The Countdown.

March 4th. Ironically it’s been two years since I wrote the blog post “Not Just Yet”. We have recently begun work to start the 2023 maple syrup season. About 111 taps have been set with buckets but there’s a lot left to go in! The evaporator and storage tank are mostly ready so we are in good shape. We will soon dig out our short plastic tubing runs for the harder to reach trees on the side hills.We call them “mini tubes”. I will follow up on them in a later post.

Tapping on snow.

I always like to acknowledge milestones. Yesterday Zane celebrated a milestone when he successfully passed his road test. It took some time and practice but that is now behind us.It seems strange that he could have gotten it two years ago. But I never felt he was ready. I certainly wasn’t! He will be driving my old 2013 Ford Focus shortly. That will help during sugaring and cut down on my driving. Zane is a big help with the sugaring process. He’s very strong and capable at age 18. I took him ice fishing last week when he was on winter break. Fun times!It was hard to believe it had been almost two years since we had last gone!

Nice one!

I broke out the sap haul roads the other day before setting taps. There is much less snow then most years but there were plenty of downed limbs and trees to remove. I broke in the Northern loop trail on our neighbor Tom’s property where we set many of our taps these days. For two years we have ventured a short distance up into a section of his woods on the South side of his main access road. I have been wanting to cut an entire loop road through here but never took the time to get it done. There’s a nice group of easy gathering maples there that I wanted to add to our count. Wednesday I made the decision to carve out the trail and got it finished after several hours of chainsaw work. The loader was handy for moving larger logs and brush.

Blasting through!

Thursday found us tapping the new Southern loop under warm but cloudy skies. Jen and her friend Gail came over to help me get 96 taps in place. This is Jennifer’s 4th syrup season and I wasn’t sure she would be coming at all given the circumstances of our lives. We all enjoyed the simple moments of task and toil. Some moments are best not overthought and I will leave things there. Everything went well and I was happy with our progress.

Season 4 for Jen! She knows the ropes.

It’s hard to know just how this or any sugaring season will play out. Given the wild swings of weather this winter I have been a little anxious and uncertain. But one thing remained constant: we were going to make our best attempt to make it happen! When I arrived at the farm Monday the unbroken snow was like a place of ground zero. Many things still needed to happen despite the few things we had done to get ready. I find peace of mind in the motions of checking things off our lists. The old quote says that a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.

The first steps.

We got more snow last night but with the sap haul roads broken in today it should present no problem. Building a base of snow is beneficial to “holding” the season in place. Huge warm ups are bad and the nemesis of maple syrup producers. We like the cold nights and warm days in the 40’s. We are approaching a launch of sorts as the upcoming season inches forward. It inspires a certain mental image. I picture a NASA control room like in the movies. A line of system operators waiting to sound off prior to the countdown. I imagine myself being the leader in the imaginary control room of the sugarbush. It might sound like this: Tractor systems : go for launch. Evaporator systems : go for launch. Firewood and primary fuel systems: go for launch. Storage systems: go for launch. Getting the picture? The final countdown approaches but with some systems at “no go” status we aren’t at “T Minus 10”. But we are in motion and should reach our launch date. Weather is the key component. I estimate 7 days now.

Setting the taps and buckets.

So the snow has stopped and it’s time to get busy. These are the days of work that produce sweet results. The words will flow as the season advances and I will attempt to take you deep into a special place. It’s in the words of my former posts but time and circumstance bring new memories. New thoughts and new possibilities. So follow our progress as we launch into syrup season 2023!

The Icewalker’s Folly

I recently wrote about a snowshoe adventure into a new location on Sunday February 5th. The very next day I went on another snowshoe trek had been planned in advance. It was a collaboration type outing I had arranged with Patrick Bourcy several days prior. You may recognize him as the creator and energy behind the Facebook group Just Go Outside. We get together on occasion for treks where we catch up,brainstorm ideas, and basically enjoy some quality outdoor time as friends. We are a good match for outings as we enjoy challenging ourselves! We arranged for a meeting time and the weather looked favorable for a good adventure!

Headed down Beaver Creek.

The plan was pretty basic for our day of fun. I had recommended that we snowshoe down the Beaver Creek gorge and visit the icefalls there. Given the variations in the weather this winter I hoped they would be better then last February. The ice falls never really formed that well in 2022. We had about a 1.5 mile trip in to reach them and given the limited snow on the surface of the wetlands I felt it would be fast traveling. I teased Patrick about becoming an Icewalker if he passed all the tests along the way. It started out as a joke that became something more by days end. We headed down across the marsh under a mostly sunny sky with temperatures rising steadily that morning.It was shaping up to be a great day! The dogs Gracie and Stella were eager to get going as they tore off ahead of us.

We reach the section known as “The Wide Channel”.

Conditions were pretty stable on the ice for the most part but there were several places where we broke through as we traveled over boggy sections that were covered with snow. Patrick was the first to break through but he didn’t get wet. He was right behind me when it happened which was strange because I hadn’t broken through at all! The trek took us past several active beaver colonies with low dams that crossed the span of the gorge. One has been there for many years off and on. The area just below it is a tricky place to cross as it’s boggy surface never freezes well. We both broke through several times but avoided getting wet as it’s quite shallow. The creek channel here is narrow and best avoided. I never trust traveling on it. There was an abundance of deer and coyote sign all over the wetlands but there was little other signs of life except for a few ravens. Our snowshoes on the crusty snow and ice generate a lot of noise anyway. Stealth is just about impossible. We soon reached the “Peninsula”. A steep rocky point of land that juts out into the marsh. We were close to the first set of icefalls!

The Western icefalls.

Things were getting exciting as we got our first real look at the Western icefalls. We got quite near them and snapped a few photos before heading back to the thick ice of the “Wide Channel”. The creek here resembles a river for a short distance and the water is over 10 feet deep . I mentioned to Patrick that a smart Icewalker never remains on the channel immediately after the Wide Channel. It’s a tricky piece of ice real estate that never freezes well because of current,old beaver dams, and curves in the channel. I learned this the hard way years ago on a cold December day of -10 degrees Fahrenheit when I fell through almost up to my neck! I believe that I have mentioned it on this page previously. I wasn’t such a savvy Icewalker that particular day! We detoured on a direct route that took us directly to the first set of Eastern icefalls. Patrick was amazed! As was I! I never tire of this place since they are never the same from one year to the next.

The Eastern icefalls.

We climbed around the icefalls and even managed to get up in behind one small section. It’s an icy playground to enjoy and Patrick was thrilled to be there! We worked our way down to the next set and they just kept getting better!

Up under the ledge.
Getting a video set up.
Clawing upward.
Happy aspiring Icewalker!
Stella climbed everywhere with me!

We played for quite awhile and took a lot of photos before heading out. As we left I gazed back upon the spot where a group of us had a picnic in the winter of 2021. I felt a twinge of sadness as one of our group that day passed on in 2022. But I pushed the sadness away as I remembered that happy afternoon of friendship and food. Patrick and I continued down the gorge on the ice of a much wider and open portion of the wetland. The ice was very stable here and we moved quickly with a slightly chilly breeze at our backs. I had decided that since the weather was so beautiful that we would leave the gorge and make our way up to the top of the Eastern rim where there were things that I wanted to show Patrick. We were still full of energy and had plenty of daylight left. It proved a bit more difficult snowshoeing through the deeper snow of forest ravine that led us upwards rather abruptly. We followed an old deer trail since it took the shortest and easiest route. There’s an impressive circular sinkhole about halfway up that I have always believed was created by surface water that found its way into an underground passage. Totally dry these days but very round almost as if a whirlpool had spun its banks into a perfect circle.The outlet of the swamp above disappears underground below the dam near this location.There must be an underground passage for the flow which reappears on the surface far below before entering Beaver Creek.I have always believed that there’s a connection to my theory of the sinkhole which would almost certainly be above it based on the adjacent solid rock formations. I suppose we will never know.

Gracie below the old dam that makes the shallow lake of the Black Ash Swamp.

We took a short break enjoying the sun at the start of the Black Ash Swamp.You may remember my accounts of the Black Ash Swamp as they have been part of other posts on this page. It was wonderful sitting in that warm February sun! I felt totally alive,thrilled, and vigorous in that now moment. We had to make a decision at this point of our adventure. Head out towards the vehicles or journey further down the top of the gorge. I knew of a large ledge and several beaver ponds that I hadn’t visited in years so I suggested that we trek down to them. It was tough going in the deeper snow breaking trail but we were still feeling pretty strong and capable. Besides I was excited to finally be so close to an area that I hadn’t seen in awhile. Enter a new phrase into my stories: “The Icewalker’s folly”. The tiny voice of reason in the back of my mind tried to get an audience but was drowned out by the noisy synapses of excitement and love of exploration! Thus the phrase would later take on significance. We picked our way through a forest that had once been very familiar to me when beaver trapping here years ago. We sidetracked a little to reach an opening in the forest canopy that I spotted from the small valley we were traveling along. It turned out to be a mostly abandoned beaver pond. One that I could barely remember and looking very different with the trees gone these days.

The formerly forested beaver pond.

Our trek continued onward towards what I referred to as the “T” pond given its shape. I remembered it very differently as well when we arrived there. Gone were the trees here as well. They had been flooded, died, and then fell into the depths of the pond. We took advantage of all the pond ice we could since the snow was mostly gone on the surface. Much like it had been down on the ice of the gorge. I was beginning to feel a little fatigue and asked Patrick if he felt like pressing on. I told him it wasn’t much further and I sincerely believed that was true! I took us out to the rim of the gorge and we got some beautiful photos there! It was tough going though with drop offs, deep snow, and thick brush. We finally reached a small summit where I spotted the final beaver pond that we would need to cross. Our final destination was just across a steep ravine below us. I call it Sumac Mountain. There’s a wonderful cliff there to take photos.We were so close! But I was suddenly watching the ever lowering sun and realizing the distance we had to travel out. Patrick mentioned it as well so I listened to the tiny voice of reason when it said: Don’t be stupid Icewalker! It’s time to go back!

Above the gorge.

Our trip back became rather arduous as I continued to break trail back towards a place where we could intersect with our broken trail. I stopped for breaks more frequently but was still feeling pretty good. We finally reached the Black Ash Swamp. That location where we once had considered heading back! Crossing it was the best way out I decided. After that we would cross another beaver pond and head down a gap in the rim to reach the Beaver Creek ice for the remainder of the trek.

Messing around!

The surface of the Black Ash Swamp was a crusty, cratered moonscape of snow. The sun continued to sink lower and I knew that if we kept up our pace we could reach the vehicles before dark. I was quickly losing energy and I began considering waking up the inner zombie. I goofed around instead making a cool shadow video and taking photos. It was scenically beautiful though and that moment wasn’t lost to me or Patrick either. It was that place in time where evening is approaching and you realize that you wouldn’t want to be there all night. I was packed for winter survival but wouldn’t enjoy a night out!

The Black Ash Swamp.

We soldiered on and eventually reached the beaver pond that would bring us to the rim gap where we would descend. There wasn’t as much ice as I hoped and we foundered through some heavy deep snow. The gap was rugged and challenging as well but we finally reached the big creek ice. From there it was pretty straightforward and just required us to keep pushing. I never really needed to wake the inner zombie although I came close a couple times! The inner voice would occasionally chime in reminding me on the Icewalker’s motto: the distance in must be traveled out! So I suppose the Icewalker’s Folly is when I choose to ignore that sage self created advice!

Shadow Goofs!

We reached the vehicles with only a few minor incidents and break through. I told Patrick that he was now one of a special club of sorts. He had passed the initiative and even scored bonus points for breaking through a few times! His perform while climbing on the icefalls truly sealed the deal. As did the distance of our adventure. It can’t be called a total icewalk given our time on solid ground but it truly was a memorable trek! MOONTABS for both of us!

The trek.

I dedicate this post to the late Gerald Naugle who made his final trip to the ice falls in 2021. He is truly missed! But we are truly blessed to have experienced that day and others with him! The Icewalker’s are few but worthy to note in their accomplishments! They are Zane Washburn,Jennifer Dashnaw, Gerald Naugle, his surviving wife Cathy, and the newly recognized Patrick Bourcy. Me of course. All have made it to the falls and back! Most have broken through! All have laughed and struggled! All have memories of those special days which nature allows us but a certain short time to enjoy each winter. The recent weather has turned the Beaver Creek gorge into an impassable mess. The big question is not if I will return. It’s when I will return. ✍️

February Greets The Icewalkers

Sorry if you’ve missed me!February has been a month of outdoor activities! I had planned to write about this year’s volunteer work at the end of January on the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival Ice Palace build but here it is mid-February already! I am far behind on stories these days! It will wait for now. The memories and photos aren’t going anywhere.It’s icewalking of a different type!

Resilient

Over the past couple weeks I have invested a fair amount of time on snowshoe treks following a memorable one with Jen back in January to Catamount Mountain just inside the Adirondack Park. It got me fired up for winter hiking despite the fact that we haven’t had a major snow accumulation this winter that stayed given the frequent warm spells. It’s been a strange winter for weather that’s for sure! Below zero (-23 degrees Fahrenheit) on Saturday morning Feb. 4th but that was short lived. The cold snap tightened up the ice though and got me thinking about the possibilities of some quality treks on snowshoes.

The Catamount Mountain trail.

I spent most of the two subzero days inside resting and getting caught up on things. Cooking as well. Something I enjoy when I decide to remain inside. Sunday Feb. 5th forecasted a warmer day with plenty of sunshine so I decided to explore an area that I have been intrigued with since seeing a satellite image of it on the geocaching app.Zane opted out of the trek but I decided to go with both Stella and Gracie the dogs regardless. The plan was simple: park at the Payne’s Lake fishing access site just outside of Oxbow,New York. I would then cross the frozen surface of the narrow lake and find a way up a gap in the cliffs I knew existed from fishing there years ago. Payne’s Lake is one of the 17 Indian River Lakes that occupy sections of both St.Law. and Lewis Counties here in the upstate region. Locals actually acknowledge that there are several other small lakes that never made the list around the area. What I had spotted on the satellite images resembled what could possibly be an ancient lakebed. As such the location begged further investigation.

Satellite view.

I spent a little time that Sunday morning studying the satellite map but never really put things into a proper size perspective. The trek looked simple and very easy from what I could see on the map. Many times I choose not to overthink or over analyze an area I wish to explore. It takes away from the experience I feel. In hindsight perhaps I should have taken greater pains to research my proposed adventure! Before it was over I began thinking of changing the spelling of the lake’s name! It might better be spelled “Pain’s” Lake! As in aches and pains! But that’s not important as the story is just beginning!

The cliffs of Payne’s Lake.

I decided in advance to upgrade my winter survival pack with extra layers of protection. I added an emergency survival shelter and emergency blanket. Extra food and water. A rope and larger knife. I also had an led headlamp,first aid kit, and a Lifestraw water filter cylinder. Electrical tape and other small amenities make up the balance of my pack. I also strapped on a set of micro spikes and stashed a heavy winter coat inside. The pack was rather heavy but there was comfort in my state of preparedness. I would be using my Tubbs backcountry snowshoes which work great for ice walking and climbing steep grades. I was ready!

After arriving it didn’t take long to cross the lake as there were plenty of signs of ice fishing activity that established its safeness. There appeared to be at least 8” of ice after examining an open tip up hole. Plenty! I found my gap and tackled the ascent with the fresh energy of a new day. The dogs raced ahead of me sniffing around numerous deer tracks and browsing activity. I followed the deer trail as it offered the easiest way to the top. Never question that the animals will find the easiest path through rugged country. I rested on a high ledge and could see my truck across the lake. It looked rather small sitting there. It was at this moment that my mind first began to question my perception of the size of the location. Not to worry! The day was just beginning and I was a conqueror of new and exciting places! Go forth and explore with determination!

Above the lake but not on top of the cliffs yet.

I headed in a Westerly direction and soon found the waterway that I had spotted on the satellite image. It wasn’t as large as I had expected width wise but extended well out of sight to the North. I reached the ice of an old beaver pond that had once been rather deep. Impressive but not an ancient lakebed by any stretch of imagination. I tried to pull up the satellite map but was unsuccessful without adequate service. My curiosity got the best of me and I decided to head North along a series of old beaver flows. I reached a breached dam of once large proportions. It had stood over 6 feet high at some point and had washed out in one giant event if I was reading the signs correctly. A former section of forest in the pond had been reduced to tall stumps. The ice was safe although there wasn’t much to snowshoe on. Things got better when I reached a small active beaver pond just below the breached dam. There was otter sign around the dam. Droppings and tracks everywhere. The wetland below me to the North widened significantly but held little water. But there was still plenty of ice to travel forward on. This too had once been a massive beaver pond but was still not looking like the ancient lakebed I was hoping to discover. I pressed on suddenly very acute of the size of area I was headed into.

The breached dam.

It had gotten quite warm and I was truly enjoying my trek but was concerned about the distance I still needed to cross to reach the end of the wetland. The wetland curved to the West beyond me and I had to make a decision. Keep following or take the higher ground beside the marsh and reassess my options. I got myself convinced that if I kept going I would find my lakebed. After all shouldn’t it be connected? I pushed on with renewed vigor but certainly not as fast as earlier. I was breaking trail in trackless snow. It added to the allure of exploring fresh country but took a toll on my energy. Eventually I rounded the curve of the waterway. No lakebed! Just more old beaver ponds and a creek channel that continued to curve out of sight. I pressed on after looking back at the stretch of wetlands that I had already traveled. I continued to marvel at the size of this location and how vast it suddenly seemed.

Behind me.

I found some fresh beaver and otter activity on the surface of the waterway in a small beaver pond with a leaking dam that was dropping the water level. I found a fish head that the otter had left behind but couldn’t identify what species it had been. It had large scales almost like a carp. Strange! It had been decent sized though and no doubt made a tasty meal for the otters. I guessed that there were two otter because of the sets of tracks I found. Not uncommon as they usually travel in pairs. I once witnessed an entire family together with 6 individuals on top of the ice! Amazing! They dove in and would pop up through open spots like furry periscopes watching my dog and I! It was comical and a priceless moment in nature.

A feeding beaver escaped its icy prison underworld.

I stopped for a trek style meal of beef jerky, chocolate, energy bars, and water. The sun was getting well on into the afternoon and I was well aware of the time. But I decided to press forward in my desire to find the lakebed. I was a little confused by the lay of the land and the fact that I hadn’t intersected another waterway. With no map or phone service I was running out of time and options. And a small voice in the back of my mind began murmuring the Icewalker’s motto: the distance traveled in must be traveled out.” That’s not always the case on a loop trek but I was having difficulty figuring out how to accomplish a loop given my lack of knowledge of the area. Soon after though the creek system would make my decision easier. I reached an old beaver dam at a choke point with high ridges on both sides. The creek narrowed and dropped down into lower forested land with limited visibility. I chose to take the high ground and leave the creek system. No continue on would be foolish given how far I had traveled. Perhaps from the high ground I would see my ancient lakebed. If it even existed. I still felt that it did but with a sinking resolve I released that I would not likely find it on this trek. As I left for the high ground I was blessed with an answer to one of my speculative theories. Grass caught in a tree several feet above the narrow creek. A lot of water had passed through here and quickly! Only the breached dam could have caused such a thing to occur! I imagined what it must have looked like as a mass of water tried to force its way down the narrow gorge. Had other dams been breached shortly after the first large one causing a mega flood? It must have been something!

It took a lot of water for this grass to be caught by this tree!

I took the high ground after a rigorous ascent but was disappointed when there was no view into the distance except more forest. I entered a section where there was evidence of old logging activities and realized that I had ventured beyond the state land while on the ice of the creek. I started in a direction that I believed would bring me back parallel to my original trek in. The snow was wet and much deeper in the forest. A series of hills added to my exertions and I was beginning to tire more then I wanted to believe. I had been keeping my bearings by the sun but it went under the clouds and became invisible. I knew my approximate location but began to be concerned that I could easily get turned around and wander in the wrong direction if I wasn’t careful. This was obviously a larger area then I had originally estimated. The little invisible voice spoke again: be careful Icewalker! You’ve entered an unknown forest and forgot your compass. Remember? It’s not in the pack. It got left on the bed! Best think this through! … Ok inner voice I hear you! I thought. But let’s not panic here! I can always backtrack.Not the fastest or easiest option.Or continue on in what I think is the right direction and search for even higher ground. Or follow my inner compass and turn left. The inner voice started in again: you’re pretty tired Icewalker! Are you sure about this? … ok inner voice be quiet! Did you forget that I am packed to stay out all night? (But the inner voice is a nagging and persistent devil!) Yes but think of the warm house and cozy recliner back there! Not to mention that yummy meatloaf in the crockpot!… in the end I turned left and soon ended up back on the creek on the wetlands. Not where I thought I would pop out though! I still had a long trek out! It would soon be time to wake up the inner zombie!My old companion!

Back onto the creek.

My fatigue really started to kick in as I plodded forward back up the wetlands. I was disappointed about failing to find the lakebed but soon decided that I should be happy about my discovery of the new location. It would never be new again from this point forward. The sun was sinking lower and the air was growing chilly. I had a long way to go! I summoned the inner zombie and let him control my feet. Step,lift,step.Repeat over and over.The inner zombie loves repetitive motion and mindless task. He has no point of quitting or even thinking about quitting. This mental state sounds weird and somewhat crazy but it works with timeless predictability. There are many levels to our consciousness and the inner zombie dwells in one of mine. The distance fell behind me and the end was getting closer! The inner zombie went back to his cranial recesses and I got a surge of energy from the coming darkness. Its that survival and challenge thing that drives me into these types of places. I left the wetland and could soon see the lake! I got my feet tangled and took a wild tumble down while descending the gap. Somewhat painful so it was then that I changed the spelling of the lake. And just like that the trek was over. In the truck and traveling back. Even the dogs were exhausted!

This one is beat!

So that’s it! An epic day of exploration. I hope to return soon and search for the lakebed. It’s there! I just know it. As for the Pulpit Rock State Forest Preserve? At 1603 acres it’s much larger then I imagined! I know that now. Until the next one! ✍️

Up The Creek

January is moving along and the mild weather continues to surprise everyone. It hasn’t made for great ice walking but I have managed to get a little in despite of it.If you are new to the blog perhaps a journey back to a former post of mine might enlighten you as to the nature of ice walking. It is titled “Tales Of An Icewalker: Origins. I introduce myself there as The Icewalker. I learned many years ago the ease of travel on the flat frozen waterways that form each winter here in the St. Lawrence valley. This story is about a recent trip on Beaver Creek we took where I continue to teach my son Zane the beauty and perils of ice walking. Better to learn from the journeyman when you are an inexperienced apprentice. It turned into quite the adventure!

The section of Beaver Creek above the Lead Mine Road. Known to us as “up the creek”.

I decided to try the ice of Beaver Creek after we had experienced a couple cold nights right after the recent thaw. We had spent Saturday doing firewood and had returned the hauling trailer to the farm after unloading it Sunday morning at our customers house. I felt like doing something fun with Zane and suggested a hike down on Beaver Creek. Big Beaver we call it as too not get it confused with the nearby creek known as Little Beaver. Zane was eager to go and ready for the adventure. I mentioned that we would need beaver stick walking sticks if we were going to attempt to ice walk. We had some in the truck that were already shaped and had been used several times. Not to worry though as one of our hoarder sheds at the farm has dozens more if we were caught short. They would have needed work however and we had no time for that. It’s a job best suited for a workshop bench with plenty of tools on hand and heat. I miss the area we had at Hill House in the heated garage at those times. I chose to take two beaver sticks for the trek. Zane opted for none. But he has a lot to learn yet and would soon realize his mistake. Ice walking is a school of hard knocks. Zane did decide to bring along a propane torch though in case we needed a fire. Never a bad decision when ice walking but the trick is to keep your fire making tools dry! I mentioned to Zane that we weren’t properly equipped but given the short duration of our hike I wasn’t concerned. Plus there were two of us. An icewalker alone should always be prepared. I think it was starting to sink in with him. Maybe sink is a poor word when preparing to walk the ice!🤔

Beaver sticks in the rough. Trimming and sanding brings them to perfection!

We headed out behind our barn at the farm as I wanted to check a section of forest where we had harvested the older damaged trees some ten years ago. This would bring us to the very edge of the creek wetlands once we descended the ridge.The new growth was impressive to say the least. A mixed bag of hickory,maple, and some red oak. Our search of the forest also revealed huge amounts of invasive wild honeysuckles. They were overtaking the former open sections of the pasture at the edge of the forest. Bad news for the two of us hiking when we tried to force our way through them. We followed the edge of the wetland until we reached a section of pasture that we have begun to maintain. We had cleared it of dozens of the invasive shrubs a couple years back. It was easy hiking there as it’s relatively flat also. It soon became obvious that there was a lot of fresh beaver activity in the pasture.A maintained dam that bridged the wetland as well. It wasn’t a new location for a dam. There’s been beaver dams in that location over the years. It’s quite the feat that the beaver achieved damming the entire wetland gorge. The original creek channel is barely visible anymore. As dams go it’s not very high but the water it holds back extends far up the creek.

Open water around the beaver lodge.

I knew from experience that we would have trouble accessing the ice of the main creek because of several springs that pepper the north side of the wetlands. They flow from underground at the base of the steep ridge that sits above the gorge. There’s about 5 of them in a mile stretch of the wetland.Even in the coldest of winters it’s a tricky area to venture out onto the ice. Zane and I explored the beaver activity and noticed signs of muskrats as well. I explained to Zane that this area had changed a lot over the years.It was decided that we would need to use the beaver dam to get out to the thicker ice where we wanted to hike. We struggled through more of the thick, choking wild honeysuckle while getting to the dam. Once we traveled the dam for a short distance we were able to access the ice. I used my beaver sticks to pound on the ice to check it for thickness before I stepped off the dam. Zane took a different approach and just jumped out in a nibble sliding motion. He’s much lighter then me so had less reason to worry. Out on the ice of the main pond the ice was gray and thicker. But as I pointed out to Zane there were numerous black sections that we needed to avoid. We needed more cold weather to truly freeze this swamp. I told Zane about the soft maple forest that had been here years ago.The original beaver dam flooded them and they all died. They stood for years like dry barren stalks before falling into the marsh and disappearing. I also to Zane that we owned some landlocked property in this area. About 4.4 acres that weren’t well marked. I knew there was an old fence that marked one boundary but the South shoreline was also choked with wild honeysuckle. We decided to search for it some other time.

The thin ice along the dam.

We picked our way through the grassy bogs and avoided numerous weak spots in the ice. Lucky for us there was no snow on the ice. Otherwise I mentioned to Zane that I wouldn’t even be out there. It’s not deep water in most of the wetland but I pointed out the main channel sections where falling through wouldn’t be a good idea. We made it up the ice quite a distance before it became impassable. The wetland continues for another half a mile or so before narrowing down to a much smaller channel. Beaver Creek dumps into this section after going over an impressive small set of waterfalls. It was getting late and I mentioned to Zane that we wouldn’t be able to trek up further until the ice conditions improved. We had ventured past our property boundary also we were technically trespassing although the land wasn’t posted by the owners. We began searching for a way off the ice along the North shore but it began to look impossible. The 5th spring upstream and beaver activity was keeping the shoreline open with no ice to cross. We tried getting close to shore in a couple spots but it was futile. Zane suggested going back to our original point of entry and I acknowledged that possibility. But I decided to try a different approach first. We headed toward the 4th spring where I knew an old beaver dam intercepted. We reached the closest to shore that we had ever been but saw nothing but open water. I suddenly decided it was “bog hop”or bust. I started leaping from one clump of tag alder to the next. Sometimes I had to bend one down to reach the next clump. It was a winding and wavering course across the open water. Zane was trying to follow but haven’t some trouble. I almost pitched in headfirst at one point while balancing on a bending limb. Zane and I got to laughing at that moment! The whole thing got funnier when Gracie the dog broke through some thin ice trying to get to us. It was inevitable that someone would get wet I suppose. Zane and I both ended up going in over our boots. What a trip! I shot a funny video of Zane calling him an aspiring Icewalker. I didn’t think about my cold wet feet after that. I was lost to the happy moment!

The land beyond where we will return with good ice.
The leap of faith for the bog hopper!

The beaver feeding activity along the shore was impressive! They were taking advantage of the underground spring runoff and the recent thaw to work the shoreline for food. Lots of chewed branches and fallen trees. The invasive honeysuckle would once again plague our forward progress as we headed back towards our open pasture land.

Gracie falls in!

As we trekked back to the truck we laughed about our exploits. The road up from the wetland took us up the steep ridge and gave us some late day views of it. We could retrace our recent steps far above the marsh. I told Zane stories of my years of exploring “up the creek”. It’s a place of ever changing events. Vanished forests and invasive species. Wildlife in constant motion surviving the rigors of a northern New York winter. It’s a beautiful place for a new generation Icewalker to get his feet wet literally. It had been an epic trek for us. We are waiting now for the cold weather to seal the wetland shut under a layer of thick ice. We will return to explore up the creek sometime before spring I hope. I want to show Zane the “Big Spring”. Number 5 I called it. It’s impressive in itself. But I want to show him more out there on the ice. There’s fast travel out from brushy shores and rocky forest ridges. Ice walking on the big creek has its risks but the benefits outweigh those risks I feel. Be prepared for anything. It’s easy to fall through I’ve learned. Now it’s time to teach Zane the way of an Icewalker. Beaver Creek is a beautiful and magical place for me. I will always want to trek its frozen surface. For now we wait for the big freeze. ✍️

Busy beaver.

The Mystery Is Solved

It’s January 2023 and the weather remains unseasonably warm for this time of winter despite the major storm just before Xmas that hit upstate New York. It left us digging out for several days and reeked havoc out on the highways. The loss of life was surprisingly high despite the fact we live in a modern world of technology and comfort. People took unrealistic chances and were not prepared for nature’s fury. It’s a sad and deadly reminder that nature very much controls more then many care to acknowledge. We hunkered down with a generator on standby and well stocked cupboards. We were fortunate to never lose power here. The outcome could have been very different with an extended outage given the temperatures. It was a time to count small blessings and enjoy our good fortune.

Buried by the plows.

It wasn’t too many days after the storm that the weather turned warm with highs reaching 50 plus degrees. The snow disappeared quickly and the ridge tops began to bare up again. The warm spell has continued and heavy rains have reduced the snow pack even further. I took advantage of the situation and got back on the log landing working on a firewood order. We got out for a snowboarding day at Mt. Pisgah in Saranac Lake as well while Zane was on Xmas break. My performance was less then perfect on the rough and poorly groomed slope. We had a lot of fun regardless!We never sit idle for long and were happy to get outside as much as possible.

Zane shows off on the final run of the day.

Last Monday I had gotten some farm work caught up so I decided to take a long trek down the state land across Beaver Creek near the farm. I left my car in the farm property driveway and walked the road over to the spot where I would start my trek. I was shocked at the bags of garbage I found near the edge of the waterfall that empties into the gorge from the unnamed upper creek. Deer bones from several deer, cardboard, tires, and all types of other crap. I even found a discarded jet ski! It’s unreal the blatant disregard people have when they litter and toss stuff into this waterway! ( I contacted the DEC and they are going to make an attempt to stop the littering in this location.) What truly bothered me was the head,skin, and remains of a doe floating in the pool at the base of the waterfall. Flushed down the falls by unscrupulous individuals and left to tarnish a beautiful location with black plastic bags that will remain for years.

The flushing falls of the ignorant and uncaring.

I enjoyed the remainder of my trek and will mention it in a later post. It’s noteworthy to say that after I left the highway and ventured further into the forest I encountered no other garbage or human activity of any kind. Why do I mention the garbage and dump the story here on my page? There’s a connection here that will tie everything together shortly. It’s got to do with human activity and human impact on the lands that surround the farm property. A story within a story where questions were recently answered.

Looking across the gorge at our farm property.

If you read the story about the QR scan codes then you already know that all my research as to their origins was purely speculative. We believed that they had been placed by an orienteering group. Further research had brought me no closer to solving the “case” and things were seriously stalled out with few leads in sight. My DEC contact had put out a few inquiries but had also come up short in his investigation. The answer to the mystery remained unsolved and in hindsight it’s painfully obvious now that it’s been solved. But the location of so many of the QR scan code tags on state land property had thrown me off the scent so to speak. The clues came pouring in just two days ago and I solved the mystery quickly after that within a matter of hours. The big break came because of the discarded deer bones. Funny how the thread unraveled!

These started my investigation.

I was splitting wood at the warehouse landing when I noticed my dog Gracie had wandered off. Great! I thought. She’s gone down after that scummy garbage and deer carcasses. She had spotted them on Monday during our walk. A short time later I had a visitor at the landing. An acquaintance of mine who lives nearby stopped to tell me that Gracie was in fact across the swamp digging through the debris. We got to chatting about all the garbage along the road. I mentioned the QR code tags everywhere and he said he knew something about who had put them there. “There was a crew of 5 guys parked along the road and headed into the state land awhile back”. “They are working for the mining company”. I knew that the mining company had been doing test drilling all over Macomb in the past few months. It’s important to note that many people don’t own their mineral rights. As land owners we have “surface rights”. Many land owners in the past sold the mineral rights and conveyed them to new owners. I don’t know about ours but I would require proof of conveyance before allowing individuals to enter my property.It was common knowledge where they were drilling core samples in different locations around the small town of Macomb. Also in the area known as North Gouverneur. Gossip travels fast here. As do rumors. In fact the mining company had been drilling along side Lead Mine Road just up the road from our farm.But QR tags on the state land? Why would they be there? But this was the first solid clue since the investigation had started. I decided to contact my sister as I knew she had received a letter from the mining company in October but I hadn’t heard anything else about it since. She sent me a copy of her letter and another clue entered the equation. Surface sampling was the term used in the letter for mineral exploration that was being used on select properties. This was getting interesting!

Surface sampling is briefly described in the photo below.

There was a phone number on the copy of my sister’s letter with a contact name for any questions regarding the activities on the targeted properties. I called the number and spent close to an hour having a productive conversation with a company representative. He was very upfront and informative. He answered all my questions and we shared a lot of information in a short period of time. The mystery was solved when I asked about the QR code tags. It seems that they were placed by a consultant who was hired to take surface samples from various places in the area. The workers of the consulting firm were supposed to have removed the tags when the project was completed but hadn’t otherwise I would never have spotted them. I told the representative that I wasn’t too concerned about the tags as garbage in the forest. One drive down our road would produce more garbage then all the tags put together. Sad but true. I offered to remove them. The answers to different things that had been happening around the farm now made sense. Take for example the vehicle that someone had spotted in my farm property driveway that I knew nothing about as I was in the Adirondacks at the time. The tags on my sister’s property were there legitimately placed assuming the mining company owned her mineral rights. But the state land tags? Apparently the mining company may hold the lease to the mineral rights there. Strange as that may sound. There’s plenty of research left to complete on this investigation but we have answered the initial questions.

So where is all this headed? The mining company seeks to continue present and future operations here in the north country. Someday they will no doubt seek fresh reserves of minerals. Their current extraction of zinc is thousands of feet below the surface and may someday prove economically unviable. Will they seek to extract zinc or other minerals from leased property in Macomb? They are currently continuing an exploration project that was initiated by a former owner of the mines in 2005.The locals all remember the helicopters flying over with a gadget cabled underneath mapping potential mineral sources using a magnetic based technology. This data is still useful after over 17 years and is being utilized as part of the exploration process. My story is not to condone or condemn mining activities in our area. My story merely showcases a time in history where a unique moment in time intersects my personal journey. One that may impact my future and the future of my son here in the township of Macomb. Mining has a long and productive place in our local history. Our father actually worked in the mines for a time many years ago before decided he didn’t care for it. The past and the future may intersect once again in the rocky hills of Macomb if mining resumes here.It’s hard to say right now.

I believe this may have been part of the Brown Mines that occupied my uncles property.

I will close my post with the following statements to clarify my personal opinions. I have made every attempt to write honestly and factually. I chose not to name the mining corp. or target individuals. Mining has and continues to be private sector industry in this often economically depressed region. It brings jobs and tax revenue to our county coffers. I gathered a few zinc statistics to showcase after the post as screenshots from the internet. No clue as to their factual accuracy. My opinion is mostly neutral and non biased I feel. As a consumer of material goods in this modern society I acknowledge that the very goods I consume originated from some source somewhere on this earth. An earth with dwindling resources and ever growing population. I feel that we as consumers should not embrace a “not in my backyard mentality”. Do I want the lands of Macomb altered and changed forever? No. But as a consumer of things I that I will continue to buy they must come from somewhere. It’s a heavy place to dwell for long this study of our use of resources and our desire to protect our properties of rural heritage. The mining operations from 100 years ago here in Macomb have been healed by nature to a greater degree. Perhaps the mining operations of the future may leave an even lesser impact. I will continue to follow this story and hope to bring additional historical facts to this page.Do your homework on the importance of zinc in our daily lives. We can’t stop mining it unless we change our very existence.We walk a slippery slope upon the face of our fragile planet. It’s going to take wise choices to not repeat the mistakes of the past. We are all in this together. ✍️

The QR Code Mystery

December is moving right along and I was lucky enough to get out for my first ice walk last week down on Beaver Creek. It’s not fully frozen however and called for some finicky maneuvers. I picked my way close to shore for a time but eventually ventured out onto a section of the main channel for some photo opportunities. There was a little bit of snow on top of the thin ice in the shallower areas but the main channel had a thicker and slightly safer layer of “snow ice”. Not the nice clear ice of hard freezing nights before a snowfall but the aftermath of snow that froze as it covered the water’s surface. Always tricky! But the savvy Icewalker knows the benefits of speedy traveling on bare ice rather then struggling through the rugged woods on shore. Dry feet aren’t the constant companion of an Icewalker. Neither is a dry body for that matter. The trick is staying on top! As always the Icewalker’s motto must be remembered: “The distance in must be traveled out.” Its much more pleasant to travel out dry!

The snow ice of the main channel.

I assessed the wetland system via my sister’s property just down over the hill from our main farm buildings. The ridges along both sides of the wetland are rather steep and difficult hiking. Rocks and fallen trees make for slow going. Thus the allure of the ice. I hadn’t quite reached the ice when I spotted a pink ribbon tied to a tree. Strange given this is private property. A closer look revealed that there was a tag attached to the small tree. It had a scan code and seven numbers on it. I used my IPhone to attempt to “ open” the code but nothing worked. I considered taking the tag with me but decided I shouldn’t without consulting with my sister first. I continued to hike on.

Tag one.

There’s always something to see when hiking the Beaver Creek gorge I’ve learned over the years. The beaver continually alter the wetlands by building dams along its course. Given the width of the wetland it’s a major engineering endeavor for the beaver to accomplish. But they’ve been at it for years and grassy foundations of former dam activity have made an almost solid foundation in one spot. There’s a choke point where the channel narrows through a shallow section of the swamp. A small dam here floods a large area and doesn’t challenge the beaver all that much. There’s usually beaver activity here but this year they had raised the dam some and subsequently there was a lot more wetland covered with deeper water.The muskrats had build numerous houses in this larger section. The most I had seen in years. Once I reached the dam I was in a bit of a situation! The ice below it was brittle and caving in. “Shell ice” we call it. The result of water depth dropping with no time for adequate freezing. It’s the Icewalker’s nemesis!

Beaver business at the “Deep Hole”.

I bog hopped my way towards the distant shore from my location in the center of the swamp. It was a challenging series of carefully executed moves. Perhaps like a soldier picking his way through a minefield in a movie. I was losing my nerve by the minute and regretted my decision of early ice walking.It was beautiful in the soft maple forest that survives there though. In the midst of trees and small clumps of tag alders I was saved from the wind. The sun was shining down on me as I slowly crept closer to the solid land that was tantalizingly close. It was a cold afternoon and I really wanted to stay dry! I reached the narrow channel and edged out onto the thin ice. Gracie the dog was close behind and seemed a little nervous herself! Suddenly a series of cracks appeared under my feet. I froze and several more shot out in different directions. It once again reminded me of a movie scene! But in the movies the hero never falls through! There was no time to waste so I ambled forward in a sliding shuffle that covered the distance quickly. I reached the shore soon after and celebrated my good fortune! I was off the ice and had no interest in going back out after that. I decided to head for the high ground.

The sketchy section below the dam.

I began to ascend the steep ridge that reaches all the way down to the shoreline. I got on a deer trail that crosses the slope of the ridge in the easiest path. Trust the animals to find the best way upward. I hadn’t gone far when I spotted another one of the pink ribbon/scan code tag combinations. It was identical to the first one and covered with muddy fingerprints despite being exposed to the elements. Had someone dug in the dirt before handling it? I once again trying scanning the card to no avail. I pressed on towards the high ground.

I was headed to a large rock bluff that we named the “Mid Point” when we were teenagers. It sits between two other rocky bluffs called the “Low Point” and the “ High Point”. I suppose we could have been more imaginative but it’s a rather accurate description overall. The LP and the MP are somewhat close together while the HP stands higher about one half mile away to the East. The views are spectacular in a 360 degree panoramic fashion. They are some of the highest places around in the area. A favorite boyhood haunt of mine. We camped years ago on all of them at one point or another. There’s a reason why the rock is bare upon them and the evidence still remains many years later. A forest fire destroyed the white pine groves that once occupied them during a dry spell. Deliberately set I was told although I have no factual proof to confirm this. The fire was so hot it literally burned the topsoil right down to the bare rock in the higher sections. Even to this day you can find the charred pitchy root balls and stumps that are super rot resistant in their rocky perches. We discovered as teenagers they made excellent firewood and burned with a brightly lit fragrance.No need for artificial light when one was used and the wood burned for a long time. Just when the fire occurred is an unknown to me.Over a hundred years I suspect given my age. I hope to research that sometime if archives exist.

Charred stump remains.

I found a place to sit on the Mid Point and snapped a few photos. It was a bit chilly with a North born breeze hitting me but I was warmly dressed for a December day. I kindled a small fire to keep the chill at bay and sat for a long time. It was a place very familiar to me and one that I try to reach every December before Xmas. It is my place for silent reflection and I always have it to myself. Gracie plopped down next to my legs and she made an excellent windbreak! Off in the distance my silence was interrupted at times by three pairs of jets doing some type of military exercises. Most of the time they were silent leaving streaming contrails like writing in the sky. They left eventually and the sky was silent until a flock of snow geese passed overhead.

Snow geese

I added wood to the fire several times. I burned a small piece of pine stump and was rewarded with the familiar scent of pine resin. ( pitch trapped in the roots). I noticed another pink ribbon down in the woods below but didn’t bother to check it out. I assumed it was the same as the others. It was getting late so I finished off the fire and began the trek back towards the farm.

Looking towards the Adirondacks.

Since then I have attempted to figure out the mystery of the ribbons and scan code tags. The tags are actually called QR codes. (Quick Response).

Familiar with them on merchandise.

I have put requests up on social media pages asking for help. People had lots of comments and have been super curious as to the origins of the tags. I finally got a break through yesterday when a friend of mine who works at a local land trust suggested that the tags may belong to an orienteering group. Not a subject that I knew much about although I had heard of it. I began to research online and was soon rewarded with some promising information. I now believe that the mystery tags are from an orienteering group but remain baffled by the lack of information printed on them. I probably should explain orienteering first. I think the photo below pretty much sums it up however.

Definition

I also contacted the New York State DEC in regards to the ribbons and tags. They had no knowledge of orienteering groups that had been holding events in the state land near the farm. Apparently the group pulls a permit in advance. The DEC quickly became interested in what I had discovered and will be actively looking for answers. I thank everyone at the DEC for getting me connected with the proper individuals! I pledged my assistance in helping them locate the ribbon locations. One officer walked me through placing “drop pins” using Goggle Maps. I chose the satellite map option and easily dropped the pins close enough to the the locations they should find them given the absence of leaves. I was familiar with geocaching so was used to working from satellite maps. Once Zane and I discovered a huge wetland area on a satellite map that we didn’t know existed. We have yet to launch a probing expedition into the area given its gnarly rugged location. Yes I said expedition! It will be a winter snowshoe into unknown territory and must be treated as such with proper preparation. But that’s a different story for a different day.

This was on the internet. No connection to this group is implied or intended.

When I head out for a trek I just never know what I will find! It seems technology is never too far away at anytime. I have no wish to bring anyone under scrutiny for their hobby but orienteering ribbons and tags should be removed after events close out according to the DEC. Also by the basic rules of leave no trace ethnics. But having a campfire in a former campsite location puts me in a similar predicament to be totally honest. Not illegal but certainly leaves a trace. I suppose it’s a fine line to walk and I could easily not even mention the fire. But I felt it pertinent to be honest and forthcoming as I have always promised.

For the moment the mystery has not been solved despite the research. The tags could be totally belong to some other group. Perhaps military or some environmental study group as some suggested. In fact there may be a conspiracy involved. Facts are facts despite what people choose to believe. Remember our furry rodent friend from Quebec Mr. Jangles? He’s been strangely silent for some time now. He still holds a grudge I suspect. I sent him a Xmas card and a block of cheddar cheese but haven’t heard back from him. Tracking indicates that the package was delivered by float plane ahead of the ice up. I believe he has begun a retaliatory mission despite my best efforts to strike up a truce. As of late we have been under attack by rodents at the farm in an unprecedented manner. The bucket traps have been busy and the tractors have been spared damage for the moment. There have been 15 necessary rodent causalities recently unfortunately. They brought the fight to us and we fought back. We granted them sanctuary elsewhere on the farm property but apparently they have refused the offer. Perhaps this sounds as crazy as ever but the facts remain. There is a lake in Western Quebec named Dumoine. There is a cabin 5. There is a mouse named Mr. Jangles with whom we fought an epic series of battles in August this year. There have been 15 rodents eliminated recently at the farm in record time. As for the rest? Form your own opinions. People were asking about Mr. Jangles so I needed to mention him. We are unsure of his present state and we wish him Happy Holidays! I expect we will hear from him again. Until then Happy Holidays to everyone! ✍️

Held In Trust:Part 2

Apple cider making has passed for us as the first week of December nears its end. We have used all but a few select apples that have been saved for desserts. Mainly apple crisp that I sweeten with a touch of maple syrup! Yum! We enjoyed a fun and productive season thanks to Zane pushing me along! He’s good at keeping me moving and motivated with certain things. That’s a plus!

In the post titled Held In Trust I provided the background for my early years of making apple cider.After the first year making cider became an annual fall event provided we could locate an adequate supply of apples. Some years were better then others but we never again came close to matching the first year’s quantity. We would sometimes help people make some cider with their apples as part of a family outing. In 1994 something memorable occurred while working in the Mexico,New York area. I was in the heart of apple country and was driving to work there during the week. I knew an orchard owner nearby because I had rented a cabin behind his orchard while working on a different project in the spring. I approached the owner about buying “ground falls” under the trees. They were great apples and super cheap! I got them for about $3/bushel and would load up the bed of my Ford Ranger truck on Fridays. They made great apple cider and we pressed quite a few gallons! The cider press was always properly cleaned, covered , and stored away in a dry location. It had become a steadfast addition to our rural heritage lifestyle.

The next season we drove to Mexico to pick apples at a new orchard and were able to purchase some nice ground falls there. The orchard was called Sage Brook and we returned there for many years each autumn. We were asked to do demonstrations at a local church fall festival and introduced quite a few children to cider making. I even did a demonstration at the Hammond Central School one fall. By this time a young Zane was busy getting his cider making education and was enjoying the hobby as only a kid might do. The cider press had been moved around quite a few times at this point as home locations continued to change. I would always find a safe storage place for it though. The years were beginning to add up!

Zane was about to turn 15 in 2019 when we made cider at Hill House that fall. The apples came from Mexico as was our continued custom. We would manage to get to a few apples around the farm but the ground falls from downstate would make up the bulk our collection. We would make 4-6 gallons typically each fall. It was plenty and we would usually freeze part of it.Life happens fast sometimes and no cider was made in 2020 when I was still working in Beaver,Pennsylvania at the time. The cider press was moved to the storage container in March of 2021 and sat there through the fall of that year while I was working in Lake Placid. We rarely thought about it although Zane probably mentioned it on occasion. But life demanded certain sacrifices despite being retired and lucrative work opportunities were too good to pass up. 2022 would be much different however.

Early this fall we harvested a small crop of apples from an old Macintosh tree in the former yard of the now gone farm house. It had sometimes produced huge amounts of apples but the crop was light this year. We used the ones we got for apple crisps and shared a few with others. We found no other apples anywhere on the farm. Most of our wild apple trees had been lost to the tent caterpillars in 2016 and 2017. But picking those few apples got Zane fired up about making cider and that led to the press being dragged out of the storage container as told in Held In Trust.

We located some apples in the Brier Hill area and talked to the owner about purchasing them in bulk. He was agreeable and we purchased several large bags of them for a small sum of money. They were nice apples from his small roadside orchard. Not huge since he sold those ones next to the highway for eating apples but they were perfect cider apples. We took them to Camp Edith and got set up for pressing cider. The apples were washed and then cut into smaller pieces before being ground into the press hopper. Zane and I worked quickly so it wasn’t too long before we had enough to press out our first batch. The yield was impressive and the cider was super sweet! We made about 7 gallons that first afternoon and still had enough apples left for another day of pressing. Zane returned to the camp later that week with a friend and they pressed out several more gallons. I helped him with the last batch using the outside light on the camp because it had gotten dark. It was a moment reminiscent of years past for me.

Zane and I stopped back at the apple seller’s house (Ray) the next day to return his bags as agreed upon. I brought him a quart of cider to try out and we got to talking. It turned out that he had a cider press of his own but no longer used it. Ray showed it to us and I immediately wanted it! I asked him if he would consider selling it. He said that he’d think about it and I left him my phone number. Back in the truck I asked Zane if we should buy it and discussed what we should pay for it. Did we really need it I asked? We already had one but this one was different and had some nice features that our older one didn’t. It had a separate grinder setup and used hydraulics to press the mash down. Zane said that we should try and acquire it!
Monday came and I got a call from Ray. He had more apples for us and was willing to sell the cider press if the price was right. I drove right over and the deal was quickly sealed with 10 bags of apples thrown in as a bonus. I gave him a fair price I felt without overpaying.

Zane and I picked the cider press up on Saturday. We made a deal with Ray to purchase apples in 2023 if he had them for us. He’s 82 years old after all and tending the orchard was a challenge for him at times.Sunday found us washing apples,grinding, and pressing out cider. We made over 8 gallons with our new machine and were thrilled with its performance. So here we are! December of 2022 with two cider presses held in trust! Plans to ramp up production in 2023. About to brew our first batch of hard cider as the law allows. I even have a name for it if we are successful!  

Growth Rings


December is coming in mild after the recent cold snap and snow of November. We got about 14 inches during that lake effect event that reached up into St. Lawrence County. Some parts of New York got record amounts. It was a surprise after the mild weather that we have been enjoying all autumn. I am taking advantage of the bare ground at the farm property to do some forest cleanup in an upper section that was formerly part of our sugarbush. Most of the trees have died off and we harvested heavily in this area a couple years ago. I called this area The Upper Landing. I started burning up the rotten remnants of the large log pile that once occupied the site. The entire area was a mess of downed limbs and miscellaneous debris. I took down a massive dead maple that was a threat to the trail system. It was a sad moment for me. We had tapped this giant many times over the years. It’s gnarly trunk was riddled with old healed tap holes. It fell with an earth shaking crash and exploded into numerous fragmented pieces. I stood for a moment and gazed at the diameter of the stump. The connection was made.

The stump of the felled maple was over 3 feet in diameter. I could only guess at it’s age and it’s rotten outer layers offered no countable growth rings. Not familiar with them? I will explain them quite simply. Growth rings are the marker of tree growth during a one year period in temperate climates. Visible on a tree stump they form a pattern. The lighter outlines represent the start of that season’s growth. The darker outlines represent the end of season growth. They are never identical and a history of a particular season is left there.I can’t remember when my dad first introduced me to growth rings.Sometime when we were cutting wood at the farm most likely. But they have become a glimpse into time and the life of the forest for me. The unfortunate part of growth rings is that you never get to study them until the tree is cut down! Nature leaves us clues there and a place to reflect on ourselves even.

We are just past the two year anniversary of the blog site’s creation. 11/20/20 the first ever post went up. It was titled Bog River Flow. The administrator and creator of this site pulled it from a Facebook post of mine. The rest have followed with no pattern or storyline. Curvy and winding in unsymmetrical circles like the growth rings of a tree stump. It’s been a fun experience and one of learning for me. As I revisit my former posts I look for signs of growth. The blog site hasn’t changed much overall in two years but that’s about to change. I am constantly researching history and fact as they apply to the locations I visit on my personal journey. I continue to search for connection and a better understanding of nature. I am dredging the stories of my life from my memories and saving them here to share. I hope to bring people together in our common love of nature. Each year I hope to show growth however how large or small it might be.
Zane and I were recently in Virginia visited my cousin and his family over Thanksgiving week. My cousin and friend Gerry just happens to be my administrator and creator of this site! He’s the shadow behind all that makes this possible! We are working on upgrading the site and adding a comments section. I hope you will that advantage of that new feature! I will be personally reviewing all comments and would love to hear from you! If you happen to know me feel free to say hello! Look for a subscription page soon where you can receive updates on recent posts and other MOONTABS information.

I ask for your continued patience and support as we work to bring you the best MOONTABS experience ever

November’s Gifts

Our first snow yesterday. It didn’t amount to much though. The day started cool and dark as daylight grows less while autumn advances. It’s that wake-up time when you assess your preparedness for winter if you are a veteran of seasons here in the St. Lawrence valley.It’s coming and small wisps of arctic air sometimes arrive from the north.They herald a time to come but autumn prevails for the moment.

November is a time when beauty in nature can be a little harder to see sometimes. It exists though. It’s a good idea to identify better with our senses then. Five obvious and one not. I feel sound can become more important to recognize as part of the overall outdoor experience once the colorful foliage drops. In the open forest devoid of leaves sound travels far but muffled underfoot when the ground is thick with wet leaves. A brown blanket with life protected underneath that we don’t often notice.Only the oaks have retained their leaves at this point. Brown and lifeless they persist in clinging to the branches. A day of work at the farm property provided special observations yesterday that embody rural heritage and connection.

Mid November finds me playing catch up with a firewood order. It’s been a warm fall and I haven’t felt the drive to work on it. But the cooler days recently have awakened the harvest mentality. Hunter and gatherer? Perhaps.I have been stocking up the warehouse log landing adjacent to the main farm meadow where we put up most of our firewood orders due to its convenience in getting it trucked off the farm. I have focusing on an area I call the upper landing. Once a portion of our sugarbush it’s in tough condition after the 2017 die off. I stockpiled a decent amount of logs there a couple years ago intending to get them cut up last fall. But we had too many other logs down on the warehouse landing ( from other die off) to block up so with the exception of a few I had skidded down fall there was quite a bit of still needing to be salvaged. Maple rots quickly and can’t be left on the ground for too long. Good and bad at the same time. Good for getting the forest rejuvenated but bad for salvaging firewood.The logs of the upper landing are getting questionable in their quality so I decided it was now or never to block them up. I had expended a lot of energy getting them stocked in the first place. They are turning out to be a mixed bag. Some good enough for the firewood order and the rest to be used at Camp Edith or turned into sugar wood. I also turned my attention onto a dead standing maple and a recent blowdown. It’s a never ending challenge to keep up with the aftermath of the die off and wind damage. We do the best we can.

So that’s the background on recent farm property activity. The annual firewood harvest. Known to me as “The Grand Harvest”. I stole the name from a brand of hay baler twine that we used to purchase years ago. I have spent decades of my life and countless hours putting up firewood each autumn. I write of my years of woods craft in my blog series titled “The Run Of The Mill”. Check them out. I try to avoid redundancy here but life follows seasons and I write in the context of present season much of the time. It’s where I live in the now. Powerful and romantic to me in its passage. So the stories follow the seasons. There is a peaceful grounding in following nature through the seasons. I write of it often.

As November advances brown seems to become the predominant color of the forest. The greens of the ground soon to be turned white with snow. It’s time for the other senses to step forward and revel in the moment. Sound especially! Decked out in my hearing protectors I don’t hear much while running the chainsaw on the landing. But when taking a break to refuel the chainsaw I heard a lot of things yesterday. Off in the distance an approaching flock of snow geese. Their southbound flight cries very different then their relatives the Canadian geese.Off in the distance I heard someone else running a chainsaw cutting wood most likely. As the day wound down I heard gunshots from time to time as hunters fired on unknown targets.High powered deer rifles not shotguns I knew from experience. The annual deer rut brings more deer activity to our region and the hunters use it to their advantage. Once an avid hunter I now simply take my gun out for a walk a few times each season. I do target shoot to keep my accuracy honed in just in case that special opportunity presents itself. But that’s a whole different story.

Birds provided much of the sound yesterday. While I was on break a croaking raven announced its presence as it headed to feed on a deer carcass someone had dumped on our property. Ethics run low sometimes in our neck of the woods. On a positive note the dumped deer carcass had drawn in a scavenging bald eagle that was now hanging around the farm. High in the sky above the meadow it glided on large wings and added to an already special day. The many dead maples of the farm have become a woodpecker sanctuary.Their drilling and tapping sounds come from all directions. Down from the ridges the raucous cries of the huge pileated woodpeckers hard at work mix with the tiny downy and hairy ones that hang around the landing. The pileated woodpeckers leave huge piles of chips below their targeted trees. It’s pretty obvious that many of these monster maples must soon topple over given their riddled trunks.On the landing cutting and splitting wood knocks many grubs and insects free from their inside hiding places. Nuthatches and tiny chickadees stay close too. Opportunity is not lost on them and I enjoy their company.

Scents abound on the log landing as well. Chainsaw gas fumes and hot chainsaw bar oil. The sweet odor of maple sap trapped in the salvaged logs of the former sugarbush. Not destined for the sugar house evaporator and sadly lost forever. There’s the scent of muddy tractor tires and diesel fuel. Rotting leaves and dead vegetation. The smell of ripped earth from the skidding of logs. The scent of my worn leather gloves and logger wedge bag strapped to my waist. And then my own scent. Sweat,soap, and challenged deodorant. Let’s not forget the scent of the dumped deer carcass where I found my strayed dog Gracie hard at work gnawing on some rather fragrant morsels.Gag reflex and I don’t have a weak stomach! Passed on lunch at that point! Nature doesn’t leave things around for long. Dead trees, dead flesh, and dead vegetation on its return trip back to the earth. Humbling and comfortable at the same time. Luckily the coyotes had found the deer carcass and eaten most of it in one night after it had sat for a few days. Nothing gets wasted in nature. Something to learn there.

November is always a time of discovery. Personal observation and reflection. My slightly older body these protests the heavy chainsaw by day’s end but obeys my mind’s commands and pushes through. The physical and mental states don’t always want to sync but luckily the mind wins for a time. There’s an energetic drive in the accomplishment of a huge pile of firewood blocks awaiting the wood splitter. The forest a little cleaner and the dead trees serving a purpose. Rural heritage runs strong on such occasions. Decades old and grounded in tradition and a sense of something much more. There is a safe sanctuary in the physical activities of the log landing. True grounding. It’s best not to let the mind wander when the hands are holding a throttled up chainsaw. I think that’s where peace exists sometimes. In simple task and toil. Answering that one would prove difficult to a bystander I suppose. In the use of the hands there is an extension of inner spirit and the feelings of connection to the land itself. Pretty heavy for just doing some firewood.

My body finally called the end of the landing. A look at the fading light over the top of ridge across the meadow spoke of the approaching darkness. I stashed the tractor and the gear in the warehouse then locked the doors on a productive day. I leaned on the car and realized it was silent. Nothing. Just the solid ground under my feet and drifting clouds above. A moment of silent solitude where I was totally alone and enjoying the silent solitude. Tomorrow would come and bring a fresh round of details. But this moment was mine with no distractions. And then it happened. The ringtone came. Not from my phone but high above. Geese in the distance and out of sight. The nighttime chill came on a small north born breeze and what I had predicted in the post called The Special Day washed over me. The rocky soil of the farm property heals and repairs. It always had even when I hadn’t learned to recognize it yet as a younger version of myself. Focus and purpose are reborn and come with silent energy. It’s all connected somehow. The words, the feelings, and the driving pulse of the season. The simplest days of November can be priceless when a brown and seemingly barren landscape is transformed into beauty that can’t be described. It must be lived in the now.✍️

 

 

The Barn Dream

November moves ahead and the weather has been great! Warmer then usual and mostly dry. I have been busy at the farm property preparing for winter. Bush hogging the fallow meadows and preparing to fill a firewood order. I got my neighbor’s old Ford 3400 fixed a couple days ago. We use its three point hitch wood splitter up on the warehouse landing since our Troybilt wood splitter blew its hydraulic cylinder last fall. But firewood wasn’t center stage yesterday. Moving round bales was the task of the day.

I spent yesterday moving the round bales my Uncles had left for me when they cut the hay this summer into the old barn where I store them. It’s a huge structure and its mows hold a lot of hay. In the 1970’s we packed it with over three thousand square bales. There was room in the center area between the mows to store two hay wagons that were piggy backed one on top of the other. That was a challenging task but my father was clever and had devised a safe strategy for accomplishing it each autumn. Kept inside the wooden hay racks of the wagons wouldn’t rot away in the elements. My father liked to keep all the machinery under cover. It made a huge difference to its longevity. Most of our equipment was used to begin with and I call it “tired iron” these days. I wrote of it once. But today’s post is more about the old barn itself.

When I was a boy we housed our cattle and horses in the lower section of the barn.My father did a lot of work converting the barn over into a more modern functioning space. A gutter cleaner was added in the 1970s and a back addition was built to house more livestock. His system worked well to weather the brutally cold winter months. The stored bales in the mows were thrown down wooden chutes known as feed holes. They had sliding wooden doors to help keep the heat in the lower barn where the livestock dwelled from mid November until mid May. The livestock generated huge amounts of body heat and a barn fan with a thermostat controlled the inner space of the lower barn. There was a lot of work involved in keeping the animals fed and their manure removed each day. It’s how I spent a lot of my time as a boy. I liked it most of the time though. It’s a story that I plan to explain in greater detail sometime.

These days I mainly use the stable sections of the barn for storage. It’s gotten rather messy unfortunately. I tried storing firewood in there once but it was much too damp so I abandoned the idea soon after. The timbers in the lower section have been riddled by powder post beetles over the years and need to be replaced. The barn builders made the stable section low so it would heat easier. It’s not a space conducive to being used as a garage ideally. It was designed for livestock. So in our capacity it has limited potential.A plan has been perking in my brain for years about how best to utilize the barn to its fullest possible useful space. We have an idea!

I store most of the round bales in the upper hay mow in the center aisle. Most years there is a surplus of hay left over and we occasionally have some to sell. That’s what we are hoping to do next spring. I got a few bales into the upper hay mow yesterday but quickly ran out of space since it was already quite full still from the previous year. We hadn’t sold any recently. Having reserve hay stored inside is never a bad thing. A wet summer makes it in high demand sometimes. It will last several years when kept dry before losing its freshness. I often marvel at how green a bale of hay appears when feeding it over winter snow! My father had pointed that out many years and it still amazes me with its simple truth. The upper section of the barn stays super dry so it’s a fabulous storage area for more then just hay. I keep some lumber there as well.

If you have ever seen the upper section of a barn then you can probably picture mine. The upper hay mows are huge and the roof peak towers far overhead. The barn was built sometime in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s near as we can tell. My father told me that the original barn that had been on the property had been destroyed by fire accidentally by a young girl. Her parents were sheep farmers and their last name was Howe. I hope to research them sometime and learn more about them. Someone had vision and designed the present barn. It was built when the timber framers still utilized huge hand hewn timbers for the main bents and cross support members. The rafters of our barn were sawn on a sawmill so that dates them to the period we surmise. The reason the mows are so high also dates the barn’s age. It was erected in a time when hay was still put up loose. Balers were not around or were still in early stages of development. There was a track and bale hook system installed just under the peak that was used to get the hay placed into the mows. My father repaired ours and we used it to place round bales for several years. It really put it to the test though as the bales weighed in around 500 pounds. It worked well though but required a team effort to accomplish the task. It’s rope pulley system was powered by a tractor hitched to the main tether. The bales started out in the center aisle just below the trolley which was situated some 25 feet plus above. We had to manually pull the hay hooks down from the trolley and set the hooks into the bale each time we hoisted one. The bales were hoisted by the tractor driving out from the center aisle tightening the rope through the pulley system. This section of a hay mow is often called “ the driveway”. A second rope operated from up in the mow tripped the travel hoist. A third was used to dump the hay hooks. The whole process required focus and timing. I came up with a different system of loading the mows when I was raising beef cattle. I used planks and gravity rolling to load the side mows from the center aisle. This I could do alone. It worked well. Hopefully you can picture the process at this point. Check out the featured image of this post carefully. It shows the hook system partially and will perhaps clarify the apparatus better.

I have spent a lot of time working in the hay mows of our barn over the years and have always admired the framework. The timber framed bents are massive and must have been challenging to place without a crane. If you don’t know anything about timber framing a bent is an assembled structural framework mortise and tenoned together with wooden pins that were hand carved mostly out of hardwood. The bents were assembled on the flat deck of the lower barn structure that had been built first. Talk about a team effort! An assembled bent was very heavy and the joinery needed to be precisely measured to match up. It took skill and experience most certainly. The framers used hemlock for most of the upper structure. I will come back to that shortly. But first a few words about hemlock.

Hemlock. A conifer. It had many uses here in the northeast. It was used by tanneries for its tannic acid properties. It’s still abundant in the Adirondacks but under attack by an invasive species. Different story to share sometime. It’s a strong wood that’s considered a softwood actually. Easier to work into joinery but very heavy. Once our area was heavily forested with hemlock. It was a prized building lumber and most of the forests were cut down here in the St. Lawrence valley. We have no hemlock remaining on our farm property. It only remains in the barn and sheds of the farm now. In the 90’s there was one massive hemlock on our property. It had escaped being cut for some reason. Perhaps the builders had left it to reseed the forest but that hadn’t happened. It died suddenly and we cut it to salvage it. We had expected it to be hollow or a “shake” hemlock. Shake hemlock is the result of wind damage. When sawn it falls apart in the growth rings.Very common to that species. My father taught me how to identify shake logs in case I ever wanted to buy any hemlock. In a shake hemlock the growth rings visible on the butt ends will be gray or black. I learned to read a hemlock log although we seldom got to see many before we started custom sawing with our bandsaw mill in 2006. Our salvaged log surprised us when it’s 36 inch diameter was flawless. We turned it into some wonderful lumber on our mill. Great memories of time learning and working with my father.

The haymows and the upper barn itself were constructed using four bents. There are no cross members connecting the span of the haymows in the center. Instead the framers used four smaller width bents on either side of the haymow driveway. Very cleverly connected with ladders built in two spots. The open design of the center area allowed the hay to be placed with less restrictions. Our barn is very unique in several ways that I haven’t always seen in other barns. The framer’s didn’t utilize queen posts supported by main rafters which in turn would support the secondary rafters. Instead they used one long main rafter on each side using fairly large hand hewn timbers. This design saved time and materials as there was less joinery. They did sacrifice some overall strength I feel with their frugalness. The main rafters appear to be basswood instead of hemlock which isn’t as strong. They have sagged a tiny bit over the years probably due to snow load when the barn was roofed with asphalt shingles. The original roof was cedar shingles. It appears that there are three layers of shingles. One cedar and two asphalt. My father had a metal roof installed by the Amish shortly before his death. I didn’t care for the pitch and height of the roof so declined doing it. The metal roof sheds itself of snow quite readily so snow load is no longer a concern. It comes off like an avalanche on a sunny day! As for my critique of the rafters who am I to judge the framers? What they constructed has stood for over 100 years! Modern barns blow down and collapse all the time these days. The men who stood on those lofty perches and assembled the roof structure were some brave individuals! I wish I had some photos of the build! A frolic the Amish call a barn building when they join together and work on one. It must have quite an undertaking! For some reason the framers did not leave their initials or a date on the walls of our barn. It was a common practice back then. Maybe they didn’t have any of the black ink they typically used. Year’s ago in my custom designed office space in the farmhouse I had a hand hewn post that one of the barn buildings had carved into. It was initialed and dated 1897.Lost to the fire but not my memory.

Our barn is painted red and has some sections of red metal siding. It was last painted sometime in the 90’s by some traveling barn and roof painters.The outer structure of the entire barn was constructed using sawmill sawn lumber. The girts and siding are hemlock as are the secondary rafters. The roof boards as well. The volume of lumber that makes up the barn is mind boggling. I can see why the hemlock was cleared from the land here. The farmhouse that had been constructed near the barn was made of hemlock as well. It was lost to fire in May of 2012. It’s noteworthy to mention that the two stall garage that had sat between the farmhouse and barn had been constructed of pine. It had been constructed in a time when the hemlock was not as readily available anymore. The fast growing white pine of the area was being used more frequently by the 1950’s. The garage was lost in the fire and how the barn was even spared still remains a miracle. The fire crews managed to save it though and we were thankful for that!

The lower section of the barn is a mixed construction of various species. The large mow cross timbers and plinths I suspect are elm. They were often used for that purpose due to the size they once grew here in the valley. It’s difficult to say as the lower section was whitewashed so the grain of the wood is covered. A drill bit could quickly solve that question. The barn builders used timbers called 3/4 rounds to support the haymow floor system. Trees that were flattened on one side only and fitted onto the tops of base top plates on one side. The other end of the 3/4 rounds were set on the top of the cross members. Many of the 3/4 rounds are basswood and the powder post beetles have riddled them extensively. The barn builders left the bark on them unfortunately. It made them more susceptible to the powder post beetles. Some have needed to be replaced. More are in jeopardy of collapse now. It’s important to note that hemlock is not as susceptible to being attacked by powder post beetles for some reason. Hardwood and most other wood seem to attract their destructive habits. The lower section of the barn is still strongly functioning however. The main frame remains sturdy for now. The framing under the haymow driveway is very substantial. It was designed to carry a lot of weight. It will support the weight of tractor and all the bales that I stack on top of it. The barn was built into a side hill to make access to the haymow driveway easier. Also a clever design of the builders and very common to this hilly area. A large stonewall supports the framework of the east side of the barn. We even have an old concrete silo that is 30 feet high. It hasn’t been used in decades except by the pidgins who like to live there. We have to periodically shoot them when they try to invade the haymow. Their droppings are destructive to the hay and sometimes carry diseases.They quickly learn that they are not welcome and fly off to new places.

I have never measured the barn or calculated it’s square footage. There’s a lot of wasted space that has potential to serve a better purpose I feel since we don’t raise livestock anymore. I have often wondered if the old barn could be renovated into a large house after the farmhouse burned. It would be a monumental task of some magnitude. The lower section especially. But what is to become of it otherwise? Since the creation of MOONTABS Creative Expression in 2020 I have pondered it more frequently. Since the sale of Hill House even more frequently. The peaceful setting of the farm is a writer’s ultimate sanctuary. I can envision something when I gaze up into the sturdy framework of the haymows. Where better to write the stories of rural heritage? What better place to leave a legacy? Imagination can overstep the boundaries sometimes. And the budget! But there is a building already standing that could be turned into something grand. Rustic and totally country. I could have the large library I always wanted. I could dedicate a space for my collections of things. The Hoarder Museum I would call it. There’s an even larger plan that I won’t share just yet. We have our sawmill to customize the build out. We have skilled Amish barn builders close by. Heating it would present some challenges that’s for sure. Some of it might require winterizing. The demo process alone is intimidating but totally feasible with time and effort. The biggest challenge besides money is dedicating the time to achieve the goal. Its a planner moment of many aspects and decisions. A series of phases and deadlines. Hmmm… sounds familiar after close to 40 years on construction projects. Zane has expressed some interest in the project but it’s hard to say where he will want to fit in. But it all comes back to the basic structure itself in the end. A standing building with wonderful potential. It’s exciting.Daunting. Crazy. Overwhelming… need I continue? It’s connected to the MOONTABS vision somehow. A fresh start at the farm property possibly. I will keep you posted on our progress! Or lack of it be that the case.

It’s funny the things that show themselves as time passes. Just this week I drove down a road I rarely travel anymore. Years ago there were seven active dairy farms along it. Nice barns and decent homes. I was shocked at the change that time has brought to the property along the road. It’s got an almost post apocalyptic look about it now. Barns fallen in or gone entirely. Houses gone. Replaced by trailers and campers in various condition. Someone continues to cut some of the hay fields fortunately. There is only one actual active farm and it’s not a dairy farm anymore. The scene gave me cause for reflection when I reached my own farm property. No house and no longer an active farm. No dairy since the late 50’s. Most but not all of the hay cut. Rural upstate has changed immensely. I looked at our barn and seriously began to consider its future fate. The farm as well. The barn dream has begun to take on a new meaning since that drive Tuesday. That’s what prompted this story.It’s up to me now to make wise decisions and bring the farm property forward into the future. Its not too late to set a plan into motion.Someone once stood in the forest that once blanketed the land of the farm. They found the artesian well in the main meadow no doubt. They decided that this was the spot to homestead. How many generations worked to clear and improve the land? Picking rocks and piling them where they still lay today. Setting clay tiles and draining the swampy sections. Building a home for their family and living close to the land. As for the barn itself? One can only guess at the cost at building it in those long past days. One can only guess at the manual labor it took. I sometimes try to imagine what the land must have looked like in those days when stands of hemlock stood tall and sturdy on the rocky slopes of the farm. I try to imagine someone standing where the barn now sits and designing the build. It was someone’s dream once to make it happen. To build something that would last. To make a better life for themselves and their family. I think I know how that might of felt. I feel that too when I stand in the meadow by the barn and try to plan for the future. It’s hard to say what happens next. Maybe the answer will show itself to me today. Maybe it already did.✍️