Whitewater Trails

A story from June, 2019.

If there is one thing I’ve learned from the Adirondacks it’s that when it rains it rains

An Adirondack trail in spring rain

This went way beyond the typical dampness you feel after peeling off a rain-jacket, it was as if I hadn’t even bothered to dawn rain gear at all. Every layer of clothing I had on was saturated to my skin. It turns out that even the best waterproof gear is useless after hours of olympic pools falling from the sky. I may as well have been swimming the trails. 

Hours earlier, I had gone up above the treeline to check on the plants. The weather was terrible, but I figured I would run into a few persevering souls. Someone always seemed to be out there even if conditions begged them not to be. That day I wouldn’t have been surprised to see hikers show up in full scuba gear. 

Anyone who has spent a good amount of time hiking knows the dangers of being wet and cold. It can be a deadly combination, and I’m humbled by how fast it can set in. To combat this above the trees, I put on every article of clothing I brought up and never stopped moving.

Even though as a Summit Steward I have hiked Algonquin dozens of times, I never let myself lose a healthy dose of respect for what can happen if I were to go up unprepared. Nature is not a forgiving force. To me that is part of the beauty of it, but an aspect no hiker should forget. 

After taking the opportunity to fix some scree walls (carefully placed rock to protect soil-edges) and rock packing (to prevent erosion of exposed soil) I decided it was time to steward from the junction. Both the wind and the rain were picking up, and although the plants were happy, it was not a good day to be a human in the alpine zone.  

About half way down, it began raining in earnest. The trail was instantaneously a torrent of white water. Only in the Adirondacks have I pondered what class rapids the trails would be, and I sincerely believe that on this day an intrepid paddler could have made it at least a quarter of a mile.

When I reached the junction, I saw a tall figure standing on an island of rock gazing at the river rushing by below. I had to yell over the deafening sound of water for my voice to reach him, it was Tom, the Wright Peak Steward that day. 

“You’re the first person I’ve seen!”

We stood there for about two hours, totally mesmerized by the amount of water coming down the trails. The trail had risen to an exceptional level, and in some spots was nearly to my knees.

Something was off – it was 1:00 in the afternoon and we hadn’t seen a single hiker. This wasn’t just unusual, it was unheard of. No steward had ever had a day where they saw no one. Those persevering souls were always out there. 

Standing there watching the water rise, Tom and I exchanged glances. Was there something we didn’t know about? Had we missed a radio call about dangerous conditions?

An hour later we were convinced we had. Why else would there be zero hikers heading up one of the most popular trails in the park?

Perhaps one of the stream crossings further down on the trail was unsafe to cross. There was certainly enough rain for that to happen. With this in mind, Tom and I called it an early day and started wading our way back to the trailhead. 

MacIntyre brook was raging, but there were large boulders still protruding above the water, and with trekking poles, two people, and some balance we were able to safely cross. A little while later we were out of the woods, and in disbelief that we had truly seen no one. 

We later learned that it was the biggest rainstorm to come through our region that June, new slides had opened up on a few of the high peaks, and high water levels later in the day had led to a rescue where hikers were unable to return to their cars due to a raging brook.

It’s important to be aware of the weather conditions before setting off for a hike. Rain may not just make for an underwater experience, but heavy prolonged rain can make water levels rise remarkably quickly. This is especially true in the Spring when brooks are already elevated from snow-melt. If you think you might be able to kayak down the trial – it may be time to re-evaluate your choices.