by Peter Bronski
Published: June 2009
Some mountains call to me more than others. And when it comes to the Adirondacks, Whiteface has always loomed large on my radar screen. The way it stands as a solitary sentinel high above the landscape that surrounds it has always reminded me of an Adirondack Mount Rainier, or Cotopaxi, or Kilimanjaro. At 4,867 feet tall, it’s the fifth highest peak in the Adirondacks, and in New York State. But Whiteface feels much taller. Unlike other great Adirondack peaks, such as Marcy or Algonquin – which are part of whole ranges of great peaks – Whiteface is on its own (notwithstanding Esther and some nearby lesser mountains). There’s no doubt about it – Whiteface dominates its territory, not to mention the stunning view from Lake Placid.
Also, more so than perhaps any other Adirondack peak, Whiteface offers many diverse ways to the top. Hiking trail. Ski lift (it’ll almost get you to the top, though not quite). Auto road (plus a walk up the arête or a ride in an elevator). Uphill cycling race. Uphill road running race. On backcountry or Nordic skis. And of course, there are the slides. One, the Lake Placid Slide, faces southwest, toward its namesake lake and village. The other, the Ski Slides, scar the east face of the mountain. In winter they’re part of the ski area, opened conditions permitting, and present some of the only genuine double black diamond in-bounds ski terrain in the East.
Those Ski Slides, I decided, would provide the perfect way to the top of Whiteface… Some hiking, some scrambling, lots of time spent on clean rock, a good challenge. The slides diverge on the ascent, and it was the slide to climber’s left that would be my target. It’s the tallest slide, offering the most vertical spent on the rock, and the opportunity to climb a near-plumb line directly beneath the weather observation tower on the peak’s summit.
I called my buddy, Jim, to join me. Jim and I met years earlier through Lower Adirondack Search and Rescue. He’s an accomplished climber, and an Adirondack Winter 46er. In fact, Jim finished his winter 46 with an ascent of the Lake Placid Slide on Whiteface. He’d be the perfect partner for a ramble up the Ski Slides.
We begin at the ski area’s base buildings, which early on a summer morning, are quiet like a ghost town. The gondola – offering scenic rides and mountain bike rides from Little Whiteface – won’t open for another hour or two, and we seem to be the only people around.
From the base, it’s a little more than 3,600 vertical feet to the summit. We hike up the grassy ski runs, pausing every now and then to turn around and admire the scenery, and to measure our upward progress as the base buildings grow smaller and smaller. Eventually, we intersect the “exit run” used by skiers where the slides all funnel together. For us, it’s an entrance route, our ticket to the base of the slides and the beginning of the real climbing.
It’s relatively early in the summer season, and as a result, large portions of the slide are still running with a thin layer of water seeping from high above. The wet rock makes for treacherous footing, and we do our best to link up sections of dry rock. At steep bulges, where the water is unavoidable, we decide it’s too risky to climb the rock directly, and we detour briefly into the vegetation alongside the slide before returning to the rock.
Eventually, we near the top of the slide, all the while the summit’s weather observation tower growing closer. Then the slide suddenly comes to an end in a seemingly impenetrable wall of thick vegetation. We face the inevitable – a short but difficult bushwhack that anyone who’s traveled off-trail in the Adirondacks will know well. Mercifully, the uphill wallow is short lived. For a final, grand finish, we ascend a short rock wall and pop over the top and onto the observation deck of the summit buildings, startling a few tourists who’ve taken the auto road, and elevator to the top.
From here there are 360-degree views: Lake Placid to the southwest, Esther Mountain to the north-northeast, and The Great Range to the south. A haze prevents us from seeing east into Vermont, but on a clear day, we’d see that too. We snap an obligatory summit photo, and then make a quick circuit of the summit facilities – down the arête to the Whiteface Castle, along the auto road as far as the elevator, and then riding the elevator back up to the summit buildings.
Then it’s time for our descent. A trail leads us back down to the top of the ski area, and along the way a few fixed ropes aid the descent through a steep, rocky section. Then, we intersect Riva Ridge and the highest chairlift of the ski area. From there, it’s a quick but knee-pounding cruise down the ski runs back to the base, far below.
In the end, our route proved a slightly unconventional way to see and climb an iconic Adirondack peak. Only one question remains: the next time I return, just which route will I take to the top?
Getting There
Begin at the base of the Whiteface ski area on NY Route 86 in Wilmington.
The Route
From the base lodge at 1,220 feet, follow ski runs up the Face Lift chair past the mid-mountain lodge to the base of the Summit Quad chair. (A network of mountain bike trails weaves through the trees on either side of the ski runs. If you’re headed up during operating hours, beware of downhill mountain bike traffic and stick to the open ski runs for safety.) Then, follow the Summit Quad chair about halfway up, where you’ll intersect the “exit route” used by skiers. Make a hard right and follow this route to the base of the slides.
From here, you have options. The slides to the climber’s right are shorter and less continuous, and some have steeper crux sections near their tops. They’ll place you below the summit, where you can follow trails or the auto road to the top. Or, take the slide to climber’s left, which will bring you very near the summit. When the slide ends, a short but difficult bushwhack leads to the summit area. For the descent, follow blue trail markers and signs that read “ORDA Ski Trails” back to the top of the ski area, and pick your way down the ski runs back to the base.
Peter Bronski (peterbronski.com) currently lives in Boulder, Colo., and is an award-winning writer who has contributed to more than 50 magazines. He is the author of At the Mercy of the Mountains: True Stories of Survival and Tragedy in New York’s Adirondacks.
