The Dix Range

 

"I represent what is left of a vanishing race, and that is the pedestrian...that I am still able to be here, I owe to a keen eye and a nimble pair of legs.  But I know they'll get me someday."

- Will Rogers

The Dix Range consists of five mountains: Macomb, South Dix, East Dix, Hough, and Dix, the first four of which are "trailless".  I got two consecutive days off a couple weeks ago, so I decided to head North to conquer some more of my 46.  I know I really shouldn't have attempted five peaks, especially four trailless, alone, but it's almost impossible to gather people that have the same days off as me AND that want to abuse their bodies like me.  So, I took my compass bearings at home, checked them twice, made sure I had all the necessary emergency gear, and headed up to Exit 29.

There are two ways to attack this range: the longer approach via Round Pond, which leaves from Route 73, is about 14 miles RT to do just Dix Mountain, while the route I took from Elk Lake is approximately 12 miles for Dix Mountain, and I feel is the more logical approach to doing the other four peaks.  Elk Lake, just 10-15 minutes from Northway Exit 29, is home to the renowned Elk Lake Lodge.  Although entirely private, there is a parking lot just before you get to the lake where the trail starts that allows hikers access to the Dix Range, and there is another trail on property that provides access to the long and least used hike to Panther Gorge, Haystack, and Marcy.

The beginning of the trail is very easy.  It's as wide as a road (actually, it looks like they might use it as a road) and packed down hard.  It is also one of the most eroded trails I've seen in the Adirondacks.  My objective for the first day was the leanto/campsites at Slide Brook, just 2.5-3 miles from the trailhead.  There is little elevation gain, so I was there before I knew it.  Finding the campsites was a tiny bit challenging, as there are a few herd paths that lead into the woods and lead to nowhere.  Basically what you should know is this: after you cross the bridge over Slide Brook, there is a campsite immediately to your right.  It is marked by a cairn because you must pass through this campsite to get to the herd path that leads up Macomb, the first High Peak of the loop.

 

Continuing on the Red Trail, though, you'll come to the campsite I used, which is on the right. Across the path from here is a clearing that is not marked as a campsite, but it looks like people have been using it as one.  I ate my meals in that clearing and stored my bear canister at the edge of it in order to keep it the recommended distance from my bivuoac.  There is also an outhouse, a backwoods luxury, at the edge of the clearing.  As you continue down the red trail, you'll soon cross another bridge, just over which is the leanto.

I snagged the last available campsite and was greeted by a pleasant surprise: a fire pit.  I was under the assumption that the Dix Range is in the Eastern High Peaks, where campfires are forbidden, but as it turns out it is just over the line separating the Eastern High Peaks from the Southern High Peaks.  To add to this surprise, the hiker before me had left massive piles of tinder and firewood, over which he draped large slabs of birch bark.  Hikers' courteous ways never cease to amaze me.

I spent a beautiful evening by the fire, listening to the soft cooing of not-too-distant bears.  In the morning, after my filling breakfast of oatmeal with strawberries, granola bars, GORP with dried cranberries, and of course, a little caffeine, I embarked down the herd path.  The Dix Range has no consistent water source, so I was sure to carry 3 1/2 liters of freshly filtered mountain water with me.  To my delight, the beginning of the hike was much easier than expected.  I had learned from Adirondack Journey that the Dix Range is well known for inviting storms, but the weather was holding up, and the trail was soft as leaves, not eroded at all, and easily discernible.

And that's when it started to sprinkle.  It stayed a sprinkle until I got to the base of Macomb's slide, and then it started raining in earnest.  Macomb's slide is steep, maybe 45 degrees, and composed entirely of sand and loose rocks.  It's difficult to climb on a good day, and in the drenching wetness, it was a real pain in the butt.  Every step I took I slid back a few inches, sank in, or slipped.  Don't be fooled when you reach the top of the slide, either; you still have a few tenth's of a mile to go before you reach the summit.  In the pictures below you can make out Elk Lake, the storms rolling in, and the top of the slide.  You might also notice that at the time the USGS survey was conducted, Macomb was spelled "McComb".  The mountain, ranked #21 in NYS at an elevation of 4,405 ft, was named after Major General Alexander Macomb, who defeated the Canadians and British in the Battle of Plattsburgh on September 11, 1814. 

From here until the end of my hike, it was difficult to take pictures.  It never stopped raining and I didn't want to damage my phone, which I was using as my camera.  The herd path from Macomb to South Dix, and from South Dix to East Dix continues to be easy and not confusing.  South Dix and East Dix, which some have argued should be renamed Grace and Carson Peaks, both have good rocky summits.  I had no view whatsoever, though, on South Dix, as visibility had dropped to no more than 100 feet.  I had to wait a few minutes on East Dix for the wind to blow the clouds away in order to snap this picture (the summit is marked by that yellow disc.  Trailless Peak canned registers have been removed):

I fueled up at East Dix with some more GORP and granola bars, pounded down some water, and continued on my way.  The route requires you to retrace your steps back to South Dix and then head to Hough Peak.  As I mentioned, I had no line of sight.  Generally, when you're on a summit, you'll want to pick out the next point you're heading to, such as the next mountain, find that bearing on your compass, compare your reading to the bearings you took on your map before you left home, and make the appropriate adjustments.  Since I had no line of sight from peak to peak, I was going strictly by my original compass bearings.  Thankfully, my compass bearings were pretty darn accurate (pats self on back).

Now, for the first three peaks, the herd path was pretty good.  That changed dramatically.  Between South Dix and Hough, you dip steeply into a deep col before ascending steeply, again.  In that col you should find a very remote campsite.  It is confusing there because there are herd paths all over the place made by confused hikers.  The majority of them peter out into nothingness.  Stay to the right of the campsite here to avoid getting lost.

I'm not even sure where Hough's summit was.  I passed over it without ever realizing it.  At one point, your path is blocked by a large erratic.  Nailed to this is a yellow disc with an arrow pointing to the left.  I don't know what wise guy put that there, but going to the left is dangerous.  The path there goes along the edge of a high cliff with encroaching cripplebush attempting to show you off it with every step you take.  After you get past this death trap, you have to fight through incredibly dense bush in order to find your way back to the herd path.  I'm assuming this was close to the summit of Hough, but I can't be certain.  This is the only time I have ever actually used the term "nightmarish" when describing an Adirondack route.

By this point my knee was in some real pain.  My left knee hurt every time I tried to bend it.  I was forced to step up every time with my right leg, and step down on my left leg, which even using trekking poles was difficult not to slam down on.  According to everything I had read, I should have then come to what is known as "The Beckhorn" - a mountainous nub near the summit of Dix Mountain - and stay to the right of it on my way to Dix.  I am also not sure where The Beckhorn was.  Somehow I skipped right over it.  The trail after what I believe was Hough becomes very bouldery.  There are sections where you are forced to wedge yourself between two rocks and shimmy up 15 feet.

In my pain, and having not reached a landmark I recognized in quite some time, I started to get pretty upset.  I hadn't seen another person all day and didn't expect I would, considering the incessant rain.  There were countless winces, yelps, and curses tossed out.  And then, with no warning, I was there: I had reached the summit of Dix Mountain, my fifth peak of the day, and the sixth highest in New York at an elevation of 4,840 ft.  I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I "woot"ed and struck a truimphant pose.  I held my trekking pole over my head like a Tuscan Raider from Star Wars.  I had done it: 5 peaks, 4 trailless, in one day.  Here is the amazing view I had, haha.

The hike back to the campsite was tough.  I had to descend Dix's rock cap in a pouring rain, not being able to bend my left knee without pain.  My trekking poles didn't come with the rubber tips that are used for gripping rock.  I did alot of butt sliding.  After the cap, it continues to be rocky and steep, and like most High Peaks, you pound on your joints with every step down.  I had to compensate for my sore left knee, so by the time I was back to camp, both knees killed.

I arrived back at camp home at 8:45 pm - about 10 1/2 hours of constant hiking later.  It took me 3 hours to travel the 4 miles from Dix back to the tent.  Two days of rest later, my knee felt fine again.  I'm currently shopping around for a good stiff knee brace for hiking, but until then, I just have to pace myself and be careful.  I'm not going to stop hiking these peaks.  It's what I do.  It's what I love.