This wooly mammoth is actually me.

The “Trap Dike” is a lovely little route up Mount Colden, in the Adirondacks, that ranges in quality from dry, blocky scramble to raging waterfall.  This is the story of how four intrepid adventurers from the Free Outing Club of Cornell/Ithaca ascended the dike in “slightly runny” conditions.

All photos are courtesy of my coadventurer Elaine Guidero, who (unlike me) remembered a memory card for her camera.

Our story starts on Saturday morning at 4 AM, with me sleeping.  For another two hours.

At six, I awoke to wonder what happened to my 4 AM alarm.  I will never know.  Elaine, Don, and Darren actually made the planned 9:00 trailhead time; I got there around noon and hiked in solo.  The road in follows Calamity Brook up to Lake Colden and is mostly one big mudpit.  Other hikers tell me it’s always like that.  Maybe about 2/3 of the way up the trail is a monument to David Henderson, who was shot and killed by his own gun in his own pack in 1845.  Moral of the story: unload that gun and engage the safety before you put it in your pack!  In a cruel twist of history, the person responsible for the gun’s unsafe condition was a man named Cheney who had just failed at shooting ducks!  Not unlike a certain vice president.  (See Schneider, The Adirondacks: A History of America’s First Wilderness (1998) at 141–42.)  Henderson’s last words were “John, you must have left the gun cocked… this is a horrible place for a man to die… Archy, be a good boy and give my love to your mother.”  Id.

Near Henderson’s memorial I encountered a couple of Scots who admired my Utilikilt Brand Utility Kilt, and resolved to get hiking kilts of their own!  Kilt evangelism happens in the strangest places.

Don and me, early morning

I arrived around 3:00 in the afternoon to find Don sleeping on the Colden Dam, which turned out to be just around the corner from our campsite.  Through a last-minute failure of communication, our party had an extra tent and was short a ground pad!  I ended up using Don’s empty pack as a makeshift ground pad, which was a little lumpy but kept me quite warm.  Darren and Elaine were out making an attempt at Algonquin, but returned in time for a toasty dinner of minute rice and dried fruit, with hot cocoa for dessert.

Sunday morning we rose early and breakfasted on a hot cereal of oats, rye, triticale, barley, and golden flax with dried cranberries, apples, and apricots, almonds and cashews.  And instant coffee.  We then set out to the east shore of Avalanche Lake, to bushwhack through the fir trees to the foot of the dike.

Me, Partway up the dike

Without getting into fancy geological terms that I don’t understand, the Trap Dike is a fissure in the side of the mountain with high vertical walls and water running through it, and big blocky rock formations that are well-suited to climbing.  It’s commonly described as a fourth-class climb, meaning it’s an easy scramble, but an unlucky fall might kill you.  After reaching the top we agreed that its proper rating is low fifth class–easy, but a true technical climb that should be done roped.  The pictures to the right should give you a good idea of what the dike looks like.

Darren in the Dike

The word “trap” in the name is the subject of some debate.  It could refer to a geological term that does not accurately describe the rock formation.  Some say it refers to the high walls of the dike, in which climbers are “trapped.”  And it is true that the point of no return–at which one cannot retreat and must advance–happens quite early.  I propose a third interpretation–it may mean the same as the “Trapps” of the Shawangunks–derived from the Dutch treppen, for “steps.”  In may places, climbing the trap dike is very much like ascending a flight of stairs–it’s the occasional seven to fifteen foot rises that will put fear in you.

Don tops out one of the trickier sections

After ascending about halfway up the mountain in the Dike, we bushwhacked through dense cripplebrush onto the Great Slide.  I’m not sure how to describe the Slide except to say that it is a gravity-defying slab of granite at about a 45 degree angle to the ground.  The natural reaction to looking at it is “no fecking way am I going out on that!!!”  And looking down from the Slide, one can easily imagine a false step resulting in the ultimate test of one’s ability to thow onesself at the ground and miss.  That’s why you don’t look down.

Don on the Great Slide

The Slide was actually the easiest part of the whole ascent, but also the most terrifyingly exposed.  Darren and Don walked straight up the middle; Elaine and I clung to the safety of the cripplebrush along the side.  Yes, it’s slipprier, but there are Things to Grab if I fall!  Climbing at that angle is also exhausting, especially when you’re several thousand feet higher than you’re used to, and in a state of mortal terror.  When we finally mounted the summit, we had a crowd of cheering Québécois hikers to welcome us to flat ground.

Me, with the Void

Group Photo at the Summit

Darren being a Goof

Of the hike down, I will only say that it was wet, steep, and full of rotted-out wooden ladders.  I rather enjoyed the bottom, but we didn’t stay longer than we needed to strike camp and hike out.  We got back to the parking lot around 20:30, and began the long trek back whence we came.

Thanks again to Elaine for her mighty photographic prowess!  Full photo gallery at http://freeoutingclubs.org/gallery/v/TrapDykeHike/