Snowy Mountain - Central Adirondacks

"Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean." -J.M.

View from Snowy Mountain looking west from the summit.



Snowy Mountain lies just to the west of Indian Lake in the Central Adirondacks. At 3,899', it's the tallest mountain outside of the High Peaks region and its 2,000'+ elevation gain to the summit is greater than many mountains in the High Peaks.

 

On Sunday night we camped at Lewey Lake State Campgrounds five miles south of the Snowy Mountain trailhead. We wanted the lean-to six miles west of the campground, but didn't have time to hike the six miles back to the road in the morning and were up against the clock on Monday: we needed an early bird start. We didn't stand a chance in that lean-to.

 

  

The trail began with 200 yards of steep, rocky hiking before it flattened out for 2 miles. Most of the hike was dirt singletrack with rock steps and root ladders up hills. The trail followed a stream and we crossed it a half dozen times. The weather was dry, but the ground was muddy, so that where there weren't natural footholds, 4x6's were laid out to protect the land and prevent erosion.

  

 

 

Only one section of stream was deep enough to justify a stretch of footbridge. His heart is awed by all the wild things in all the wild world.

 

With 3/4 of a mile remaining to the summit, we still had 1,000' feet to climb. We inhaled the first 3+ miles in less than two hours with gradual ascent, but the final climb was still in front of us. Technical terrain required consideration and concentration. A root trail marked the start of the scramble to the top.

Looking back I could feel the elevation we were hitting, and I saw views of northeast mountain ranges behind trees. When we thought we were at the summit we found unspectacular views, mostly shielded by pine trees. But it wasn't the top. So we explored the false summit and realized we still had to push more to the true summit.

 

This rocky cliff was the the finish line: we had to go over it. Or around it. We went around it.

At the top was a far away view to the east. The lake stretched itself out out, further out, south toward Lewey Lake and only just missed it by two lanes of blacktop and two metal guardrails. Or the skinny finger lakes actually burst asunder from beneath bridge and pavement, metal and paint congesting Lewey, and charged north, coming together to make Indian Lake at the foot of Snowy Mountain.

The mountains to the west were grand. The wind was sharp and triumphant and I liked it. The skies splashed forward and the clouds were infinite and the green mountains rolled forever and were countless. We ate granola bars and were wild mountain climbers taking respite from the wild-ness all around us. The trek down was a slow exhale and the ground was a little more sure and the colors a little less vibrant and our feet hurt but not too much and time flew but really it went slow and for at least a minute it didn't go anywhere at all.