With sunshine, clear skies, and a (relatively) balmy temperature in the high 40s, Nov. 4 was probably the last nice day we will see in the North Country until mid-April. For my friend Lexie, that Sunday presented a perfect opportunity to get one last hike in before winter.
So when she texted that Saturday night with an open invitation to hike Mount Arab, I accepted, despite the fact that I didn’t really think of myself as a “hiker.” Sure, I went for long walks in the woods back home in N.H., and navigated some vaguely vertical terrain while doing so, but I’d never intentionally climbed a mountain. That was about to change.
Mount Arab is located in the northern Adirondacks, by way of an hour-long drive southeast to Piercefield, N.Y.. With an elevation of 2,545 feet and a 1.9 mile trail, out and back — according to the wooden sign at the trailhead — Mount Arab takes about an hour and forty-five minutes to two hours to hike.
Awaiting hikers at the peak is the historic fire observation station with an observer’s cabin and a forty-foot-high steel lookout tower: all the better to photograph the stunning views.
By late morning, Lexie and I had walked past that wooden sign and were hiking up Mount Arab. Even with good weather, it was hard not to notice that it had been raining for the past few days; the trail was blanketed with wet leaves concealing muddy divots where the rain running down the mountain had washed out the soil.
In her hiking boots, Lexie strode through the layers of mud without a second thought. In my sneakers, I picked my way up a bit more cautiously, hopping on top of the rocks jutting out from the leaves and inching along the trail’s edge, grabbing nearby trees to steady myself as I went.
As we continued to ascend, the trail wound in and around the trees, getting steeper and steeper before flattening out, allowing us to catch our breath for a bit before horizontal became vertical again. Much to our surprise, snow dusted, and then completely covered the forest floor, and the wooden stairs on the trail were iced over. Nevertheless, we kept climbing.
Finally, we emerged from the trees onto the bare face of the mountain with the cabin and the lookout tower directly before us. One by one, we climbed the narrow wooden stairs up the tower clutching the metal railings to steady ourselves.
From the top of the tower, I could see for miles down the mountain slope: back down the trail we had taken to the top, through snow-covered trees with bare limbs, to browning pine trees surrounding lakes and rivers, to other distant snow-capped mountains at the edge of the horizon. With the noon sun shining on the snow and off the waters, it was a sight to behold.
By the time we had taken all the photos we wanted and made our way back down Mount Arab — easier said than done on the steep, slick slopes — the winter of the mountain’s peak had vanished, and it was fall again at the trailhead. My sneakers were soaked through, and my jeans were flecked with mud, but I felt too triumphant to feel the cold. I had hiked a mountain — intentionally! — and it had been better than I ever thought it could be.
When that next good day in mid-April dawns, drive down to Piercefield. I’ll probably see you on the way up Mount Arab.