I thought I would get to this update the same day I wrote the original post, but I was somewhat delayed in posting due to how late I got back from the park on Friday night and how I was gone in Albany for the weekend.
I was partially correct in the previous post when I said “They have sick amounts of snow up there, now.” Ridiculously sick amounts of snow would be a more accurate description of what I encountered. When I got there I was the only one in the parking lot. The snow drifts I had to climb over to reach the trailhead were higher than I am tall. Lucky for me, whoever was plowing the access road used the same technique* the local and state governments use when plowing roads in the north country so I could climb the stepped snow banks up to the trailhead.
*The drifts are ”terraced” into two or three levels with each level set back 3 or 4 feet further than the next lowest level. This give the snow drifts their stepped appearance and allows the snow-plows to push more snow off the road.
When I got on the trail I realized I was the only person who had been there in several days, possibly since the previous weekend. The well-trod trail I expected to see was filled in with lots of new-fallen snow and their was only a slight dip in the contour of the snow to indicate where previous hikers had been. It was beautiful with all that white, powdery goodness. But i was getting tired by the time I finished the first steep climb. You climb about 100 meters over the course of a mile or so (about an 8% grade) but there are spots in the initial climb that are closer to 10% or 15% in grade. Plus, I was breaking trail through 12 inches of fresh powder.** In the picture below you can see some of the deep powder I encountered in the first five minutes on the trail.
Whetstone Gulf SP - Powdery Goodness Early On In The Hike
All that fresh powder would prove to be my biggest challenge on this hike. As I got further along the south rim of the gorge—The last time I did this hike I went out the north rim trail and came back the south rim trial; I planned to do the opposite on this trip so I would get to the confusing trail junction where I got lost last time with plenty of daylight—the powder got deeper. I had been on the trail about an hour when I got to my confusing trail junction. In the daylight I could see that the signs sorta pointed in the right direction but only coming from this direction. If you were coming from the opposite direction (like I did on my previous hike) the trail signs would easily point you the wrong way.
I turned the correct way I needed to go and kept to the rim of the gorge whenever possible. I was now breaking trail through a consistent 15 inches of powdery snow. It was fun and the slow going forced me to stop every so often to sip some water and catch my breath. (While it wasn’t in the single digits like my last snowshoeing adventure at this park—making it painful for me to breathe—it was in lows 20s, dropping into the upper 10s as the day progressed.) I focused on the trail and found it becoming more precarious as headed along it to the western end of the gorge.
On this trail the wind blows in from the west/northwest. I could see how the wind had been sculpting the snow on the edge of the gorge and the result was sloping drifts running down towards the edge of the gorge. If you have ever been on snowshoes you know they can and do slide on snow, especially on uneven slopes. I found myself sliding a few times on the rim trail (although I never got closer than 2 or 3 feet to the edge of the gorge) and decided I would stay away from the edge even if that meant going through the deeper snow drifts piled up by the west/ northwesterly winds. So, that is exactly what I did. I kept myself within 10-20 feet of the edge of the gorge but choosing a path that was flatter and required less ducking under snow-burdened tree branches.
About 90 minutes into the hike I came to a short-but-steep downward slope and thought “Hey, I must be near the end” as this looks very similar to the end of the trail. WRONG! I was just passed the midpoint of the south rim trail near an area where the gorge has a sharp bend in it and the trail dips down before climbing back up. The point where the trail turns off to go back up is an absolutely perfect spot to stop, take some water, and enjoy the view into the gorge below. The picture below is from that point along the trail. In fact, I took an almost identical picture on my first hike through this park. (See the last pic in this post for a comparison to the picture below.)
Whetstone Gulf SP - View Into Gorge From South Rim
Below is a pic of some more of that powdery goodness on the hilly section of trail above this overlook vantage point.
Whetstone Gulf SP - Powdery Goodness On Trail Above Overlook Point
I climbed up the trail and continued along toward the western end and the mid-point of the hike. By this point I was pretty much determined to take the “easy way” back to the car. This would involve getting off the trail on the service road that runs adjacent to the western end of the gorge (and hence, the trail’s mid-point). The rudimentary trail guide I had said the road would be a longer way back but a longer walk spent snowshoeing on un-plowed park service roads was better than heading back on the north rim gorge trail in the fading sun. By the time I got to the mid-point of the gorge trail I was dealing with a sun that had just set. The last 45 minutes of the hike on the south rim trail were scenic and pretty but not pleasant in general. It was getting dark, the powder was now averaging a good 18 inches deep—no joke; in a few places it was two or three feet deep—and I was getting hungry.
Unlike my previous visit to this park, I had plenty of food and water on this trip. But I wanted to get to the mid-point before dark so I waited to eat. That was probably not a very smart thing to do but I got to the mid-point of the trail—and, hence, the nearby service road, as well—just as the last blue-pink rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Man, did that first peanut butter sandwich taste good when I stopped. I dug out my lighting gear (flash-light for the back of my pack and head-lamp for me), readjusted my trekking poles, and eased on down the service road. (I would find out later the two roads I was on are not park service roads but “minimum maintenance” state roads, meaning they don’t lead to anywhere residential so they don’t get plowed in the winter-time.) I settled into a nice routine and started making good time as I followed the closed roads back to the main, open road that leads to the park entrance. I was passed by a number of snowmobilers going in both directions but they were nice for the most part, slowing down as they passed and dimming their headlights as they approached me.
I arrived back at the main, open road that leads to the park entrance and stopped to take off my snowshoes. A couple guys came out from the two houses at this intersection and marveled at seeing me on snowshoes. I told them what I had done and they seemed nonchalant about the whole matter. I took their response to mean that it’s not such a crazy thing to do, snowshoeing on part of the gorge trail and taking the local roads back. We said our goodbyes—They were heading back in after having been snowmobiling elsewhere in the area—and I took off and packed up my snowshoeing gear.
I had a short (1.25 mile) walk on the shoulder of the road to get back to the park entrance and the parking lot where my car sat. When I got back to the car, I had traveled 4.5 miles in a little over two hours on snow-covered back roads and well-plowed main roads. Contrast this with the slightly less than three hours it took me to hike 2.5 miles on the gorge’s rim trail. Once I got off the trail, I almost doubled my average traveling speed. Even though I was snowshoeing on closed roads the snow had been well packed down by all the snowmobilers and it was much like walking on pavement in regular shoes, quick steady strides kept me moving forward at a good pace.
So, my total time on the trail and roads was just a few minutes shy of five hours total with a total distance covered of a little over 7 miles. It was a longer trip, distance-wise, than if I had tried to return on the north rim section of the gorge trail. But it was definitely a much shorter trip time-wise—and much safer overall—than if I had tried to return on the gorge trail. I was quite tired at this point and more than a little sweaty but I felt good. I had a nice, long hike without any major difficulties or the possibility of getting lost. Yippee!!!
**Breaking trail through xx inches of fresh powder means that a) I am the first person to traverse the trail since the last snowfall filled in the path and b) I sink into the snow by that distance before my snowshoes can get enough resistance to keep me from sinking further. (The principle of snowshoes is that they spread out a person’s weight over a larger surface area thus enabling a person to walk on snow without sinking into the snow as deep as they would if they were putting all their weight on the soles of their boots. And we’re going to pretend that the fact I am 25 pounds heavier than I was in the Summer of 2006 has nothing to do with how much I sink into the show.) So, breaking trail through 12 or 18 inches of powder means that I sink into the snow by that distance every single step I take.
It is not a hard process but it is physically taxing as you have to be conscious about every step you take and walk in an exaggerated manner that looks a bit like a marching band majorette high-stepping at the head of a parade. The advantages to breaking trail are choosing your own path and, like this particular hike, having the trail to yourself. I had the whole trail, in fact the whole park, to myself that day. It’s a nice feeling to know that it is you and only you out there having this great experience in/with nature.
