A busy day at work set me up for a late start to my trip to Algonquin Peak in the Adirondacks. The forecast called for below zero temperatures at 2000 feet Saturday night, so I packed some cold weather clothing just in case.  After a quick trip to Walmart for the typical backpacking staples of Ramen noodles and a block of cheese, I hit the road under sunny skies.  An hour later, the Adirondacks came into view, shrouded in some very grey fluffy clouds.  Undeterred, I continued on through the town of Keene and arrived at the Adirondack Loj around quarter to six as a light rain began to fall.

Luckily, the rain stopped as I began to sort gear.  My gear choices were largely decided for me.  The predicted cold temperatures and my hammock tent forced me to carry my winter sleeping bag.  Unfortunately, this meant using the old, heavy EMS bag over my new Osprey because of the required bear can.  Forty-ish pounds later, I was embarking down the Van Hoevenberg trail on my way toward Algonquin Peak.  I was hoping to reach a designated campsite 2.6 miles up the trail that was conveniently not marked on any map.  According to a trail book I had picked up ages ago, I should have arrived within 75 minutes of my departure.  A little over an hour and a half later, I finally reached the very poorly marked camping area.

I was instantly grateful that I had brought my hammock tent as the camping area should really be labeled swamp.  If you didn’t care for level ground, there may have been a few spots dry enough to pitch a conventional tent.  I skipped dinner and settled down into the hammock just before dark fell.

The night was pleasantly uneventful.  I fell asleep reading my trail book, which ended up underneath my back and provided a surprising amount of insulation.  If you’ve ever slept in a hammock on a cold night, you know how hard it can be to keep warm.  I woke up around nine to the sounds of hikers passing by on the trail below.  I made a quick breakfast of oatmeal and black coffee and packed up my gear for the hike to the summit.  I brought 3.5 liters worth of water bottles, but chose to only carry 2.5 liters of water up the hill.  The guide certainly overstated the difficulty of the trail to the summit.  While there were some steep sections, these were spaced between fairly moderate ascents that made it relatively easy to keep a steady pace.  Residual snow and ice from the nightly freeze were the only particularly difficult obstacles.

The trail above treeline was extremely enjoyable.  In contrast to many of the other popular summits of the Adirondacks, Algonquin consists of more large fragmented boulders rather than bare rock slabs.  There is also a great deal of foliage, mostly short grasses that make it feel like a high alpine meadow.  I arrived at the summit just before noon and took a short break to rest my legs and review my options for the rest of the day.  I had originally planned to hike back down and climb Wright peak before heading back to the car, however I opted to hike the unmarked herd path to Iroquois instead.

From the top of Algonquin, it is impossible to make out the herd path by sight where it runs beneath the tree line.  Luckily, once you reach the intersection, the herd path is easy enough to find.  The path itself may be a generous 12 to 18 inches wide through the scrub pines.  Even if the weather is hot, long sleeves will deter some of the sharp pointy branches from leaving permanent marks.  The majority of the trail lies in the cols between Algonquin and Boundary, and Boundary and Iroquois.  There was a fair amount of snow on these portions of the trail which was surprisingly deep for this time of year.  I postholed numerous times up to my knees and over my gators.  Where the snow had melted, there were some large muddy sections which made me grateful for waterproof boots and Gortex gators.  There are a few interesting rock scrambles as you climb back up above treeline that are best negotiated without a backpack.  The 1.1 mile trek out to Iroquois took about 45 minutes.

The views from the top of Iroquois rival those of Algonquin.  Contrary to Algonquin, you most likely won’t be sharing those with anyone you didn’t bring with you.  The slides of Mount Colden and the valley below are perhaps the best sights from here.  Lake Placid and the Saranac Lakes are visible to the north.

My rumbling stomach prompted me to eat my lunch at this point.  However, the consequences of my previous choice to not fill all of my water bottles began to sink in.  I had about 1.75 liters of water left for the trek back down, with no real safe source until I reached the trail junction for Wright Peak.  In a pinch, there were numerous puddles I could have filtered water out of, but I opted for a dry lunch of Asiago cheese and Tabasco to conserve the water I had left.

The trip back took slightly longer as I began to get tired from carrying my pack as well as the steep climb back up to the top of Algonquin.  I arrived back on top of Algonquin at about 2:30 and decided to keep moving in an attempt to climb Wright and still make it back to the car before dark.  It didn’t take long to realize that it was going to take longer than I anticipated to hike out.  The climb down Algonquin is significantly more difficult than the ascent.  Luckily, most of the ice and snow from the morning had melted or slid down past the steep sections.  I didn’t reach the intersection of the Wright Peak trail until after 3:30, so I decided to save it for another trip.

Finally at about four I came to a mountain stream where I could fill my water bottles and cook some food.  I cooked some Ramen and finished off the block of cheese and relaxed for about a half hour.  I drank about 2 liters of water before setting off down the trail back to the parking lot.  It is incredible to see the difference in seasons as you descend back to the valley.  Above 3000 feet, the last throes of winter are still hanging on, but below, it feels as if summer is right around the corner.