MOUNTAIN VIGNETTES THE APPROACH The plan was simple: drive six hours from Western New York to the Adirondacks on Sept. 28, hike to the Avalanche Lake lean-to, set up our hammocks, eat, and rest. Sleep in the next morning to let the sun dry the rock a little longer. Start the climb around noon on the 29th. Descend via the Lake Arnold Trail, return to camp, eat, sleep, and hike out the next morning. Nothing too strenuous — at least, in theory. We arrived on Loj Road in the afternoon and found it packed. Cars lined the street from South Meadow Road all the way to the Adirondak Loj toll booth. Many of the people we saw were day hikers, carrying no packs and heading out rather than in. I told Paul to keep driving — we’d take our chances at the Loj. I was right. Several spots had opened up. Paul parked while I paid for the permit. We changed into our hiking shoes, strapped on our packs, and hit the trail toward the Avalanche Lake lean-to. It was a pleasant day on the trail. I met a French-Canadian couple while paying for parking. Half a mile in, we ran into them again — they had turned around because they forgot their beer in the car. Classic. Another couple was out with their dog and baby, heading to Marcy Dam. They mentioned they had climbed the dike before — with their dog! Now, I don’t know if they were leading us on or telling the truth, but according to them, ever since that climb, their dog would freak out whenever they took him near Avalanche Lake. We covered the five miles to the lean-to in about two hours. There was a new trail detour around a washout between the dam and Marcy Brook lean-to that I hadn’t hiked before. After setting up our hammocks and cooking dinner, we crawled in for the night. THE CLIMB We woke to a mostly sunny day, though cumulus clouds broke up the blue. After breakfast, we put on our daypacks and headed toward Avalanche Lake. Once we got onto the Hitch-Up Matildas and could see the dike, I heard what I had been most worried about — running water. Through my binoculars, I saw some water running down the lower section of the dike and a group of climbers making their way up. Time to make a decision. Our fallback plan was to summit Colden via the marked trail (Paul hadn’t done Colden yet) if we bailed on the dike attempt. We decided to continue and see how those hikers had managed. At the base, I moved ahead up the scree and talus slope. Voices and scrambling echoed above me. A group of four young men — kids to me in their 20s — were downclimbing. When they reached me, they told me the crux was a waterfall, impassable, and they were turning back. But I noticed something: They were all wearing full packs, and at least two were in Crocs. Paul was still below, waiting for my decision. I waved him up. I told him what they had said but shared my doubts. We agreed to continue up to the crux and see for ourselves. If it was truly impassable, we’d turn back. The crux is a large boulder requiring two or three Class 5 moves to get over. A fall could be fatal — not so much from the height but from striking your head on rock. But it looked fine. The channel to the left, a dihedral, was a small waterfall. I assumed the other hikers had attempted that instead of the more exposed but proper route over the boulder. I climbed up and coached Paul on the hand and foot placements. Beyond the crux, we navigated damp rock and trickling water, using the “one limb at a time” rule. We exited the dike onto the Hurricane Irene slide, carefully avoiding the slick and steep Old Slide, where past hikers had needed rescues. The final climb was a long leg burner, alternating between steep hands-and-feet sections and walkable stretches. Finally, we reached the summit. We took a few moments to soak in the views — breathtaking as always. After a leisurely descent back to our campsite, we completed our plan with dinner and stargazing from our hammocks until sleep took us. For me, this climb was more than just another summit — it was the perfect conclusion to my 46er journey. “I didn’t take the challenge of ‘the most dangerous hike in the Adirondacks’ lightly.” The author and his hiking buddy Paul at base camp on Avalanche Lake SUMMER 2026 | 53
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