Getting Away from It All

Join Adam as he bungles through one of the best hiking spots in the Adirondacks

Registration booths keep track of who is on the trail and can save your life if you get lost

The path entrance is somewhere past Whiteface, just a little bit beyond High Falls Gorge, right after a sharp bend in the road. The only marker is a brown wooden pole, the same color as the incalculable amount of trees on both sides of the road—so much for the help of the New York Forest Rangers. Not to mention that I'm in the midst of a fast-moving vehicle convoy. Any attempt to brake suddenly would spell certain catastrophe for myself and the speed-hungry New Jersey native shadowing my rear bumper.

Wait! What's that? It's the entrance! A silver sedan already sits in one of the two precious parking spots. Damn, I'm going to have to turn around. I peek at the odometer, which reads approximately three and a half more miles than it did when I passed Whiteface. I note the distance for future reference. One U-turn and a mile of backtracking later, I find myself at the mouth of the trail. In the very first yard sits a brown stand, roughly four feet high with “Please Register” in bold, mustard yellow print. Signing in, I can see that recent traffic has been light with an average of two parties a day. There are only two people on the trail today, which will make for a quiet and enjoyable hike.

It starts off as a rocky, but level climb. The trail seems more like a dry riverbed than anything else. Rounded stones and boulders jut up from the ground and it seems less like walking and more like hopscotch from one rock to the next. The sound of trickling water infiltrates the air from a small, parallel-running tributary. It's a relaxing change of atmosphere, and it covers up the gentle humming of traffic on the nearby road.

As the hike progresses, a series of small ascensions reminds me that I'm not in the best of shape. The rocky terrain gives way to root-infested dirt and the hike becomes much easier. The canopy from the surrounding birches and firs grows thick, with only an occasional ray of light piercing through to hit the ground in a brilliant white. The soothing sound of nature's engine intensifies as the small tributary gradually morphs into a full-fledged stream, with miniature waterfalls sprinkled about.

A muddy patch stops me in my tracks. There are no rocks on which to hop, but a dry patch is accessible if I sacrifice one foot to the muddy gods. It doesn't look that deep; there aren't even any puddles in the whole mess. Taking my chances, I lower a foot onto the porous ground and with one solid step, I sink six inches into the gooey brown muck. I was wrong. It was deep. Now my sock is soaked. Pulling with extra force, the mud squishes and Mother Nature laughs as my muck-covered foot emerges from the ground.

With a slick foot, I have to make sure to watch my step. I look down at the trail, navigating each rock and tree root with precision. With all concentration focused on each step, the surrounding environment begins to blend together, forcing my senses numb. I stop to take a breather, lifting my focus from the ground, and that's when I hear it—complete silence. The gentle whoosh of traffic and the continuous flow of water are gone. A calling bird instinctively forces my head to the right, and I see Owen Pond. Enveloped by trees, the surrounding hills cast a reflection in the crystal clear pond. I admire the view, but stay for only a moment, since I know that better views are coming soon.

Various ascensions remind you that while Copperas is a fun trail, it can also be tiring

Further down the trail, the ground morphs into a springy carpet of pine needles and downed leaves. A rocky outcropping offers a fantastic view of Copperas pond with Whiteface in the background. Unfortunately, my camera is too close to get a good shot and I back up to get a wider angle. At that time, a rock deliberately got in front of my heel, causing me to lose balance. With my center of gravity distorted, I tried in vain to right myself. Flapping my arms and thrashing my ungrounded leg, it was like a drunken ballet. Hitting the ground with a powerful thud, my first instinct is to throw darting glances in every direction to see if I was spotted. Pride intact, I continue towards the lean-to located at the very fringe edge of the trail.

The lean-to itself appears to be a sturdy wooden structure, overlooking the entirety of Copperas pond. Charred logs and scorched beer cans sit in a fire pit as I make myself at home. From the west, you can see the dry ski-trails of Whiteface cutting a path through the forests that cover the mountain. To the south and east are hills of varying height covered with thick deciduous forests. Inside the lean-to, I notice the Adirondack Mountain Club journal and open it up to read what past explorers have written. The messages inside dabble in different human expressions.

You have deception:

“My friend told me that it was a five minute hike up the mountain. Me? I could smell a setup from a mile away. Beautiful place, great fishing.”

Desperation:

“Where's the 7-11? Need coffee and beer. No Internet access, no cell phone signal, no motion lights. Why would anyone come here? Too clean and quiet for me, I hope I hit traffic the whole way home! Saw a great white shark, don't swim here! I mean it! No foolin'!"

Solemn remembrance:

“In memory of Crunch. She loved coming here during the winter, spring, summer, and fall."

On the last page, the most recent entry makes allusion to the best places for certain sexual activities, including the lean-to. It then occurred to me that I sat in a den of sin. A lean-to with a cornucopia of unholy residues flanking me on all sides; I figured it was time to go.

The hike back gives me a chance to take everything in for one last time. The fantastic views of the Adirondacks, the serenity of nature, and the quietness of my surroundings remind me of why I came here in the first place. As I get in my car, I think that while it was not necessarily my most graceful hike at Copperas Pond, it won't be my last.

What's your favorite hiking spot?

Hiking Safety Tips:

Wear the right shoes: The last thing you want on a slippery trail is a regular set of tennis shoes. Unless they're brand new, the sole is likely to be a little worn, and even a pair fresh off the sales floor won't have the desired grip on rocky terrain. Hiking shoes offer more support for your ankle and a wider grip surface to latch on to those large rocks and pesky tree roots. Additionally, seek out a pair made with Gore-Tex, an extremely effective waterproof fabric.

Bring enough supplies: Food and water are essential on any hike. Most can be tackled with a single liter, but more extreme climbs can call for 2-3 liters. Bring food such as trail mix, beef jerky, or peanut butter sandwiches for a quick burst of energy. Make sure to pack it in a tightly-secured daypack.

Protect yourself from the sun: The sun can shine brightly on certain days, and even brighter at the top of a mountain. Exposure to rays is just as potent in the 60s as it is the 90s, so make sure to apply and bring sun screen with you.

Don't get bit: Bug spray is also a hiking essential. Mosquitos and black flies can "eat you alive" on certain trails, so take every precaution to keep them away by applying a bug repellent that includes DEET.