Tag Archives: mud

Quarry Road Exploration

Sunday was a cool, sunny day, and instead of heading out for my usual longer weekend run, I decided to exercise my curiosity more than my legs.  I have long wondered what I would find on some of the dirt roads and trails veering off of Quarry Rd. as the road heads east of the well used TAM trails which pass through Means and Battell Woods.  Two trails in particular had caught my attention, having driven by them countless times over the last 30 years, so I parked my car at the TAM trailhead on Quarry Rd, put my ear buds in, setting up my “JBR” (Jeff B Running) running mix, and headed east to explore them.

After a short jog alongside the road I came to the first of my points of curiosity, a snowmobile trail heading north (left) a few hundred yards from where I had parked my car.  I have long been a big fan of running snowmobile trails; Even though I don’t participate in that pastime, the snowmobile enthusiasts share a common love of the outdoors, and do a great job maintaining their network of trails. So, I turned onto the trail, marked with a bright yellow sign stating “Sensitive Area – Stay on Trail.”  Hopeful, as always, for a good run, I quickly found that this particular trail was a mess of muddy ruts, and piles of trash.  I enjoy a good relaxing sit on a couch, but in the middle of a field?  It probably took more effort to dump it there, than it would have been to simply take it to the transfer station?

Get Trashed

Get Trashed

Despite the eyesore, I pressed on a short distance further, until the trail became a mess of ruts and mud, and from the sight of a barely street legal Subaru parked in the mud, I realized that I had stumbled upon a location where 4WD enthusiasts went to have a good time with their vehicles in the mud.

The Sensitive Area

The Sensitive Area

 

While I found it funny, in light of the signs about this being a “sensitive area, and  I assume they are enjoying their recreation with the permission of the landowner, I realized that this would not be a great place for my chosen form of recreation, so I turned around and headed back to Quarry Rd. with a few pounds of Addison County clay stuck to my shoes, giving me the opportunity to run with cement on my shoes. Returning to the road, I continued to the east for the next, more promising entry into the woods, the left turn heading to what I have relatively recently learned is the reason why we call this street “Quarry Road”.

Pretty much everyone in Middlebury knows the Marble Works , and knows that this downtown commercial hub was the former site of the much of the activity based on the local marble industry for many years.  However, other than the spectacular OMYA pit just south of town, few people know of some of the original quarry sites.  I had remembered reading a history of the local Marble Industry written by local historian Jan Albers, and published in the Addison Independent a few years ago, and with a few moments of googling was able to find it.  It is an interesting article, and worth a read!  I knew that the dirt road heading towards the old quarry was the road reached after the descent just east of Happy Valley Orchards, so I headed left down this road.  In Jan’s article, she referred to a still standing building that was used for storing marble chips, and I suspect that the dilapidated wood structure on a poured concrete foundation easily seen from the road is this structure.  If you use your imagination, it kind of looks like the turret from a ruined castle.

Marble Storage Structure?

Marble Storage Structure?

After a very short run, I came to an obvious quarry site to my left. The vertical rock walls and a few blocks of quarried rock left behind were the giveaway, and I was also amused to see a slide set up for it’s use as a swimming hole, although the murky brown water did not look particularly appetizing.

Waterslide

Waterslide

Shortly after this, I followed the farm road into a large field out of sight from the traffic on Quarry Rd., and came across an old RV trailer set back up against the woods. While it didn’t appear to be occupied at this time, I can’t help but wonder if it once may have housed immigrant farm workers, as I have come across similar “out of sight, out of mind” lodging for farm workers in other well-hidden locations in the course of my trail running. Whether or not this ever was the case at this particular trailer, our state doesn’t currently seem to have any great urge to deport hard working people who do the milking jobs that most of us would not consider taking. I also came across a very well-built hunting stand, painted in camouflage to remain well hidden (said with a note of sarcasm) standing at the edge of the field. Curiously, none of the land described in this run was posted, but there was a small “NO HUNTING” sign on the door into this tree fort hunting stand.

Treehouse Hunting Stand

Treehouse Hunting Stand

Winding through these farm fields, I came to a second, much larger pond, which didn’t look as “quarry-like” but didn’t seem to have a natural outlet, so it could also be a former quarry. A few migratory ducks and Canada Geese seemed to have found this to be a quiet place to take a mid-day break.

Larger Pond

Larger Pond

I tried to make a loop around the bigger pond, but had to retrace my steps as I realized that the terrain and barbed wire fence would make this difficult, returning to Quarry Rd, and eventually, my car.  As I got closer to my car, I noticed a home with a few goats hanging out on the front deck, and they seemed mildly amused by my presence, and they did not seem as aggressive as the “attack goat” on Foote St., which a few years back seemed to enjoy accosting walkers and runners.  I returned to my car, having stretched this into a 4.5 mile run.  As long as the farm road to the old quarries remains unposted, it would make for a fun diversion by runners heading out on longer runs in the area.

Google Earth of the run

Google Earth of the run

 

Mad River Glen- Don’t Ski it if You Can’t

MRGBumper

Now, of course, we have all seen these bumper stickers all over the state of VT – In fact my previous vehicle bore this bumper sticker proudly. That said, given the lack of much in the way of snowmaking at this great old ski hill, the “Ski it if you can” moniker sometimes takes on a more cynical meaning. Alas, this was the case on Christmas Day this year. With the ridiculously warm temperatures in December this year, even the resorts with ample snowmaking have been hanging on for dear life, while poor Mad River Glen is yet to see an open day yet. That said, the warm Christmas morning temperatures in the 40’s made for an idea running day, so after the presents were all open, and I was chased, quite deservedly, out of the kitchen while others with superior Christmas dinner cooking abilities were preparing the evening’s feast, I thought it would be a great time to get out of the way, and spend a little time on the slopes, just in a different manner than I usually do.

As I pulled into the parking lot, and gazed up at the bare brown slopes, the sense of the season thus far was summarized by the greeting sign for the resort:

All I Want for Christmas

All I Want for Christmas

The sign pretty much says it all, huh? So, I took my usual route when I decide to run a ski area. Almost all ski areas have some sort of access road, passable by 4WD vehicles to their summit, to provide access for summer maintenance, as well as for a bunny run back to the base when covered in snow. I found the obvious road zigzagging its way up the face of this rather steep mountain, and found that >95% of the route up to the top of the double chair, admittedly the lesser of the area’s two summits, was actually runnable at a slow steady plod. As I started my ascent, looking across to the race training slopes at the far right, I could see the futile attempts to make enough snow to open at least one run, laying there in rapidly diminishing blotches of white.

Snowmaking Futility

Snowmaking Futility

A short way up the slope, however, I did note a sight which was rather pleasant. I remembered that one particular ledge, almost directly below the double chair, was covered in icicles during the winter, and with the warm weather this day, I could see why – it was actually a rather pleasant little waterfall!

Mad River Falls

Mad River Falls

The rest of the route to the top was mostly on open slopes, following the obvious 4WD road to the top of the double chair. I saw numerous groups out for their Christmas day hike as well, and we all commiserated on the lack of snow, but generally agreed that if there wasn’t any snow, we might as well have nice days for running and hiking. When I reached the point where the rest of the run was up a pretty easy slope to the right, I looked up at the legendary “Paradise Trail” and noted that it looked even steeper and hairier without snow, than it did with. Thinking of the waterfall I had passed a few moments earlier, I briefly thought of exploring further up Paradise to scout out its waterfall, which happens to stretch across the full width of the trail necessitating an icy leap in the winter, but decided that the soft, muddy ground would probably suck the running shoes off of my feet if I ventured up onto less trodden terrain. Finally, after what ended up being an only modestly difficult ascent, I reached the top of the chair, and enjoyed the expansive views on the gray, but high visibility day!

View from the Top

View from the Top

After a short stop at the summit, and the obligatory selfie for Facebook, I turned and sped back down the mountain, greeting even more hikers on their way up, until I returned to my car to head home to my turkey dinner and Pinot Noir. This ended up as about a 4.5 mile run, with a 1400 ft vertical. I didn’t have my GPS watch with me for this run, but am including the less useful GPS trace of my run, created through the “Runtastic” app on my iPhone.
runtastic

And of course, as I am writing this, it is Tuesday, and we are getting the first snows of the season! Happy New Year readers!

A Running Hike on Haystack

Once again, I decided to venture out of Addison County for a trail run.  I have been an avid Adirondack hiker since I began my employment in Middlebury in the mid-80’s, but never really thought seriously about them as a running destination, given the muddy, rocky and generally gnarly condition of most Adirondack trails.  In fact, the challenges of overcoming some of the challenging terrain on many Adirondack hikes constitute much of their appeal.  That said, another one of the challenges of these mountain trails is their length – most of the popular hiking destinations require long approach hikes on gentler, more runnable terrain.  Since I do most of my hiking in running shoes, rather than the more traditional hiking boots, I had gotten in the habit of coming down off a peak, and running in the last few miles at the end of the day.  So, when one of my running friends Ben suggested a run/hike to one of the most remote peaks in the High Peaks of the Adirondacks, Haystack Mt, I agreed that at least some of the route would be runnable, and we decided to give it a try.

At first, Haystack would seem like an odd choice for a trail run.  While it is the third tallest of the High Peaks, it is far more challenging than Marcy (#1) and Algonquin (#2) due to the length of the hike (about 8.5 miles each way) and the ruggedness of at least some sections of the approach trails.  In fact, it is generally not recommended as a day hike for all but the most fit and experienced hikers.  On the other hand, the first 3.5 miles in from “The Garden” parking lot in Keene Valley are very heavily hiked and in excellent condition with only modest ascent, and the next few miles beyond this, while steeper and less heavily traveled might also offer at least some stretches suitable for running.  I was mildly concerned that Ben planned to bring his dog, Tizzy the labradoodle on this trip, but he assured me that she was an excellent and experienced runner and climber, and I knew there would be lots of water for her to drink along this route.  Prepping for the run in the morning, I basically broke every rule in the book for Adirondack hiking, trying to go light.  For gear, I brought my small camera, a GPS watch, a 28 oz water bottle, and a windbreaker, allowing me to run with just a fanny back and a water bottle around my waist. Also, for my food, I basically grabbed all the “energy food” in my stash – so I brought along a mishmash of old Gu and Powergel packets, various energy bars, most of which were leftover bits of swag from previous races, and a bar of chewy energy blocks much like Gummi Bears, whose origin I had long forgotten. Oh yeah, and I also brought a few Snickers bars, because everything is better with chocolate.

After completing my 46 Adk peaks a dozen years ago, I have been doing my hiking in a wider variety of areas, and some of my memories of the trails and terrain were a little dated or fuzzy.  For example, I was not worried at all about us finding a parking place at “The Garden”, the parking lot for the Johns Brook Lodge and our planned approach.  This small but very popular parking lot always requires a very early entry on the weekends, but since this was a Friday, I figured we would be fine.  So, when we headed up the access road roughly across the street from the Keene Valley hotspot, The Noonmark Diner, and saw a sign indicating that there was indeed space in the undersized parking lot, I wasn’t surprised.  However, as we approached the lot attendant, she let us know that we were lucky enough to have gotten there just in time to grab the next to last spot, and it was only 8:30 in the morning, attesting to the ever increasing popularity of Adirondack hiking.

Setting off from the trailhead at around 8:30 in the morning, the run was as I expected;  the trail was in good condition, and the climbing was moderate, and we got to the Johns Brook Lodge, a mountain hut where overnighters can pay for a bunk and meals, after about 3.5 miles.  I was kind of surprised to see that we had already climbed 700-800 ft by the time we got to the lodge.  After topping off my water bottle from the lodge’s potable tap, we resumed the run, and over the course of the next 3.5 miles to Slant Rock, a very obvious trailside landmark, the trail stayed at its gradual pitch, but gradually got rougher, and muddier, so that we could only really run about half of this stretch.  It is funny how early in any trail run, I avoid all the mud through careful footwork, but once my toes get a little bit moist I basically give up and just charge through most of the water hazards, and by the time we got to Slant Rock, my shoes were sloshing.  I also noted an odd looking shelf fungus which looked like a bizarre set of lips.  Anyone for a kiss?

Kiss me baby!

Kiss me baby!

Given my plan of traveling light, I had neglected to bring along a map, counting on my distant memories of the last time I had passed this way, years ago. I remembered that there were two ways to get to Haystack from here – the short direct path which pretty much headed directly up and over the ridge to Little Haystack and Haystack, and a more roundabout route, the dreaded “Shorey Shortcut” which accomplished the same result, but with a lot of extra climbing and descent – obviously a route to be avoided. So shortly after passing Slide Rock, the trail took an obvious left turn across the brook, and we took it.  The trail started climbing much more seriously, so other than a few very short stretches here and there, the running part of our ascent was over.  After a long a substantial climb, we started an almost as long descent, and I realized that we had indeed taken the route I had wanted to avoid at all costs.  Oh well, what’s a few hundred more feet of climbing in a long challenging day?  Once we regained our lost altitude and achieved timberline it was a short steep ascent to the summit of Little Haystack, just north of our destination.  I was amazed at this point by our canine companion’s ability to climb and descend some very steep sections of trail.  I guess her four wheel drive works pretty well!

Ben and the mountain dog

Ben and the mountain dog

Finally, we got to the last quarter mile or so to the summit proper, and of course, this was a great place to enjoy the views. In this shot, I am looking west towards Redfield and Allen, two of the more challenging trailless peaks in the area.

A trailrunner enjoys the summit views

A trailrunner enjoys the summit views

From here, we made our descent, backpacking to timberline at the base of Little Haystack, where we found the trail we had hoped to take up from Slant Rock, but somehow missed. Taking this trail, we cut out a lot of extra unnecessary climbing in our descent, but this trail was no bargain either – it was even steeper than the Shorey, with the added benefit of loose rocks and a few sections where the trail was basically a muddy stream. Once again, Tizzy the wonderdog proved the strongest hiker of the party.

Muddy nightmares

Muddy nightmares

By the time we got back to Slide Rock, we were all ready to stretch our legs again with some more running, and despite tired legs from the previous 10+miles, this easy descent was the best running of the day over the last 7 miles. When we returned to the parked car, my GPS registered the day at almost exactly 17 miles. Checking the details of the run after our return, I could see that we had climbed and descended over 3500 ft in the course of the day! I usually don’t mention times and speeds in this blog, as everyone needs to run the trails at the pace where they are comfortable, but I found it interesting to note that we were able to complete this in just under 6.5 hours, whereas my previous hikes here had required more than 9 hours, so we were able to make up a lot of time in the runable sections!

Of course, when we got to our car, we made another anonymous hiker happy, as our departure opened up a spot in the parking lot for someone else to enjoy that section of the backcountry. Finally, all hikes in this section of the Adirondacks are required by law to end at the Noonmark Diner. While some people have sung the praises of their pies, I always go for a milkshake for the drive home. I got coffee this time, but perhaps next time it will be strawberry?

I usually just show the route in my Google Earth projections, but in addition to that, I also created a projection which better shows off the topology around the summit of Haystack. So, the first projection shows the entire route as if it was taken from the perspective of a satellite looking straight down, while the second one would be what one would see from an airplane approaching Haystack from the Mt Marcy side, at low altitude – I kind of like this perspective!

satellite perspective

satellite perspective

airplane perspective

airplane perspective

Altitude profile

Altitude profile

Easter Weekend on the Chandler Ridge

While it doesn’t seem that long ago that I made my last post, I was kind of surprised when I realized it had been a month and a half.  This is always the hardest time of the year to come up with interesting runs, worthy of description on a trail running blog.  The trails are usually a crusty, icy mess, and the snow has receded to the point where skiing is no longer an option.  So, I was forced to the roads (or worse still, to the treadmill), and frankly, I don’t feel any need to bother writing about our intermittently muddy or icy roads in March.  After last week’s “Late April Fool” snowstorm, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get back to the trails!  However, a few slightly warmer days, and some Saturday afternoon sun on the day before Easter brought hope of a real spring, and set me out in search of a good long run.  While significant mud was a given, I was more concerned that I might find ice and snow at higher altitudes, especially in shady hollows, so I headed to one of my favorite lower altitude starting points, the Falls of Lana trailhead just south of Branbury State Park on the Lake Dunmore Road (Rt 53).  Enroute to the trailhead, I was amazed how fast the ice on Lake Dunmore had melted – six weeks ago, the ice was two feet thick, and trucks were driving on the ice, but now, there was not an ice floe to be seen.

I started up the steep climb to Silver Lake on the heavily used trail (really a 4WD road) which starts on Rt 53, and even at the lower sections, there were a few icy patches remaining on the trail, but most of the route was open, and not even that muddy.  As I neared Silver Lake, I met up with my colleagues Molly and AJ, along with Molly’s kids out for a Sunday afternoon hike, and after exchanging pleasantries, continued up to Silver Lake, reaching it after about a mile and a half.  At first glance, Silver Lake also appeared to be free of ice.  I headed right over the dam, and followed the lakeside trail for about a half mile, at which point the trail climbing to the Chandler Ridge, the scenic ridge separating Silver Lake from Lake Dunmore, diverged to the right.  I did notice, however, that the last sheets of ice were clinging to the shady south shoreline.

 

Last Ice Floes of WInter on Silver Lake

Last Ice Floes of WInter on Silver Lake

The Chandler Ridge Trail has been upgraded over the last few years to be rideable by mountain bikers, although it would probably too technical for my riding skills. On the other hand, this level of maintenance is perfect for runners who want to run true “single track” paths, without significant technical challenges to the runner. The climbs and descents are built into gently undulating switchbacks, and the trail designers did a great job of seeking the path of least resistance by weaving its way between the east and west side of the ridge. The leaves which had accumulated since last autumn did briefly obscure the trail in a few places, but every time I stopped and scratch my head, wondering whether or not I was still on the trail, a quick survey of the surroundings quickly made one of the blue blazes marking the trail apparent, and guided me on my way. Early spring is a great time to run this trail, which as hoped, was completely free of snow or ice, as the bare trees allow for views which are superior to those in the summer, when the leaves on the trees obscure most views. I stopped for a moment to take a shot of the southern end of Lake Dunmore, and as I took the shot, I noticed the remains of a charred tree, the which probably bore the brunt of a lightning strike at some time in the not-too-distant past.

Dunmore Views

Dunmore Views

A short while later along the ridge I had an even bigger treat – literally – a black bear sighting! As I came around one corner, I came face to face (OK this particular bear wasn’t showing me his face, as that was buried in a tree stump, probably rooting around for bugs or other such delectables. As soon as he saw me, he made the right decision and ran away, unlike what happened in my lucky bear sighting last summer, when the bear ran at me instead of away. Of course, this time, with my fortune, the bear ran down the trail, exactly where I was planning to go. So, I gave the bear a decent head start before continuing my route and then continued my run, sporadically breaking out into a very loud and raucous impromptu song which I will simply name “Here I come bear!”. Don’t bother looking for it on Itunes.

The rest of the run along the Chandler Ridge was a lovely, steady run through the hardwood forest. I also noticed a decent view to the southeast in the direction of Brandon Gap, a view which I had never noticed previously from this trail. Eventually, the trail ended at a “T” when it hit the much broader Minnie Baker trail, and here I took a right, descending down to Rt.53. Shortly before I reached the road, and when it was in sight, a snowmobile trail veered to the right, and I decided to follow it, in order to extend my time on the trails. Mistake! The run, which had not been too bad by Vermont Mud Season standards up to this point, turned into a total sneaker-sucking quagmire. Fortunately this was a short trail segment, and I quickly joined the road for the much easier last few miles back to my parked car. I did notice, however, that there was an unlooked-for talisman of Sunday’s holiday in the name of a road, which I had never noticed before. Happy Easter everyone!

jelly bean

Happy Easter!

 

At the completion of my run, my GPS watche showed that this was a slightly over 11 mile run – not bad for early spring! However, when I tried to download the complete track from the run, I was dismayed to find that I had some sort of malfunction, and thus I have no complete track to offer. I have blogged the first half of this run previously, so I can share that this route included a slightly less than 1000 vertical foot climb. Hopefully, at some point I will have the chance to repeat this route, and will have a GPS track to share.

Easter Weekend on the Chandler Ridge

While it doesn’t seem that long ago that I made my last post, I was kind of surprised when I realized it had been a month and a half.  This is always the hardest time of the year to come up with interesting runs, worthy of description on a trail running blog.  The trails are usually a crusty, icy mess, and the snow has receded to the point where skiing is no longer an option.  So, I was forced to the roads (or worse still, to the treadmill), and frankly, I don’t feel any need to bother writing about our intermittently muddy or icy roads in March.  After last week’s “Late April Fool” snowstorm, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get back to the trails!  However, a few slightly warmer days, and some Saturday afternoon sun on the day before Easter brought hope of a real spring, and set me out in search of a good long run.  While significant mud was a given, I was more concerned that I might find ice and snow at higher altitudes, especially in shady hollows, so I headed to one of my favorite lower altitude starting points, the Falls of Lana trailhead just south of Branbury State Park on the Lake Dunmore Road (Rt 53).  En route to the trailhead, I was amazed how fast the ice on Lake Dunmore had melted – six weeks ago, the ice was two feet thick, and trucks were driving on the ice, but now, there was not an ice floe to be seen.

I started up the steep climb to Silver Lake on the heavily used trail (really a 4WD road, although not open to motor vehicles) which starts on Rt 53, and even at the lower sections, there were a few icy patches remaining on the trail, but most of the route was open, and not even that muddy.  As I neared Silver Lake, I met up with my colleagues Molly and AJ, along with Molly’s kids out for a Sunday afternoon hike, and after exchanging pleasantries, continued up to Silver Lake, reaching it after about a mile and a half.  At first glance, Silver Lake also appeared to be free of ice.  I headed right over the dam, and followed the lakeside trail for about a half mile, at which point the trail climbing to the Chandler Ridge, the scenic ridge separating Silver Lake from Lake Dunmore, diverged to the right.  I did notice, however, that the last sheets of ice were clinging to the shady south shoreline of this higher elevation lake.

 

Last Ice Floes of WInter on Silver Lake

Last Ice Floes of WInter on Silver Lake

The Chandler Ridge Trail has been upgraded over the last few years to be rideable by mountain bikers, although it would probably too technical for my riding skills. On the other hand, this level of maintenance is perfect for runners who want to run true “single track” paths, without significant technical challenges to the runner. The climbs and descents are built into gently undulating switchbacks, and the trail designers did a great job of seeking the path of least resistance by weaving its way between the east and west side of the ridge. The leaves which had accumulated since last autumn did briefly obscure the trail in a few places, but every time I stopped and scratch my head, wondering whether or not I was still on the trail, a quick survey of the surroundings quickly made one of the blue blazes marking the trail apparent, and guided me on my way. Early spring is a great time to run this trail, which as hoped, was completely free of snow or ice, as the bare trees allow for views which are superior to those in the summer, when the leaves on the trees obscure most views. I stopped for a moment to take a shot of the southern end of Lake Dunmore, and as I took the shot, I noticed the remains of a charred tree, the which probably bore the brunt of a lightning strike at some time in the not-too-distant past.

Dunmore Views

Dunmore Views

A short while later along the ridge I had an even bigger treat – literally – a black bear sighting! As I came around one corner, I came face to face with a bear. OK this particular bear wasn’t showing me his face, as that was buried in a tree stump, probably rooting around for bugs or other such delectables, so “face to bearbutt” would be a more suitable description of the encounter. As soon as he saw me, he made the right decision and ran away, unlike what happened in my lucky bear sighting last summer, when the bear ran at me instead of away. Of course, this time, with my fortune, the bear ran down the trail, exactly where I was planning to go. So, I gave the bear a decent head start before continuing my route and then continued my run, sporadically breaking out into a very loud and raucous impromptu song which I will simply name “Here I come bear!”. Don’t bother looking for it on Itunes.

The rest of the run along the Chandler Ridge was a lovely, steady run through the hardwood forest. I also noticed a decent view to the southeast in the direction of Brandon Gap, a view which I had never noticed previously from this trail. Eventually, the trail ended at a “T” when it hit the much broader Minnie Baker trail, and here I took a right, descending down to Rt.53. Shortly before I reached the road, and when it was in sight, a snowmobile trail veered to the right, and I decided to follow it, in order to extend my time on the trails. Mistake! The run, which had not been too bad by Vermont Mud Season standards up to this point, turned into a total sneaker-sucking quagmire. Fortunately this was a short trail segment, and I quickly joined the road for the much easier last few miles back to my parked car. I did notice, however, that there was an unlooked-for talisman of Sunday’s holiday in the name of a road, which I had never noticed before. Happy Easter everyone!

jelly bean

Happy Easter!

 

At the completion of my run, my GPS watch showed that this was a slightly over 11 mile run – not bad for early spring! However, when I tried to download the complete track from the run, I was dismayed to find that I had some sort of malfunction, and thus I have no complete track to offer. I have blogged the first half of this run previously, so I can share that this route included a slightly less than 1000 vertical foot climb. Hopefully, at some point I will have the chance to repeat this route, and will have a GPS track to share.

End of the Summer on the Long Trail

On this, the last weekend before the start of my school year, I  was looking for a good long run to complete the summer running season.  August had been a disappointing month for running, due to back spasms which slowed me for most of the nicest days of the summer, but after a month of recovery, I felt up to a longer run than I had done in a while.  With that in mind, I thought it would be fun to revisit a route which I last ran (and blogged) three years ago under very different conditions, and entitled it  “Stick Season above the Snow Line”  This loop involves considerable time on the Long Trail along the Worth Mountain ridge, and when I last checked it out I was running through a bit of snow, and racing to get back to my car before darkness.  While snow at the higher altitudes may not be that far off, this was most definitely a late summer run – the leaves  are still all there, and mostly green, at least to this somewhat colorblind runner.  Cooler temperatures also made for pleasant conditions on a cloudy September afternoon.

This loop is also of a length, and on terrain which most people would call “a hike”.  While I love a long hike in the mountains, one of the great pleasures of trailrunning is that it can get you out in the woods covering a lot of terrain when you don’t have time for the more leisurely pacing of a day hike.  So, before this run, I mowed the lawn, played the piano for a bit, read a few papers, and enjoyed a leisurely late lunch before setting off, and still got back in plenty of time for dinner.  Live life to the fullest!

Setting off from my favorite running trailhead, the Brooks Road Trailhead (also known as the Chatfield Trailhead), located off of a short dirt road a mile or so below the Middlebury College Snow Bowl, I started up the comfortable climb on the dirt road.  While this road is open to car traffic, I rarely see any motor vehicles on it.  The road climbs steeply for the first mile and a half, rising about 400-500 feet rather abruptly, but climbs more gently most of the rest of the way to its end, 3.7 miles up into the mountains.  When you get to the end of the road, follow the well worn path over the obvious footbridge over Sucker Brook, until you reach the Long Trail Spur trail on your left.  Take this trail, which also climbs pretty gradually with a lot of easy running terrain for another mile or so, until you reach the Sucker Brook Shelter, found in a saddle in the Green Mountains known as “Romance Gap”.  I met a small group of hikers, one of whom was a Long Trail through-hiker, and after exchanging pleasantries for a few minutes, headed up the hillside, and joined the Long Trail itself in a few minutes, turned left, and headed north towards Middlebury Gap.

As expected, the running on the Long Trail was more technical than the rest of the run.  As mountain ridge trails go, this was more runnable than most, with long sections of gradually climbing and descending dirt or mud path to run on.  In the rockier sections, the running becomes more akin to skipping, with your feet doing all kinds of crazy things in order to maintain a decent speed!  In sections where the climbing or descending got steeper, or potentially more slippery, I slowed to a fast hiking speed.  This section of the Long Trail is not known for its sweeping vistas, although there were a few limited views through the trees in places.  What I do love about this section are the more subtle sights one comes across when traipsing through the forest at around 3000 ft elevation.  I have always been particularly fond of the shelf fungus growing out of the side of some of the older hardwoods, and one which I came across looked so sturdy that it was begging for something to display. So, I set up a small rock cairn on it, which will no doubt puzzle or amuse subsequent passersby if they have the presence of mind to look beyond their own boots or running shoes.

A Curious Cairn

A Curious Cairn

 

 

Not long after this, I reached the high point of the run, the summit of Worth Mountain (~3200 ft) and began the gradual undulating descent to the top of the Snow Bowl. I was amused to meet a hiker, who seemed so happy to get a signal on his cell phone that he couldn’t resist the temptation to check his facebook page. To each his own…. The wooden walkways signaled my approach to the Snow Bowl, and shortly thereafter, I broke out into the amazing view towards the east from the top of the Bailey Falls lift.

Bailey Falls Vista

Bailey Falls Vista

From here, I scrambled down the steeper upper sections of the Voter Trail at the Snow Bowl, named after Old Professor Perley Voter, one of my predecessors in the Chemistry Department at the college. He must have been great, as there is also a building named after him, Voter Hall! As I reached the bottom, I passed a fellow middle-aged trail runner on his way up the mountain, and after the mandatory exchange of complaints about our aging bodies, headed across the parking lot, and descended on Rt 125 to return to my car just as the drizzling rain started to get just a little bit heavier.

According to my GPS, this was a 10.5 mile run, with an 1800 foot ascent, probably closer to 2000 feet with the undulations along the way. Not a bad way to end the summer. Now, time to prepare for Monday classes……And bring on the Fall!

epic run

Google Earth of the Run

 

Altitude Profile

Altitude Profile

Penstocks to Power

For this run, I am returning to one of my favorite destinations, Silver Lake, the pristine pond perched on the hillside about a mile and a half above Lake Dunmore.  I have noticed, and blogged about some sections of the pipeline connecting Silver Lake to the small hydroelectric plant just south of Branbury State Park.  So, I thought it would be fun to follow this pipeline from start to finish, and this required that I start the run at the smaller unmarked parking lot just past the small bridge immediately south of Branbury Park, rather than the usual Falls of Lana parking lot.  Beginning in this lot, I immediately headed towards the clearing where the pipeline completes its journey down from Silver Lake, and scrambled, rather than ran on the unmarked but easy to follow footpath which ascends alongside the pipeline.  While the terrain really wasn’t good for true running, this ascent, rather than the more heavily traveled double track path most frequently used, had the advantage of an excellent view of the longest cascade in the tiered series of drops constituting the Falls of Lana. The area around the falls is a very cliffy, ledgy area with numerous opportunities for injury, so I found it interesting that of all the viewpoints, this was the only one with fencing to protect errant runners. 

Falls of Lana behind safety fencing

Falls of Lana behind safety fencing

Shortly after this overprotective fencing, I joined the main trail, where I had the option of bushwacking up the steep hill, literally following the pipeline in what would be a steep scramble, or actually following the normal trail and rejoining the pipeline further up the hill where it ran a more runnable course. I chose the latter, and ran up the main Silver Lake trail for about a mile until I reached the point where a major trail broke off to the right, meeting up with the pipeline at the point where the tall venting tower easily seen from below juts out from the mountainside. Here, reading the signage, I learned a new word – “penstock” apparently what I had been calling a pipeline is also known by this noun as well! I also noted, the sign warning of dire consequences for walking on the penstock, right alongside a ladder used for…..climbing on the pentock!

Dire Penstock Warnings

Dire Penstock Warnings

From this point on, I had the opportunity to follow the penstock/pipeline across more level terrain, and in fact, the running was easiest right across the top of it, as long as I was careful not to trip over the bulges where segments of pipeline were jointed together. Much of this section was flanked by ferns, until I reached a point where the brush had been recently cleared. This portion of the run concluded at the base of the Silver Lake dam, Yes, Silver Lake, like Lake Dunmore, is a naturally occurring lake which has been enhanced in size and utility through the use of damming. Unlike Lake Dunmore, which was enlarged for recreational use, Silver Lake has more practical purposes – hydroelectric power and flood control!

Climbing to the top of the Silver Lake Dam, I followed the easy  lakeshore path, until reaching the small beach, before taking the spur trail heading to the hike-in campground alongside this very scenic lake.  At a small footbridge over a sluiceway, the second, less well known segment of this hydroelectric project becomes apparent.  I was also surprised to see that this sluiceway, for the first time in my memory, was devoid of water.  My suspicion was that with the incessant  rains of the last month, water was being withheld or diverted to keep water levels in Silver Lake and/or Lake Dunmore at safe levels.

Dry Sluiceway above Silver lake

 

 

I tried to follow the side of this sluiceway, but the footing at it’s edge was not quite secure enough, so I doubled back and found a small trail which brought me back to the main Silver Lake trail/dirt road, and followed it up the hill for a few yards, reaching the point where the sluiceway submerged beneath the road from my right, and at this point I noted a small building to my left whose function was undoubtedly connected to this segment of the pipeline. I turned back into the woods at this point, mostly running along the high berm covering the pipeline, although in some sections, it seemed to submerge, rendering the trail more level. The running through here was very nice for about a mile, but the trail disappeared into the semi-open hillside eventually. I followed the cleared section paralleling Sucker Brook, but for this short stretch it was once again more of a bushwhack than a trail run, but this rough section only went on for about a quarter of a mile, when it joined a maintained dirt road which climbed up the hill in front of me. This wound its way up the hill to the little known body of water known as the Sucker Brook reservoir, not to be confused with the much larger Sugar Hill reservoir, which confusingly, is the further upstream source of Sucker Brook – got that? The Sucker Brook reservoir, which feeds this highest section of pipeline, and in turn, Silver Lake, has been more of a stagnant swamp than a pond in all of my previous visits, but the recent rains have swollen this body of water to the point that it was actually a rather pleasant place! The light rain on its surface, and the early summer daisies (my favorite wildflower!) starting to wilt as the midsummer Black-Eyed Susans came into bloom made for an attractive shoreline.

Sucker Brook Reservoir

Sucker Brook Reservoir

Continuing across the earthen dam forming this reservoir, I came to a surprise – a sign, in the middle of nowhere, telling the history of this dinky little pond! A fun fact – this small body of water was created in 1917, and at the time was the highest altitude earthen dam east of the Mississippi. Who knew? Especially since most outdoorspeople don’t even know it exists!

The run continued up a steep incline for a few hundred yards, until it joined the Silver Lake trail, and at this time, I decided I’d had enough of pipeline traipsing, so I took the easy way back to my car by taking the path of least resistance down to the Falls of Lana parking lot, and from there a short quarter mile run to the minor parking lot where my car was stowed. Overall, this was indeed a rather pleasant run, with a few short bushwacking or scrambling sections, a healthy dose of mud, and about 700-800 feet of climbing and descent in its 5.75 miles.

Google Earth of the Run

Google Earth of the Run

 

Altitude Profile

Altitude Profile