Author Archive: Greg Washburn

Conclusions

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Life at Rollins Pond ticks along and it’s already Tuesday. Sunday was a pretty laid back day overall. A trip to town for a couple things, laundry, and some Wi-Fi to launch a couple blog posts. It was a total scorcher so some quality beach bum time was in order after. Pretty typical day of camp life routine. Meals, dishes, and an evening campfire. But a storm was brewing on the horizon.

I can’t say exactly what time the rain started but eventually a heavy downpour was hammering so hard on the Airstream roof that sound sleep was out of the question. It’s like drums above your head. Tiny pine cones were pinging off the roof also. The storm lasted for several hours and by morning had passed. But there were plenty of signs of copious runoff. On the way to Tupper Lake on Route 30 a highway crew was attempting to drain a flooded section of highway. Plugged culvert it appeared. The temperature had dropped from the eighties of Sunday down into the sixties. A northern born breeze kept things on the chilly side throughout most of the day. Much of the day was spent running down to the valley to grab Zane and Gracie. We did a few odd jobs and then returned to the campsite for a late dinner. Pretty uneventful day of the usual camp chores. I have reached the conclusion that camp life demands a certain amount of attention each day regardless of what activities we hope to pursue. No new revelation there. Just a more focused observation.

Tuesday dawned rather cloudy and a few tiny rain drops fell in my morning coffee. 9am is generator time and I usually do some other chores while the batteries are charging. Zane was sleeping in and I was trying to decide the best activity for the day. Paddling was a given. We had decided that Monday night before bed. I decided to consult our map this time before heading out like the last time.Long Pond would be our end destination. We would reach it via the Rollins outlet into Floodwood then an overland carry of 1373 meters on a trail of unknown condition. The weather remained cool and cloudy but sometimes the sun would pop through for a minute. I was dressed in layers and really didn’t plan on going into the water at any point during the day. Zane and I packed light with only cold beverages. Having both Stella and Gracie in the canoe adds quite a bit of weight to our payload. The trip down through and across Floodwood was pretty casual and we made excellent time. I decided to take Zane up the tiny creek I had explored Saturday. Pretty rugged he decided and we turned back towards the canoe carry. The carry was rather easy for me actually with Zane handled the dogs and the paddles. The mosquitoes were a little bothersome though especially when my hands were occupied carrying the canoe. Our Old Town Pathfinder is 13 feet 10 inches in length and weighs around 74 lbs. It has a carry yoke and balances well. No problem for me still after many years. Zane still prefers not to carry it so I typically get the job. We passed a beaver pond part way into the carry that I believe is actually listed on the map as Anniversary Pond. Still not clear on that at the moment but it fits the location. We reached Long Pond shortly after and I felt like it had been less of a carry than I had originally expected. The sun had returned and we were at our destination!

We weren’t sure what direction we wanted to explore but I had noticed a creek in the valley just below the carry as we approached the pond. It looked very similar to the creek that I had followed Saturday. We headed towards the sound of moving water and discovered what we believed was the outlet of Long Pond. Having studied the map it now made perfect sense. This might very well be my creek! I suddenly began to consider heading back down it on the return trip. Zane was hesitant at first but I began to perk his interest when I mentioned the sluice way that most likely was down the creek if we traveled it. We continued exploring the pond and locating the various primitive campsites along its vast shoreline. Hardly a pond and definitely long I feel that it’s more like a lake. Plenty of dark water of unknown depth with numerous bays and points. There were a few occupied campsites and several other paddlers poking around in the distance. Rather isolated and a place a person could easily find some privacy if that was an objective. The afternoon was moving along and we decided to tackle the outlet. I mentioned to Zane that I was going to keep track of the impassable obstacles that blocked our way downstream. The outlet started out easy to navigate. So old chop marks were evidence that someone had once maintained this waterway at some point. Shortly after we reached obstacle number one. So it was climb out and pull the canoe over. The creek’s current suddenly began to increase dramatically and there were no obstacles in sight. We picked up speed and soon found ourselves in some tiny rapids. Zane was shooting a video while I tried to steer our way through. It was a bumpy ride and we hit several rocks that I feared may have scratched the canoe bottom but there was no way to stop our headlong race down the fast moving creek. We spun sideways and the front end of the canoe caught on a large boulder. Water poured into the canoe and we nearly went over! I jumped out into the fast moving current and got the canoe back in motion. Suddenly we were through the tiny rapids! The obstacles began again shortly after and the count continued to rise. I suddenly recognized where I was when we hit a section of navigable creek for a short distance. Gracie was out of the canoe at this point and either running the bank or swimming behind us. She had nearly gotten run over shortly after the rapids and was almost sucked under a large log blocking the creek. Something that I had feared might happen. We kept Stella safely inside the canoe but I think the whitewater had frightened her a little. Zane was in and out of the canoe the same as me depending on the obstacles. He was in the canoe with me when suddenly the 1927 sluiceway appeared. We had made it and proved what I suspected. Enter the conclusion of what had been unknown.

After that we struggled through the remainder of the obstacles and reached Floodwood shortly after. We were getting bit by numerous deer flies in the swampy section just before the pond. The canoe was filthy and I had no dry clothing at all. My phone survived in its waterproof case as did Gracie’s dog control collar and transmitter. We paddled back as quickly as we could to boost our body temperatures. The sun came out full force and we were laughing about our adventure! At a the campsite Zane showed me portions of his video. Very entertaining!The language is a bit raw however as the whole event was filmed as it unfolded. No staging or retakes. It was one of those days that seem to find Zane and I. Make a simple plan and then something shows itself.I suppose that I am the instigator of much of situations we get into. But it’s a rush of spontaneous endeavor and possibilities. I do love a good thrill! Not to mention the strange need to see what lies beyond and between. On the creek we encountered no one. We were the wilderness explorers of that forested valley. Not many travel here and with good reason. There are some 63 obstacles that impend the creek I call Paradise. There was no folly in today’s adventure. Only memorable moments. MOONTABS!

As for conclusions there are several to be found I decided as I basked in the sun on our campsite beach after getting dried out. One is the knowledge that we are blessed to be having these times together. Zane is growing up. Soon he will be a high school senior. My conclusion is that time passes quickly and we must make it count. As large and fluffy white clouds slowly passed over me while I sat on the beach I reached another conclusion. The magic of the clouds themselves which we grow so accustomed to seeing throughout our lives. What would we think about them if we were to suddenly see them for the first time? There is a place of deep reflection in those billowing white clouds and in their changing shapes. As for my final conclusion that I wish to share here, it would have to be this now that I have placed us in. Very different then so many nows that I have known. Task and time are different here as days run into each other. Tomorrow is the final full day on this Rollins Pond campsite for now. Another campsite awaits on Thursday. I am weary and the campfire begins to burn low. Edits? Not a chance tonight.✍️

The Continuation

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Part of the fun of camping on waterways is the prospect of exploring new areas with relative ease. Rollins Pond offers some unique paddling opportunities we have discovered.Today’s was no exception. It was more then I expected before it was finally over. It’s worth telling if only to keep others from following my route of arduous folly!

The adventure I had decided upon was actually a continuation of some exploration I had done one cool,rainy day in August of 2021. Zane and I had gotten familiar with the Rollins Pond outlet paddle down into Floodwood Pond after we paddled the “loop” one sunny day while camping last summer. It’s a fun trek with two short carries that I would rate easy. The paddle starts at Rollins Pond continues into Floodwood Pond then down the narrow connector to Little Square Pond. From Little Square the loop takes you into Copperas Pond. At the far end of Copperas you will find the first carry which takes you to Whey Pond. The second carry brings you to the Rollins Pond boat launch. From there you paddle back to your site. There are plenty of secluded spots where you can get out and take a break,swim, or casually drift into back waters. The proximity of the forest will reward the paddler with plentiful birdsongs and wonderful evergreen scents. There’s nothing like a whiff of balsam to enhance the already heightened senses.The water has a somewhat organic smell that’s difficult to describe. Not unpleasant just something you notice immediately in the narrow sections of the connectors. My exploration last August took me in a different direction then the loop.But first a previous noteworthy adventure of a similar nature. Some lessons are never learned!

It happened on our first ever camping trip to Rollins Pond last summer. We knew that Rollins connected to Floodwood but were uncertain of the route. I decided to skip checking the map. It will be more fun! I told Zane! I like the mystery of the unknown.We spotted a large culvert draining in the lower section of Rollins Pond and assumed that it led to our destination. It was challenging to get the canoe through the culvert but totally fun! Carrying it up and over the old railway bed was the only other option anyway. Once through the culvert the waterway became very weedy and difficult to navigate. We encountered three other paddlers so we assumed that we were going in the right direction. The waterway suddenly began to narrow down becoming difficult for paddling. The other paddlers disappeared so we assumed they must have turned back. The first of what would later become several beaver dams needed to be crossed. The ponds behind the dams made paddling easier so that was a plus.We forced Gracie our dog into the water as it was getting tedious dragging her extra weight along. She swam and swamp cruised the highly vegetated shoreline often out of our sight. We had no trouble hearing her however as she splashed her way through the thick swamp growths. The entire place had a jungle like appearance. Huge aquatic plants and tall,lush grasses. Bogs and small wetland brush. Lily pads covered some sections of the shallow ponds behind the beaver dams. It was wonderland of quietness and we suddenly started to wonder if we were going in the right direction. There were old chop marks where someone had cleared a path through at some unknown time. We encountered a man made footbridge that we assumed was used by hunters. It was tough paddling and we were expending a fair amount of energy moving forward. The waterway suddenly opened up and split just before a large pond appeared. I was keeping track of the time and mentally calculating the time that we would need to turn back before dark. It would be close if we didn’t reach something soon. We paddled up into the pond that I soon realized wasn’t Floodwood. Too small and there was nothing I recognized. We turned back to the split and headed up against the current. We soon encountered more beaver dams and the stream itself became ice cold. The beaver pond ended and we found ourselves at the end of any discernible waterway to paddle. We decided to turn back. Heading back was tough on our spirits having not reaching our goal but there was nothing else to do. We were muddy,wet, and scratched up from the brushy narrow spots. Eventually we reached the culvert and with some difficulty made our way back into Rollins Pond. Back at the camp we checked the map stashed in the camper. Epic fail to reach Floodwood! We had made our way up into Rock Pond we soon learned. But it was quite the adventure into a place few people seem to go.Wild and quiet. The kind of place that later you realize was worth the effort. True Adirondacks. We laughed about it later after the bug bites and scratches healed.

Here begins the true continuation.It was Saturday and I was alone with only Stella the dog for company. I felt like I needed a break from the noisy,busy surroundings of the campsite. Civilized camping comes with some conditions.For our adventure I decided to push further up the creek that empties in Floodwood that I had discovered last August in the hopes of finding a hidden pond or lake.I had gone up it a short distance but the pouring rain had finally chilled me so I felt it wise to turn back.Saturday the forecast was hot and dry. The perfect sort of day to explore. I knew the creek would be challenging but I had no clue to what degree. Getting there was pleasant enough. I spotted an osprey diving down to grab a fish but it appeared to miss the target. There were plenty of other paddlers around but everyone was spread out given the size of the ponds. I reached the mouth of the creek and hopped out for some photos. I waded up for a while getting past some small beaver dams but the water got deep in spots so I paddled as long as I was able. I suddenly came across a couple in a canoe much to my surprise. I asked the young man where did the creek go but he didn’t know or if it even was passable. He did say I would reach a bridge where a road crossed. Stella and continued upstream passing under the bridge shortly after. A truck pulling a trailer load of canoes crossed the bridge filling the forest with noisy echoes. The creek soon became choked with fallen trees but it appeared that someone had forced their way through at some point. Encouraged I pressed forward dragging the canoe along with Stella adding weight that wasn’t a problem at that moment. It was a lovely setting despite the fallen trees and shallow water. Balsam scents filled the air and everything was fresh from all the recent rainfall. Large pines and hemlocks pressed in upon the narrow stream. The current was rather swift and the creek flowed with a melody of natural forces. I was becoming a little frustrated with the constant obstacles however.Some were huge trees and often several were interconnected in a maddening tangle. I no longer suspected that other paddlers had been through ahead of me. I began to seriously wonder just how far did this meandering Creek continue? We pressed on with stubborn fervor. I decided to let Stella wade beside me. She got smart and ran along the shoreline. Quitting wasn’t an option I was entertaining at the moment. I suppose I could write many more words about our struggle up the creek but if you can picture the maze of fallen timber, shallow water, and the efforts of dragging the canoe then that pretty much covers it!However there was a positive facet of the mission! Quiet, pristine forest all to myself! A babbling brook where few venture. The deer flies and mosquitoes were a slight inconvenience but they weren’t too bad. The brook contained small fish that were difficult to identify in the current. Trout perhaps? I rounded a bend in the creek and was suddenly rewarded with a magnificent sight! A concrete sluiceway under what must have been a railway or road. There was an old battered sign that stated canoe access only. Strange. Getting through the sluiceway was difficult but we managed. The sluice way was inscribed with the date 1927. Whoever had constructed it had taken pride in their craftsmanship. We pressed beyond with a refreshed determination.For a time the creek was a little easier to wade and I became encouraged that I would soon reach something. But it became shallower and choked with deadfalls once again. I was becoming somewhat fatigued and with a heavy heart decided to scrap the adventure. Stella and I got a thrilling ride down through the sluiceway shortly after. We climbed up the steep grade and discovered what I recognized as the old railway bed. After that we plowed our way back to Floodwood and paddled back to the campsite. I was shot! I got out my maps and studied the route had taken. I had been close to reaching ponds but how close will remain a mystery for now. The map shows splits in the creek that I never saw. It shows two sluiceways under the old railway. The questions remain for the moment. Should I return and press beyond? I think I will present it to Zane when he arrives Monday. I think the draw of ripping through the sluice way a few times might seal the deal!And I might not mention all those many deadfall’s! I will leave out a few! ✍️

Summer Begins

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It’s been a busy time these past couple weeks. Lots of details in our modern lives to attend to as most people would agree. I made a grueling trip to Buffalo with the Airstream for its annual checkup at my dealer near Orchard Park. It was a long day that started early at 4am and finished at 10 pm when I returned. The interstate is a wild place to spend 10 hours driving. Even after a layover.The magnitude of the energy it takes to keep us all in motion is rather mind boggling to me. Out on the road with all the other vehicles I realize that perhaps this way of life we enjoy will no longer be possible at some point. The traffic on the interstates runs 24/7 and that thought itself makes my head spin!Gasoline prices have shot up dramatically in recent months. Traveling with the Airstream will come with a steeper price tag. It’s not something I hadn’t considered before purchasing it. It’s just a new reality of cost per destination. And so enters the revised summer plan.

Jen had booked us time at Rollins Pond beginning June 20th and running till June 30th. I sit here on the campsite beach tapping out this post while the busy lives of Happy Campers fill the air with sound. Conversations that carry from nearby campsites. A mix of French and English on this particular site. There’s barking dogs and gleefully screaming children. A late running generator grinds along with steady precision. I turned our suitcase Honda off early and will rely on the Zamp solar charger to power up the batteries till later today. It’s a nice addition to our boondocking set up. Out in front on the pond there is a constant procession of paddlers going by. My neighbors left to do some fishing and I expect they will be gone most of the day again. Nice young men and very polite when I met them Thursday night. I offered them an extension cord to power their trolling motor battery charger yesterday while I was charging the batteries during the evening generator time slot. They were used their truck inverter and needing to run the engine. I figured why have them waste their gas? They were thrilled that I offered. Being a good neighbor makes a difference when surrounded by other campers. Last year one of neighbors used to start my generator while I was still at work. It was a grand act of kindness I felt so I bought them a gift certificate to a local Italian restaurant in Tupper Lake. Out front the pond remains calm under mostly sunny skies. Stella the dog guards the campsite from red squirrels and chipmunks while a feeding fish surfaces very close to me. The day is getting well underway. Time to make a solid plan for a paddling adventure! But first a glimpse at our new summer strategy.

Jen follows the campground cancellations closely and has managed to book us some rather substantial Adirondack camping time. We will be spending it between Fish Creek and Rollins Pond. I will need to move the Airstream several times in a roving cycle of days. It’s actually handy as I will use the move days to hit the dumping station and refill the water tank. We scrapped our proposed New England/Canada trip due to circumstances beyond our control. I can’t mention those circumstances here but wanted to emphasize the importance of making quick decisions and landing on our feet. For me it’s all about the importance of using the travel trailer to its fullest potential. Things are flexible and I have the ability to work part time at the Lake Placid Olympic Center Revitalization Project again this summer. So it’s a bit of a free for all as we move forward. Life throws so many unexpected challenges our way and some people seem to get more then others. I hope to find a quiet getaway today where I can reflect and find a place of positivity to move forward. I go to find those things that nature has placed for me to discover. The Adirondacks are becoming a second home to it seems as I spend more and more time here. Camp life is filled with small task and flows with a daily rhythm. Coexistence is a big part of this camp life. Not all neighbors are polite and respectful unfortunately. The water beckons and it’s time to get moving! ✍️

Beyond It’s On.

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The daylight increases with each passing day as summer solstice quickly approaches. It’s been a busy spring between my part time work and everything else that needs to be tackled post maple syrup season. There’s equipment to clean and store as well as a sugar house to fill with firewood for next season. We have managed to procure some decent slab wood to fast track the process. I was fortunate to secure some Adirondack goof off time while camping back in May. I will start the story there as several memorable events occurred.

I briefly posted on May 23rd about the start of the 2022 camping season. It’s the post titled “It’s On!”.This post highlights some of the more memorable events that followed. It started out a bit wet my first week of camping but I found time to finish a novel that I had been reading for some time. I got caught in the rain one afternoon while paddling up the Fish Creek and headed to Floodwood Pond. It’s a lovely paddle through narrow connecting waterways in a couple of spots. It got pretty windy as I was returning especially on Little Square Pond. Waves don’t trouble me too much typically but it had gotten rather chilly and going into the water wasn’t something that I relished all that much. Gracie held down the bow of the canoe which always helps me control my progress into the wind. She’s a good canoe dog until we get close to shore and she can’t wait to hop out. This backfired on her recently when she jumped out into deep water and totally submerged for a moment! Back at the camper I turned on the furnace and got dried out after awhile. Gracie retired to her dry blanket under the camper out of the rain. My evening was spent reading and enjoying a simple dinner that I made inside the camper. Outside cooking is great but only when the weather cooperates! Jen showed up on Wednesday and we explored Lake Luey near Indian Lake with the canoe. The rocky face of Snowy Mountain got me thinking about the weekend. After paddling we ventured over to Longview Lodge in Long Lake for dinner. It’s a favorite place of ours while staying in the Adirondacks. Great food and a nice atmosphere.A bit pricey but we feel it’s always worth it!The following day was spent exploring the area leading up into the Moose River Plains on a car road trip since it was raining intermittently. I hope to further explore this area sometime when the gates are open. They are kept closed during mud season and open just before Memorial Day. This roughly 80,000 acre tract offers primitive camping along the dirt access road. It’s destined to be a future adventure journey!

Friday found me returning to Hammond to pick up Zane and bringing him back up to the campsite. He had expressed some interest in hiking fire towers so I mentioned Snowy Mountain which has one. We decided to hike there Saturday as the weather looked promising. It was going to be a hot one and the black flies would be out full force!Saturday morning came quickly and we decided to stop for brunch at Chef Darrel’s Mountain Cafe in Blue Mountain Lake before tackling the mountain. The dogs ( Friday we had picked up Stella!)were welcome to sit outside with us on the deck. Great breakfast of eggs Benedict washed down with vanilla milk shakes. Anything goes at brunch time!Fully fortified we headed to the trailhead several miles beyond the hamlet of Indian Lake. I hadn’t told Zane the entire story of why I wanted to climb Snowy Mountain.

Snowy Mountain is known as the 47th Adirondack high peak unofficially. That was the draw for me but the fire tower had convinced Zane to go. There was some confusion however about the total distance round trip. One site listed it as 7.8 miles while another said 7.1 miles. The state sign by the road said 3.4 miles one way. 6.8 round trip. No matter we decided. The hike to Snowy Mountain started out fairly easy and there were plenty of streams for the dogs to enjoy.The trail was well maintained and wound its way through a mixed deciduous growth with many large trees. Eventually the trail began to ascend quite aggressively and the forest changed to conifers. There were a few other hikers on the trail most of them returning from the summit. The black flies weren’t too bad provided we were moving. It was hot most definitely and the dogs were overheating at times. Zane dunked his head and upper body into a super cold stream while the dogs were resting. The trail continued to rise and the streams were left below us. The trail became steep and rocky with a trickle of water keeping some of the flatter surfaces slick. It’s a game of foot placement for me. Zane leaps and scrambles with a recklessly controlled rhythm. I envy his youthful ease! I was feeling somewhat out of shape but managed to keep up rather well. The dogs were struggling with some of the steeper rock scrambles but managing well overall. The last section before the false summit was quite aggressive but we soon reached the flat overlook below the actual summit. Further up we found fire tower and no view whatsoever. At the top of the fire tower the views were incredible! The dogs only went up partway however as the wire fencing surrounding the stairs was missing near the top. Too risky for them we decided. We took pictures and celebrated our latest summit! The return trip was difficult for me and seemed to last forever. I joked with Zane about it being 3.4 miles in and 3.9 miles out! The black flies increased their intensity and became rather irritating. We finally reached the car and enjoyed the return trip. Hot showers and dinner made for an early evening. We spent the next day paddling up to Floodwood Pond and catching a few panfish for fun. We released all of them even the keepers. And just like that the weekend was over.

The remainder of camping trip was spent working at the Olympic Center in Lake Placid. Evenings were short after a 10 hour work day and short commute back to the campsite. Jen came up Thursday night and we hit another favorite restaurant of ours in Tupper Lake. It’s called Amado. Brazilian flair with several unique entrees to try out. We always enjoy it there! Pet friendly in certain sections too! We packed up the campsite some Thursday night and did the rest Friday morning. The trip was over! A successful one filled with special memories! MOONTABS!Adventure waits for us to discover it. The thrill of new destinations and the comfort of familiar settings. Balanced out and lived to the fullest! ✍️

MOOSE ON ThE LOOSE!

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Hey readers and followers! I have decided to try something a little different today! There has been a lot of interest in some of my recent Facebook posts that only a limited amount of people ever get to read. So I thought why not share some of that more personal albeit shorter and less wordy content here sometimes! After all, I spend time getting it up on my wall for a very small group of friends.

Anyone who followers my blogging knows that I spend a lot of time driving to and from the Adirondacks. We see numerous whitetail deer and once in a blue moon a black bear. I always search for moose as we drive but have never seen one myself. Jennifer once saw three at once several years ago! They have become much more common and the number of sightings continues to increase. Last fall one was struck and killed by a car. Too often an occurrence unfortunately but one destined to happen. Driving after dark on Adirondack highways is always a gamble just from the deer themselves. Imagine encountering a moose in your headlights? Yikes! Things were about to change for me and the event unfolded as only I could have imagined it! Here’s my original Facebook post:

I recently got see an adult cow moose on Route 458 on the way to Lake Placid early on a Wednesday morning. My first ever Adirondack moose! It was something that I have waited for patiently. It’s a part of something that I call MOONTABS In Motion. Memories and connections to nature. A writing project of mine. Priceless and unexpected are moments such as these. And all that had consumed my thoughts that morning on the drive would fade away in the magic of a simple moment. And my energy would be restored by nature as it had been so many times. I found positive energy in the simple sighting of a moose.There was a greater sense of peace throughout the remainder of the day. I read deeply into nature. For in simplicity there is balance. A lifelong journey of experience and exploration.✍️

Short and sweet was my post but my emotions have ran high ever since. A Chance encounter that added a twist to my list of Adirondack experiences! One I hope to repeat in a different manner someday. Imagine if you could drift up on one in a river or lake? Just wanted to share a little something that I found extraordinary! Until the next adventure! It’s MOONTABS In Motion!

It’s On!

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Spring moves forward with a mixed bag of weather it seems. Super dry in the St. Lawrence valley until recently. The rains followed days of unseasonably hot weather. Hot. Cool. Cold. Hmmm. Just like the days of life. But always moving forward and counting the positive blessings. Task fills the hours and I wonder how I ever managed to keep up prior to retirement. Such thoughts fill these posts. Time the avenger The Pretenders called it. Last post May 7th. A lot has happened!

Camping season came up fast and found me totally behind schedule. A smoked out water heater control board in the Airstream that I blew off since it failed last October. Happy ending to cut that story short! I purchased an American made replacement from Dinosaur and tossed the junk “made in China” one that has plagued so many Airstream owners. After that things ramped up rather smoothly. No leaks in the travel coach fortunately. But I had blown the lines down per specifications. It pays off usually when we follow advice and procedure. Other than cleaning it was ready to roll. So it was back up, hitch, and roll. Well maybe a little more than that! The camping location had been booked months before so it was destination bound. Camping season was off and running! Pretty wild considering that one year ago we were staying in a rented camper! What to say about the drive? A 2022 Ford F-150 Powerboost for a tow vehicle ready to test. 417 ponies out front and only a 2 hour trip to the campsite. No problem!

As far as the details of hitting the campsite? Tested and tried out last season. Easy money on our large Adirondack water site. Backing into the sites has gotten much easier for me with experience. Zane,Jen, and I made short work of it at any rate. Parked under the pines the camper quickly became home. The chores done and a simple dinner consumed it was campfire time! A beautiful night for a fire once the early arriving black flies went to bed. A light breeze and the sounds of the other Happy Campers around the ponds added to the mood of settling into life on the ADK clock as I so often call it. I sat back in my chair under the stars and watched for orbiting satellites. Always a fixture of the modern night sky these days they have become a constant. I think back to the days of my youth and the first time I ever saw one as dawn was breaking over a North Gouverneur sky. We were bringing in my cousin’s dairy herd for morning milking and searching for a new born calf. Decades ago now and the satellites are much more common in the heavens. Change was gradual I suppose.

We hit it hard that first day of camping. Paddling and a little fishing. Super hot and buggy. Unseasonal and intense I soon realized as my uncovered skin burned. Damn! Forgot the sunscreen! The calm water was great for paddling but the dogs Stella and Gracie were frying so it was beach time. We had done two short canoe carries to reach a somewhat remote pond with a nice beach. We chilled for some time and Zane waded in the shallows chasing tadpoles. Not me! This pond of beautiful sand contains large leeches! No thx! We began to notice increasing black clouds and distant thunder so we decided to head back over the carries. Good decision on our part as we soon encountered whitecaps on the bigger lake we needed to cross. We barely made the camp and secured everything before the rains hit with considerable force.We hunkered down in the Airstream and made preparations for dinner while we waited for the storm to pass. Eventually Zane got the campfire going and we cooked a rack of pork ribs over the coals. Yum! Camp life was in full swing! The rains returned and we dined inside while the Honda generator charged our batteries in advance of the night to come. Boondocking keeps us busy at this campground of no hookups.But we were the Happy Campers once again! It was on and in motion with minimal glitches! The weather is unpredictable and part of it all. In our cozy Airstream it causes us no concern as we call it a day and go to sleep! The adventures wait for us to discover them!The spirit energy soars in the exhaustion of memorable days! Morning coffee will seal the deal! Loaded with maple syrup and waiting for the buzz of the new day! More to come of this trip! ✍️

Beyond The Run Of The Mill

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Several months ago I began the “Run of the Mill” stories as a manner in which to preserve some of my personal rural heritage history. People have told me that they wish to hear more of those long past decades. I have a tendency to wander aimlessly through those decades.It’s all connected though! Often my certain memories are triggered by the changing of the seasons. I feel that affords better story telling with greater emotional connection. One particular set of memories stands out with a certain clarity beginning in 1996. A series of events began to connect and would ultimately lead in unexpected directions. It started quite simply in 1996 with the purchase of 110 acres of rural property on the edge of the Macomb/Rossie town boundary. It was a mere 7 miles from my father’s farm giving it the advantage of proximity but there was a larger draw. The undeveloped potential of the land. There was a modern element of homesteading that appealed to me in some unique manner. In fact many years prior to purchasing the property I had driven past different times and noticed that very potential. I had always expected someone to develop it but it never happened. The main feature of the property that caught my eye was the open meadow that stood at the base of a wooded ridge line. There were no power lines on the property nor access roads of any kind. It’s difficult to say why it held such appeal but I suppose it was the sheltered way the meadow was tucked in between the surrounding ridges. Also the fact that there were no neighbors in sight either. One day in 1996 I noticed a small For Sale By Owner sign by the road. I walked the property with the owner and was immediately hooked.We had strolled through the numerous stands of tall white pine and found ourselves on the bank of the Bostwick Creek. A group of ducks gave flight from the lower end of a large beaver pond and flew up over a steep ridge of red oak trees. A small meadow sat adjacent to the beaver pond in a basin of sorts surrounded by forest. I knew that the property was perfect at that point. It would take some work to make it a homestead but I found that exciting actually. Perhaps I envisioned myself as some type of pioneer. Some trimming and clearing began later that year along the edges of the meadow. I laid out the driveway first and it was installed in 1997. It was built right along the edge of the forest so it would be minimally invasive to the meadow’s appearance.The site for a 26’x40’ garage/barn was staked out for construction that fall.Some test holes were excavated to determine if a cellar was possible for the future house. Macomb is known for its veins of bedrock that reach the surface with no predictability.No bedrock was discovered but the hard clay soil of the meadow’s side hill would require custom drainage systems. Big plans were brewing for 1998.The hard work was truly about to begin! As winter approached I cut a logging road into a back section of the property where some of the white pine was beginning to die off. In January my father and I began to harvest white pine logs from the property using a team of horses that he trucked in on Saturday mornings.An area of the forest was targeted and we constructed a landing in a slightly open spot under some large pines that were to remain. I did all the felling and limbing in addition to hitching the logs for skidding. The logs were skidded a short distance to the landing then loaded onto a horse drawn wagon and taken out to the edge of the highway to be piled on a side hill staging area.Mid day we would eat our lunch right in the woods while the horses munched on some hay my father had brought in a grain sack. It was busy work and we left tired at the end of the day. We worked the same section for several Saturdays and made great progress due to the lack of snow. I clear cut my way through the stands leaving plenty of young healthy trees beyond the slash. A buffer zone now lay between the dead trees and the living. The pine logs were high quality and very fun to fell! Tall and straight with few limbs near their bottoms. There was a certain thrill in the prospect of turning them into lumber as they fell one by one with crashing roars. I would get lost in the work and move from one to the next. Using a chainsaw requires focus especially when limbing. The large pines often crush smaller hardwoods when they land. These bent over saplings possess incredible stored energy and are very dangerous to the feller. Spotting them is crucial to avoid injury! I call them “slap sticks” and for good reason! I employed a “layered” approach to the felling. I would fell a pine and trim it into skid logs which my father would then extract with the team. The next tree would be felled on top of the “slash” layer. The aftermath looked a little raw but the amount of young pine that remained standing was impressive to say the least. We would never lack for building materials provided the forest remained healthy. It is interesting to note that the slash areas healed quickly over the subsequent years and the skid roads became handy access trails for harvesting firewood.Later that spring we targeted another stand of healthy trees close to the future garage site.Another access road was carved in following the lay of the land. Staking out the access roads was a pleasant job that I truly enjoyed! A large network of potential trails began to appear to me at this point and I envisioned the true potential of a sustainable,healthy forest plan. That story must wait for now. I crafted a landing near the targeted ridge where we would be extracting logs. This area was experiencing a die off similar to the one we had just harvested. The cutting yielded some very large logs that were perfect for creating pine siding boards. This section of forest contained more hardwood species so felling was a bit tricky! The logs were hauled by the horse drawn wagon out to the driveway area to a second staging area.A higher section of the ridge had been heavily damaged by a wind event. I began to map out a future trail system to reach the area for a salvage cut. It was a fun part of the homestead process for me. The raw and undeveloped property was an ideal project of future forest stewardship. The property was so much different than the semi-open farm property where I had grown up.It was a true forest of some magnitude and I loved exploring its rolling terrain.From the clearing of the second landing the ground fell away into a deep valley.The back meadow and beaver pond on the Bostwick Creek were visible from there. It was a lovely place to relax and dream. We decided that our stockpiles of logs were adequate so the logging was concluded. Sometime in April after maple syrup season we trucked the logs to the Amish sawmill to be custom sawn for our barn/garage framing requirements.All the lumber was trucked back and unloaded by hand. I stacked and “stickered”it up on top of crib piers that I constructed from concrete blocks. Stickering lumber allows it to air dry by keeping the pieces separated by narrow strips of lumber. We hired a backhoe operator to prep the hill side garage site and managed to it leveled for building. An Amish crew began to work shortly after. Footers were poured and layers of block were laid to build the garage into the side of the hill.The barn/garage was tucked into a notch in the meadow at the end of the driveway. The gambrel roofed barn/garage went up quickly and was soon finished minus the doors. I made some temporary doors from plywood that fall and stored extra lumber inside. Electricity was brought to the corner property a year later after reaching a deal with the power company. Conduits were buried to bring power and phone to the garage to keep the pristine appearance of the meadow intact. . The stage was now set for the next part of the homesteading project. Planning began for the actual house. It would be constructed in 2001. The logging project that led to the barn/garage being built brought a sudden realization to the table. Why haul logs from the property only to haul the lumber back again? We began to consider buying our own sawmill from that day forward. My father pushed for the purchase and in 2003 I agreed to buy one with him. We chose a portable sawmill that was popular with the Amish. The Brubacher . Made in Canada using minimal hydraulics and no high end technology. We chose the gas powered option with a 25 horsepower Robins Subaru engine. Capable of cutting a 20 foot log with a 30 inch circumference. Solid and sturdy in its simple design. The new direction began to show itself that year as I learned to become a sawyer. I began to recognize my connection to my late grandfather as he had been a logger and sawyer in the 1960’s. My father had worked in the woods his entire life as well. I was already close to my father and frequently worked with him at the farm but something new was beginning to take shape. A new era of bonding and deeper father/son friendship formed as we began working together with our new sawmill toy. If only I could gift that feeling to the world and truly emphasize what it meant to me! A transformation was underway. One that would no unnoticed in the busy task of daily life. But the spirit energy would find me on the weekend when I walked the trails of the homestead property. It radiated from the scent of the pine lumber of the newly constructed barn/garage. Something much larger called out to be acknowledged in the hidden recesses of pine groves where nature ruled with quiet dominance.I suddenly began to question everything that was my normal vocation and began to yearn for something different. Looking back now I am truly thankful for all that followed. I can’t say it was planned and executed with a larger strategy. It just kind of showed itself and was decided along the way.It’s a story that deserves to be told in greater detail to truly capture the spirit of the moment. Many things were bound to happen. Many things did happen. These would be the years of self discovery and ultimately the start of something that continues to grow. The years of blood,sweat, and tears I’ve called them. They passed fast it seems now. I found a part of myself in those years that had laid dormant like a seed waiting for it’s time to grow. The spirit energy flowed strong and fast. My heart told me to chase the possibilities so I did. There are few regrets and oh so many blessings. Those memories I have named MOONTABS.

Soundtracks

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It’s been quite a busy stretch these past few weeks with maple syrup season occupying most of my time it seems. We ended up having a successful season despite the up and down weather swings.The reserve taps really paid off and allowed us to maintain an average sap intake right up to the end. We finished our season with the sugar house woodshed almost empty and now in need of a refill. Much of the cleanup has been completed as of this past week so that’s always a relief. Zane and I washed 400 plus buckets in a couple days just one week ago. The evaporator becomes a giant water heater once all the sap is removed from it and supplies all the bucket washing water we need. It’s a boring job that we made better by playing music on a Bluetooth speaker. We enjoyed simple conversations and I told stories about random events that had occurred many years ago. Certain words would trigger song titles and bands. A quick trip to U-tube would bring back songs that I rarely heard anymore but had never forgotten. Zane enjoyed the songs of Nazareth,Thin Lizzy, and Rush just to name a few. The passage of time has not diminished my love of music nor kept me confined to one time period. These days I have evolved into a roving listener of heavy rock sounds coupled with thought provoking rhyming lyrics. I can change stations at will in my vehicles where Siris satellite radio can be replaced by Pandora with ease. Am and Fm radio has been forgotten in my desire to never hear commercials or news broadcasts. Who needs to listen to the weather when it’s only a key stroke away? Why ever listen to the same repetitive music when there are so many new and intriguing songs to sample? I find myself drawn to the indie rock artists quite frequently and really branch out into some new horizons. Music has changed over the years but what has truly changed are my methods of accessing and listening to it. Gone are the portable Am/Fm radios of my youth. Gone are the days of cumbersome portable music players. Gone now the 8-track tapes and cassettes. As are the CDs.We used to lug our players everywhere. I was telling Zane about taking our portable 8-track players on camping trips when I was a teenager. They required the large D cell batteries to power them. On cold nights they drained quickly and we were sometimes forced to place our players close to the campfire to keep them going. This led to some being slightly melted as you might suspect. Fast forward. ( there’s a term for you! ) On the side of our old sugar house there is a simple shelf constructed years ago. It once held the antenna for my portable satellite radio unit. The hours of boiling sap were made more pleasant with the commercial free tunes echoing throughout the sugar house. An inverter connected to an old tractor battery kept it powered and also powered the lighting. I no longer rely on a portable satellite radio unit. These days I use my phone to sync up to a Bluetooth speaker to supply the music when boiling sap. Silence is fine at times in the sugar house with the only music coming from the boiling sap,rising steam clouds, and the crackling of the fire under the evaporator pans.Why such focus on music? Music helps pass the time away when faced with menial task. It can set the pace and fuel the energy. I once enjoyed playing music on the numerous construction sites where I spent much of my time. These days the project managers prohibit music on the job most of the time. Their reasons are flat and rather foolish quite honestly. The ear splitting cacophony of a construction site is far worse than some of the screaming heavy rock I enjoy in my opinion. Good thing I am mostly retired these days. I’d need to go rogue and play my music somehow. About 12 years ago I was working on a barracks project at Fort Drum. Music of any kind was forbidden even ear buds. The repetitious work I was doing forced me to thwart their rules however. I rigged up my tiny iPod in my hard hat and hid my ear bud wire in my hoodie. I was never caught and enjoyed the simple pleasures of music at work. Yesterday I was faced with a long day on the highway. Twelve hours of towing a U-haul to West Virginia. Satellite radio ruled the day once again. I was all over the map in so many ways. But the miles passed behind in a soundtrack of success. The trailer was delivered safely and the objective was completed. The music played the entire time during the trip. There are times when nature plays the ultimate soundtrack. Crying loons and the nighttime chorus of frogs. The crickets of late August as yet another summer speeds onward. The lapping of waves and the wind in the pines above the tent in some remote destination. One doesn’t need the man made music in those moments.I explained once to Zane about the song writer’s potential dilemma. The songwriter has but a few short minutes to tell a story or make their message clear. The writer of novels has much more time. As does the blogger. I can follow my forward progress of gathered years through memory and deed. I can accompany those memories with music from living and listening during those gathered years. I seek to be the creator of lasting impressions. From these short sentences can the reader connect and begin to create their own soundtrack of life? The magic of the rhyming stories that I so love to write (when they show themselves to me)has always been inspired by music and simple lyrics. There is no rhyme nor reason this particular April day. Only the desire to move forward and complete the tasks before me. Short and sweet as they say. It’s MOONTABS In Motion here in West Virginia for a time.

The Many Changes Of A Season

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March 20th. We have been maple sugaring for a full two weels now after tapping our first trees on Saturday March 5th. The weather continues to challenge our efforts with its roller coaster swings but we have managed to make some good quality syrup. Thursday’s temperature was a bit extreme though (70 degrees) and the nights have remained above freezing since. Zane and I decided to tap some additional trees Friday regardless since I feel it will boast our sap production this upcoming week as temperatures begin to drop at night. Freezing nights and warm days make for good sap flow typically. We targeted some of our larger maples that survived the 2016/2017 die off in two different sections of our former sugarbush. We call them the reserve trees. They have sat fallow for the last two seasons as we waited to assess the fate of our forest. The reserves sit in a mixture of dead ones sprinkled with the stumps of some we removed as part of the salvage project. It’s taken some mental acceptance to move forward in these devastated woods. It’s been heartening to note the number of young saplings that are going to replace the fallen giants in time. The trails continue to require clearing as the upper canopies continue to fall during each big wind event. It’s getting better in some sections though. This season many of our taps are on our neighbor Tom’s property again. Similar to last year actually. We call the trail system we carved out two years ago the “Big Loop”. It takes some time to gather all the buckets around it’s meandering route. There are four runs of “mini-tubes” that collect from small clusters of hard to reach trees. I have covered some of these facts in previous posts if you have been following our stories. At the moment we have close to 500 taps set after Friday’s work adding about 60 more. Things are pretty normal in the sugar house once we got set up and rolling. A leak in the drop flue back pan gave us some concern but luckily the fire sealed it off. We will need to have it reconditioned this summer after we finish up boiling. We still have plenty of firewood for the evaporator but will use up most of it if the season lasts long enough. We are using a dry slab wood/hardwood mix again this year. It works great at keeping the evaporator stoked. We usually need to fire up the evaporator twice between batches. Our old 4×10 foot unit produces about 2 gallons of syrup per hour average. A full storage tank of sap is about 400 gallons which translates into about 5 hours of actual work boiling. There’s lots of activity in the sugar house during a fully fired boil. Constant firewood to handle and move in from the attached woodshed. Jen or Zane usually assist with that when they are available. There’s hot syrup to strain and pack after each batch is drawn. I don’t sit much if I am working alone some days. The evaporator is a engine of sorts where the air damper acts as a carburetor and the firewood is the fuel. Keeping a steady constant boil takes practice but isn’t too difficult really once you learn the needs of the evaporator. Monitoring the flow of sap into the evaporator is crucial for maintaining the needs of the evaporator. This is accomplished with a simple device known as a float. The float rises and lowers with the evaporator level opening or closing a simple valve. Once set up it just needs to be watched. I listen for it actually. Immediately after firing the evaporation the boil intensifies and more sap enters the raw sap chamber of the back pan. This produces a certain sound that you learn to recognize as a properly functioning float system. You also learn to recognize when the sap trapped in the finishing pan gets close to becoming actual syrup. Tiny golden bubbles rise to the surface and prompt the operator to start testing the batch. We use a simple hydrometer in a test vial for hot testing boiling sap. It works fine and I keep a new one on hand to verify the accuracy of the one that I am actually using. All this may seem a little boring perhaps but this is a snapshot into a typical boiling day. We test each batch of syrup for color grade before tagging the containers for sale. I also taste test each batch for quality. Especially as we move into the mid-season and the sap quality deteriorates due to tree budding and increased bacteria count. No worries about the bacteria!They are destroyed in the intense boiling procedure and merely contribute to altering the color of the finished product. We have been producing good quality syrup to date that is graded as Amber Rich. Probably the favorite of the majority of our customers. Myself I prefer the hearty syrup that is graded as Dark Robust. Full maple flavor with a darker color. Eventually the syrup will pass into a commercial grade product that we will barrel up to sell. These are just a few of the changes we experience in any given syrup season. This year we are experiencing a number of other changes as well unrelated to the maple syrup season. Friends and family who are facing serious health issues and treatment decisions. Some who are losing their battles to ongoing health situations. I shun from politics on my blog but the state of world affairs at this moment is disturbing and troubling. All this things can burden the heart and dampen our spirits at times. They press on us and occupy our thoughts far too often. In the forest gathering sap and in the sugar house I seek a peaceful place of reflection where I try to count my blessings and find inner strength. Not just for myself but to help others as well. These are trying times and I seek to find a positive momentum forward. We are in the midst of great change. Both in reality and in season. Spirit energy can guide us I feel. To a place where we might relax with natural connection and wholesome reflection. Today we move forward into the ever changing syrup season of 2022.

The Annual Run Of The Mill

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The story of logs,logging, and sawmills encompasses several decades of my life in its entirety. It’s important to note though that much of my time in the woods each season was spent harvesting firewood. I burned wood for a good many years after leaving home.All told some 27 years or so overall. I also would help my Father cut wood for the farmhouse in my spare time. We used smaller firewood in the sugar house to fuel the evaporator as well. All that wood cutting kept us rather busy each fall and winter. I have never cared for cutting wood in the summer so typically would take a break in the warmer months. We didn’t own a wood splitter until the fall of 2004 so all our wood was hand split up until then. Big blocks of dead elm were burned without splitting them given their stringy composition. I sometimes used a hammer and metal wedges to split large blocks but usually used an eight pound splitting maul. It was an excellent workout and kept me very fit! Heating with firewood you harvest yourself is a time consuming labor of love. The benefits have always been the draw for me however.For years my cost to heat my home was almost nonexistent. Harvesting the dead trees helped keep the properties cleaner and less unsightly. Coupled with the physical aspect it was a no brainer really! There’s a certain satisfaction in harvesting firewood that can only be found in the experience I have always found. It’s a connection to nature like no other. There’s an independence in not relying on other types of home heating fuels. For years our wood furnaces were located in our homes basements so that meant stacking after throwing it in each time a load was brought home. It would fill the cellar with a certain smell as it dried out depending on the species we were cutting. Burning dry wood was imperative to avoid chimney issues. Chimney cleaning was a part of routine maintenance as was handling ashes and hauling them out of the basement. In 2001 I purchased my first outside boiler system. This would make life a whole lot easier as the mess of bark and ash was kept outdoors. The wood was stacked outside as well. Tarps were handy to keep some of the snow off the piles. Outside boilers brought a greater safety to burning wood as well. No longer were chimney fires a concern. A new era of wood burning was ushered in for me. My Father purchased one shortly after I did and built a woodshed to store his supply of wood. It worked well for him and made things easier overall. We moved to the farm property in 2008 after renovating the farmhouse about a year after my Father’s death in 2007. We continued use his original outside wood boiler for several seasons. New York State pushed to control the use of outside boilers at one point around 2010. New models purchased needed to fall under EPA compliance regulations. I purchased a gasification unit in 2011 to replace the older one at the farm that my Father had installed in 2002. It was a clean burning boiler but required labor intensive cleaning and could only burn super dry firewood. We only used it one winter at the farm before the farmhouse burned. The outside wood boiler was spared luckily. We made the decision to relocate to the small village of Hammond instead of rebuilding at the farm. The house there used fuel oil for heat but I figured out a way to house the outside wood boiler in the large garage and pipe the hot water to the house through an underground thermopex piping system. It was quite the project and a ballsy undertaking as outside wood boilers were not welcome in the village if not entirely banned. I got the project finished before winter and we were once again burning firewood!The gasification unit burned so clean and efficiently that I never had any complaints from anyone in the village. We had added several smoke stack extensions up through the two story garage roof and launched our minimal emissions high into the air. Inside and out of sight the boiler worked well! We trailered in our firewood and stored it under cover in a lean to we build onto the garage.We used the boiler for three winters in Hammond before moving to a new location above Black Lake. The new house we purchased needed a heat source so once again I made the decision to move the boiler! I found a perfect location for it behind the garage there. The big project relocation project was undertaken and completed before winter. It worked well there for five seasons before I began to have serious issues with leaks. Something the manufacturer refused to address properly but that is another story! The house was sold in 2020 and I believe the outside wood boiler was scrapped out. Presently we continue to burn some wood in our cottage wood stove and at the farm. The sugar house still requires its share of firewood each season as well. We also use a small wood stove in the small farm cabin.(we call it “the warming shack”).Most of the firewood we now harvest leaves the farm and is sold to a local customer. My seventeen year old son Zane has been learning the basics of firewood harvesting for years now. I started him out driving the tractor when he was nine. Safely wearing his seatbelt he learned to dump loads of firewood stacked on the tractor loader into the trailer. He enjoyed the task and I felt it helped make a work day fun for him. We would usually take a break and go for a farm walk before heading home to Hammond before dark. Zane continues to learn new skills and has become a huge asset on the landing as we build the loads. He often runs the wood splitter and has begun to learn chainsaw basics. I have hesitated to let him run the chainsaw but I will need to at some point. It’s a dangerous tool and lots can go wrong! It’s a rite of passage for a rural kid though and I once was in his shoes myself. Moving forward I will continue his training and try to insure his safety. I sometimes ponder my fondness of collecting firewood and the time it consumes. I suppose it’s in my blood and given the over abundance of it on the farm presently nowadays it’s not a bad thing. Woodcraft is a skill I want to pay forward to my son as it was paid forward to me. Rural heritage often comes with time consuming menial tasks. But for me there’s a different type of reflection and reward that follows it. The smell of fresh sawdust. The crashing sound of a felled tree. The sight of a finished load of wood next to the warm wood stove. The taste of a simple lunch enjoyed on a break at the farm. The feel of the chainsaw doing it noisy job. The sixth sense emerges as the spirit energy soars into the large skies over the farm property. In simplicity there is peace and a greater understanding of life itself. That is the greatest reward of time and task. Tomorrow we will return to the forest and reap the benefits once again. The evaporator will need the fuel and we must meet its demands. Father and son together.Sharing and making memories. MOONTABS we call them. ✍️