Algonquin Peak 9/27/25 (rider 1/46)

It all started with a camping trip to the Adirondack Loj with Hunter and Rider. We pulled over on the way in at the view over the Plains of Abraham. Rider saw Algonquin and said, I want to climb that one! Well Hunter for sure didn't want to, so we had a wonderful hike of Mount Jo and I began quietly plotting a return trip.

A month later we pulled into the Loj Campground to stay in a canvas cabin. These things are a perfect base camp for high peaks hiking. Plenty of room to move around and it sure is nice not to have to set up and break down a tent. We had a fun night dining at the Hungry Hiker then tucked into bed early. Rider of course wanted the top bunk. I finished The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. A beautiful little story. Owls hooted back and forth at each other and I felt so happy, spending this time with my son. 

 

 The next morning we got a solid jump on the hike starting at 7. Rider was very enthusiastic and pushed the pace over the approach. I was continually overwhelmed by nostalgia, remembering various landmarks on a trail Jeanette and I had hiked so many times so long ago.

We snacked regularly. J had the bright idea to give Rider his fanny pack full of snacks. A couple of toys too. So we'd climb a bit, have a snack, then climb a bit more. The middle dragged. And dragged. Once the excitement wore off, it was hard to Maintain a  steady pace. This is the part of hiking in the high peaks I wasn't in a rush to experience with kids. Its mentally challenging to keep a kid motivated when the hike involces climbing up and over muddy rocks for a miles.

We kept at it. We chatted a lot. We did eventually pick up speed as the terrain changed, and the forest gave clear indications that we were entering the alpine zone. I mentioned to Rider that the trees would get smaller as we got higher and he was very vigilant in his study of the forest. It became apparent that the summit was in the clouds as we caught glimpses through the forest. I was hopeful that it would burn off, but couldn't help but be a little discouraged thinking Rider might not have a view.

Once we hit the Wright spur train and the final push up Algonquin, summit fever kicked in big time for Rider. I was able to keep up just fine in the first 2/3 of the hike, but now that he was actually excited, I couldn't keep up and had to plead with him to let me catch my breath a few times. I couldn't help but be excited to though. His energy was infectious!

But the terrain kept getting more challenging, with cliff bands and rain-slick rock. We were more exposed to the wind as the forest peeled away in the alpine zone. Wind was very much on my mind when planning this hike. I knew high winds on a summit could be really scary. So the forecast was good. Only 5-10 mph gusts, which is very minimal for such an exposed peak. Even that amount of wind, coupled by the terrain and fog, can be very daunting for a little guy. For anyone really.

So Rider got pretty scared. Each successive cliff band brought out bigger feelings until he stalled, in tears, saying he didn't want to go any further. From the start, I knew that turning around was highly likely. Weather, injury, exhaustion, or fear. Any factor and I was ready to bail. Rider is seven. The mountains will wait. 

I knew we didn't have much more difficult terrain ahead of us though. I tucked us in to a safe (and hopefully somewhat cozy) spot at the base of our next cliff scramble. Gave Rider a hug or five. And a snack. After he had calmed down, he said he still didn't want to go any further. I said that was ok. I felt like it was ok. We were maybe two tenths of a mile from the top. I knew his mom would want him to try though. Jeanette fought to overcome her fears constantly throughout our 46er journey and I was always so proud of her working though it.

We had some cell reception so I gave mom a call. Since it was just Rider and I alone up there, I never wanted to push him too hard or make him feel unsafe. Mom said how proud she was about how far he had made it. Told him he didn't have much further to go. She knew he could do it. He still said no. So we hung up the phone. Finished snacking. I caught a few views down towards Wright, offering me some hope that the clouds would part up top.

                               

So I packed up my bag. Turned around to start heading back and there is Rider, scaling the cliff in front of us. He was pushing on and never looking back. Absolutely determined. Didn't say a thing about anything he had just been feeling or was feeling in that moment. I couldn't believe it. The strength in this kid to be clinging to the side of a 5000 foot mountain and feel SO afraid and still want to push on. 

We were still in the clouds. We started the morning with few other groups on the trail but as the morning went on, we kept running in to more and more people. A big group of 20 something dudes had recently passed us. On a cliff band not much further from where we stalled, they were all heckling (good-naturedly I think) one of their buddies who had stalled out himself, his fear of heights getting to him.

Rider and I talked about what he had just gone through and I jokingly offered a "dad pep talk". Whether it was helpful, or he felt a way about a 7 year old making it up, I offered him a hand up and he rejoined his group. Rider was positively buzzing and chirping now. We started to follow the navigational cairns through the mist. The world felt intense and glorious. 

He made it! He was welcomed with cheers from the other hikers and a hearty congrats from the summit steward. I kind of couldn't believe it. I never wanted my boys to feel forced into hiking like this or feel like they needed to follow in our footsteps for our approval. Rider WANTED to climb the second highest mountain in New York. He climbed his heart out and overcame his fears. 

Despite the cloud cover, the weather was nice on the summit, so we decided we'd hang out for a while and see if the clouds would lift. I think we were both pretty elated and ready to bask in the moment a little longer. So we snacked. Summit pickles! I brought along a Nine Pin cider, which tasted phenomenal. Sensei Mike, from Rider's dojo, Shoshin Karate,  requested a summit push up photo, so we obliged.

We explored a bit and found a cozy spot to chill, and see if the clouds would break. Occasionally the sky above us would suddenly open up bright blue. Made me hopeful we'd see something. Rider was agreeable, optimistic. "Let's hang! I bet we'll get a view!" He really wanted to see Marcy. I told him we could wait as long as we wanted to. We had gotten to the summit at 11, climbing 4.4 miles in 5 hours. Before we started seeing anything ourselves, we heard gasps from the other people on the summit. Oohs and aahs. Little commotions as people got up to get a better look. We saw Lake Colden first. Then the new slides on Mount Colden. Bigger and bigger patches of blue sky. 

It was beautiful and fleeting and intense and everything that is awe-inspiring about hiking in the high peaks. I wanted so badly for him to have a view after all the hard work he put in, and the fear he overcame. My heart felt so full. 

After gawking a while longer, Rider wanted to explore the summit. So we walked around, checked out the plants, and chatted with the other hikers. Naturally EVERYONE wanted to talk with Rider and give him props for the serious climb he did. I'm so floored by how confident and articulate Rider is. He just feels so comfortable in his own skin, telling story. It was great to be his wing man, and chat with a lot more people than I would've normally. We eventually got chatting with the summit steward, and ask for a tour of the alpine vegetation. She showed us so much cool stuff, including trees that grew out, but never up! I learned something new: there is an alpine cranberry! Love hearing the summit stewards speak passionately about these weird little magical plants. 

I was mesmerized by the patterns the summit grasses made, their yellow contrasting the rich reds of the fall vegetation. 

Views continued to open up as we explored the summit. Each moment unique and breath-taking in it's own way.

Knowing the tough miles we had ahead of ourselves, we eventually started backed down. How different a mountain can feel depending on the mood. The summit was scary and intense for Rider on the way up, for dad full of worry and concern. As we made our way down, the view continued to open up and the sun shone through, lighting our way back to the Loj, with Lake Placid now visible beyond. 

We had so much fun walking in the alpine zone, looking all around. By the time Wright Peak was in view, it was completely out of the clouds. After they saw us taking a selfie, a friendly hiker took a great picture of us. Now a favorite of mine, I got a canvas made and gave it to Rider for Christmas. 

The day kept getting sunnier and more beautiful. I stopped and took a million pictures. We lingered. 

Back inside the tree-line we moved slowly but surely. Revisiting the familiar sites with the powerful sense of relief of reaching a difficult summit brings. Since I kept driving the pace on the way up, I made sure he had time to stop and play. He loves manipulating the rivulets and cascades that tumble down the trail. Making little dams and rerouting the flow. We had many snacks. We chatted. The pace dragged. I won't lie... it took a long time and some mental fortitude to keep us moving. Rider counted to 500 at some point. Both on the climb and on the way down, we sang I want It That Way, which is a staple of Mrs. Klink's second grade class. This was one of my favorite parts of the hike. Golden from K Pop Demon Hunters was another favorite jam for our journey. We did eventually make it out of the woods and immediately began planning our next trip.

The Green Thing and New Dino Land

 In March of 2020, New York State shut down in an attempt to thwart the spread of COVID-19. Hunter's school, Rider's daycare and the New York State Museum, where I was working at the time, all closed. Jeanette's work did not shut down so the boys had to find their way out there in the shut down world. At first we sort of mucked around the neighborhood to break up the day and get wiggins out. After a while I just loaded the boys into the car and went for long drives. A few times we ended up at Thacher Park and that made all 3 of us happy. We parked at first and I let them pretend to drive. Great parenting I know. As the weather got better we got out more and more.

When the weather was bad we started to hang in the pavilions. First at the Paint Mine Trail head and then at Glenn Doone. I had never once in my life pulled into the Glenn Doone area of the park. 

Its a little tucked away and easy to miss, with the very popular overlook lot just past. Turns out its a really neat spot with a great view along the escarpment. There's an old structure there. A lot of stone and concrete work involving walls and ledges, as well as a round green building ringed with benches. It was a unique area for the boys to explore and really held their attention. Also some cover protected us from the weather on dicey early spring days.

As the weather got better we explored more of the area around 'The Green Thing' as it became known. While there aren't any formal trails, there is a well-beaten herd path along the fence/ cliff edge. One day we just kept following it until we ended up at a creek bed. It was chugging along with spring run off and dropped off abruptly just past the fence, gushing over the cliff edge. We'd often bring toys on these outings. Cars or animals for the boys to play around on the green thing or through the woods. When we discovered the cliff's edge waterfall creek bed, I had a backpack full of dinosaurs. There were lots of levels, small cascades and deep pools in the wide, flat creek bed. A great place to play with dinosaurs.

It was a nice long outing, with a minimum of fighting or screaming. The boys clearly liked it too. They named it New Dino Land. So I planned to go back. Another time we ended up at the creek bed, it was bone dry and looked like a road through the forest. I think it was just Hunter and I this time? We explored upstream, looking for fossils or salamanders or both. The creek bed twisted between steep banks and had many steps and scrambles for the boys to engage with. Around a big twist a tall (though dry at the time) falls appeared. Its a tricky climb. I trusted Hunter but also stayed close. Secretly glad their mom wasn't there to point out what a bad idea it was. 

We followed the creek upstream and eventually found a little bridge, and a trail that took us back to The Green Thing. A new attraction was added to New Dino Land. So we settled in there. Making frequent visits. Eventually bringing mom along too. Sometimes we'd just play at New Dino Land. Sometimes just The Green Thing. We'd go up the creek when it was dry. We'd go up the creek when it wasn't dry. We found a geocache once. We found (and left) many fossils in the creek bed. The rocks were loaded with them. While it was clearly good for them, it was good for me too. I spent most of my time exploring the woods for many years before we had kids. I didn't realize until I couldn't spend so much time there, how much the forest was essential to my mental health. I used to think I had to hike. To cover great distances and reach new heights. Turns out I just need to immerse. Feel the seasons change. Hear the birds. Feel the earth under my feet. 

I've spent a long time thinking about sharing the story of New Dino Land. Some parts of me wanted to keep it secret. Keep it ours forever. But even during our visits, we knew it was a place to share. We brought friends to visit and even ran into other kids having similar adventures. I think the takeaway is about exploration. In finding and building specialness in your world. There is something extra special about finding something magical for your kids that doesn't cost money. Free of cost but free of structure as well. We just showed up. It was rarely planned. It was different every time. New Dino Land isn't just a place to share. It's an idea to share. New Dino Land is a state of mind. 

Cascade, Porter and Blueberry thru-hike February 2022

 Josh and I met through the fan art community on Facebook, both of us collection pins and posters for the Grateful Dead and Phish. We ended up spending countless hours with other like-minded folks (shout out to Les, Patsy, Dre, Megan, Cecily and everybody else) bonding over music, sharing our lives. Josh is a Plattsburgh dude though and if there's one thing more loved than jambands in the 'Burgh scene it's the Adirondacks. Josh had been getting serious about completing the 46 so our conversations shifted to hiking, gear and trip planning. The scene was set for a hike. (2024 edit: Josh has long since completed the 46 and keeps going, finding much joy and beauty in the Adirondack Mountains)

In mid December of 2021, our dog Koda passed away peacefully at the age of 11. We're still reeling from it and not a day goes by where I don't notice the void that his electric presence occupied. When Koda came into our lives in 2012, he was 2 and an absolute lunatic. Super high energy, super high play/ prey drive and I just didn't know what it would take to help him (and us by proxy) find peace. So I did the thing I knew brought me peace: run in the woods until we were joyous exhausted puddles of goo. So Koda and I went to the Albany Pine Bush or Thacher Park, going on longer and harder hikes until I thought he was ready for the high peaks.

Koda's first high peak hike: Porter and Cascade from Marcy Field

In November of 2012 we climbed Porter and Cascade from Marcy field and had a wonderful day in the woods. When we got home Koda was tired and at peace. A peace that lasted for days after. We had found what he needed. I felt very fortunate. It was what I needed as well so we could share it. We climbed Giant from the Hopkins Mountain trail next then steadily began working on his 46 until we completed it on Algonquin in 2014. Our deepest bond was formed and shared in the woods so I wanted to celebrate his life by going on a hike. What better a place to go for closure than our first big climb together?

Rest easy sweet pup. You've earned it. 

Things seemed to be lining up nicely. I wanted to do a high peak for my 40th birthday. I hadn't climbed one since 2017, opting to dedicate my time to my incredible family. And maintaining this frickin 115 year old house that seems to crumble in a new place as soon as I finished the repair on the previous place. Josh was able to carve out a day as well and invited his friend Sydney along for the ride. I wanted to hike as an out and back from Marcy field, which is the route Koda and I took. Josh suggested we do a thru-hike, starting at the Cascade trail head and finishing at Marcy field. Which was great idea and was likely the deciding factor in us actually making it through this hike. More on that later.

So we started our morning a bit after 5 in -14 degree temps. While on paper it was brutally cold, we all felt pretty good getting started. We had a great motivation for our ascent: reaching Cascade for Sunrise. The early morning sky was crystal clear and I spent a good amount of the climb with my headlamp off soaking up the stars and moonlight. When we stopped to catch our breathe, the silence was complete and enveloping. As we got higher, the edges of the sky started to glow. Our first views were of sherbet orange skies draped over the peaks like a vibrant pashmina. Our spirits rose with the sun and each step we took towards the summit.

We got to the edge of the tree-line and geared up for the exposure. Josh was super stoked for the sunrise so motored ahead a bit while Sydney and I ambled along and took about a million pictures haha. It was just so good. Maybe one of the most beautiful sunrises I've gotten to enjoy in the Adirondacks. 

Sunrise over the turquoise Mountains

I loved how this cairn glowed

Daybreak on the land

Despite the cold we lingered. It was just so beautiful. Not too windy either which is a blessing on Cascade where the wind can really rip. While the trail up Cascade was its usual well-defined and broken out self, Porter had only seen one set of visitors since the last storm. Josh was trying out his new snowshoes for the first time and really enjoyed the feel on the loose snow. On the way to Porter we saw the tracks diverge at one point and explored both options. I noticed I couldn't see any blazes along the trail. Even when I backtracked towards Cascade. It was a bit unsettling. Was the trail from Cascade to Porter really this poorly blazed? We realized that the last storm was very wet and icy so the weight of the frozen snow had pulled down all the branches and likely obscured a number of blazes.

We had another nice hang on Porter aided by some delicious snacks from Sydney. While it looked like someone had ventured down the trail to Marcy field, the tracks quickly petered out and we were breaking trail through about a foot of loose powder. I'd willing to wager there are many winters where no one hikes this trail at all, Almost immediately it was really hard to tell if we were on the trail or not. We couldn't find blazes anywhere. Again, likely because of the droopy branches but also because its such an infrequently visited trail, I doubt its a high priority for the DEC to thoroughly blaze it.  So out came the map and compass. Sydney had Alltrails on her phone and while I've been very apprehensive about the popularity of this app, it was really helpful when combined with the map and compass. We worked together as a team, looking for signs of the trail and trying to stay on bearing even when we were pretty sure we were off trail. When we did find a blaze, it was always a moment to rejoice. 

Blaze On

I feel very fortunate for my hiking partners on this trip. They were super upbeat and I thought we worked together really well. We lost and found the trail countless times along the Porter ridge. My biggest concern was not drifting too far south off of the ridge towards Little Meadows and Railroad Notch. That's a vast and isolated chunk of wilderness that would be very hard to get out of. Sure enough, after one of our longest stretches of not finding the trail we found a blaze. An orange one meaning we were on the the now closed trail to the Garden. Thankfully, we were able to follow it just a few hundred feet back up to the yellow trail. That was probably our longest bought of trail finding and from then on it got incrementally easier, though we did have to remain constantly vigilant and still had to constantly check our bearing and squint to see the path ahead of us. 

We followed countless snowshoe rabbit tracks through the forest.

The drop off of the Porter Ridge down to Blueberry was likely the most fun part of the trip. It was unbelievably steep so we were so grateful to be going down. I mentioned at the beginning of this post how glad I was that Josh suggested this route. If we had attempted to climb Porter from Marcy field there is NO way we would've made it up this. Deep powder, no track and an incredibly steep trail. Climbing down it?  Or rather sliding down it? Pure bliss. Even though a spruce trap nearly ate me. Once we were out of the tightly woven pine forest on the ridge of Porter, the trail was much easier to follow and the real battle was putting one snowshoe in front of the other.

We took a nice long break on Blueberry and had significant snacks for the final push. The sky was so incredibly blue and the sun so bright, it felt far warmer than it really was. 

hunkered down on Blueberry 

It felt a bit like the end of the hike at this point but we still had quite a ways to go and an awful lot of elevation to lose. Which isn't exactly a walk in the park after pushing through loose snow for several hours. My knees were shot and Sydney had a knee injury from a previous hike that became aggravated. Josh was fine though apparently. What a G. There was a lot to see though to keep spirits up. Plenty of open views across to Hurricane, Giant and the Keene valley below us. Far below us. 

Here I sit, before the world has woken up, in my sunroom in Albany, several years later. Reflecting on Koda's life, the meaning of friendship and the beauty of these mountains. The peace and joy the mountains can bring reverberates with great force through this quiet house. Memories swirling tumultuously like snow on the ridge.