full belly we decided to visit one more peak - Noonmark's fuck-buddy - Round Mountain. We reached the summit in about an hour or so. It was a much smaller peak than Noonmark, but the views were breathtaking as well. We all know that this was the last time to let our minds take it all in. We hung out, shot some video and decided to hightail down the hill.

With the Ironman competition being held the next day in Lake Placed - and surrounding towns - it was an unanimous decision to get a headstart on the trip and head down Route 73. We passed a half-dozen abandoned motels (from the 1980 Olympics perhaps?) and George Lake (it's like the Myrtle Beach of New York, blech).

Fifty miles down the road from the peak we just hiked, we were staring at a campground right next to Six Flags' The Great Escape and Splashwater Kingdom. To be honest, it wasn't the camping that I've been accustomed to on this trip. There were pop-up tents, RVs with those crazy colored X-mas lights dangling. Plus, everyone - even the girls - looked exactly like Eminem. Maybe it was the six beers I drank after the peak, but I suddenly got depressed.

The reality of my hiking weekend was coming to close.

But, it was getting late and none of us could really afford to get a hotel. I finally gave in and we rented a site. To cap off our commercialized camping night, we spent our last night guzzling beer and pizza at a Pizzeria Uno. Sigh.

As cars zoomed by on the highway and people in the surrounding camp sites screamed and shouted with their Pabst Blue Ribbons and cut-off t-shirts, I still had the opportunity to gaze at the stars one more night.

With the ominous sounds of "Sweet Home Alabama" blaring from a nearby campsite, I slowly drifted off to sleep.

Another year. Another successful hiking trip for the memory books.

Raiders of the Lost Vista - Adirondacks Day #2

I’ve hiked about 200 miles of the Appalachian Trail in Virginia. I’ve hiked trails in Kentucky, Colorado, Arizona and West Virginia. I even hiked the El Yunque rain forest in Puerto Rico. After all that, I can honestly say nothing was as physical or strenuous as the peaks I've hiked in the Adirondacks in New York.

Our second day in the wilderness started off a bit rough. Two of my friends burnt their hiking shoes in an attempt to dry them by the fire. Cha-ching. Another trip to the Lake Placid wilderness store.

While we're on the subject, Lake Placid is a pretty kick-ass little town. The 1980 Winter Olympics took place up there. So you can load up on a bevy of USA beat USSR hockey shirts. We drove by the historic arena where, arguably, the finest moment in the history of Olympic sports took place. It's very small compared to the 20,000-seat arena you see nowadays. But, nevertheless, you could feel the history seeping out if its concrete walls.

Oh, and to my disappointment, we didn’t see any huge crocodiles.

After purchasing some rather pricey new kicks and other supplies (including a water-proof map), it was noon by the time we headed back to our campsite at the Adirondack Loj.

We tightened up our shoes, grabbed our hiking sticks, walked right out of our campsite and hopped on the trail towards Algonquin Mountain - a 5,114 foot peak with an almost 3,000 foot ascent in under 2.5 miles. It’s the second highest of the Adirondack High Peaks behind Marcy and makes up a majority of what is considered the MacIntyre Range (with Wright and Iroquois both, of which, we didn’t summit).

As we headed up the rocky trail, the temperature hovered around 75 degrees and it was partly cloudy. We passed a number of rock faces, virtually zero people and a couple waterfalls (real ones). We even got to climb a couple 80-degree slaps of rock along the way. I kept scanning the sky for rain clouds. Surprisingly, it was clear. It appeared like we had fantastic chance of seeing a beautiful vista rather than another patch of fog.

Boy were we wrong.

Halfway up the mountain the clouds rolled in and it started to rain. This wasn’t that warm summer rain you saw in movies like Dirty Dancing and Say Anything. It was cold rain. Saving Private Ryan rain. The type of rain you feel when your storming the beaches of Normandy. The type of rain that saturates your bones. That type of cold rain.

I had a rain-soaked t-shirt on. To my surprise, I had brought along a long-sleeve Under Armor shirt and a rain jacket. It kept me warm for a while. Also, I was getting hungry, but we needed to reach the summit before lunch.

The hike was strenuous and long. I mean, we were climbing up steep rock faces that were in some places mossy and extremely slick. Out of the four hikers, two of us are joggers, two lift weights and another plays rugby. But, we were huffing and puffing like 60-year-old overweight smokers walking to the refrigerator.

We passed a makeshift ranger station with a cute park ranger eating a delicious-looking turkey-bagel sandwich. My mouth began to water. Not sure if it was for the park ranger or the turkey sandwich. Did it really matter? She gave us a brief lecture about staying on the designated path at the top and taking care not to mess up the fauna on the peak. Blah, blah, blah. I thought my mom was lecturing me.

Finally, something worthwhile shot out of her pretty lips "Only a mile to go. Hopefully you’ll get a nice few."

Yeah sweetie-pie. So do we.

Now the temperature was closer to 45 degrees as we breached the summit of Algonquin. With the fog, the rain and the cool air, the peak had an overall eerie feel to it. I almost felt like I was a character in that Stephen King short story The Mist (soon to be a major motion picture). At any moment, I was convinced a crazy tentacle was going to shoot out and suck me into the fog. It was surreal.

Visibility was about 15 yards. Sadly we did not see a view. But, to be honest, I didn’t fucking care. It was another day of adventure. Another day OUT of the fluorescent lights. Another day of living for this lowly copywriter.

Sleet began to pound as I opened up a can of tuna and crackers. I ate it like a fat kid eating cake. The winds picked up and the rain/sleet began to fall harder. Two of my friends succumbed to Mother Nature and zipped downhill. Nick and myself mulled over whether or not to press on and go down the other side of the mountain. It would have added an extra mile onto the trip, but it could have also been an easier way down. In the end, we opted to return the same way we went up, which was going to be challenge considering how hard it was.

I was sweaty, cold and wet as we started to descend. Within a 10-minute time span, I lost almost all feeling in my hands and toes. Not sure, but I assumed it was a small sign of hypothermia. So I shuffled down the peak about 300 feet down, shielded myself from the wind. pulled out my cooking stove, started it and warmed up my hands. Ahhhhhhhh. "And this is fucking July," I kept thinking to myself. With feeling once again in my hands and toes. I continued down the peak.

We were close to the end of the trail and came to a fork in the road. Coming down the Marcy peak trail was this guy who introduced himself as Matt, I believe. He and his wife lived in Saranac Lake, about 10 miles East of Lake Placid and the High Peaks region. We talked about the Adirondacks and hiking. He hiked most of the 46 High Peaks and then some. In general, he seemed like a pretty honest guy. So I took him as a good source of information.

"Soooo, lets say you had one more day left of a three-day trip and you knew it was going to be a sunny day," I asked. "Where would go to get a great view?"

Without hesitation he answered, "Dude, you’ve got climb Noonmark Mountain. It has the best view. Hands down."

After eating Fish and Chips and drinking numerous beers at a local BBQ joint, I decided to toss tomorrow's planned hiking trip to Mount Marcy.

Tomorrow we would climb Noonmark Mountain.

But would we finally get a view? Stay tuned.

Adirondacks Day #1 – Giant Mountain.

We arrived at the Giant Mountain trailhead in the Adirondacks around noon on Thursday, July 19.

Giant is one of the taller peaks in the Adirondacks, stretching more than 4,600 feet above sea level. The 3,050 foot ascent takes you up to the top of the mountain in roughly 2.5 miles. That said, the overall hike from beginning to end was 8.6 miles and took, roughly, 5 ½ hours to complete.

And, unlike the Appalachian Trail, there are no switchbacks. It’s straight up and down, baby. If there’s a boulder, you climb over it. If there’s a rock face, you go straight up. Sometimes you even hit a rough 80-degree climb, sans climbing gear.

Oh yeah, did I mention the rain?

From the moment we stepped foot on Giant’s trailhead until the moment we reached the car, the rain came down in buckets. We were literally climbing up waterfalls. Gallons of water poured down the mountain and saturated our clothes. It was like some sort of water ride that you'd find at Wet and Wild Amusement park.

Plus the hike was intense. Heavy breathing. Frequent stops. And no pee. In fact, I didn't pee until I reached the bottom. That's about 1.5 gallons of water and no urination for 5+ hours. You literally couldn't tell what was sweat and what was rain. So, even though water was flowing all around us, it was very important to stay hydrated.

About halfway up, we ran into a husband and wife couple who looked to be about 50+ years or older. Armed with walking sticks, rain gear and big smiles on their face, they slowly shuffled down a 65-degree rock face as streams of water poured around their boots.

“How’s it going?” the man asked my friend.

“We would be a lot better if it was sunny,” my friend replied.

“Well,” the man said with a pause. “It’s all relative.”

The perfect answer.

Who fucking cared if it was raining! We were out of the office. Not thinking about paperwork, spread sheets, mortgages or whether or not we were supposed to pick up grape or strawberry jelly at the store on the way home from work. Simply put, we were fucking living. And our one focus at this point in time was tackling this mountain while at the same time making sure we didn't crack our heads open on the rock.

When we reached the summit – the only thing visible was a gray mist, a heavy downpour and four wet hikers with tired faces and content hearts.

One peak down. Many more to go.

As the downpour intensified, we slipped, slid and careened down the cliffs of the mountain. On the 2-hour downhill trek, my mind was thinking of three things: whiskey, dry clothes and pizza. All of which came true as we headed to Lake Placid to celebrate our insane climb.

Had it been sunny, I’m not sure what my impression of Giant Mountain would have been. But, the rain, the sleet, the wind, the slick rock faces, the waterfalls and the two old folks we saw on the trail - definitely made this a day to remember.

I hear there are peaks that are rougher, tougher, steeper and more strenuous than Giant (this was a 5 out of 7 difficulty hike). I say bring ‘em on. But, hands down, this was definitely one of the most exciting, and satisfying, hikes I've ever experienced.

That was, at least, until we headed up Algonquin Mountain on Day #2.

Adirondacks, here I come!

This time next week, I'll be hiking up a mountain in the Adirondacks? Yep, it's that time of year - hiking week.

Every year, around February or March - I send out an e-mail asking people if they want to go hiking. I get 15 e-mails from people saying they're in. Then as they months go bye, people trail off for one reason or another: "I've got an in-grown toenail." "I gotta go to a wedding." "My wife doesn't want me to go." "We're going to the mall that week to shop for furniture."

And every year the same thing happens. The list goes down to two people. Then, a couple people jump on at the last minute. And everything works out fine because, truthfully, you really only want five people max. Any more people, and you might as well rent a beach house and have a fucking orgy. Plus, you don't want any lazy asses in the bunch who try to convince other people to go to an amusement park or a mall. So, I'd say about 3-5 dedicated hikers is the right number, for me.

There's this one friend of mine who has been onboard for every crazy fucking trip I think up. I call him up, tell him about the trip and he basically says, "I'm there. Tell me the date." I try to oblige on some of his kick-ass outdoor ideas - i.e. a week-long Grand Canyon trip, a trip to Banff National Park in Canada, etc. But time and a couple kids can get in the way of a good plan. But somehow, he's always onboard. (I tend to think it's the 7 weeks of vacation he gets at work, but that's just me. Yep. You heard me. Seven weeks of vacation!)

Since, 1999 most of the hikes have been bits and pieces of the Appalachian Trail in Virginia [NOTE: the above pic was taken on the AT close to Damascus,Virginia]. Last year, we hiked through Red River Gorge in Kentucky. In 1999 and 2000, I even ventured up to Isle Royale - a 13-mile island on the North side of Lake Superior - for some hiking, fishing, canoeing and portaging. As a matter of fact, two of the guys I went to Isle Royale with are going to the Adirondacks with me on this trip.

So, "Why the Adirondacks?" you ask?

Well, I had planned to hike the Delaware Water Gap part of the Appalachian Trail this year, but a fellow co-worker/hiker at my previous employment said, "Fuck the Pennsylvania AT. If you want to walk on rocks the whole time be my guest. I'd head out to the Adirondacks." Then with a slight pause and a nostalgic look on his face he blurted, "It's awesome."

That sealed it. I had to go.

I ordered the maps, which should be arriving today or tomorrow. I'm checking out my packs, buying food and basically, counting down the days.

The one thing about this particular trip is that I have no freaking idea what we're going to to do. Most of the time, after checking out the topographic maps and reading shit online, I have an outline in my head of what would be fun, where we're going to stay and where we're going to eat. But besides climbing Mount Marcy - the highest point in New York state - on Thursday - that's about it.

After I check out the maps, I'm sure I'll feel a little more comfortable. This is unknown, virgin territory to my fellow hikers and myself. Maybe that's the way it supposed be for this trip.

I just want to get the biggest bang for the amount of time we're investing.

Stay tuned.