Escape the crowds at Marcy Field and conquer this strenuous yet scenic portal to the High Peaks
By Tim Rowland
It’s hard to think of a mountain that towers above the well-trod Marcy Field in the town of Keene as a secret, but most of the people who pull into the ample parking area at its base have other ideas — either hopping the shuttle to the doorstep of the High Peaks or walking dogs, or taking a relaxed stroll on the Keene Town Trail.
So there Blueberry sits, like an abandoned book bag in a crowded mall, just waiting for someone to call the feds. But no one ever does. On a glorious recent Thursday, only three other people were on the mountain, and a check of the register showed a tendency for spotty attendance.
Blueberry is a good workout, with an elevation gain greater than the High Peak of Cascade, over a shorter distance. But the views are excellent and maintained over a long summit ridge that alternates between thick clutches of sweet-smelling balsam and nice expanses of open rock.
Leaving the bustle behind
From the parking lot, the trail begins on the Keene Town Trail but before long breaks off to the left and quickly gains 230 feet in elevation before leveling off in a pleasant, mossy green wood. Don’t get used to it.
After a small stream crossing, and following the attractive brook for a bit, the route climbs stiffly up an esker, leaving the water feature in the gorge far below — but never out of pleasant earshot. It seems as if you should emerge the esker sooner than you do, but you don’t, and it isn’t until about three-quarters of a mile in that the grade eases up a bit. Don’t get used to that, either.
The forest to this point consists of young hardwoods, reflective of logging not all that long ago. That changes, and the forest grows more robust, where the trail enters ground added to the Forest Preserve in a previous era. The trail recrosses the stream at just shy of one mile and wanders through a most pleasant grove of old hemlock before turning back to hardwood as you gain elevation.
High Peaks flashbacks
And gain elevation you do. As my pace slowed I thought back to a time when such a pitch would not have impeded my progress all that much, and realized that this was more or less my 20th anniversary of completing the 46 High Peaks.
Back in 2000, I remember listening in awe to grizzled vets who had hiked the peaks 20 years prior, telling stories about what the trails were like in the old days.
It was a bit of a jolt to think that I had now achieved that status, much like an outdoors version of Dana Carvy’s Grumpy Old Man on Saturday Night Live: “Gore Tex, we never had any Gore Tex. In our day, when it rained we carried around 40 extra pounds of water in our blue jeans and cotton flannel undershirts and we liked it.”
Yet while many Adirondack trails have seriously degraded in this time, Blueberry’s has not, a testament, I suppose, to its light use. In fact, the trail is better now because it is more defined — in past years it was easy to get off on the wrong rock slab on the ascent or go off into a balsam cul-de-sac up top. These errors would create self-perpetuating and misleading herd paths, but most of these seem to have been cleaned up now.
After crossing the creek, you climb steeply for about a half mile to a short spur on the right that leads to the first overlook, with views of the pass leading up to Chapel Pond and an interesting perspective of Giant Nubble.
This steep pitch was for practice. Now the climb intensifies, but it does so on an increasing number of open slabs. If you’re gassed you can easily pretend to admire the views, not because your lungs are about to pop like blood-engorged ticks.
Blueberry Mountain summit: Worth it for the views
One last slab of open rock, bigger and steeper than the others and marked with a cairn for some reason brings you to the end of the hardest climbing, two miles into the hike. A western overlook here includes views of rocky Pitchoff and the Sentinels, with the cone of Whiteface poking out over the long Sentinel Mountain ridgeline.
The trail then swings back to the eastern side of the ridge and provides a series of views of the Great Range, including an interesting and somewhat disturbing perspective of Gothics, which from this angle looks as if its head sliced cleanly in twain with an ax.
As you pass the balsams, the trail is still climbing, but due to the extreme exertion earlier in the hike you scarcely notice. At 2.3 miles you emerge on a bald dome capped with an RV-sized erratic. Even though you’ve done all this climbing, you are still well below the ridgeline of the High Peak of Porter Mountain — if you want, you can keep going, as the trail, not much used at all, ascends Porter, which can be all yours for another 1,000 feet of elevation gain.
For that matter, if the crowds at the Cascade trailhead are all too much, you can hike Cascade from this direction, a feat that requires of you only two things: 1. You really, really hate crowds. 2. You are insane.
But it will give you something to brag about 20 years after you have completed the 46.
