Expedition Consulting

I pulled into the Elk Lake trailhead later than intended, just before 11 pm. There were only a few vehicles in the parking lot, but more would arrive during the night. I usually prefer to be parked by eight when I know I’m getting up for an early start, but the drive took longer than expected. Then I discovered my real oversight: the full jug of water that normally lives in the back of the vehicle was still sitting on the kitchen counter at home, freshly refilled and useless to me here. After a few hours of low-quality sleep I was up and moving by 5:30. Not ideal, but progress is progress.

The walk in to the Slide Brook Lean-to was a half-asleep trudge, the terrain slowly rising but nothing of any difficulty. At the lean-to I ran into someone just getting up and I asked about the ascent trail for Macomb Mountain and they confirmed it was the turn-off I passed just before the lean-to. In retrospect this is where I made the mistake I would regret for the rest of the day. I should have been drinking as much as I could out of my supply and then taking the time to filter and re-fill everything for the hike up, but still feeling exhausted I just continued on up the Slide Brook Herd path. The shortage of water would turn out to be a problem later on as this turned out to be the last place to get water until nearly the end of the day.

The herd to Macomb was easy to follow after the first few minutes; after a while it broke out onto the Macomb slide about a quarter of the way up. As one of the very few loose scree slides in the Adirondacks this slide intimidating (particularly for those descending it) for many hikers because it isn’t anything like the open solid rock slides all Adirondacks hikers have become accustomed to. This one moves under your feet while you’re moving on it; having experience climbing volcano scree and the scree and talus slides in the Rockies come is really handy here. Unlike the loose scree slides, the amount of sand in this one results in very little actual movement if you’re careful about your foot placements and route, but it was an absolute slog to get the top where it joins the Dix Range Trail.

About half-way up I noticed that another climber had come out onto the slide and I adjusted my position to help prevent dropping anything down on them. Taking more frequent pauses and taking more photographs on the way up allowed them catch up by the time I reached the top. They were also solo, so after talking a while we continued on together.

The ridge over to South Dix continued the trend: dry, warm, and completely out of water sources. Despite the dryness, the herd path to Grace was in good shape — steep in places, narrow in others, but never confusing. The out-and-back to Grace was worth the detour, though the heat was starting to build in a way that made pacing matter more than usual. The return to the main ridge and across to Hough Peak followed suit: the shade did nothing to cool the air, but did block even the light breeze that might have helped, and there was absolutely no water anywhere.

By the time we reached Hough Peak it was time for a longer break. Boots off, stove out, re-hydrate the spaghetti bolognase, and spend some time to recover somewhat. The stillness was welcome, it also drove home the fact that I hadn’t refilled my water at Slide Brook and I had about three liters left, enough but not enough to be at my best. We encountered others at the peak heading the other direction around the loop, we commiserated a while and continued on our way.

From Hough, the steady climb toward the Beckhorn arrived exactly when my legs were very much wanting to take a long break. The scramble up was — the kind of climbing where every move is secure but given all the vertical demands extra effort. Once on the ridge, the walk to the summit of Dix and back to the Beckhorn was straightforward and far less distance and effort than it appeared to be from above, many of the landmarks were not in fact as large or as far away as they really appeared to be at the time.

The descent from the Beckhorn down the unmaintained trail was probably the steepest sustained trail in the Adirondacks, on par at least with the trail up to the right of the main slide on the other side of Dix that really gets absolutely everyone who ascends from Round Pond in a way they’ll never forget it. Very little mud, absolutely no water, and enough angled footing that each step needed its own plan. By the time we hit the junction with Hunter’s Pass, I was more than ready for smoother terrain. Instead, the trail started to climb — a mild but morale-draining rise toward the Lillian Brook crossing before things finally tipped downward.

Reaching Lillian Brook was a relief in a way that’s hard to overstate. I filtered two liters immediately and drank them on the spot, then filtered two more to carry out. The combination of heat and dehydration had been manageable but far from ideal, and I was very aware of how close I’d allowed myself to get to a problem. I was so focused on getting water I forgot to take any pictures at this point.

Once we reached Slide Brook my hiking partner returned to the lean-to for the night with the plan of hiking out the next morning. The activity in the area had picked up significantly with groups arriving at all the tent sites and getting set-up for the weekend. We saw some of the people we ran into on the trail, but it was time to head back to the car.

The walk out was a gradual, methodical shuffle in the dark — one step at a time, water finally starting to get absorbed again, and the end of the day somewhere just a little further now; and not far now. The Dix Range is a long hike even on a perfect day, but the route, views, and terrain make it one of the most rewarding loops in the Adirondacks. I’m already looking forward to coming back in winter, when the same ridges will feel like entirely different mountains and the skis will come along.