DT Active Life 050617 for web-REVISED

oad trip
15
HOURS
ON THE
DEVIL’S
PATH...
THE TOUGHEST
HIKE IN THE
NORTHEAST
Constant grade changes,
boulders and steep rock
slopes make this Ulster
County trail a challenging
weekend hike. But for some,
nothing compares to
compressing this 2-3 day
trek into a one-day event.
Story and Photos by Ethan Katz
T
he night was young and comfortably
cool, but pervaded with a taste
of the mugginess tomorrow would
bring. We stood in silence; the sleepy
sounds of the forest and the glow of
fireflies lazily bobbing amongst the
canopy the backdrop of this summer
night. It was 9:00pm, and we had just
arrived at the western terminus of the
hike we would begin in seven hours. We
discussed sleeping arrangements for
the short night ahead of us as we unpacked
gear and supplies from Jack’s
car and stuffed it into mine for the drive
to the eastern trailhead. Jack, a longtime
hiking companion I’d known since
high school, was one of the few people
I could count on to be excited about
the woods, and walking through them
for untold hours. But this hike would
prove to be different.
The Devil’s Path is a rugged, 25-
mile, point-to-point trail over six of
24 | DACKS & TOGA activelife
the Catskill High Peaks and is notorious
for its difficulty. Although not
as tall as the Adirondack High Peaks,
these summits still sit at a confident
3500 ft. or more, with the trail
fiendishly following what appears to
be the most difficult line over them.
Still, this trail has quite the reputation
preceding it. Legends tell that
the first settlers to the area took one
glance at this imposing ridgeline with
its deep ravines and thought: only
the cloven hooves of the Devil himself
could traverse this landscape. Indeed,
there are three 1000 ft. descents immediately
followed by 1000 ft. climbs,
with numerous rock scrambles that
require hands for assistance.
With a whopping 18,000 ft. of total
elevation change, it’s the neverending
ups and downs that beat your
legs, and your mind, into submission,
lending credence to the legend.
Consequently, most hikers choose to
backpack this route over two or three
days, a challenging feat itself for most
people. Only the crazed and sadistic
attempt it in a single day. That is
why, for this hike, we chose to put in
a little forethought—a rare occurrence
for the two of us, who pride ourselves
with our good sense of spontaneity.
This amounted to dropping a gallon of
water in a reused milk jug at the halfway
point, Devil’s Tombstone Campground
in Stony Clove Notch. Despite
the bonus points for thinking ahead,
we would still be dreadfully thirsty approximately
19 hours later.
Construction of the Path began in
1929, when the east section up to Mink
Hollow was cut. The route up Plateau
was established in 1934, and Hunter
from Stony Clove Notch the following
year. But it wasn’t until ’73 that the
trail down to the falls and up over West
Kill, the final summit of the range, was
added. Over its 25-mile stretch, the
Path has only one road crossing: NY
214 at Stony Clove Notch. This splits
the trail into the classic eastern section,
and the more recent western section,
with the eastern half being considered
more difficult. That was the
half we chose to start with.
At 10:30, we pulled into the eastern
trailhead at the end of Prediger Road
next to a weary wooden shack with
unmistakable signage reading “NO
SLEEPING IN CARS.” Unfortunately,
we had a one-person tent between the
two of us and absolutely no desire to
find a suitable campsite this late, and
by 11:45, we were ready to pass out.
One of us ended up breaking that rule.
I
A beautiful spot to unload
our gear and take a break
for lunch. Left: An unknown
hiker carved some words
of encouragement onto a
mushroom.
slept erratically, finding it hard to
contort my 6’2 frame in my Camry.
Jack was in his tent immediately
outside the car door. It was so still I
could hear him moving around. And
yet, somehow, unbeknownst to me,
we had midnight visitors. The way
we were positioned, every time a car
drove through, its headlights would
shine right at Jack’s tent. They would
then immediately stop and ponder
the situation for a couple excruciating
moments before driving further.
This apparently happened several
times between 12:30 and 1:30am. The
strangest thing: no one spoke. Not a
peep. Jack could hear one person
snapping photos of the trailhead but
no one opened their mouths. It was a
ghostly procession.
What worried us more about the
midnight visitors than the possibility
of being busted for sleeping in the