Plenty of ice, ice, but no baby (or snow!) on Colvin and Blake 1/3/11

[DSettahr]

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Route Taken: Lake Road from St. Huberts to the Gill Brook Trail, up and over Colvin and Blake, and return the same way

Snow Depth: Non-existent at the Ausable Club, patchy at higher elevations, some patches on the summits that were maybe a foot deep of compressed, packed snow; no snow on the trail at all

Trail Condition: Extremely icy; patches of thin ice on lake road, trail was free of ice from the start of the Gill Brook Trail to the state land line, then ice increased in frequency and thickness till the summits, I encountered some pretty technical flows of ice higher up

Traction Devices Used: Crampons above 3000 feet, I also used my ice ax pretty extensively to maintain 2 points of contact at all times on some of the more technical ice flows, microspikes would have been very nice to have had with me at lower elevations, I carried snowshoes with me but they stayed strapped to my pack all day and were never used

I selected Colvin and Blake as my next two high peaks for winter ascents. I'd not climbed these two peaks since I first climbed them in the summer of 2006, and so I was eager to revisit these peaks for the first time in over 4 years.

After arriving at the parking area in St. Huberts early in the morning, I donned my pack and quickly strode up the road towards the Ausable Club. I was starting at the same time as I had 2 weeks previously for Nippletop and Dial, yet the difference in daylight was pretty clear- then, I'd started hiking in near-darkness. Today, however, the sky was a pale blue, and while the sun was not yet up, I could see quite clearly without the aid of a headlamp.

As I was signing in at the register, I noticed Neil and company had signed in before me for the lower range, about half an hour previously. The gatekeeper, seeing me outside at the register, came out of the gatehouse and asked where I was going. I told him Colvin and Blake, and then asked how the ice was. “I actually wouldn't recommend going anywhere today,” he said. “The ice is pretty bad, and you don't have to go very far before you could get into trouble.” Reasoning to myself that he was paid to be cautious in recommending courses of action to hikers,I assured him that I would be cautious, take thins easily, and turn back if I needed to, and then continued on up the road.

It turned out that he wasn't kidding- about the road at least (and, as I was later to find out, the rest of the trail). The first tenth of a mile was fine, then, as I started to gain elevation, things got tricky. Soon, I was “dirt hopping”- that is, jumping from patch of exposed dirt to patch of exposed dirt. Constant traffic by hikers (and vehicles) when there had been snow on the ground, combined with the warm temperatures the previous week, had combined to cover much of the surface of the road in a slick sheet of ice. When I wasn't hopping between patches of dirt, I was walking up the side of the road as best as I could, where the snow hadn't solidified into as slippery as sheet of ice. In a couple of spots, where larger rocks were embedded in the road, I could see the results off the frost heave. The road bed was a good six inches above where it

As I made my way up the road, I noticed that there was very little snow left in the woods; only the occasional thin patch had survived the thaw. Today's hike felt much more like it was occurring on a late November day, rather than a January one. A thin dusting of snow covered the road bed,

The steeper section of the road about half a mile up was the worst in terms of ice. Here, the open patches were few and far between. Fortunately, the short “Gulf Trail” allowed me to temporarily leave the road and follow Gill Brook itself past the steepest portion before returning to the road.

Soon, I reached the Gill Brook trail, and temporary respite from the ice. There was drastically less ice on the trail; in fact, the trail was pretty much free of any ice or snow. What spots that did have ice had plenty of dirt, rocks, sticks, roots, and leaves poking through that I was able to get good purchase. My pace increased, and I was able to make good time along Gill Brook, which was mostly frozen over. I passed by several waterfalls, which has mostly become vast lumps of solid ice.

As I gained elevation, the ice started to reappear. At first, it was as I'd seen on the lower portion of the Gill Brook trail- mixed with enough substrate that I was able to easily step as I pleased, and it posed no obstacle. Soon, however, it started to get thicker and thicker... and I found myself stepping carefully to avoid some nasty falls. More and more often, I found myself wishing that I had microspikes. I was carrying crampons, and it seemed as though these would almost certainly be overkill for what I was encountering, but it would have been very nice to have had some sort of traction on my feet.

Soon, I was on state land, and passing by the three Gill Brook campsites. It appeared as though the upper campsite on the west side of the trail (the one with the no camping disk) had been used since I'd passed through there 2 weeks ago. All three sites were in great shape.

I didn't want to have to use my crampons until I absolutely needed too, and a little ways beyond the junction with the upper trail to Fishhawk Cliffs and Indian Head, I reached that point. I had just barely been able to make it up an ice covered stone staircase without sliding all the way back down. It was time, I reasoned, to break out the crampons. I realized, as I was strapping them to my feet, that this was the first time I'd worn them in quite a while, never having had cause to put them on during the previous 2 winters!

As I continued up the trail, it was obvious that the crampons were still overkill, but I had no other option. In fact, I'm quite sure that microspikes would have sufficed up until probably about the 3500 foot level. Above the junction where the trail to Nippletop via Elk Pass split off, however, I started to encounter some serious ice that was almost certainly beyond the capabilities of microspikes. It was at least a foot thick in places, and covering the whole trail. Stepping off to the side was not an option, and so right up the middle I went, using the trees to steady myself as I climbed. I passed several more exposed icy patches like this in quick succession, and then the trail leveled off and gradually climbed the ridge.

With so much time having passed since I first climbed Colvin, I had no memory of the numerous false summits I encountered on this ascent. It seemed like at least 2 or 3 times, I thought I was cresting the top, only to discover, after a short downhill, that the trail continued up again. After some easy, ice-free climbing up the ridge, I also started to encounter some more tricky sections that required careful foot placement. A few times, I ascended up one side of the ice, only to find myself without any good had or foot holds above me, forcing me to side step carefully across the ice to the other side before continuing on. One false step, and I would've ended up sliding 30 or 40 feet down a solid sheet of ice before slamming into a rock or tree.

All the while, I was keeping an eye out for the final ledge just below the summit. I'd read trip reports from previous weeks indicating that it had given some people trouble, and what I'd already encountered was difficult enough. Before I knew it, I found myself standing in front of what had to be the ledge in question. After climbing up into a gap between the side of a cliff and another boulder, I found myself faced with a rock about as tall as I was. There was enough ice on it that I was completely unable to get any purchase whatsoever, but the ice was thin enough that my crampons were pretty useless. To complicate matters, there was a gap below me to the left that was just big enough for my body to slip through, leading to a drop to the base of the cliff that was not too long, but great enough that it would result in some broken bones for sure. Within seconds of coming across the obstacle before me, I had visions of trying to scale the rock, only to slide backwards out of control down and through the slot before plummeting to the ground.

I paused and examined what lay before me. I felt around, high and low, but could find no place where I could get a good hand hold. With my feet, I probed the rock as well, and found nothing that I could use as a step. The more I looked at the ledge, the more concerned I became about trying to scale it. Normally, I am pretty comfortable hiking alone (even in winter), but this is perhaps the first time that I was ever faced with a situation where the idea of continuing on without others really sketched me out. I was a long way from the trailhead, and while I had of course left information about where I would be with someone, as it was still before noon they would not become concerned with my continued absence for a good 8 hours at least... long enough that I didn't want to spend that time lying on the side of a mountain with a broken leg.

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Continued....

 

[DSettahr]

Above me, just out of my reach, was a root that looped out of the ground and back beneath the duff. It would make the perfect hand hold, if only I could reach it... and then I remembered my ice ax. I pulled off my pack, grabbed my ax, and put my wrist through the leash. I reached up, and could easily reach the root with the ax... perfect! I leaned back to put some weight on it to test it... it held! I told myself that I would give it one shot, maybe two, and if things still seemed sketchy, I would turn back. I pulled my had down the shaft of the ax until the leash was taught, so that I didn't have to rely on finger strength to hold on. I then pulled myself up, quickly and grabbed onto the root with my other hand. Now, I was on a part of the rock that wasn't as steep as the face of it, and I was able to dig the spikes of my crampons into the ice, and push myself up... I'd made it!

No more than 50 feet beyond was the summit, which afforded me excellent views of Giant and Rocky Peak Ridge in the distance, and the ridgeline of Noonmark, Bear Den, Dial, and Nippletop to my right. Just over the shoulder of Nippletop, I could see one of the Dixes, probably Macomb. The most spectacular part of the view, however, was the Great Range itself, laid out from start to end in all it's glory. Clearly visible (and easily recognizable!) were Upper and Lower Wolfjaw, Armstrong, Gothics, Saddleback, Basin, Haystack, Marcy (just barely visible over the shoulder of Haystack), and Skylight. Marcy was spitting smoke and clouds, which caused alternating bands of light and dark across the range as the sun tried to shine through. To the south, I could see Allen, which seemed so close I had to remind myself just how difficult a hike it is to this peak, even in the summer. While the temperatures weren't too low (probably in the mid-twenties), the wind was howling along at a pretty good clip, and the wind chill made my hand quite cold after taking a glove off to open up a granola bar wrapper.

I was pretty glad at this point that I'd done Loon Lake Mountain the previous day as a warm up, as I was still feeling quite energized as a result. After taking pictures, I was soon on my way south to Blake. The descent down this side of Colvin went smoothly and quickly. With a southern aspect, the sun and warm temperatures had done a much better job melting away all the snow completely on this side of the mountain, and so I encountered little ice, and what I did encounter was easily traversed. There were two quite steep sections near the col, but each of these had ladders (although it would've been nice if the lower ladder was about 4 feet taller!). I did keep my ice ax out, and found that using it as a cane was quite beneficial on some of the more slippery spots.

Soon, I was in the col between to the two peaks. Here, a sign marked the junction with the trail down to Ausable Pass (and warned that there was absolutely no exit via Lower Ausable Lake!). Just beyond the junction, I found turkey tracks! I don't think I've ever seen signs of a turkey so high up in the mountains before.

I began the ascent up Blake, encountering more technical ice as I went. The ice ax came in pretty handy, as I could swing it into the ice and get some pretty good holds, allowing me to maintain at least 2 points of contact on the ice at all times. I'm not sure I would've been able to summit both peaks without the ax. I made good progress, although at times on the ice I was forced to stop and carefully plan my route from below. As I climbed, I got some more decent views of the upper range, as well as Mount Colvin itself, behind me. At times, it seemed like the clouds were thickening at such quick pace that soon all of the mountains would be enveloped, but as time progressed, it seemed as though the clouds were content with devouring only the Great Range, and they stayed away from the ridge upon which I was hiking.

It wasn't long before I reached the summit of Blake. Here, the view was mostly hidden by trees, but I could make out the range through and above them. The wind had died down by the time I reached the summit of this second peak, and standing still felt much more comfortable. Lunch consisted of candy, hot chocolate, and a chicken salad sandwich (with craisins and hot sauce mixed in of course!), which felt great. After lunch, and without much to see on the summit of Blake, I quickly began making my way back down the mountain.

The descent of Blake was a little bit more complicated than descending the south side of Colvin had been, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I left the trail in one or two spots and scrambled down through the woods to avoid the worst of the ice. For the most part, however, I made my way down the steeper, icier sections facing up hill, continuing to use my ax, and retracing my steps from the ascent carefully.

Climbing back up Colvin was a piece of cake, tempered only by the fact that I was finally starting to feel a little fatigued. Some more granola bars helped combat this feeling, however, and, faced with significantly less ice, the ascent went quickly and smoothly. From the summit, I could see that the clouds had opened up a bit and more sunlight was shining through, and I took advantage of the opportunity to snap some more pictures.

Ever since successfully scaling it that morning, the ledge just below the summit of Colvin had been on my mind, as well as considerations for how I was going to get back down it. Soon, I was standing above it and considering my options. I figured that I had two choices: I could either attempt what I had done to get up it in reverse, or I could try to find a way around. It was quite obvious that the cliff face ran a good distance in either direction, but just before reaching the summit from the south, I'd seen a spot where I thought I could leave the trail and get around the exposed rock. I retraced my steps to that spot, and left the trail. The woods at first were quite open, but soon thickened. Carefully pushing through the trees, I made my way east, hoping to find the base of the cliff so that I could follow it north to rejoin the trail. I found the cliff, alright... just not the base of it! I was standing at the top of it, and needed to go farther south to get around it! This required some more bushwhacking through dense growth, and scrambling (and tripping) over some blowdown. As I continued a long, I kept peaking down towards the cliff to see if there were any good ways down... nothing in site. Just as I was starting to question whether this was worth the effort, the cliff disappeared into the ground, and I was able to start making my way back north along the base! Here, the forest was a lot more open, and the going much easier. In making my way along the cliff, I noticed several spots where I would've easily been able to climb down... but they'd been obscured from my view above by the dense growth.

Eventually, I was back on the trail and descending the mountain (and I'm still not sure if my detour was worth the effort to avoid the ledge!). Again, as with my descent of Blake, I found myself taking a few detours through the woods as well as descending, ice ax in hand, backwards and retracing my steps as best as I could on some of the sketchier spots. Eventually, I reached the spot where I'd stopped that morning to put on crampons, and decided to take them off... again, microspikes would have been really nice for some of the icy spots at lower elevations.

As darkness fell, I continued to make my way down. Without traction devices, some of the icy spots gave me more trouble than they had that morning (presumably because with each downward foot step, I was placing a lot more force on my feet, making it easier to slip). I found myself doing a couple of ballet dances to maintain my balance, and at one point my feet slipped right out from in front of me... fortunately, my pack hit the ground first before my butt did, and cushioned the blow.

I returned to the road in darkness, and carefully descended. A fresh coating of dusty snow obscured some of the icy spots, and made finding solid ground somewhat difficult, but not impossible. At the trailhead, I saw that Neil's group had made it out of the woods about an hour before me. As I was sharpening the pencil to sign out, another solitary hiker came up out of the darkness. He indicated that he had done Wolfjaws and Armstrong, and that those two had been enough... he saw my ice ax, and after I told him I'd gotten a lot of use out of it on my hike, he said that he was finally convinced to invest in one. I responded that I was finally convinced to invest in microspikes, which he was wearing.

This is definitely one of the tougher winter days I've had in the High Peaks, even harder for sure than doing Wright, Algonquin, and Iroquois in a single day three years ago in February. I've stated before that snowshoes will get you through 95% of what you can expect to encounter in the High Peaks in winter, but that you'll need crampons for the other 5%... and today was comprised pretty much soley of that other 5%. The technical aspect of all the ice forced me to move at a slower pace than I might have otherwise, and also required me to constantly be aware of where I was placing my feet. My crampons and ice ax got more use on this hike than probably on all other winter hikes combined. Until we get some more snow, hikes on many of the High Peaks will remain technically challenging, I'm sure. I've also put a good deal of thought into that final ledge just below the summit of Colvin, and I question how easy it would be to scale this ledge with snowshoes even if there were lots of snow... it seems to be like crampons would be necessary for this ledge, and even some of the other steeper sections, with or without deep snow.

I'm not at 22 out of 46 for winter, almost halfway done!

 

[Scotzman]

Another great job on your trip report. Very detailed and entertaining to read. I guess I need to get those crampons and ice axe before too long the way this winter is shaping up!

You mentioned ladders on the descent into the col. They must be new. When I climbed them two summers ago there was just a downed log to assist the steep rock section of Colvin.

 

[DSettahr]

You mentioned ladders on the descent into the col. They must be new. When I climbed them two summers ago there was just a downed log to assist the steep rock section of Colvin.

They looked pretty new. I have no memory of them being there 5 years ago. I was glad they were there, those two sections would've been pretty difficult without them.

 

[daLunartik]

The ladders were put in place in early August. I hiked Colvin and Blake July 24th, and there were no ladders. A few weeks later I read a trail report indicating there was a set of new ladders in place. Wasn't that bad of a climb without them, but sides of the trail were clearly getting eroded by everyone hanging on as they went up or down.

 

[Brew]

Brendan,

I was with Neil and Spike in the Lower Range. I saw your 'Hi Neil' comment in the register book.

Neil could not figure out what the scribbling was. He's getting old, you know, and his eyesight is not as good as it used to be. He can hike me to death, however, the old fart.

Very icy conditions indeed. I'm sure you can imagine the steep sections on Upper Wolfjaws and Armstrong.

I had a technical ice axe and very aggressive crampons. Sure helped a lot.

The Hillsound microspikes were very handy at lower elevations and I wore then on my complete return on Lake Road. I took no chances at a wipeout.

Glad to hear you made it back OK.

Very nice pics on your Picasa site. Normally, I take a lot also, but not this time. Mine are in the 1st album here:

http://picasaweb.google.com/RandonneesetAlpinismeGBLL

Check out the one where I look like I'm about to destroy Neil with my ice axe on the summit of Armstrong.