The Great Range (Part 6) - The Failed Crossing

Arriving back to camp shortly after 6:00 p.m., we quickly packed up and prepared to head back to the car. In hopes of preventing a repeat of the initial difficult crossing of John's Brook, we took a look at the map and prepared a new route out. Rather than crossing the brook near the John's Brook Lodge, we would continue on the trail further downstream to a crossing quite near to the Garden Parking Lot (where our cars were parked). Based on our conversation with two other hikers who were resting at our lean-to when we arrived back, it was thought that there was a bridge at this point.

It was around 7:00 p.m. when we packed up and headed out. If all went according to plan, we could make it back to the car shortly after 9:00 p.m. We would be tired for the 2.5 hour drive back home, but it didn't seem to unreasonable.

Once again carrying fully loaded packs, we set out. We made good time on this fairly level trail running adjacent to John's Brook. After the first few miles, the trail widened into what seemed to be a four-wheeler trail. However, the trail forked (which of course wasn't on the map) and we decided to take the path closer to the brook. After 15 minutes on this path we were brought to a stop by a series of falls in the brook. We had taken the wrong turn. We doubled back and headed for the other path at the fork -- a slight delay, but we still weren't far off schedule.

It was dark around 9:00 p.m. when we finally found the crossing, clearly marked with a sign directing us to the Garden Parking Lot. There was just one problem: there was no bridge. Deep, fast-moving white water was all we had ahead of us. This crossing looked far worse than the one we had crossed initially, nearby to the lodge. The parking lot was close now, less than a quarter mile away, so we set out looking for a place to cross. If we could find anywhere suitable, the consensus was to "bomb it." We didn't care about getting wet now -- we'd plow right through that brook whatever it took.

We searched. A half-hour later we still hadn't found anywhere remotely safe to cross. With this white water, you didn't want to go down with a fully loaded pack -- you may not be able to get back up. Hopping out partway along some big rocks, Adam tested a possible crossing. Slowly lowered his legs into the water while holding himself steady on the rock, his feet never hit bottom. This was deeper than we expected -- still too dangerous to cross.

Frustrated, we began to consider our options. We could still attempt to "bomb it." Without packs this might be doable. With packs, it was stupid and dangerous. That wouldn't work. We could head all the way back to the John's Brook crossing. That would be over 4 miles. It was late, and it was dark. That wasn't much better of an idea. We could just set up camp here and wait until morning. We were so close now that we decided against this idea too (Adam was still in favor of camping as he had been before, and in hindsight this would have been the best choice). Lastly, we could continue on the trail downstream. After a few miles, this would lead us into Keene Valley and to an actual road. We could cross a bridge here. We chose this option.

We trudged on, frustrated at our defeat by John's Brook. After what seemed like an eternity, we hit a dirt road. Eventually, a few lone buildings came into sight as the road turned to pavement. Several forks and turns later, we were guessing our way in the general direction of Keene Valley. Several more forks and turns later, we came to a bridge. We had no idea where we were. Adam, not exactly happy that we hadn't listened to him and stayed at camp hours ago, pointed out our errors of not paying close attention to the compass and the map.

We got out the map and tried to figure out where we were. We could either cross the bridge or continue on north on this road. Just as we had decided to continue north in hopes of reaching Keene Valley, Ed made a discovery. We were at the road leading up to the Garden Parking Lot. I confirmed his theory when I noticed a large boulder at the side of the road that I remembered driving by on the way up. Finally, events were turning in our favor.

We headed across the bridge and up the hill to the parking lot. A long, painful mile and we had finally made it back -- after 11:00 p.m. It was going to be a long drive back.

Adam reminded us that this wasn't his idea with a well-earned, "I told you so."

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A map of the Great Range region.










The same map with our path marked. It isn't pretty (I imagine Paint isn't the best tool for this), but it shows the trail we followed fairly well.