09/22/2026
An ADK Pension?
Thirty years and out?
As the end of summer in 1996 was approaching, two Friends were hanging out when one of them pied up with ‘what is the highest point in New York State?’ We had these things called maps back then. Nothing specific, but a generic paper map of NYS, and somewhere up in the northeast corner and over three hundred and fifty miles away by road was a notation which stated that Marcy was the state’s highest point.
In Buffalo, even in the coldest of years, it is mid-October before the first frost. Modern search engines tell me that the record for first frost is September 20th 1956, truly a rarity.
We then decided that over the third weekend in September, Tracy, Kris and I would venture to this barren-looking (at least on the map) locale and spend September 21st climbing up to a bit more than a mile high into the sky.
Sooner or later I’ll get around to reviewing the edits TMax made to my novel about Tracy and my Adirondack Adventures. If there are those who wish to delve deeper into the tale, they may then do so.
One story I will relate is the night that we were chattng in the Loj main room (when the Loj used to be what it used to be) and a kind older couple (back then, we were often the youngest at the Loj) offered this advice: save some low hanging fruit if you plan on finishing the 46 someday. Noted: and preserved.
Life, as it does, went this way and that way. Sooner or later the trail that I found myself on was no longer perceptible from the path Tracy had dallied down.
On June 14th, 2007 I sat atop Cascade typing on my laptop and documenting the final peak in my ‘Road From Marcy To Cascade’ four hundred plus page trip report. While there were plenty of other hikers atop that magnificent peak that Thursday, my journey finished like many others often begin – by oneself. Days later a fantastic surgeon (who worked on many of the UB athletes) used some spit, tape and glue to repair a knee that had been bothering me all too often since a skiing incident back in 2003.
On Monday Topo and I set out for Cascade once again, though knowing Topo the ‘normal’ route would just not do!
I know that ‘locals’ like to keep Blueberry Mountain hush-hush so that they can enjoy it for themselves. Topo believes in sharing the Love. And who is still reading this deep into my story anyway?
Topo, my Friend, does not mind starts with a time that looks more like eleven than seven.
Blueberry leads five.five miles to Porter, and from there one more mile will get you to Cascade. We’ve done this as an out and back before in a relatively reasonable time.
Comment: Blueberry, while a wonderful trail, is STEEP for many sections and often for some good period of time. While the normal route to Cascade is just under 2000 feet of elly, from Marcy Field it is about thirty-three hundred and fifty feet, with a nice long ridge walk once you get to thirty-eight hundred feet of altitude.
Our last excursion on this trail had phenomenal weather and stunning autumn views. Not so much this day. The cloud level when we started was clearly under three thousand feet. The leaves have not quite begun their transformation into their magnificent annual annual display. Though off we went!
Topo said I was still doing ‘fairly well’ for an old man. I think that now that I've 'sprinted' past the sixty ‘milepost’ that Topo may be keeping his eyes open for a potential successor once my legs can’t quite do what they still can do (on occasion). Less than ninety minutes to Blueberry, which Topo begrudgingly approved of. I think his exact words were ‘I’ll take what I can get – for now’.
Few pictures were taken, but when looking up or out the only thing we saw was gray. Once we started our descent from Porter, a hint of blue sky could be felt. It was 'in a cloud' wet and chilly. Thankfully there little to no wind.
Topo also knew that his Friend Jack was summit stewarding this day on Cascade, and he thought that bringing him a touch of sunshine would be a fine gift.
Just before the summit Topo shouted 'hey' to Jack. Some views were beginning to be had. We’d passed a few dozen other hikers between these two summits and we were far from alone.
Not knowing what time Jack was going to be atop until, Topo and I were prepared to retrace our steps and head back to Marcy Field after a snack or two. It was a bit too chilly to summit sit for a prolonged time, which Topo has been known to do from time to time.
It turned out Jack was heading down at a ‘reasonable’ time, so we spent about an hour on the summit to save a few miles on foot. For the first hike this season, my hands did start to get cold (note: don’t forget hand warmers).
We chatted with a number of other kind folk before starting our descent, where Jack then drove us back to our car at Marcy Field. It was a fine day.
At some point though, one has to wonder ‘how many more ‘fine’ days’ does one have’. Climbing these peaks is no joke. The ‘easiest’ of them, Cascade (like asking ‘who is the shortest player in the NBA?’) is a tough physical challenge for most of those who dare to reach for the sky in these Adirondack High Peaks. Nothing is easy and there are no gimmee’s up here.
Somehow along this journey my already fair-sized circle of Friends expanded at quite the rate. Once TMax came into my life possibilities became probabilities. I found peeps that I did not know that I needed.
Then one afternoon while we lived half-way between Buffalo and the High Peaks, TMax took a ‘mental health Wednesday’ and by some inconceivable twist of fate, we ended up where we are now today.
What we have been able to do and build at TMax-n-Topo’s means virtually nothing to the most of the masses, though there is a sliver of society who finds profound value in our infinitesimal corner on this ‘Third Stone From The Sun’. When you decide to walk out your door, putting one foot in front of the other just to see where it might lead, marvelous things may just occur. You might just come across someone walking relatively in the same direction and decide to join forces.
So at this time of my life I get to scrub toilets and make beds. Also, there’s the witnessing of our guests and Friends striving, achieving and growing. That is something beyond priceless (no comments about ‘why do you charge them then? please).
Sitting with guests beside a campfire, or in the common room while, on occasion, enjoying TMax’s Tasty Treats and chronicling moderately tall tales feels....well this feels like a luxury that I am not sure is as prevalent as might be hoped for.
The wise bet is that at the sixty, or even the fifty year anniversary, our run up Blueberry will look nothing like it looks today....if it looks like anything at all. Still, there is Time between now and then. A day? Decades? Time though. There is no commodity in this Life quite like Time. You are here. You are gone.
The sun shines each and every day….though from time to time pesky clouds get in its way. When one needs the sun the most….those days you can’t tell shadow from ghost. When a single ray may ease the load….lead us along our ragged road. Call on the winds to serve its role….cast out the mist and soothe the soul
Jimi Hendrix last written words:
"The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye. The story of love is hello and goodbye. Until we meet again"
