Delaware Water Gap

Delaware River and Arrow Island from Mount Tammany Summit

22 June 2014

I hadn't been on a hike in two years when Our Jeff Lippincott invited me and a handful of others to a 12-mile hike in the Delaware Water Gap.  The plan was to climb Mount Tammany, cross part of the Kittatinny Ridge, visit Sunfish Pond, and hike back.

Jeff's hikes are always a highlight of the annual trip to North Creek.  Since I'm not going again this year, how could I say no to a long day on a mountain with Jeff and Marilyn?  I wasn't sure I'd be properly prepared, but Jeff, the consummate planner, sent me a list of what I'd need, half of which I don't own.

We left his house in Lawrenceville at 7:30 a.m. and headed towards Milford to pick up Amy, the fourth hiker, who lives at the northwestern edge of Hunterdon County.

Although we arrived at the Water Gap half an our earlier than we'd expected, the two parking lots at the trailhead were full.  We wound up in one of two spillover lots across I-80, at least half a mile away.

The trails we took were full of hikers of every age and description, including a mother carrying her toddler on her back. We encountered two huge groups, one of which must have contained 30 people, the other at least 15. We heard foreign languages. Jeff ran into someone he went to high school with.  Most of the time, though, it seemed as if we were the only ones on the mountain.

Here are Amy and Marilyn ascending the Red Dot Trail:

There's a view of the Delaware River through the trees:

Halfway up, more or less:

Our Jeff, in not quite a rock scramble:

Getting close to the summit:

Mountain laurels:

At the summit with Marilyn, Our Jeff, and Amy:

More summit:

Jeff then led us across the ridge on a fire trail.  This part was flat and sunny.  The ferns smelled like peaches.  A black snake crossed our path.

Our turnoff to Sunfish Pond was at the head of the Turquoise Trail, marked by a cairn:

Sunfish Pond:

We rested here and had lunch.

We doubled back up the Turquoise Trail to the fire road.  It was here that I noticed a twinge in my left knee whenever we descended. I found a stick that I could use for support, just in case.

The fire road merged with the Dunnfield Creek Trail, which began with a rocky ascent and then a rocky descent.  I found a thicker, longer stick, and just in time, because, with almost six miles left to go, I needed it for everything but ascending.

When we got to the creek, we stopped to rest.  Jeff needed water, so he pumped from the creek through a small filter he brought with him.

The trail crosses the creek at least four times.  I lost count.  Most of the time we rock-hopped.  For the last two crossings, though, I found it easier to wade than risk more twinges.  To the others, my wading must have seemed odd.  To me, it was business as usual.  I explained to Amy the penchant Tom and I have for fording streams.

Jeff slowed the pace.  I apologized as I descended rocks sideways to avoid further injury.  I suppose I was invoking Rule Number Five, but, really, as long as I could walk, there wasn't much of a choice, and I wasn't even close to being hurt badly.

I limped out of the forest, leaning on my limpin' stick.  Here's the Red Dot Trail head sign, with my stick, and a warning about rattlesnakes:

We crossed back under the highway.  On the way, we got a good view of the mountain. The trail summit is the tiny rock outcrop above the big one near the center of the picture.

I plopped down on the blacktop next to Jeff's car, took of my shoes, changed into dry socks, ate my remaining blueberries, and swallowed to naproxen tablets.  We changed clothes in the bathrooms.  I left my limpin' stick for the next hiker.

Across the river is Mount Minsi, not as tall as Tammany:

We stopped at the Log Cabin Inn, in Columbia, NJ, for dinner.  It looks like a combination biker bar, pizza joint, and hick hangout.  It's the only thing for miles around.  They have not one, but two kinds of veggie burgers.

On the drive home, as on the way up, we passed Foul Rift Road, and could see the cooling towers from the power plant across the river.  I'd assumed, wrongly, that it was a nuclear plant.  It's not;  it's the oil- and gas-burning Martins Creek plant. It used to burn coal.

Because it was close by, I suggested we take a short detour up Fiddler's Elbow.  I narrated. Jeff's SUV groaned at the same spot that my bike gave up.  I tried to navigate us back to where we were, but my phone's signal was choppy and I misdirected.  Jeff's GPS got us back on course, and in a flash of memory I recognized the road we were on from a blog picture that's part of my desktop slideshow at work.

We ended up riding on Route 57 for a while.  It was worth it; we could see the Highlands ridges on either side of us as the sun went down.  We made one more stop, for ice cream, at Jimmy's, three miles down the road from where Amy lives. The line was long, and the ice cream not worth the wait, I thought, so Marilyn and I reserved a picnic bench by a creek and talked about strength training.  Amy explained that this was the main hangout in town.  By now, my leg had stiffened up.  I tested what I could do with it.  I could squat.  I could step onto the bench.  I could bend.  There was no swelling.  But it hurt like the dickens to step off a curb.

It was another hour before we got back to Jeff's house, and a short drive home from there.  When I stepped out of the car, I was walking normally.  The stairs at home were no problem.  Nonetheless, I loaded up with NSAIDS and planned to stay off the bike on Sunday.  I slept for 9 hours instead.  Today, other than being pretty much sore from the waist down, I feel fine.  No twinges.

Maybe I'll do a century next weekend.