The Summit of Whiteface

And here you are — standing on the very summit of Whiteface Mountain, four thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven feet up, the fifth-highest peak in all of New York. Turn slowly, all the way around, because the view is enormous. On a clear day you can see a hundred miles — south across the whole rolling sea of the Adirondack High Peaks, the tallest mountains in the state; east across Lake Champlain to the Green Mountains of Vermont; and north, sometimes, all the way to Canada and the far towers of Montreal.

That little stone building bristling with instruments is a working weather observatory — some of the wildest weather in the East is measured right here, winds that have topped a hundred and fifty miles an hour. And you're standing in a rare, fragile place: this bare rock is a genuine alpine zone, and the tiny, tough plants clinging to it are arctic survivors, left behind when the glaciers pulled back ten thousand years ago, found almost nowhere else this far south. So tread only on the bare rock, never on the green — it takes a century to grow and a single boot to crush.

Feel the wind. Take your photos. And just stand in it a while — you earned this, up a road built by hand for the fallen, and a last climb of your own.

When you're ready, head back down the stairway to your car — and take the drive down slow and easy, low gear the whole grade, so you don't cook your brakes coming off the mountain. On behalf of Ranger Boone Merrick and myself, thank you for climbing Whiteface with us — for the Olympic village and the river gorge, the veterans' road and the roof of New York. If you enjoyed the tour, we'd be grateful if you'd leave us a review; it truly helps other travelers find these tours, and helps us keep making them. Get back down safe, come see it again when the leaves turn — this has been Ranger Quinn, wishing you well.