3 August 2023
I have yet to see a bear hiking in the Catskill Mountains. Most hikers you ask haven’t, either.
But they are everywhere.
The DEC has published entire pamphlets devoted to them. One explains what to do if you encounter one. Another pleads with us to keep our food and garbage secure, thus keeping them away. Local campground caretakers worry about them. There’re signs posted directing campers to keep their campsite clean. To keep your food locked away, preferably in your car. Once a bear finds food at the campground, it will keep coming back for more. Park Rangers will euthanize a bear that has gotten too comfortable in human environs. Their actions are unpredictable and can be destructive.
Bears.
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I’d been thinking a lot about bears while preparing for this hike. Something about this trail always sparked bear discussions. On the ride up, I thought that it’s going to happen this time. Call it a hunch. I will meet Ursus Americanus. I was sure of it. Luckily, my record with premonitions is dismal. It’s difficult to remember that when you’re in the middle of it. I had bears on the brain
.
The NYS DEC run Woodland Valley Campground sits in the foothills of the Burroughs Range, which Comprises Slide, Wittenberg and Cornell Mountains. I reserved three nights there for this hike. The trailhead for Wittenberg and Cornell mountains is located at the end of the campground. It’s pretty nice as far as campgrounds go. There’s a bathroom and showers, which is the only “amenity” I really needed. My site was directly across from the well lit and well-travelled bathroom/shower house. It turned out ok. I got to talk and meet with other campers that I probably wouldn’t have had the opportunity to otherwise. And it’s didn’t smell. Each site has a fire pit and a picnic table. It’s about as civilized as you can get while being in the woods. There is a recycling center, which has hanging multiple signs warning and imploring to please close the door behind you because the local bears love the leftovers and let’s not make this any easier for them.
There was a path behind my site that led to a bank of the woodland valley stream. It’s a lovely spot to sit still, listening to the stream rush by over the rocks. I sat there in the morning chill, next to the scrambling water, sipping my coffee. The banks of the rivers were heavily wooded (it is called woodland valley after all). The shade from the trees and the cool air made it difficult to leave.
But I had work to do. I got my gear together and headed to the trailhead. I walked by a good part of the campground on my way, waving at the groggy campers struggling out of their tents or up and cooking breakfast.
I’d heard this was a tough hike, and I was mentally prepared. I was expecting about 10 hard miles. I was focused on the mileage. I was not physically prepared for what the actual trail would throw at my feet. The trail out of Woodland Valley climbs 1,000 feet over 2.5 miles of rugged but nothing to write home about terrain. Once you get to the junction with the yellow trail, the fun begins. Turn right, stay on the red trail, and get ready for something you’ve never seen before. It’s a treadmill of jagged rocks and ledges to climb up and around. Occasionally, you hang from a small tree rooted in the mountain’s side. Other times you’re going up at what looks like straight up when you’re looking at it, but isn’t all that bad when you’re actually doing it. Still, it’s a lot of work. My ligaments and tendons got a good stretching.
I was astounded by the unmovable octopus armed trees that willed themselves out of the side of the mountain. I didn’t believe they could hold me up. I sat on one to test its strength. It held. The steep sections piled up. At times, there are stretches of regular trail ascents, but inevitably, another ledge must be negotiated. I shook my fist and yelled “you’ve gotta be kidding me!” to the wall or rock and dirt ever before me. They remained silent. I kept climbing.
The summit of Wittenberg is a popular destination. The view is broad. Lush forests, and further out but identifiable, the Ashokan reservoir. The Ashokan is one in a network of reservoirs in the Catskills. The clear mountain water eventually flows downstate to NYC. The construction of the reservoir displaced several thousand homes and businesses. There are signs commemorating some on Route 28. towns like Olivebridge and Boiceville have been relocated and still exist today.
At the summit, there is a wide, long rock resembling a couch. When I arrived, at least 5 people were up there, taking in the view and catching their breath. I got my lunch out and destroyed my sandwich in three bites. As I was eating, I saw two people pop up from over the ledge. A man and a woman had just bushwhacked up the untrailed and steep south side of the mountain. They were members of the Catskills 3500 club search and rescue team, activated to help search for a missing hiker below. Ordered to stand down during their search, they wouldn’t waste the opportunity and do a little recreational hiking.
The person said the south side hike up Wittenburg was much tougher than the trail and they enjoyed the challenge. May God bless them both. The lady, a television writer, was currently on strike with the the rest of the writers union. This leaves her ample time for hiking and assisting with searches.
That’s noble. I asked her if they’d ever had to rescue unprepared hikers. She just rolled her eyes.
After resting my tired legs, I set off for Cornell Mountain and the famous Cornell Crack. The narrow path between the summits of Wittenberg and Cornell is called the Bruins Causeway, because bears often travel between the mountains this way. Something about it getting its name because bears can easily trap prey, it’s so narrow with no where to turn around. It’s a pleasant, mostly level path as most cols (the pass between two mountaintops) here are. Ten minutes in, I heard a rustling in the woods to my right. Branches snapped at the weight of whatever it was coming out of the woods towards me. More interested than scared at first, I remembered what this part of the trail was called. A figure stumbled towards me. As it got closer, each and every muscle in me relaxed when I saw it was a hiker who had dipped off the trail to obey the call of nature. Which I came close to doing myself right then and there.
The Cornell Crack is a 30-foot-tall rock with a gash in the middle that needs to be climbed if you want to get to the summit of Cornell Mountain. It looks impossible when you first approach it. It got taller the closer I got. Unlike previous rock scrambles today, there were no anchors or ledges to lift oneself. Like a giant rock puzzle to be solved.
As I stood there analyzing it, the thought flashed through my mind - that I could NOT climb it and no one would know. I’d read about a theoretical path to the side that bypasses the rock, but I couldn’t see it. I decided I couldn’t live with myself if I turned back. This thing needed to be conquered.
I managed to shimmy up and grabbed a rock to pull myself up. There was a small ledge on top where I stopped and caught my wits and my breath. After an uneventful summit at Cornell, I turned back to face the crack again.
Ungainly, clumsy, and awkward are some honest ways to describe me getting down the crack. Once I did, I turned around, gave it the old one-finger salute, and headed back to Wittenberg.
Sitting on the summit, I recharged before starting down the mountain. I was spent. I descended gingerly. I moved so slowly that people I met at the summit, who had a head start, passed me on the way down. The descent down the mountainside was equally tough as the ascent. I needed to be extra careful. I was tired and sore and i just wanted to be done. The closer I got to the trailhead, my thoughts drifted towards dinner. To bathing. To sleep. They wandered off the trail. Where the mind goes, the body soon follows.
That night, I slept deeply, like I was in a tomb. The next morning I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and went down to the stream and soaked my poor feet in the cold whirling water. Uniformed folks crowded the refuse center as I disposed of breakfast garbage. The garage door was missing two panels.
One worker told me that a bear had broken in overnight. I walked over to the main office and struck up a conversation with the Camp administrator on duty. The bear also tore off a car door for the food inside last night at the campsite, she told me. This sounded far-fetched. I had doubts about all the hype. Still, I locked my car doors that night.
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