Appalachia, December 2002

By Bob "Grey Dog" McElroy

Late March 1999. The trail along Kanape Brook leads me uphill through hemlock and hardwood to the blueberry meadow on top of Ashokan High Point. To the northwest, mist still hangs lightly over the Bush Kill. Rising from the valley's far side, a wall of forested peaks fills the horizon — the headlands of the Slide Mountain-Panther Mountain Wilderness, one of the largest wilderness areas east of the Mississippi. Its expanse includes much of New York State's little-known treasure: the 95 square miles of Catskill virgin forest. I stand in the meadow and stare for long minutes, enthralled by the line of dusky gray summits and their resemblance to a passing fleet of enormous ships.

Several weeks later, with my multitalented friend and fellow mountaineer Chris Adams (classically trained musician, blues band leader and composer, building contractor, furniture maker, boat builder, sailor), I start before dawn to climb to the top of the imposing wall. There is a gentle breeze blowing when we reach the crest of the Wittenberg and look out over a sea of ridges and sharply defined gorges.

The sight of the contorted landforms, thrown into high relief by the low-angle light, checks our conversation. I break the silence by wondering if it would be possible to hike directly south from Romer Mountain to the Rondout Creek's Gulph Hollow. A tough trek, involving probably three days of travel through the remote eastern third of this wilderness. It would be the longest bushwhack in the Catskills without crossing a road or footpath. From our vantage point, we can survey part of the route.

"It's an interesting notion," Chris says. "But the odds are against it. You'd be fighting every ridge and canyon at right angles to their flow." He turns toward me and hesitates, "With all due respect, Bob, you're no spring chicken, and that's not a landscape — it's an obstacle course."

Chris is a bright guy and his brief is compelling, but I'm not entirely disheartened. For much of the journey, an explorer would be deep into forest primeval, ancient growth never subdued by logging thanks to its daunting terrain and one of the rare places where one can see the country as it was before Europeans came. The thought of trying to walk all the way across this truly wild world excites me.