After a visit to Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater house and a day of hiking in the Catskills, I reached the Upper Works trailhead in the Adirondack's High Peaks region. It was a cloudy day as I hiked along the Calamity Brook trail towards Lake Colden. I passed a few people heading out, several of which warned me about how bad the bears were. One person even said they had used an Ursack (a food bag made of the same fabric used in bulletproof bags) and the bear that gotten through it easily enough.

Suddenly my own smart idea to bring along an Ursack didn't seem so wise. Still I soldiered on, wondering what it might be like to climb Mount Marcy without breakfast and then hike back out if a bear ate my food tonight.

The trail was mostly level, but initially passed through some areas that were logged recently. However, the trail re-enters the woods and crossed over a stream a few times and passed some small waterfalls. While the northern hardwood forest was just beginning its fall color changes. This was definitely the scenery I had come to the Adirondacks hoping for.

A bridge over Calamity Brook.

Just before reaching the Flowed Lands, I passed the Henderson Monument which honors David Henderson, a scout accidentally killed by members of his party (the "calamity" that gave name to the brook and trail). I paused at the Flowed Lands lean-tos, and leafed through the register books, amazed at how many people had lost their food to bears. I felt my planned four day backpack shrinking already without a real bear-proof canister.

The David Henderson Monument.

I soldiered on to the Lake Colden dam, which was fogged in from the clouds, but still had a beautiful misty peacefulness. I hoped to see the lake again under clear skies. Since it was still early, and I only had a few miles to the Feldspar lean-to, I decided on a detour up and over Mount Colden.

Lake Colden from the dam.

The route kept me along the lake for a short distance, then a gentle climb across the lower reaches of Mount Colden, followed by a steep and slick path to the summit. Much of the trail was over bald granite, usually wet and sometimes flowing with water. A few sections of the trail had ladders, but other sections required careful balance to friction walk up the moist rock with a full pack. The signs prohibiting camping at 3,500 and 4000 feet couldn't come soon enough. Well before reaching the summit I soaked with the water dripping from the trees, and I believe several trees were dripping with my sweat.

I was actually happy to get into the wind that accompanied the lessening vegetation, but disappointed that the clouds were so thick. I wasn't sure if I made it to the true summit, I explored a few higher points just off the trail, but couldn't see far enough to confirm that I was on the highest point of the peak.

Heading down I took a short break at Lake Arnold and saw the first other hiker since those I passed headed back to the trailhead before the Flowed Lands. A mid-week, mid-September trip was looking like great timing to avoid the crowds and bugs of summer.

I followed the Feldspar Brook down to the lean-to and found another couple in residence. They didn't seem to mind my presence and we found we were both headed up Marcy the next morning. We also worked together to bear bag my food and their cookware (they had rented a bear canister for their food).

During the night it rained hard for a while and strong wind kicked up, but by the morning the sky had cleared and I was happy to find no bears got our food. I had food to hike another day!

After a quick breakfast I took off down up the trail to the Lake Tear of the Clouds, the highest source of the Hudson River with a clear view towards the south slopes of Mount Marcy. I shortly reached the Four Corners trail junction, and turned left.

Lake Tear of the Clouds and Mount Marcy.

The trail up Marcy was essentially a small stream after last night's rain. But thankfully the clouds weren't gathering and the views of the surrounding high peaks kept getting better. Above tree line the trail is marked with cairns and blazes on the rocks, leading up the sloped granite - a good calf workout. On this section I saw my first hiker of the day, a day hiker whose goal was Marcy and Algonquin in one day from the Adirondack Loj.

In a short time I found myself on Marcy's summit, in what were the only perfectly clear conditions I had for any New England peak. I could see many of the other high peaks, and Lake Placid from my perch atop New York. However, there were some clouds toward the horizon in most directions, and I watched the west winds carry clouds over the summit of Algonquin and racing toward Marcy. I headed back to the Four Corners, and met my lean-to mates on the way up. After wishing them a clear summit, I finished the hike down and then started up Skylight.

Skylight seen from Marcy's summit.

The is a legend that if you fail to carry a rock to the summit of Skylight, it will surely rain on your hike out. I don't know how rigorously this has been tested, but I stowed a fair sized stone in my pack as I began the ascent.

The clouds had moved in by the time I reached tree line, and my only views were to the southeast, looking toward Elk Lake. I found the large summit cairn, built of the clear weather wishes of thousands of hikers, and added my stony hopes to the top. After a brief snack I headed down, and found the clouds had mostly cleared off by the time I reached Four Corners again.

I headed back to the Lake Tear of the Clouds for a more complete lunch, then resolved to follow the herd path up to the summit of Gray Peak. The route up was easy to follow, but the underbrush and tree limbs had definitely not been cleared. By the time I reached the summit ridge the back of my neck had funneled hundreds of spruce needles down my shirt. A slightly smaller number adorned my hair. I hunted along the ridge looking for a sign that I was told marked the summit. I walked a ways toward Marcy, realizing why the guidebook had said that the route from Marcy was an awful bushwhack. I turned back and looked up, suddenly seeing a simple sign reading "Gray Peak".

I retuned now to the Lake Tear of the Clouds for the last time, and headed downstream all the way back to Lake Colden, passing some interesting and impressive waterfalls, but experiencing more and more pain in my right knee from the downhill rocky trail and the pack on my back.

I crossed the dam and checked in at the first lean-to. There was a group of 6 there, and I asked if there was a bear line nearby. "Funny you should ask" was the response, and I was told how the night before a bear had chewed through one steel cable used to run food up the line, and ripped another's 1/2 inch eyelet anchor out of a tree. This didn't sound good.

I went to inspect the bear line, and sure enough, all four original pulley lines to send your food up 20 feet into the air were ripped out or chewed through. I thought of trying to find a long enough stick to hang my food bag, counter-balanced by another weight, over the still intact horizontal cable. However, this area was a pine forest, and I had trouble finding a stick long enough and strong enough to hoist my food and another weight over the cable.

I went down to the lakeshore, Ursack in hand, to think for a bit, and ran into another member of the 6 person group. "Are you going to sink your food" he asked. Now that's a good idea I thought. I had enough zip lock baggies to be reasonably sure my food wouldn't soak, so maybe I could just add some rocks to my bag and sink it into the lake.

After dinner I went ahead with the sinking plan ("bear ponding"?). Two other groups had come into the lean-to I'd occupied, the first group had a canister, and the second group spent some time trying to hang their food, then noticed the bear back in the woods waiting for them to leave so he could acquire their food. They quickly decided to follow my lead and sink their food as well.

During the night the bear found the canister and rolled it around some, but never got into it. Apparently discouraged he left and didn't find the food we'd sunk in the lake. Adam 2, bears 0.

After a quick breakfast, I started off for the Algonquin Trail. The trail leads up to a saddle between Boundary and Algonquin peaks following a stream with numerous waterfalls. At times the trail climbed alongside the creek over bare granite that had been cleaned by the water's flow.

Looking back into the sun I was granted with another clear day and views of Mount Colden with Marcy and other high peaks right behind. The bare granite slides along the sides of Mount Colden and Algonquin were also plainly visible.

Mount Colden and Marcy from the Algonquin Trail.

After reaching the saddle I turned right to head towards the summit of Algonquin, passing out of the tree layer and coming upon a bare summit much like Marcy's. The views of Lake Colden where I started the day were particularly rewarding.

Lake Colden and Sunlight from Algonquin's summit.

As I came off the summit, I decided my knee was in too much pain to head over Boundary and pick up the summit of Iroquois as well. It was all I could do to slowly head down the Algonquin Trail suffering through the pain. In fact, it took me as long to descend the trail as it did to climb up.

I had considering taking a side trip to Avalanche Lake and back, but after reading Lake Colden again, I returned to the lean-to and spent a relaxing afternoon writing, admiring the scenery and watching a duck swim pass and several dragonflies cavort around the shore.

Lake Colden and Mount Colden on a relaxing afternoon.

Two of my previous night's lean-to companions returned from their hike up Marcy and back. They were pretty worn out from the long hike over the rocky trail. We shared a few stories, then sunk our food in the lake for another night.

About 5 in the morning I head a distinctive smack near the shore. It sounded exactly like a beaver tail smacking the water surface as a warning, but when it repeated several times I knew it wasn't a beaver. I carefully got up pulled on my boots and grabbed my camera. I walked toward the shore and could hear the grunts of a bear. He was behind a large boulder and below me, but I could hear him trying to tear into my Ursack. I had already written off my food and had no thoughts of challenging him with my rightful ownership, but I did want to see a bear.

However, with that boulder in the way, I would have had to get within 5 feet of him for a look, so after a while I retreated to the lean-to, letting the others know about the bear. I also took a look up at the night's sky, and noticed a perfect circle of clearer sky around the crescent moon. I hadn't ever seen a moon bow before, but I was pretty sure it meant changing weather.

Somehow I fell back asleep with a bear tearing into my breakfast 60 feet away. I woke up after 6am to the predawn light. It was time to survey the damage. Sure enough, the bear had managed to finally rip a fist sized hole into the Ursack and ate or scattered my food into the lake (with the exception of a half eaten Genisoy bar - I guess he didn't like the flavor). I set about picking up the trash to pack it out, when I heard a squirrel chatter away in a tree nearby. At the same moment he dropped a chewed squeeze tube that formerly held some peanut butter. Trying to salvage some superiority over the denizens of the Adirondacks, I yelled at the squirrel "Hey, squirrel, that's mine!" and raced toward the tree to recover my trash. I think the squirrel beat me to the squeeze tube, but fled up the tree without trying to recover it. As I picked up the tube, the squirrel launched into another long chatter from a higher branch.

I tried to console myself with the score: Adam 2, Bears 1. But once the bears put points on the board the game is over. At least I was already planning on hiking out today. Without a breakfast to cook, I packed away my trash and other belongings and wished my fellow foodless backpackers a safe trip out and headed back to the Upper Works trailhead.

Hiking out while thinking about a cup of coffee in nearby Newcomb, I moved faster than any other time in the Adirondacks. Sure my pack was lighter, and my way was downhill, and the trail was less rocky, but I think I was primarily motivated by the thought of breakfast.

If I ever get back this way, I'll pack in a bear canister and plan on doing more of a base camp and day hikes trip.