My Unexpected Mount Haystack Adventure
by Masha Falkov
(Sarasota, FL)
Alex Falkov in front of the distant face of Mount Marcy
Back when I was a teenager, Adirondacks hiking trips were a regular part of my summers. It was an opportunity for my father and me to spend some time together far away from the crowded feel of Long Island. We would usually hike one mountain the first day, relax the second, and then hike another the third day with our rottweiller, Bert.
The third day of our Memorial Day weekend of 1999, we were prepared to tackle Mount Haystack. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived in the closest available parking lot, it was already full and we were forced to descend to the lower lot, with a shuttle that would return us to the trailhead. Slightly late in the day, we were nonplussed, and soon were on the paths smelling sweetly of rotting leaves, pine needles, and cool mountain air. The wind hissed gently through the forest as our trail took us up and down, up and down. Our map revealed that we would have many such ascents and descents, but we grossly underestimated what would happen later on. 18 miles in 9 hours? We could do it, we thought, and return before the last shuttle left.
The ascent right before the first false summit lead us to a delightful view of the mountain from a cliff, marred only by the knowledge that we would have to descend back into the valley before so much as making a dent in our climb. The trees looked like broccoli and the wind whipped at my jacket as donned it against the cold. We were in for quite a hike, and there were visible time constraints. We dropped our enormous backpack with sandwiches, taking only some water and our trail mix for lightness.
After the false summit, the climb seemed to take forever. Just as we thought we had reached the top - it seemed so close - the perceived peak only turned out to be yet another false summit. This disappointment occurred no less than half-a-dozen times! Finally, we reached the top. Mount Marcy lay directly in front of us, its distinguishing rock slides pouring like tears around its stony face. This was a view I'll never forget. The wind was powerful and bitterly cold, so my dad and I ducked behind some rocks, huddling together and snacking on the trail mix. Soon, we had to return.
The time constraints were real, and we were already exhausted. How could we have underestimated this mountain? On and on we walked, watching with dismay as the sun sank lower and lower, darkening our trail. At the lodge in the middle of the forest, my dad bought a small flashlight to light our path. Sure enough, we had missed the shuttle - and had to descend another 5 miles to our car! 2 miles away from it, our dog lay down and put his head between his paws - he did not want to move. Soon he got up again, and we made it back, our legs aching.
Haystack was an adventure of the sort I relished, but would repeat more carefully.
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