DSettahr
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- Joined
- Apr 23, 2005
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The horror... the horror! For years, this mountain has held allure for me. Who wouldn't it hold sway over? We've all pondered it on the map... a pond, practically on the summit of a mountain. A real, actual, mountain... taller even than some of the High Peaks. A diamond in the rough, this mountain truly is the heart of darkness in the Adirondacks.
The hike into Scott Clearing went quickly enough. I'd never been beyond Rocky Falls before, so it was a real treat to see the old lumber camp near the lean-to, and the remnants of the logging dam at the clearing. The golden road, while a relentless uphill climb, was also traversed easily enough. No longer a "golden road" in any way but the name, though- the old corduroy cedar timbers have decayed too much to fulfill the promise held by the name. In the same vein as Scott Clearing, Scott Pond was also a pleasure to visit. Mostly a marsh since the failure of the dam there, it remains a beautiful place to snack and prepare oneself mentally for the task ahead.
With the departure from Scott Pond, the trail and all semblance of civilization is left behind, and the descent into madness begins. Like the depths of Fangorn Forest, the trees work together to lead the careless hiker astray. Paths appear, only to disappear into tangles of blowdown and dense undergrowth. Branches reach out, at first to grab, but then to slash and rip as one makes their way further from the trail and closer to the treasure so jealously guarded in the depths of the woods.
At last, when the goal is in sight, the mountain throws everything it has into one final last ditch defense. The trees throw up wall after wall of impenetrable thickness. Sacrificed by the hundreds, they throw themselves down into a disarray of tangled bodies, piled so high as to be impossible to climb over, and so deep as to be impossible to crawl under. "Turn back," they shout in unison... and as the shadows lengthen, the battle breaks out of the physical realm and becomes mental. With the realization that all sense of entertainment has escaped, growing thoughts of failure begin to seep into one's consciousness.
And yet, finally, even as the mountain becomes aware that it has lost, it throws up one last line of resistance- an icy, snowy wall of rock that is thrust up out of the ground. Scale this, and the reward is yours. And what a reward it is! A view of the MacIntyre, Santanoni, Seward, and Sawtooth Ranges unlike any other that is obtainable in the Adirondacks. Each is like a jewel against the setting sun. The mountain howls in anger as you take in the spoils of your success. Warmth is drawn from your body, slowly and from the extremities at first, but then blasted by the wind with incredible efficiency.
And so the descent begins, down the north side this time, through open forest. Exhausted and in defeat, the howling ceases; the winds die down and the mountain slumbers, incapable of any further resistance. The sky turns from blue to orange, then back to blue, a much deeper and darker shade the second time. Every tree touched sends down a shower of snowflakes that gather and follow as you descend. Warmth begins to return, and with it the feeling of success, that nothing can stop you now. And indeed, nothing can, not even when the spirits that control Indian Pass Brook, sympathetic to the plight of the mountain, reach out through their fingering tributaries and carve a deep canyon, filled with treacherous icy boulders and lined with steep impassable walls, along your escape route.
On the summit, I swore I would never ever return to this forsaken place. And yet, I have the feeling that I will again climb to its summit. Conrad's heart of darkness was a terrible, horrible place that represented the worst within each of us. Lost Pond Peak is terrible, yes, but awesome, amazing, incredible, and epic... a heart that shines brightly and beats loudly to drive away the darkness. For those that persevere and reach the summit, this heart of darkness represents the absolute best within.
