Welcome to a description of a very cold but very sunny January ascent of Ampersand Mountain, on January 24, 2026.
It had been a while since we had done an ADK hike (of any sort). Originally I had wanted to re-kick things off with a series of sunset hikes in November and December of 2025, but every single potential weekend day had had socked-in weather. And then Christmas came, and folks were busy and generally unavailable. Finally, in January of 2026, a Saturday that looked like it was going to - finally - be completely, gloriously clear. The only trade-off? Bitter cold - with lows the night before of -31C/-24F (no wind chill, real temp). The forecast high was only -20C or so, and everyone knows that it'll be a few degrees cooler than that at the top of a mountain. Still, it had been too long, and I was going, so long as I could find at least one other person to go with me. It had been nearly two years since I'd done an Adirondack hike - my, how time does fly! Yep, it had been far too long since I had gazed out over the High Peaks. The choice of Ampersand reflected the desire for something short and scenic as a first peak to ascend after the long hiatus.
I think some of our potential crew was scared off by the extreme forecast, but we still managed to cobble together four folks: myself, Jenn, Gino, and Nick. With a clear understanding of the serious need to properly clothe and equip ourselves, we set off from Gino's place at a relatively comfortable 5:30 a.m. Gino even made us hot, homemade breakfast sandwiches.
Trailhead prep
I knew it was genuinely cold, as the clutch pedal on my 21-year-old Honda CR-V returned back up very slowly on each shift. I'm sure we were below the -30C (-23F) mark.
Despite the molasses clutch, the trusty CR-V delivered us safe and sound to the Ampersand Trailhead along Route 3 at around 8:30 a.m. Fortunately, there was a bright patch of sun in which to park, which let us get some direct heat on us as we frittered about, getting our packs and gear ready.
Almost precisely at 9 a.m., we trudged across the highway and put on our snowshoes for the ascent of Ampersand. And after Nick signed us in to the trailhead registry, we were off. Standing around in such cold was not advisable.
The going was easy. The snowpack wasn't all that deep initially, and although a party ahead of us had broken out the trail without snowshoes (unfortunately), the postholing was minimal, and the four of us stamped out a nice track over the footprints. As is typical on snowshoe outings (especially ones as cold as this), we required a few quick stops to readjust bindings and straps.
The forest was deathly still and silient on this coldest of mornings, with the squeak and crunch of our snowshoes being the only sound. The sun would occasionally shine through the trees, and it had a friendly strength to it despite the cold and the time of year.
courtesy JInnes
After about an hour of walking, the trail - which had been fairly flat - started to ascend towards the dark bulk of Ampersand Mountain, which we could see ahead of us through the leafless forest. Having done this peak many times before, I knew what was next: a modest grade up to a small flat area, where the firewarden's cabin used to sit back in the days when Ampersand mountain had a fire tower. Beyond that, I knew that the trail would make a very steep beeline up a forested gully, all the way up to the ridgeline.
I could tell it was legitimately colder (than normal) today. Although my hands, face, head, arms, torso and legs were comfortably warm, I could tell the tips of my toes had less feeling than usual. In fact, I got the sense that they had not yet stabilized to a consistent temperature, and were still gradually cooling down. Hopefully I hadn't miscalculated. As I climbed, I looked forward to how I was going to point my toes directly towards the bright sun once we got into the open terrain near the summit, and absorb some direct radiant heat into them.
Steeper and Deeper
The steeps had arrived, and we toiled upwards at a reduced pace (although to our credit, we did not really stop for any rest breaks). The left heel-lifter on my MSR Lightning Ascents kept flipping back down, causing me no end of trouble. I'm not sure if it was because the binding was too loose on that side, or if the notching mechanism on the lifter was getting worn out. In any case, I couldn't get it fully figured out, and often had to reach back down and flip it back up.
courtesy JInnes
As mentioned, we didn't really stop much on the way up. Whether that was from wanting to keep the blood pumping or not, I guess it revealed that we weren't totally out of shape after a long hiatus from ADK hiking.
Shortly before 11 a.m. we arrived at that magical spot on the crest of Ampersand, where in winter there is typically a snow-coated wonderland, bounded on the left by a crag of the mountain that shoots up into the sky. Today, with the clear and strong sun, light reflected off the cliff of that crag and down into the shady little spot on the crest. From here, we knew, the going was easy. A bit of crest walking and then a final steep climb up into the open and to the 360-degree views on the summit.
Through the boulders
The trail wound onwards, leading underneath and around several striking and massive glacial erratic boulders, each the size of an extremely large house.
At a spot where the trail wound down and around some bouldery obstacles, the straps on one of my snowshoe's bindings popped off. It wasn't the first time this had happened; the extremely cold weather was making it hard to bend the rubbery straps around and onto the holding tabs. They often popped back off with the motion of walking.
I pulled hard on the first of the two straps, preparing myself to quickly bend it back over and onto a tab. And at that moment, a snap. But it wasn't a snap of the strap, which is not an uncommon occurrance in the cold of winter, especially with old snowshoes like these. No. What had snapped was the rubberized cradle that goes around your foot - and it had snapped in multiple places, severing all connections to all straps and in fact to the metal base plate of the snowshoe hinge. That was it - no more snowshoeing on that side. No jury-rigging possible. Complete disintegration. I'd never seen a failure quite like this. I noted, somewhat dryly, that this binding was itself a replacement binding for the original, which had failed long before.
Ghostly hollow
I gathered up the many shattered pieces and stuffed them into my pockets and my pack, and then continued on one snowshoe, using the other as a kind of pseudo-ice ax. I knew we were only a few minutes from the treeline, where It would likely be mostly bare rock anyway. I would just ditch the snowshoes at that point and wear my microspikes for grip.
I had been at the back of the line when my snowshoe failed, and the rest of the group had gone on ahead, and were already up on the open summit terrain by the time I arrived to treeline. I ditched my snowshoes and switched to microspikes for the final ascent.
The views - as expected - were glorious. The air was at maximum clarity and there was not a cloud to be seen. There was a very slight breeze that, under normal conditions, would be of no concern, but at an estimated temperature of -25C/-13F, any breeze on exposed skin is bitterly felt. So, on went my shell.
courtesy JInnes
We summitted at 11:05 am. Pretty good - just over two hours from the trailhead. Whiteface looked beautifully frosty over the treetops to the northeast, and the MacIntyre range looked more rugged than usual in the low winter light.
I did a congratulatory Berg-heil to everyone, especially Gino and Nick, who - amazingly - had never climbed Ampersand before. I'm sure they were now agreeing that Ampersand is truly a little gem of a peak of the Western Adirondacks.
Despite the benign appearance (clear, sun and relative calm), the bitterly cold temperatures made the summit area rather inhospitable, especially when a slight breeze came through. We therefore did not linger for long, soon turning around and making our descent back to a little balcony area at treeline. Here I showed the others the detritus from my snowshoe failure. Given that I would be walking down sans-snowshoes, we agreed that I'd position myself at the back of the group, in order to let the others further pack down the trail in order to minimize my chances of post-holing.
Descending into the trees
We descended into the trees. If I stayed right in the middle of the snowshoe track, I generally avoided sinking in too much. In a couple of spots, where my attention wavered, I sank in fairly deeply. I'm not sure how that party ahead of us had found postholing up here near the summit, but it couldn't have been fun. Always bring and use snowshoes when the snow/trail conditions are soft, folks!
Flats ahead
The descent was fairly uneventful. Partway down, I felt bad about leaving even small divots in the trail, and had Gino go behind me to smooth those over. I had gotten pretty good at avoiding post-holing, and mastering the half-slide half-step that worked best down the very steep bits of the trail. My toes seemed to have survived the worst of it, because I could feel a weird blocky sensation slowly creep across each toe, which I knew was them starting to thaw out. I think I can safely say that -26C or -27C is about the coldest these particular mountaineering boots can handle for my particular feet.
Soon we were through the steep stuff and the trail returned to straightforward, gentle terrain. It had clearly warmed up a few degrees from the cold of morning, and with the mid-day sun streaming in from the south and a continued lack of wind, it felt kind of mild out. Relatively speaking, of course.
Back to the trailhead
A little over an hour of further walking brought us back to the trailhead, minutes before 1pm. I was a little surprised - we had managed to do the round trip in under four hours, which is a fairly solid pace, especially in winter conditions. Probably some of that was due to the fact that the cold kept us from lingering at the summit, but still. I guess we're probably ready for a longer route next! Here's to hoping that the rest of winter will bring more nice weekend weather days (although a bit less colder would be nice). Thanks to Jenn, Gino and Nick for taking time out of their Saturday to join.
Interactive trackmap with photo points - Ampersand Mountain - click map to view
Ampersand Mountain - Hike Data
Start Time:
9:08a.m.
End Time:
12:59p.m.
Duration:
3h50m
Distance:
8.18 km
(5.08 mi)
Average Speed:
2.1 km/hr
(1.3 mph)
Start Elevation:
1605ft
(489m)
*
Max Elevation:
3380ft
(1030m)
*
Min Elevation:
1495ft
(456m)
*
End Elevation:
1512ft
(461m)
*
* : +/- 75 feet
Total Elevation Gain:
1780ft
(543m)
*
Total Elevation Loss:
1863ft
(568m)
*
* : +/- 75 feet
Elevation Graph
