Eagle Mountain

I stood at the summit of Balsam Mountain. Taking a breath and sip of water, I hitched up my pack and began to travel back the way I had come. The morning hike from the Rider Hollow Trailhead had been excellent. Fine weather in the 30’s and a well established snowshoe trench had made travel to the summit relatively painless. Now I returned the way I had come, stopping at the ridge line trail junction.

I had a decision to make. I could return to the trailhead 1.7 miles away, or I could push on in another direction. Eagle Mountain stood 2 miles away in the opposite direction. The time was now 10:45am. I had started at 7:30 and in two plus hours competed the original objective. There was plenty of daylight left. Should I go for two?

The side trip to Eagle presented some questions.

1. What was the condition of the trail? The peak was not as popular as Balsam. If the trail was poor, it would take longer and require more energy.
2. The side trip would effectively double the length I would hike today from 5 to about 9 miles. That would be a solid hike in snowshoes, the whole way.

Snowshoes and heavy boots adds quite a bit of weight to each step. On an “unbroken” trail, I would definitely run out of steam before reaching the goal.

I decided to make the attempt. I would hike out in the direction of Eagle. There was very little elevation to be gained, mostly easy travel along the ridge before reaching the summit.

I reached Haynes Mountain with a slight gain in elevation and proceeded towards Eagle. The trench leading to the mountain was not as well groomed as Balsam, but perfectly useable and I began to feel better about my decision.

Having gained the summit of Haynes, I looked back over my shoulder. Balsam retreated in the distance through the trees.

The level terrain stretched out before me. I tempered my pace. It would have been easy to crank up the speed to reach the mountain, and indeed I was tempted. I needed to keep some energy in reserve for the trip back. It was passing 11:00. In a half hour, I would stop and check the GPS to take stock of my progress.

The sun reflected off the snow, and the day grew warm, easily passing the freezing mark. I packed away the mittens, wearing only my liner gloves and opened my collar. The trench was marginally deeper here, and I stopped at the appointed time to determine how close I was.

According to my navigation, I was close to my goal. After a sip of water, I soldiered on.

Soon I entered a stand of trees. They had been blasted by a recent snowfall. The sticky snow stuck to trunk and branch. It was a beautiful scene, and I began to look for signs of the summit canister.

Eagle Mountain is a bushwhack without a blazed trail, but the established herd path was unmistakable. I began to look around. The canister might be off this trail on a spur. My concerns were unjustified. The trail I was following ended abruptly at the summit canister!

The container was easily opened. Inside was a notepad and pencil enclosed in a plastic bag. I added my name to the list of hikers. Carefully rewrapping the logbook, it went back into the canister for the next person to locate.

Reaching into my pack, I withdrew a sandwich. The summit was completely silent. Neither wind, nor birdsong stirred the air. I finished half the sandwich and with a few sips of water. I began the hike back the way I had come.

Descending Haynes Mountain, my right knee began to give way. The pressure on the joint from each downhill step was beginning to take its toll. Nine miles in snowshoes was the longest distance I had faced in a long time. Reaching the junction at the top of the ridge, I had less than two miles to go to reach the trailhead and the car. It would be a long two miles, and all downhill.

Using my trekking poles, I put more weight on my arms and shoulders, but it was still slow going. Fording the streams was easy. When I reached them I knew I was almost home.

I passed the sagging shelter less than half a mile from the parking area. It was in sorry state! I couldn’t imagine sleeping there.

Reaching the trailhead sign, I signed out of the logbook, and took off the snowshoes. I felt 100lbs lighter!

I was glad to have managed two peaks on this outing, but my knee was blown out. I’d need a few days rest to eliminate the limp. This was a good day, and would place me at a third of the way through the list of the Catskill 3500. I’d take a month off from the Cats and do something else to stay in condition. The 4 hour drive home beckoned. Guiding the car down the narrow road, I made for the highway home.