Dory
New member
This was my second trip to the daks this season after an 8 year hiatus (go figure that my son is 8 years old...) Our spring trip was a loop up and over Algonquin and thru ave pass - side ways blowing rain - high winds - an epic adventure to say the least. This time the Gothics captured my fancy AND I wanted to recon True North for a possible winter ski trip. This trip up from PA included my husband Wes and sister Amy. Our original plan was to drive up Friday, so the "big hike" Saturday and return on Sunday; with a full day of rain forecast for Saturday, we pushed our trip to Saturday, Sunday, Monday. We headed in from the Garden around 4:30 Saturday afternoon and passed many a day hiker heading out. We were pleasantly surprised to find the Howard Lean-to empty and generally only a slight mist as we fixed our dinner. We didn't get going until a bit after 9 on Sunday, which resulted in our grand finish barely before dark Sunday evening. The day was damp and clouded in, but the first almost 2 miles of the ore bed brook trail was a very pleasant hike. As we were hiking, I felt a spurt of water hit my foot...the bottom of my foot. Further investigation revealed that my intent to purchase new hiking boots should have been completed prior to the trip, as the sole of my boot was beginning to crumble and separate from the leather upper. Fantastic. The steep, steep began up to the col between Gothics and Saddleback. I'm quite certain we would have had a winner on funniest backpacking videos as we slipped and slogged our way up the wet rock. We knew that the weather was forecast to clear...eventually? 
...so we decided to side trip to the summit of Saddleback in hopes that things would clear for the Gothics summit. I'll agree with Ward's post on the steep ascent up Saddleback. It turns out we should have looked more closely at the map, as we 'summited' and started heading down...down? "That's not right" says my husband...so we turn around and start going down. I'm not feeling confident that we had the summit tho, so I ask to look at the map. I see the 2 bumps and say "I don't think we summited". "Ugh" says the team...noone wants to go back up when we still had so far to go. Team vote says "keep moving". So it was later determined, that we indeed had mistaken the 'saddle' of Saddleback to be the descent off the mountain and had not actually acquired the summit of Saddleback. Rookie mistake. Back at the col, we resumed our hike up Gothics which held a view similar to the one that I had seen on Algonquin in the spring - pure white. However, The steepness of the ascent left my mind pondering what the view may actually look like. I have pretty much made up my mind to repeat this in better weather. We passed a few hikers that were doing the Wolfjaws - Gothics route in the opposite direction; and a group of 4 Canadians passed us and then descended back to their lean-to (this was their 3rd summit attempt as they were tricked by the 'false' summit on the previous 2 tries). Our victorious summit of Gothics was shared by only the 3 of us and lasted all of 5 minutes since the view on all sides was identical Not far off the summit we collapsed on the trail for a power lunch and a resignation of the weather. We were just glad that it wasn't raining at that point. Not 15 minutes into the descent off of Gothics, it was as if God swooped his hand down and pushed away some of the clouds as we gazed into the valley off to the south. We debated reascending to the summit, however, at that point it was unclear if this was just a 1 minute view or if the clouds were going to envelope us again, so we opted to continue on.
We wrapped down into the col and began the ascent up Armstrong, all the while the weather was trying to clear...and by the time we reached the open cliff near/at the summit of Armstrong Voila! views...views of Gothics, True North, Saddleback, Haystack, Marcy...I could go on! We whooped and hollared and snapped the obligatory 50 pictures. Onward. 1 more mile handed us the summit of Upper Wolf Jaw which also granted us some spectacular views facing to the southeast. The descent of Upper was...uhh...ummm...well, at times we weren't sure we were on the trail, as we couldn't see trail markers and continually came up to these 5 and 10 foot drops which brought our speed of descent to a crawl. Amy referred to our technique as "descent by controlled falling". The quide book confirmed this steep descent, however, and it wasn't long before we gained the col btwn Lower and Upper and started seeing the trail markers again. Time 5 PM. We passed a couple just heading up at that time, with only day packs. I wondered if they knew what they were getting into at that time of day. I wondered if they were just dating. I wondered if it was his or her idea to head up at that hour. I wondered if this would be their last date. We scooted the last 3 miles or so back to the lean-to and collapsed in euphoria. Dinner! We strolled over to our 'dinner rock' only to find a fellow backpacker by the name of Malcom "aka Ward". He joined us round the camp stove as we recounted our day to him and he dazzled us with his account of the Sewards with Slamdog. We were honored to have met him and wish them both luck on the 46...an accomplishment we hope to one day complete. That night the moon rose huge on the horizon and shone down the creek bouncing off all the rocks. The stars were out in force and there was a crispness in the air. Leaving was something none of us wanted to think about...just a reality that had to be faced in the morning. We all drifted off listening to the rush of the creek and watching the moon rise in the sky. Bleep Bleep 5AM, a quick breakfast and we broke camp. We wished good luck and farewell to Malcom and the 3 miles back to the Garden passed all too quickly. If there had been a garbage can I would have ceremoniously trashed my boots right there at the trailhead, but instead they returned here to PA where they still sit on my porch. I'm too sentimental to throw them in the garbage here, but they are a little big for a paperweight. My new Asolo Goretex boots are on the way from Sierra trading post...they'll debut in the daks for Halloween...summit yet unknown.
...so we decided to side trip to the summit of Saddleback in hopes that things would clear for the Gothics summit. I'll agree with Ward's post on the steep ascent up Saddleback. It turns out we should have looked more closely at the map, as we 'summited' and started heading down...down? "That's not right" says my husband...so we turn around and start going down. I'm not feeling confident that we had the summit tho, so I ask to look at the map. I see the 2 bumps and say "I don't think we summited". "Ugh" says the team...noone wants to go back up when we still had so far to go. Team vote says "keep moving". So it was later determined, that we indeed had mistaken the 'saddle' of Saddleback to be the descent off the mountain and had not actually acquired the summit of Saddleback. Rookie mistake. Back at the col, we resumed our hike up Gothics which held a view similar to the one that I had seen on Algonquin in the spring - pure white. However, The steepness of the ascent left my mind pondering what the view may actually look like. I have pretty much made up my mind to repeat this in better weather. We passed a few hikers that were doing the Wolfjaws - Gothics route in the opposite direction; and a group of 4 Canadians passed us and then descended back to their lean-to (this was their 3rd summit attempt as they were tricked by the 'false' summit on the previous 2 tries). Our victorious summit of Gothics was shared by only the 3 of us and lasted all of 5 minutes since the view on all sides was identical Not far off the summit we collapsed on the trail for a power lunch and a resignation of the weather. We were just glad that it wasn't raining at that point. Not 15 minutes into the descent off of Gothics, it was as if God swooped his hand down and pushed away some of the clouds as we gazed into the valley off to the south. We debated reascending to the summit, however, at that point it was unclear if this was just a 1 minute view or if the clouds were going to envelope us again, so we opted to continue on. We wrapped down into the col and began the ascent up Armstrong, all the while the weather was trying to clear...and by the time we reached the open cliff near/at the summit of Armstrong Voila! views...views of Gothics, True North, Saddleback, Haystack, Marcy...I could go on! We whooped and hollared and snapped the obligatory 50 pictures. Onward. 1 more mile handed us the summit of Upper Wolf Jaw which also granted us some spectacular views facing to the southeast. The descent of Upper was...uhh...ummm...well, at times we weren't sure we were on the trail, as we couldn't see trail markers and continually came up to these 5 and 10 foot drops which brought our speed of descent to a crawl. Amy referred to our technique as "descent by controlled falling". The quide book confirmed this steep descent, however, and it wasn't long before we gained the col btwn Lower and Upper and started seeing the trail markers again. Time 5 PM. We passed a couple just heading up at that time, with only day packs. I wondered if they knew what they were getting into at that time of day. I wondered if they were just dating. I wondered if it was his or her idea to head up at that hour. I wondered if this would be their last date. We scooted the last 3 miles or so back to the lean-to and collapsed in euphoria. Dinner! We strolled over to our 'dinner rock' only to find a fellow backpacker by the name of Malcom "aka Ward". He joined us round the camp stove as we recounted our day to him and he dazzled us with his account of the Sewards with Slamdog. We were honored to have met him and wish them both luck on the 46...an accomplishment we hope to one day complete. That night the moon rose huge on the horizon and shone down the creek bouncing off all the rocks. The stars were out in force and there was a crispness in the air. Leaving was something none of us wanted to think about...just a reality that had to be faced in the morning. We all drifted off listening to the rush of the creek and watching the moon rise in the sky. Bleep Bleep 5AM, a quick breakfast and we broke camp. We wished good luck and farewell to Malcom and the 3 miles back to the Garden passed all too quickly. If there had been a garbage can I would have ceremoniously trashed my boots right there at the trailhead, but instead they returned here to PA where they still sit on my porch. I'm too sentimental to throw them in the garbage here, but they are a little big for a paperweight. My new Asolo Goretex boots are on the way from Sierra trading post...they'll debut in the daks for Halloween...summit yet unknown.
