Hurricane Mountain Hike

After two weeks of shuttling back and forth between states, I’m finally settled in my new place in Saranac Lake. It’s still unsettled, as I have more books than shelves. As many guitars as chairs. That can be easily rectified with the acquisition of additional guitars. Fear not, gentle reader: I have more skis in than guitars. I’ve set up the wax station in the basement.

Although the weather was sketchy, I’d be returning to NJ for band practice for the weekend. Wednesday seemed the day for an excursion to Big Crown and Little Crow mountains in Keene. Early October in the Adirondacks isn’t as benign as back in NJ. In the morning, I frittered away time rooting around for micro spikes, mitten shells, and other items that would come in handy above treeline.

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Hudson Highlands State Park Hike

On an odd Sunday in July, I wasn’t working for a change, and the weather was good. After having driven through three monsoons in five days, I was ready for a day in the woods. I kicked around various destinations, including the Schaeffer trail up Gore, and the Taconic Hereford multiple use area.

view of West Point
West Point from the Hudson Highlands

Waking up at 6:30 put the kibosh on Gore. Decades ago, I’d climbed Breakneck Ridge near Cold Spring NY, and as I finished my coffee, I decided I’d check out Hudson Highlands State Park.

I followed my nose to a small trailhead just off Route 301 outside Cold Spring. Unloader brace? Check. Heart rate monitor? Check. Hydration vest? Check. Off we go.

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Plattekill Mountain Race 2023

Three days afterwards, despite plenty of foam rolling and stretching, my quads were still sore.

With no Whiteface Sky Race this year, my focus turned to the Plattekill Mountain Race. Yes, that Plattekill, beloved mountain for so many readers of this blog. Saturday night after closing the wine store, I hopped into the Fortunate Son, my new used shooting brake, and lit out for Platty.

Plattekill Mountain

I’ve never been to that part of the Catskills. Driving west of Phoenicia on Route 28, I entered terra incognita. In the pitch dark, I began questioning the wisdom of my plan: leave work at 8:45, drive straight to the mountain, and flop in the parking lot. Maybe I should have done dawn patrol.

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