Forty Six

The forty-six are the peaks in New York with summits over 4000 feet above sea level, more or less.  All of them were summited for the first time by Bob Marshall, George Marshall and Herb Clark in 1924.  It was good Bob finished the task early in life since he only lived to 38.

Granted with a few more years, I recently realized that though I have spent significant time in the Adirondacks, I had summited exactly zero of the 46.  So I hatched a plot to become a Forty-Sixer completely after the age of 60, and along with my own little cadre of like-minded and like-aged individuals (I can't be the only one), establish an organization complete with logos and hats.  I'm big on hats.  So when I complete the accomplishment, I will create my own hat with 46/60 on the front, and everyone who sees me wear it will know right away that I'm weird.

But I wasn't getting the deed done, so when Mary said, "Let's begin," I was happy to accompany her up Cascade Mountain, purportedly the most accessible of the 46.

The night prior to the hike was spent at the Lake Placid Best Western.
This picturesque balcony was its best feature, so I won't recommend it.
But it is in walking distance to the highly recommended Lake Placid Brewery.
Mary suggests the cheese platter paired with Pumpking Ubu.

The sign at the trailhead.
I actually took this picture after the hike.
I didn't want to have to carry the additional weight
from the bits in the photo up and down the mountain.

Always sign in, even if you have to rock-hop over mud to do so.

Not the most inviting trail I've ever seen.

Is the trail this way....

...or this way?
Usually, if you pick the less desirable of the two,
you'll be right.

The trail marker shows that Mary is ascending the proper slope.
The marker is way up high on the tree so that snowshoers can see it.
6 feet of snow adds a bit more challenge.

At frequent intervals, small boulder barriers cross the trail,
in hopes of preventing the trail from becoming a stream.

The term "trail" is used loosely.
Overuse and water runoff destroy the forest floor.

Here the trail is nothing but a rut, two feet deep.

But Mary is up to the challenge.

But there are pretty spots.

This clearing three-quarters of the way up provides a taste of what is to come.

Just through the last of the trees and up the rocky crown.

The top of Cascade provides 360 degrees of breathtaking views.
Photography provides a poor substitute for being there,
but conveys some small sense of the experience.

Look down under the clouds between the mountains to the valley they define.
I look forward to seeing the painted rendition Phyllis will provide.
Of course, for her to capture the scene as it is,
she'll need to make her own trek to this picture spot.

What looks like snow on the mountains are actually "slides,"
reflecting the he sunlight off their wetness.
Slides are vegetative avalanches, where the trees have lost their grip,
exposing the rock below.

In the opposite direction, Whiteface rises in the distance.

Whiteface awaits its coating of skiers and snow.

One of Cascade's map-defining benchmarks.

Garnet and quartz are interspersed in the mountain's granite.
The craggy summit is populated by abrasive rocks.

Very abrasive.

The foreground ridge is Porter Mountain, another of the 46.

Randy and Mary proving they had enough foresight to bring warm clothing for the top.
Though they sweated in t-shirts on the way up,
the constant cold wind at the top dictated layers of warmer clothing.

In a manner no comfort can convey, the wind and view makes one think,
"I'm alive!"

The bobsled and luge runs are exposed in the view toward Lake Placid.

This one had considerably less difficulty getting to the summit.

When climbing Cascade, it makes sense to also summit Porter, a short distance away.
We decided not to go there, and my knees, recovering from other abuse, were glad of it.
One of these days, I'm going to remember to always bring my hiking poles,
which are a great help on the way down.

Rocks were placed as steps in some spots,
providing a brief respite for old knees.

A short safety rest.
Going down is less work, but more dangerous.
Catching a toe and launching oneself in the downward direction has serious implications.
Best to take one's time and be safe.

The white birches are beautiful, even in death.
Note the denuded birches in the previous picture,
where idiots have killed the trees by stealing their paper-like bark.

Yes, I repeated this picture.
Take another look.  It's well worth it.
Better yet, see it for yourself!

 So I have begun.  Judging by average lifespans and reduction of climbing ability over time, I'm probably going to need to accelerate the pace of the conquest if I'm going to do the deed prior to 100 years of age.  But it wouldn't be impressive to summit even one of the 46 at that age?  Hmmm....

(You really want to click on the pictures for better appreciation.  No, not the hat...)