On July 13 twenty Tramp and Trail Club members secured a single parking place at the Garden in Keene Valley and began a 3.4 mile trek on the Phelps Trail to Johns Brook Lodge. The Lodge has a long history, dating back to 1925 when it was built as a clubhouse for the Adirondack Mountain Club. Previous to this the property had been occupied by squatter Mel Hathaway, a retired Adirondack guide. A patch of rhubarb, all that remains of his garden, still grows there. His cabin was torn down and the new Lodge constructed. At the time, the area had been clear-cut, providing magnificent views of the Great Range.
My first visit to the Lodge came back in the early nineteen seventies when as advisor to the Utica College Outing Club I led a group of skiers in for a winter weekend. We had to carry our own food in and cook it on an antique wood range. A single chunk stove heated the bunkroom and sanitary facilities were located “out back.” Things have changed. The Lodge has been repeatedly expanded and improved and now there is a large, paneled dining room, a kitchen, two large bunk rooms and two small family bunkrooms. During the summer months a crew of talented college students provides delicious meals, so hikers need only to bring in their clothes and bedding.
Parking at the Garden is limited and after finding a single parking place we had to use that car to shuttle our members from the Marcy Airport. Even without having to carry food, I was still burdened with a heavy pack that I hadn’t used in 30 years. The rubber pads in the shoulder straps had hardened and dug painfully into my shoulders. By the time I completed the 900-foot ascent along the northern trail my legs were barely functioning. All of us were grateful to reach our goal and immediately donned bathing suits and immersed ourselves in the icy waters of Johns Brook after which we retired to the broad porch of the Lodge to enjoy views of Gothics and the Wolf Jaws and to watch an endless parade of hikers seeking the high peaks. This place is truly a crossroads and in a matter of moments you find yourself in pleasant conversation with peak baggers describing their goals and the mountains they intend to climb.
Soon the enticing scent of pot roast lured us into the dining room after which we engaged in a fearsome game of pitch (the men beat the women) followed by a very instructive lecture by a Peak Steward describing alpine vegetation and the successful efforts of the peak stewards program to protect rare plants that grow only above tree line. The gas lights in the dining room were lit, but most of us piled into the tiers of the co-ed bunkrooms. Communal sleeping has its drawbacks and even though the lodge provides a large supply of earplugs, the rooms reverberated with myriad snores.
Breakfast of French toast was served at 7:30 and by 8:15 most of us had hit the trail to the Wolf Jaws. Four of our members sought other high peaks: Saddle Back, Basin and Haystack and these longer, tougher hikes required them to leave before breakfast. Bonnie Sanderson needed only three more peaks to complete the magic 46 mountains above 4000 feet and hoped to bag two of them, Haystack and Basin, before the day ended.
The trail to the Wolf Jaws crosses Johns Brook and immediately begins to climb. A short, downhill stretch brought us to the Wolf Jaw Lean-to, already occupied by sleeping climbers. Shortly after this the trail crosses a huge slide that plummeted from Armstrong Mountain when Hurricane Irene struck the area last fall. The devastation of this slide, the tangle of rocks and huge trees carried down the mountainside is hard to visualize and even the picture that I show does not do it justice.
Steady climbing brought us into the Col between Upper and Lower Wolf Jaws after which we turned left to ascend the shorter, lower peak. Climbing immediately becomes steep, requiring many struggles to clamber over high rocks, but as the elevation increases, so do the magnificent views of the high peaks: Marcy, Algonquin, Giant, and closer, Upper Wolf Jaw, Armstrong, and Gothics. After lunch at the summit we descended to the col where half the group, including myself, elected to call enough enough. The rest continued on for another mile and an even steeper climb to the summit of Upper Wolf Jaw. Those of us who returned early rejoiced in another cold bath in Johns Brook.
We retired to the porch and while we relaxed a black throated green warbler flew against one of the picture windows and stunned itself. We tenderly placed it in the shade of a balsam fir and after about an hour it recovered and flew away.
The other hikers returned a couple of hours later and the group who had climbed Haystack, Saddle Back, and Basin came in around 5:00 having had to curtail their climbs due to running out of water. We enjoyed another delicious supper, but worried because Bonnie and her friend had still not returned. Finally as dusk was falling they came trudging up the trail, looking like the ghosts of Christmas Past. A tremendous cheer went up and we allowed ourselves to go back to the bunkrooms.
The hike out the next day was all down hill and much easier and I am grateful to some of my fellow Tramps for lightening my load. This was my second Wolf Jaw ascent and I found it much more difficult than the one I made 40 years ago. I feel I must misquote a phrase I think I learned in an Italian Course a while back: “Im Boca del Lupa.”
By: Harold Pier
