Of Highways,Hikes,Hills,and History: Part 2

Wow! I really took you off my intended path yesterday! I’m worried now that there’s some lost readers in the forests of the Taz Grand Wilderness in need of rescuing! Maybe they will chose to hide and never be seen again rather than being rescued. Who knows?I think I’ll blame Jennifer’s daughter. She may not read the post tonight. She introduced me to some coffee pods called “Electric Buzz”. Are you getting the picture? Me. Nicknamed Taz. Busy gulping maple syrup infused coffee called Electric Buzz while tapping out a blog post?Questionable and possibly a dangerous combination! Today’s coffee spin wore off hours ago so I think I can get you back on the path of Saturday’s interesting adventure. I left you on the Low’s Lower Dam headed to the trailhead. I’ve known about this trail that leads to a pond on the other side of the dam for many years. I always intended to hike it someday but never bothered to take the time or research the pond itself. It’s actually a lake I recently discovered called Big Trout Lake. One of some size in fact. It’s also been called Big Trout Pond as well. Sometimes simply Trout Pond. Jennifer recently bought us the book titled:Hiking The Trail To Yesterday Volume 2 by William C. Hill. We enjoy reading volume 1 by the same author so she purchased volume 2 without question. He’s an author from the Edwards,N.Y. area and injects his stories of trail wanderings with fascinating history. Once I read his description of the trail to Big Trout Lake and what we’d find there I was hooked! The factional information that I am going to share mostly goes to his credit alone. It comes from his research of the Low’s Dynasty as it’s known.I was very familiar with the story of A.A.Low and his Adirondack enterprises. He dammed the Bog River in two locations, generated electricity,built camps, ran a large maple syrup business, and built a rather impressive list of other accomplishments. In time his family liquidated his holdings and the state of N.Y. purchased much of the land. The two dams remain. The lower one the subject of my post and the upper one upstream that holds back the water of Low’s Lake. As I previously mentioned it’s a favorite paddling destination of ours. Beautiful and wild with nature reclaiming the ruins of A.A.Lows empire. I never knew until recently however that the Big Trout Lake area had been part of that empire. Knowing that there were historical ruins to explore proved too much for my curiosity. I felt that a hike back to the lake was in order regardless of any trail conditions we might encounter. Mud season can be tricky but it’s been a fairly dry spring so I hoped the trail would be fine. Here’s the part that might confuse you however. I had only gleaned through the book without making field notes or bothering to consult a map. I left the book home and didn’t bother to read it again before deciding on the hike as a destination. It’s that thrill factor that some explorers crave. I am not immune to seeking thrills. It gets people into trouble sometimes usually because they fail to prepare properly. We didn’t fit that mold Saturday. There’s no mileage sign at the trailhead like some areas of the Adirondacks. Just a wide well trodden path leading up a small grade. Off we set! The trail traveled through a mixed forest of maples, birch, balsam, and spruce. The occasional hemlock graced the forest as did a few white pines but the deciduous trees dominated most of forest. The leaves are just now forming and the woods have an open feel. In shaded groves patches of recent snow lingered but was disappearing fast as the warm sunny day gained heat. There were only a few flies here and there to annoy us as well. The trail continued to rise in elevation and was pleasantly dry most of the time. This changed however in one section and we rock hopped across small cobble stones or sometimes even left the trail . The brown layers of last seasons leaves crunching under our feet were flattened by the winter’s snowfall. Their fragrance earthy and organic to match their plain coloring as they begin to return to the earth. Jennifer and Garrett stopped frequently at points of interest along the trail. There were funky shaped trees covered with many different species of decomposer fungi. Rocks,burls,and a large erratic boulder that I felt compelled to climb. I grew very warm after and needed to shed a layer. Stowed into the day pack after a few sips of water during the break. The trail continued to rise slightly but a break in the trees told me that the land was about to fall away. I figured the lake would greet us as we summited the small ridge but there was only a forested valley below. My companions looked at me for guidance as to the lake’s location but I had nothing to reassure them about the amount of distance remaining. A quick glance at my phone for the time prompted me to make a decision. I decided to leave Jennifer and Garrett behind while I ran ahead to see if I could find the lake. I feared they might wish to turn back if I couldn’t give them tangible evidence of the lakes’s location. The trail turned left in a long sweeping descent of the ridge. Very dry and smooth it was great for a forest jog. I covered some ground quickly and soon reached a place where the trail began to descend rather quickly. I still couldn’t see any lake! I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and decided to ascend another ridge that was directly beside me. It was the highest ground around and with the absence of leaves would give me an extremely good vantage point. I reached its small summit looking East over the much lower ground. Nothing! No lake! I turned 180 degrees scanning the forest for the lake. At first I saw nothing then suddenly it appeared on the far horizon. Water of some magnitude. It had to be the lake! Words can fail to describe the sudden rush I felt. It’s that moment the explorer chases with a tenacious attitude and resolve. It was that moment of seeing something for the first time and the buzz that follows. It reminded me of a pair of beautiful green eyes that had held my gaze some time ago for the first time. Intriguing and deep with mystery. Exploration of another kind had ensued. The brain would buzz and the heart would stir. Very soon the lips would fail to remain silent and utter simple words filled with all a heart might contain or ever hope to contain. There lies that place of peace that beckons through the trees. The sun disappeared behind a cloud and a sudden chill brought me back from my romantic muses. I quickly gauged the distance to the lake and raced back to Jennifer and Garrett. Pleaded the case for continuing the hike as we were painfully close now. They agreed and we continued on with a renewed sense of vigor. The trail remained dry as we continued our descent to the lake. It became more visible through the forest. I suddenly noticed something off to the side in a stand of white pine. A folding camp chair on a primitive camp site below us.A closer investigation revealed old concrete piers also. This had been the location of a cabin or some structure. Some old car parts littered the ground as well. Rusty and unidentifiable. We continued on towards the lake and encountered additional concrete piers. There was a more intact foundation with more loose metal debris scattered about. An old hubcap. A rusty bed frame. Misc. leavings that you’d expect around an old building site. The lake was close now and wind tossed waves slapped the somewhat low shoreline. Floating logs were washed up and pinned into the shallow sandy bottom. The lake surface rolled with small white caps and the far end looked to be close to a mile in the distance. 157 acres of lake I later read. We scouted a small waterfall coming off the ridge. I searched for more building sites but found only a second primitive camp site and a well hidden canoe. I’d later learn that there were once 19 buildings at the end of the lake. Their remains are in a somewhat swampy section that we didn’t scout. It was time to head out and I really didn’t want to leave the peaceful lake setting. We had it all to ourselves. On the descent to the lake I had noticed what I suspected had been another road. I followed it’s downward curve and suddenly spotted an old vehicle! It’s worthy of its own post once I research its timeline. The remainder of our trip out was uneventful but pleasant. My mind full of questions and happy thoughts. I heard the most wonderful sound suddenly. Laughter in the sunny forest. The sound of a happy ADK Girl lost in the moment in this beautiful,pristine place. I offer these memories to you. These MOONTABS and all they truly mean. These are the finest moments one could possibly experience. We came to find a lake. I found so much more. I dedicate this post to Jennifer and Garrett for placing their trust in me once again. For going the distance. Over 15 thousand steps give or take a few. I will be back with Zane to find the ruins we missed. Another story for another day.

Of Highways,Hikes,Hills,and History: Part 1

Friday’s post was a little cloudy and saturated with emotion. I sprinkled you with emotional rain. I hope I didn’t leave you badly soaked! Perhaps today’s post will dry you out! I received several positive comments and one thank you after posting Stalled Out. That’s perfect! I wrote it for one. I wrote it for everyone. Nature teaches us that life can be difficult and heartbreaking. But also joyful and full of hope. Things occur quickly and without warning. Change is a constant of our lives. We must adapt to survive. It’s nothing new or some sudden revelation. It’s a fascinating study of mine. How life has evolved and flourished on our tiny planet. The balance of nature and steady cycle of season. Death and new life. We as modern humans still exist in a struggle of survival. It’s all about love and passion. Dreams and strength. Enough said. I followed through on my message Friday. I headed out with simple goals and a few tasks to complete. I picked Jennifer up at her house. Grabbed the dogs and we headed off to purchase ourselves some badly needed hiking boots. My trusted Merrill’s had logged many muddy Adirondack miles and were ready for honorable retirement. I keep them until there’s nothing left using them around the farm. Jennifer and I enjoyed a simple lunch in Malone. Frozen dog treats for Stella and Max!Yum!We then proceeded up through the Owl’s Head area. I like this part of the Adirondacks so feature it sometime as a travel destination for curious explorers. The remainder of our day was spent traveling around the Adirondacks. A quick stop at the Meacham Lake State Campground for awhile where we enjoyed a quiet abandoned setting. It was one of those carefree days Jennifer and I often enjoy. The road. The Adirondacks. A stop and go joy ride. Turn here! Wait! I just saw something. Go back! A real estate cruise through Saranac Lake then Tupper Lake. Conversations and the sometimes heavy topics that need to be shared with each other. The movement of the vehicle and rhythm of the singing tires frees them at times. The day follows the movement of the sun as do the subjects. The need to stem my steady flow of words and listen closely. Or just enjoy a comfortable silence together. Jennifer might say there’s rarely a comfortable silence around me! I probably shouldn’t drink coffee! She didn’t give me the nickname Taz without a reason! I create an energetic spin that’s a little too intense sometimes. Not always a blessing but it gets us into some interesting situations! Our day closed with a walk through the Higley Flow State Campground. Why all the exploring of campgrounds? Four reasons. Number one: scouting possible camping destinations. Number two: off season means minimal people. Number three: choosing to hike hard durable surfaces during the mud season. Number four: beautiful destinations that are easily reached. If I had to summarize Friday for myself I’d say objectives accomplished! The stalled out attitude gone and the tank was filling with enthusiastic energy. A good rest Friday night would usher in a coffee fueled morning for me. I exited Jennifer’s house while she woke up hoping to spare her from Taz energy for a bit as I tackled some lawn work and played ball with the dogs. The sun rose and the promise of the day showed itself as we completed our short list of tasks. We grabbed Jennifer’s nephew Garrett and headed out with two excited dogs pointed towards the Adirondacks. I had chosen our destination with a gambler’s decision to throw it all on the table as our day would be decided by it.The sun was warm and inviting on our drive as I divulged all that I knew about our hiking location and what we might encounter there. I hadn’t done a lot of research deliberately as I don’t always wish to dissect an adventure with every last detail. I like the buzz of the unknown. My companions asked about the mileage and trail conditions but I had few answers for them. I simply said that I felt it was well within our abilities with our daylight safety margin acknowledged. Zane and I had managed to safely complete our ADK 46 High Peaks quest in September of 2020 learning many things while experiencing those adventures! I was comfortable yesterday with my companions preparedness and abilities. I had chosen the Bog River area near Tupper Lake as we were all familiar with the location. We were forced to park at the locked gate near the access road to the Low’s Lower dam. It’s off bumpy Route 421 alongside Horseshoe Lake.The Low’s Lower Dam site is a favorite paddling destination of ours and is featured in an earlier blog post of mine. The locked gate meant that we would need to walk further to reach the trailhead I sought. It added .75 miles to our hike I later learned. But I felt we needed to complete this hike before black fly season hit in May. Last year our paddle up the flow in mid-May found us under the constant onslaught of biting black flies!Yuck!My reasons for choosing this destination were two fold. A double dip exploration and research outing. I had recently read a DEC notification about the lowering of the water behind the dam to complete necessary repairs for a breach of some sort. Having paddled it so many times in the past I was curious to see what it would look like with less water. Jennifer was interested in this as well as she loves our paddle outings up to Hitchin’s Pond and the upper dam. So the hike would also serve as a scouting mission for a future paddle sometime this year.Jennifer suggested we eat our lunch before heading out on our adventure. We basked bug free on some boulders in the sun while the dogs frolicked and enjoyed their snacks. There’d be less to carry and we would be well fortified prior to walking.We packed waters and some chocolate. We were dressed in season appropriate layers. We were ready!The gravel road beyond the locked gate was dry and easy walking. The scent of balsam teased our nostrils and never fails to draw me into the moment. We could hear the roar of spillway long before we reached the dam. Not before I heard a drumming ruffed grouse however. A sure sign of spring! The DEC had started their work and we found the water level about three feet lower than normal as we approached the dam. We spotted some paddlers up the flow and were reassured that a paddle could still occur at a later date if we desired. I remarked to Jennifer that I am going to need to make the paddle and see what’s become of our beaver friends up there. Just how will they react to the dropping water level? Will they suddenly feel the need to dam the river in a location that’s always been deep with no need for dams? But that is another story and I have no answers yet. Jennifer and I share a special connection to these beaver and this beautiful place. We made wonderful memories here together. As solid as the dam that hold the water back. Ours forever now. The writer in me holds these memories in my heart and in time I will open the gates and release them downstream as stories. The water isn’t meant to stay in one location nor can the dam hold it all back. The water flows with powerful energy and if I am the dam do I need repairing so the sanctuary can remain? Much like the dam I age. The flowing waters of gathered years erode and threaten my strength.It’s a perplexing thought and floats me far from my intended message. A side tributary of the original story that enters behind the dam. One which provides a calm and safe refuge against what could otherwise be a raging set of falls. The pond is deep but never meant to be frozen solid and trapped in eternal silence. The real story of yesterday’s adventure must wait until tomorrow. I’ve simply led you down the gravel road to the dam. I humbly ask you to stand there a moment and get lost in the roar while you search for the rainbows in the spillway spray. The path waits for you on the other side. But you must cross the dam first to see it. This new day can’t wait and tasks must be tackled before the setting sun drops in the west. Part two of this story lives in MOONTABS already secured. The dam will hold it back only briefly. That is the nature of flowing water and flowing words.

The Sum of All Totals

Winter weather still continues to drag its feet so yesterday we decided to take advantage of the lack of snow and grab a mini adventure. I asked Zane if he was interested in exploring the Eastern side of the Beaver Creek gorge near our farm.It’s 3664 acres of state land provide some rugged terrain to explore. There’s little of that acreage that I haven’t explored in the last 4 decades at some point. It’s always been a wonderful place to observe nature. A mix of forest,bare rock outcroppings,and extensive wetlands. Numerous beaver ponds along the actual creek channel and along the small watersheds that feed it. There’s large ledges and deep valleys to cross. It’s difficult to cross the main creek if not impossible in the months other than winter. Occasionally there’s a beaver dam that spans the gorge but those are usually not readily available. We typically explore the Eastern side when “ice walking” becomes available. It’s about timing unless we decide on a snowshoe trek. That’s rarely been the case in recent years. I gauge the weather conditions and make a spontaneous decision to hike it on foot when snow doesn’t hinder our distance.Yesterday I wasn’t sure the main creek had adequate ice thickness to safely hike the wetlands so we took an overland route that kept us on solid ground. We soon found ourselves fighting thick patches of invasive wild honeysuckle. Mixed with “whip brush” and the riddled stands of Scotch pine the state planted over 50 years ago. The Scotch pine never did well as the rocky ridges and fallen rock piles supported numerous porcupines.They developed a fondness for the planted groves and girdled them until they wiped out most of the transplants. The few surviving pines have an alien appearance. Short and stunted they bear the scars left by the porcupines who still continue to further their demise.I mentioned to Zane that it’s too bad they don’t relish the invasives!That sure would make things better for those fighting their way through the brush. Ultimately the brush would prompt us to take to the ice and marshy sections in the lower sections below the ridges where beaver had altered the landscape.The ice is still tricky and it takes some maneuvering to dodge the thin spots.These beaver ponds didn’t exist when I was a boy but the beaver populations have continued to expand since then. They found their way into every trickle and created some new sections of wetland. It’s a cycle that rotates. They move in and create a pond sometimes making it larger each year. Eventually they diminish the availability of feed and move to a new location.The dams eventually rot in disrepair and the water drops. The open area of the pond ( known as a beaver meadow) begins to revert back to a forest or grassland. We crossed a number of active and dead beaver ponds. It was much better walking on the sections of creek and pond ice. Lesson number two of the day for Zane!Lesson one was deciding whether the ice would support us at all. It’s a decision an “ice walker” must weigh heavily or risk a soaking.We managed to stay dry and eventually would be able to get up into some older open growth forest where walking was better. Our destination was an area well known to me since a boy. The Black Ash Swamp.We hit a beaver pond above it first. Also well known to me,I was pleased to notice that it was occupied. The ice was well formed so I suggested to Zane we wear our micro spikes as I intended to keep us on the ice as long as possible. The pond we crossed joined the upper end of our destination just beyond a small overflow. There it was! The Black Ash Swamp.It’s an area that has seen a huge transformation since I was a boy.It’s former brush and the trees that bore its name gone now. Only a few small stumps protrude through the ice. It reassembles a small,shallow lake these days. A product of the beaver and their work of decades.They had first moved into the swamp in the seventies and began flooding the forest.The higher water eventually killed even the moisture resistant black ash trees.The beaver no doubt cut many of them also for their tasty bark.For many years the dead trees stood like skeletons.Gray and bark shed I had walked the ice between them witnessing the transition over a period of years. Rot and wind have broken them down now. I stood on the edge of the former swamp forest and let the memories travel over those years. My father had brought me here when a large stand of hemlocks graced the the higher ground above the swamp. There was a light layer of powder snow that cold,cloudy winter day. We’d come to the swamp for a reason that day!To run our beagle/basset hounds on snowshoe rabbit. The cottontail rabbits of our pasture land had a habit of diving into woodchuck holes and cutting the dogs short of a worthy pursuit. Not so with the large, bounding snowshoe rabbit! They stay afield and easily avoid the much slower hounds. The dogs Snoopy and Hushpuppy jumped a snowshoe in the edge of the swamp that day and gave chase with excited bellows! They sped off after their quarry and would soon get some distance from us. I was the eager boy who wished to run after them! “Stop”We’ll sit here in the hemlocks” my father would quietly say. “But the dogs are getting away!” I replied. “Sit still and wait!Watch closely and you will learn something of the snowshoe rabbit” my father replied.It was cold and I had no wish to sit but did as I was instructed. Glad to have my warm wool pants and wool mittens inside my leather choppers mitts. The collar of my wool hunting jacket hand stitched with a band of cotton flannel by my grandmother’s loving hands.She knew I hated the wool touching my neck so had done it for me.The cold air stung my face and I listened to the distance dogs. Their sounds suddenly seemed closer and they began to return our way. Still on a hot track and moving quickly! I was busy trying to spot the dogs when my father pointed silently. Far ahead of the hounds the ghostly, white snowshoe rabbit was moving directly towards our position. My observations were cut short as my fathers 12 gauge fired once from his position. I was instructed to retrieve the rabbit from the ground but wait for the dogs. They reached me soon after and we let them sniff the rabbit they had brought to us. A tasty meal back home awaited us with scraps and fur for the dogs. I had learned a valuable lesson! The jumped snowshoe will circle and retrace his steps. The hunter must wait and watch. We would only take the one rabbit that day. It was enough and we had the long walk back to the truck. Barn chores and a wood furnace to stoke. As I stood on the edge of the swamp yesterday I pondered the passage of time. My father gone but my own son beside me. The hounds long buried in a special location on the farm. Carefully laid to rest in graves I dug after carrying them some distance in my arms. I no longer have hounds or hunt rabbits. But I still wander the lands of my youth. I show my son my special places and tell the tales. I watch the forests and wetlands change in the seasons of nature. The spirit energy finds me there with positive blessings. Not lost for it is eternal. The years add quicker and I realize that someday I will circle back to where I started my chase of years. To retrace my steps and serve a higher purpose perhaps. If time is the rabbit then I am the hound. Such thoughts are best kept for winter nights long after dark. It was time to keep exploring. There was too much to be found in the moment yesterday to stand still for long. There were things to teach and lessons to be learned. Miles to walk with an ice walkers stride. The distance traveled in must be traveled out.

Beaver Dam

Beaver Sticks Build Beaver Dams

It’s interesting how simple outings in nature inspire a “flow” of words. As the blog develops I realize that flowing words could possibly become white water rapids for someone who just decided to jump in! Tossed around in a confused state not knowing where the stream was headed! Anyone who knows me very well knows my fascination with beaver ponds. My Facebook followers know my obsession with collecting beaver sticks! Jennifer knows better than anyone! My muddy collections messing up her car constantly!They’re the ultimate natural walking stick! A subject of future posts! There’s a much larger connection to nature however that my large furry friends have taught me!It’s nothing new really. It’s going to be a little tricky to follow perhaps! Don’t step out onto those slippery rocks just trying to get a better look! If you get wet you may decide to go home! There’s a path around the white water.When you see it follow it!These rapids of confusion slow eventually! How do I know this? That’s easy! I released the white water! Constantly poking holes in a large manmade dam of negativity upstream! The result was a flood headed downstream! I decided to jump right in and start swimming! Now you must be totally confused! Let’s get nature to slow down that white water! The beaver I mentioned? That’s where they fit in! Anyone who has ever wandered the north country has come across beaver ponds. They can transform the landscape very quickly! They can turn the tiniest trickle into a large sanctuary for themselves. (I always call the beaver in large lakes and rivers “lazy”! They don’t build dams).Beaver dams start small in wisely chosen locations most of the time. It starts with that one stick. Some mud. More sticks. Sometimes the work of one at first. With hard work and determination the beaver dam grows larger. The sticks and mud intertwined make it strong yet flexible.Another Beaver joins the first. A family group forms. More workers with a mission. Behind this dam a sanctuary forms.Calm water. Deep and protecting. A safe home for the beaver. Other species arrive and call it home. Often in time multiple smaller dams are created above and below the original dam. Relief dams they’re called. The waters of the stream have been tamed at this point. The white water rapids may not even exist anymore. Flooding no longer occurs in this habitat. The strong dams control the flow. They need constant maintenance and improvement. The transformation is amazing and inspiring! Enter the blog now! It’s that first tiny dam that has been created with the sticks and mud of life. We’ll add to it. You’ll find flat water to paddle behind the dam as it gets larger and deeper. We’ll build more dams. Call them “categories”. More ponds for you to paddle. They’ll all be connected with channels. Ones of words. You chose your destination. Don’t want to paddle today? Wade in one of the warm,shallower ponds.Your reflection awaits your arrival. Storms of negativity will threaten our dams. But they were built to bend.Adapting to seasons and circumstances.We’ll attend to the weak spots and shore them up.In time we’ll invite you to add your sticks to our dams. This is my vision for the blog .A sanctuary for all to find calm water and enjoy nature! This post inspired by all who say they enjoy my words! Also by my recent adventures with the Adk Girl! 🌲⛰✍️