The Mow Dawg Returns:Part 2

Posted on October 8, 2023December 15, 2023 by Greg Washburn

Part one of this story only encompassed a short two day period! In the end a much larger story would write itself with a journey that almost seems surreal as I sit here in the campground in Cranberry Lake on a very chilly October morning! A stiff north borne wind continues to bring even more rain. It began raining Friday night and has not stopped really since then. But I am warm and dry in the Airstream. Comfortably content as I finish my maple syrup laced Keurig coffee! Today will be a day to catch up. On laundry.Cooking. And if the energy strikes my inner spirit the words will flow like the suddenly rain swollen streams and rivers here. The shift in the weather is truly amazing! The shift in myself equally so it seems. Life on the Adirondack clock is a remarkable experience no matter the weather. There is a balance that can be found for living and purposeful activities. So this is the now moment before I take you back to a warmer time and place!

This was yesterday. Today is much worse!

So in the previous story we had gotten about 300 bales off of one of my meadows on Saturday. I continued to set up my farm camp on Sunday. Monday was a tough day trying to get a bearing off the baler but we finally got it.We had a little rain on Monday night but as there was no hay down it was no big deal. The long range forecast was perfect for haying well into the following week. We got the baler back together Tuesday and the decision to mow down hay Wednesday was made. I met my uncle in the field the next day to ride along while he mowed so I could learn the tractor and the rotary mower. I had mowed plenty of hay years ago with my smaller hay bind and tractor but this set up was larger.My uncle mowed a couple sections of field and I said that I was ready to go on my own. I got behind the controls and told him I could handle it. He started to walk away then came back to the tractor. “ You are not the first person to ever tell me that and then something happened” he said. I replied: “I’ve got this! Don’t worry I will be super careful!” So just like that I became the mower of hay after years of not doing it. I took down both big sections of the main meadow near campsite. We had hay down now!

The next day I mowed again and the last two meadows on my farm were done. My uncle raked and baled up a few loads of hay that totaled about 570 bales. I stayed busy drawing wagons and started to unload the wagons. I was also mowing the hay away. We were beginning to make progress! It was decided that no more hay needed to be mowed until the following Monday. So we spent the remainder of the week getting my farm cleared off. I raked a little hay one day to speed things up as the evening dew was coming on early in September. I also used the Tedder which scatters the hay out to help it dry faster.

I had mowed my Long Meadow so it could be turned into bedding round bales. I tedded it and another small meadow by the road. I had taken the time to fill in some holes in the meadow with dirt so the equipment wouldn’t be damaged. The days went by quick! It was very sunny and warm so the hay was drying well. So hay was baled each day then drawn up to my uncle’s barn to be unloaded and mowed away. We averaged about 500-600 bales per day. By Saturday night most of the hay on my farm was done.

I was getting better at being a mow Dawg and made sure to wear a dust mask. The evenings finished about 8:30 pm after dark and I was beat! But we had accomplished a lot in a week for two guys. Sunday we went up to the next big set of fields we would be haying across Beaver Creek to mark out rocks and holes as I didn’t know the land given my own fields had been a problem. The good weather was staying with us and it looked like we would need to mow Monday.We identified several rocks and one giant hole with orange marker tape. I felt better having toured the fields.

So Monday I fueled up the tractor and greased the mower and set off to mow “The Big One”. A roughly 25 acre chunk of hay where we had scouted Sunday. I broke the field into sections and after 7 hours of steady mowing the field was down. I was beat but felt accomplished and successful as nothing was broken or damaged. My uncle had done a little round baling so there was no hay to handle. My farm was done and I was very happy about that! A night off!

Once again we had some serious hay down and it was decided to keep doing square bales. So I would be enduring a few more days of playing mow dawg. We were filling a new section of hay mow so it was easier to get loads into the barn. I was anxious to get the haying done as I still needed to prepare for my ADK trip. I was leaving Sunday! That Tuesday night after having tedded a part of the Big One I took the wheeler over to the next set of four hay fields that we would be haying.My friend lives right by one the fields so he helped me identify all the hazards like what had been done previously. I started mowing there on Wednesday and was visited by a hawk who was hunting mice in the freshly mown hay. The hawk got very close to the mower a couple of times and I saw it catch a couple mice. It got in front of the tractor one time and wouldn’t move! I was getting out of the tractor when it finally flew off.Two more meadows were down and drying.

So the cycle kept on going. I was drawing wagons from the fields with my Uncle’s truck due to the distance we had to travel. I did some more raking on Thursday and the bales kept coming. So did the nice weather. Friday I did my final day of mowing knocking down two more meadows. We were done with square bales so I was relieved! We had one final load of hay to unload and mow away. The Mow Dawg was free!

So that’s the story of how I spent two weeks of my life volunteering to help with hay! It was nice to hang with my Uncle Art and get my fields cleared as well as some others. It was nice to learn some new equipment also. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy myself either. Out on the land each day with the familiar scents of hay ground, tractors,and the bales themselves. We accomplished a lot in two weeks I feel. And I found the time to prepare for my trip. There’s going to be a lot of loose ends waiting for me in the valley when I return. But my battery is getting recharged here. Clearing the hay fields is important to the long term plans for the farm. But next summer is a long way off! ✍️

Jumping Ahead:The Catch 22

Posted on October 6, 2023October 6, 2023 by Greg Washburn

I have decided tonight to jump way head on my recent timeline and share my most recent adventure. At some point I will return to part 2 of the Mow Dawg story and finish the Quebec bush series in time. But since I returned to life on the Adirondack clock late last Sunday there’s a lot of current life to share! Not to worry as each story needs it’s time to be properly told!

Settled in at Birch’s Lakeside Sunday night.

Back during the summer I booked a 15 day campground stay in Cranberry Lake, New York at Birch’s Lakeside Campground. I got a good daily rate and the store out front is a nice perk! I pulled it together quickly and prepared the travel trailer to leave last weekend. It’s not a super long drive to Cranberry Lake and I got here fairly quickly. I even got parked and set up rather quickly. I had to run to go buy some firewood however and barely missed hitting a deer in the process!A campfire was in order and I enjoyed a late evening with no bugs!

Monday would find me fine tuning my campsite and organizing for adventures. It was a calm and beautiful day here on the lake! I decided an afternoon hike was in order so Stella the dog and I headed right up the road to the Brandy Brook trailhead. It’s a lovely hike through the forest and at 3.4 miles in you find yourself at Brandy Brook Flow where the creek runs into the lake. The trail was littered with layers of freshly fallen leaves but many more still clung to the trees above. It was a very warm day and there’s been no rain in sometime so things are pretty dry. No mud on this trail! I took quite a few pictures as we leisurely did the 6.8 mile in/out trek. We only saw 2 other hikers. One fellow had set out to do the Cranberry Lake 50. A local hiking challenge that he planned to do in 3 days while camping each night. We had hiked enough by 5pm and returned to the campsite where I enjoyed and evening reading.

Tuesday morning was spent writing a rhyming tribute to an elderly friend’s family. He had passed away late Monday evening and I was very saddened by the news as I had just seen him Sunday morning. I titled my story “The Falling Leaves” and it will be given to the family soon. Tuesday afternoon would find me unexpectedly teaming up with Patrick Bourcy ( the creator of the Facebook group Just Go Outside) for a late day assault on Ampersand Mountain near Saranac Lake. It was another warm day and we were both challenged to make the 5.4 mile round trip. But the views and our conversations catching up would lift me up to a better place. It’s hard to be sad when standing on the summit of Ampersand’s bare rock with beautiful fall foliage surrounding you on all the horizons. We didn’t make it out until after dark however as the descent was difficult for me. But a successful day had been lived.

From Ampersand looking towards Middle Saranac Lake.

Patrick and I teamed up again on Wednesday to see about getting some good content for our social media activities. It was another super warm day that we started with a couple waterfalls near here. We visited Twin Falls and Rainbow Falls for some great autumn shots. But more importantly we enjoyed the moment itself. Water, colored leaves, and the local historical ruins that nature is reclaiming. What’s not to like?

Our next stop would be a just past Tupper Lake to the Buck Mountain fire tower trailhead. It’s a short but ascending 1.2 mile trek up to the top where the 60’ steel fire tower steps await you. The 360 degree views are outstanding! We were still going strong but were getting pretty warm as it was close to 80 degrees after lunch.

Just a short distance away Patrick and I tackled the Coney Mountain trailhead. Also short and sweet at about a mile plus with a circular ascending trail. Pretty rocky in spots but a great trail overall. Bone dry from the absence of any recent rainfall.From Coney you can look across and see nearby Goodman Mountain. Also a nice hike but we were out of time as we had an evening destination.

Our final trek took us just past the village of Tupper Lake to the Mt.Arab trailhead. Our plan was to stay until dark to maximize possible photo opportunities. Not to mention enjoy ourselves! But both of us were getting tapped out and the short but uphill hike really slowed us down! Even Stella the dog was beat! We made it in plenty of time to watch the sunset and meet up with a friend of Patrick’s Jessica. We all watched the sunset from our breezy perch in the top of the fire tower. I was entranced by the lights appearing down in the village where life was happening below us some distance away. The high peaks grew shadowy in the distance as the light departed and it was truly amazing! The hike out in the dark was ok but we were all pretty whipped!

Thursday was a paddle day with good friend Jennifer up to Axton’s Landing above Tupper Lake along the Raquette River. The river was the lowest I had seen it in the several times that I have been there. We paddled upstream to the point that Stony Brook flows into the river. Our goal was to reach the Stony Brook Ponds to explore a section we had been unable to visit on a previous trip years ago. High winds had made it impossible to cross the ponds. We were lucky Thursday though although the current was rather swift in the winding twists of the upstream paddle to the first pond. Coupled with the shallow water and weeds it kept us paddling! Stella the dog was enjoying the ride which was great as she had really hiked the other 3 days of the week so far. We had no problem crossing the first pond then under a bridge to the next. We found a lovely sandy beach to relax from some snacks while Stella played in the shallows. It was so warm and pleasant considering it was October! We hadn’t realized it until we reached the shore but we were on a state owned primitive campsites with a fire pit,table, and throne privy up in the woods beyond the tent pad. We were at number 6 and later we identified most of the 5 others. We had a easier paddle back downstream in the current of the creek and river. Off to dinner at Amado’s in the village of Tupper Lake. Great place with great selections that you won’t find anywhere else!

So here we are finally! Today! The wind was blowing hard all night and was still going strong this morning. Dark clouds were competing with a small sliver of sunshine that greeted me from my beach chair at the campground while having coffee. I took several photos and just relaxed into the morning. I had a plan though. A short drive to a local ghost town which I won’t name. I found it just as the locals had told me it would be. Several old buildings in different states of decay and neglect. The flat grounds were not mowed and were being overtaken by small emerging pine trees. It was once a busy place but now deserted.One that was reaching the point of no return. I felt a good energy there though. Not the creepy energy that can sometimes chill me in places similar to this. I didn’t try to enter any of the buildings and soon left for my next stop.

The final stop of the day was just outside the hamlet of Wanakena a short distance from my campsite in Cranberry Lake. Wanakena is an interesting place with history and is known for the forest ranger school that is located nearby. My trek would take me onto lands managed by the school. My goal was a fire tower that was on a ridge somewhere there. I hadn’t bothered to do any prior research but a local at the store said I would easily find it. I parked along Route 3 and starting following a well maintained gravel road. Good so far! However the road suddenly forked and there were no signs pointing anywhere. I chose to go left as the lay of the land seemed more inclined for a fire tower. I went a short distance and discovered a trail marked ESF trail 22. It seemed to head slightly upwards so I figured I was headed in the right direction. But it soon began zigging and zagging without heading uphill so I returned to the road. I went a short distance but changed my mind and headed back to the fork. I took off in the new direction and shortly after ran into 3 women who had come from the fire tower. I asked a couple questions but didn’t ask about distance. One helpful lady said: “go until you see a yellow marker that is marked FT.”(FT for fire tower I assumed). So with a quick thanks I continued on. The road was smooth and the forest along it was vibrantly fragrant with balsams almost hanging into the road. This is great I thought! I stopped to admire some tamaracks that were just beginning to turn yellow. They will turn a beautiful golden color later in the fall before dropping their needles. They shed them each year much like a deciduous tree sheds it’s leaves.

I soon reached another fork in the road. Once again no signs or markers. It headed uphill and I should have given it more thought but hadn’t the lady said go until you see the FT marker? So I continued to follow the mostly flat road which eventually turned a corner around the end of a large ridge. Another ridge appeared to the right so I guessed it was probably where the fire tower could be. More walking and still no marker. I got a photo of a red squirrel carrying a large mushroom which I guessed to be non poisonous but who knows? A jumped a couple ruffed grouse back in the thick cover near the road. Chickadees suddenly filled the trees next to me and I got a nice video of them. They always seem so glad to see invaders to their woods! The road kept going and so did I. I spotted a snowmobile trail marker that led to a pond off in the low lands in the distance so I drifted off the main road to check it out. By now I realized that there was no way the fire tower was anywhere close by. This land was too flat! I had been hearing chainsaws and soon got close to a group of ranger student workers busy with logs and firewood. They didn’t see me so I decided to turn back as I wasn’t sure exactly where I was headed and didn’t want to ask directions! I returned the way I had come and when I reached the next fork I took it! It was headed uphill after all! I kept on hiking uphill for quite awhile and it seemed promising! Still no FT markers though. I was about to reconsider my options when I spotted yet another fork. This one had an FT marker! Yes success! I continued to go uphill and after passing several more markers I was rewarded with my first glimpse of the fire tower!

I checked out a picnic area and kiosk type display board before ascending the tower. Once there I stayed quite awhile as no one else was around. Beautiful views in all directions and I could even see Route 3 where I had left the truck. From my high perch it was easy to see the lay of the land that I had walked. I think had I approached the workers there would have been a trail near them as one leaves the mountain and heads off to where I could still hear their chainsaws. I decided to leave as I could see rain clouds off in the distance heading closer. At the base of the tower I noticed a trail marker. ESF trail 22. Hey wasn’t that the one I had started out on once? Maybe it’s the same one and a shortcut I thought! So off I went following a well defined and marked trail. But suddenly the markers were no longer there but no matter I could still see a faint trail in the leaves. I would see an occasional marker ribbon and sawn off stumps along the trail. But headed off into some old log skidder ruts the trail suddenly stopped. Blocked by fallen trees and no sign of anything. I backtracked a bit but found nothing. I could hear traffic from over where I knew the road should be so decided to bushwhack my way out. I wasn’t too keen of backtracking as I had already done enough of that for one day! To my credit the route I chose actually put me back onto the trail. Eventually the markers returned and I reached the spot where I had first ventured up ESF trail 22.

In conclusion I recommend hiking to the Cathedral Rock fire tower. Stick to the road though it’s easier. As for ESF trail 22? It’s a real “catch 22”. If it was dark and there was no traffic sound a person could get lost I suppose. But not long rest assured! The gravel fire roads cross and intersect the property. You’d probably find your way out. There’s no phone service there btw! So use a map or a gps type positioning device. Or just go in blind like I did! Ask for directions that you don’t exactly get correct. Or just wander away from people who would have gladly steered me in the right direction! Stubbornness is a fault sometimes but I had a fun and meaningful experience! As I got to the truck the rain got heavier. Now well after dark it’s pounding on the metal roof of the Airstream like a group of drummers! And tomorrow is another day with new destinations to reach! MOONTABS to all!✍️

A Return To Volunteering

Posted on July 24, 2023July 24, 2023 by Greg Washburn

The year was 2018.A newly retired and newly single me was looking for something new. At a school conference night I stumbled upon the information desk of a local land trust called Thousand Islands Land Trust. TILT for short. Their friendly representative gave us some informational pamphlets. I soon realized that I was and had been missing out! On all sorts of things! It’s a long story that I may have elaborated on before. What’s important to note is the impact that the local land trust groups would have on not just my life but Zane’s as well. Once I realized the opportunities that volunteering offered I dove in headfirst! To think about the many seminars, events, and work days we participated in that summer amazes me now. I was searching for something and volunteering filled the void. One discovery leading to another. That summer is filled with many happy memories! New friends and acquaintances. New places and trails. A continuing education of nature and the many invasives that are attacking our beautiful region.

I first truly learned about the many invasive species here when I attended a SLELO PRISIM educational seminar. SLELO is short for St.Lawrence Eastern Lake Ontario. PRISM is the Partnership for Regional Invasive Species Management. New York State is divided into 5 PRISMs. We live in SLELO so I focused my attention on them. After attending other seminars hosted by SLELO my interest and knowledge continued to expand. I attended a water quality conference which really enhanced my knowledge of the area we call home. I also attended an A2A seminar where I first learned about the Frontenac Arch. Also called the A2A Corridor. It’s the land situate between the Adirondacks and the Algonquin Park area of Canada. Fascinating subject! But invasive species were of prime interest as the Macomb farm property is infested with the shrub wild honeysuckle and other invasive plants. I wrote a blog about it in 2021. During July of 2018 Zane and I participated in our first ever invasive species removal day as volunteers. Water chestnuts were our target. A new species to me and one I had never heard of until the seminars. It has been spreading across the northeast since about 1880 since escaping the Boston area. It was brought here as a decorative floating plant! Bad idea someone! We traveled south some 60 miles with our canoe for a hand pull event at the Lakeview Management Area near Southwick Park. It was a fun and exciting day working with other volunteers in the swamp marsh extracting bags full of fast spreading water chestnuts. Despite how it might seem hand pulling water chestnuts is a productive manner to stop their spread. An alternative is spraying the infested area with Clearcast. A product similar to the controversial Roundup we have all heard about. A glyphosate itself if my research is correct. I charge each reader to do their own personal research and form their own opinions. I will remain neutral on the subject except to simply state that glyphosates are being found in many of our food sources. They are heavily used by agriculture to supply our need for plentiful food sources. Enough said! Draw your own conclusions!

After 2018 our volunteering work fell off considerably. I still managed to do some trail stewardship work but found little time for seminars or other further education. I did manage to attend the SLELO Symposium in the spring of 2019. It was a treat to see Zane and I in the SLELO volunteering video shot in the summer of 2018! People sitting next to me said “Hey that’s you!”. 2018 certainly was a remarkable year! In the fall of 2019 I was one of the lucky individuals chosen to attend the Master Naturalist training weekend near Ithaca, New York. Hosted by Cornell it was a fun two days of education in a variety of subjects. Invasive species, micology, and so much more! As of this moment I still have not completed my requirements for my level one certification. Fast forward through the years 2020,2021, and 2022 and my volunteering efforts were not very impressive honestly. But there was always something more important to fill the days at the time in hindsight. Those days are mostly within these pages.I wanted 2023 to be different! I volunteered for a TILT trail stewardship day back in May then cooked at the TILT summer picnic in June. Then I heard about a SLELO event!

Hunting for water chestnuts on the Oswegatchie River near Heuvelton,New York.

Heuvelton, New York has a hydroelectric dam that creates a rather extensive reservoir behind it. It recent years it has become infested with water chestnuts. In 2022 SLELO volunteers conducted a hand pull in the Oswegatchie River to remove and track water chestnuts. When I read that they would be doing it again this year I decided to volunteer! The village of Heuvelton has been harvesting water chestnuts with a mechanical harvester above the dam this summer to remove the plants before they go to seed. There have been issues despite the many truck loads they removed. Shallow water and tree stumps impede their best efforts. There is a substantial population of water chestnuts remaining above the dam. This summer’s SLELO event concentrated on hand pulling and tracking growth in the sections of river below the dam. The concern is that the water chestnuts might get up into Black Lake. The largely shallow depths of the lake would be a success story for the water chestnuts and a disaster for the lake itself.

All and all the lower Oswegatchie River is not heavily infested. We did hand pull some plants however and retrieved numerous rosettes that had drifted down from above the dam. Harmless we were told as the plant is an annual requiring a seed called a “nutlet” to grow roots for a new plant. It seemed like the day was a success and it was nice to see acquaintances that I hadn’t seen in several years and meet some new people as well.

An old barn along the Oswegatchie River .

So today I once again traveled to Lakeview Management Area for a NYS DEC organized hand pull of water chestnuts. Two other state organizations were represented by workers. SCU was one. New to me. The other was State Parks and Recreation. They had worked at the Heuvelton event also. We cruised the swampy marsh and at first found very little water chestnut. But as the day moved forward we began to find and pull a lot more of it. I felt that there was less of it then in 2018 and a young lady who worked there in 2019 agreed with me.But there’s still a fair amount of it to be removed despite our team efforts. The bag retrieval boat was kept busy hauling pulled plants to the truck on shore. It was nice to back at Lakeview but I was missing Zane being there with me like in 2018. As I sat on the beach next to the sand dunes that reach out towards Lake Ontario I reflected on all that has changed and all that remained the same. The lake and the dunes seem timeless. But I attacked the water chestnuts with a forceful attitude after lunch and got into some huge clumps of floating rosettes. I was able to bring in plenty in a short time.

I drifted away from all the other workers and the retrieval boat never came over to remove my huge trash bag full. I kept pulling anyway and covered the floor of the 14 foot Old Town canoe. I pulled like a crazy man for awhile. I ended up with a slightly tippy canoe as I had about 20 gallons of swamp water in the bottom from the soggy water chestnuts. But I knew that our time to work was almost over. I didn’t want to quit as there was still so much water chestnut floating everywhere. If it goes to seed later this summer that’s not good. The nutlets will get sharp and hard too.

Green nutlet that won’t get to be a viable seed now.

Our time to quit did finally come and my heavy canoe was lightened of its cargo. I felt that we had done well. Many bags had been collected. Many water chestnuts would not be going to seed. This annual event is special to me and I hope to return again. To swap stories and meet new people. To take a stab at making a difference. Volunteering is truly rewarding I feel. Especially when it gets us out in nature! Once I never knew this beautiful place even existed. A place where a shallow marsh transitions into the lake. To be there is to checkout for a time. Lost to simple task. Wet,slightly muddy, and happy in the now. What more could anyone ask for? Consider volunteering in whatever capacity serves you! There are many different opportunities out there. And never stop learning! Nature has endless things to teach us. MOONTABS were made today!

The Mysterious Morels

Posted on May 14, 2023February 28, 2024 by Greg Washburn

It’s a chilly May morning here at Camp Edith and the first thing I did this morning was light the wood stove! I just moved in full time on Thursday but hadn’t needed any heat. But the wind shifted to the north yesterday and despite the sunny skies the temperature began to drop. I piled on extra blankets last night and it paid off as it was 57 degrees inside this morning.

Spring is moving right along and we’re as busy as ever post sugaring season. We still have some clean up to do and lots of sugar wood to cut for next season. I don’t always get as much done as I want sometimes when I get caught up in the myriad of life’s small details. Perhaps I dwell too much on forward progress. But the seasons pass quickly and a comfortable balance must be struck. We manage to spend plenty of time outdoors and that’s never considered anything but positive. Zane will soon graduate high school and his future plans suddenly enter the mix in a newer sense of reality. But that’s another story for another day. It’s a story tied to my future and my own plans ultimately connected to nature. Almost intimidating at times. A journey of unknowns and possibilities. Time will sort it out. One day at a time.

What’s all this got to do with morels? Plenty! The hunt for them began last Saturday in earnest.Too early people were saying but we had scored big time May 4th 2021 so I decided that May 6th was worth a try. So off we went after changing the oil in the Honda side by side. A post sugaring task that was overdue. We headed to our usual spots and the search was on! We brought a shovel and a bucket to dig leeks as well. Also a paper sack for chives. Time for some of Zane’s chive/leek dip again! Forager pizza also but we needed some mushrooms! The search was slow at first but I finally spotted 2 in an old favorite spot!

We picked the two small morels for our pizza that we would make later regardless of our success. We checked out a new spot and were rewarded with 5 more small morels. Not a huge collection but enough for our pizza. We left several other small ones to grow and continued our search. Despite covering a large area we found no others. We collected a nice bunch of chives and leeks before heading to Camp Edith for the night. I got the water turned on there fairly quickly so it was easy to prep dinner. We had washed the leeks at the farm spring to get rid of most of the dirt so that proved helpful.

Dinner was a success! The dip was superb as was the forager pizza! So morel season had truly begun! If you want a better understanding of morels check out the blog post: Bugs,Brush,and Brown Gold that I wrote a couple years ago. It provides some insight into our foraging hobby.

I worked at Fort Drum Monday and Tuesday so it was Wednesday before I returned to search for more morels. Zane was in school and had piano lessons that evening so I headed out alone. I went to what I suspected might be this years hotspot and was rewarded with a nice collection of smaller morels. A few big ones but overall they were running a little small. A close examination of their bases revealed that they were fully rip and needed to be harvested.The morel’s stem will turn a dark brown when fully ripe. A sign that it’s about to tip over. Some morels are a darker species anyway and grow somewhat smaller. The tan ones can get rather large under the right conditions. I was on a roll and a second nearby new location yielded more! I left a number of small ones to pick the next time Zane would be with me.

I spend the rest of the afternoon searching for more morels in a variety of places but only found 7 more total. But it’s still early in the season so I wasn’t disappointed at all. I had sprayed my clothes and boots with tick repellent prior to entering the woods. I flicked a few off my pants but managed to escape any attaching themselves to me. They are the scourge of foraging and cling to the low brush everywhere. Not using repellent is a bad idea! I like a brand called Ben’s and find it very effective!

Wednesday evening found me cleaning the morels. It involves halfing them and soaking the pieces in cold water with salt. Halving and washing them will reveal any ants or other insects that might have burrowed inside the morel. It’s fairly common to find insects inside a morel. No big deal really. After cleaning my prizes I stored some of them in layers in a plastic container. Layered in moist paper towels they will last a few days in the refrigerator. The rest I pan fried with butter and a little olive oil. I add plenty of salt and pepper as well. I had a plan for them! Mushroom and Muenster cheese burgers! Yum! Of course I ate a few hot ones right out of the pan!Wow! What a treat!

So Friday came and Zane was eager to hunt mushrooms after school. We hit the new hotspot and the haul was significant! He’s great at spotting them. He uses the “drop down” technique we’ve learned works the best for finding them hidden under the ground cover of leaves and small trees. At risk for ticks but with treated pants and boots it’s fairly safe. We both had containers that filled quickly at the hotspot before we headed off to other locations. Our harvest was small at the other spots however. But we knew that the early season could change that so any location where a couple were found will be revisited again. The two spots that were last year’s hotspots have only yielded a few so far.It’s a fickle business of searching this hobby of ours! Always checking new locations and hoping for the mother lode! We cover a big expanse of ground to get a decent collection most days. The side by side speeds up the process of getting around though and helps with the tick avoidance situation.

Back at Camp Edith it was cleaning time. Zane cut one open that was full of ants! I quickly took it outside to dispose of them. No harm done and the morel was added to the salt water bath. They were pretty much insect free after that. We stored some away and cooked up the rest. Zane was eager to try my mushroom and cheese burgers! A hit so sure!

So that’s the story here as morel season begins once again. We’ll continue our searching and dodging the nasty disease carrying ticks. Last season we had our first success around May 10th. Our final harvest was May 20th. But we didn’t spend the time hunting last year that we intend to do this year. I was living in the Adks in the camper for part of May and missed some of the short morel season. I think I will head out today and search some new places.Why not? It’s sunny and cool so maybe the black flies won’t bother so much.There’s a blissful contentment in the search for the brown gold. A sudden rush when you spot one hiding in the leaves. A wonderful smell when your container gets full. A sense of connection as you clean them and add them to your dinner menu. And of course the taste bud explosion when you eat them! As I like write here these simple words: to have never known certain things is to have missed something extraordinary. The morel mushroom provides a powerful connection to nature. One of season and one of purpose. A place where spirit energy surges with new growth and something much more profound. The hunter gatherer relationship with the forest and waterways. Never to destroy or deplete the source but to enjoy a little of it. It’s truly something amazing to me. A place where bonding and teaching others builds long lasting traditions and memories. We call those memories MOONTABS !!

The Barn Dream

Posted on November 10, 2022November 24, 2022 by Greg Washburn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Held In Trust

Posted on November 3, 2022November 17, 2022 by Greg Washburn

It’s another chilly November morning here at the house on Black Lake where I will be living for the winter. I will be calling it “The Duplex” from now on.It’s another temporary home for me now that the travel trailer is parked. The Airstream has been winterized and sits on a large concrete pad near the house. It’s difficult to say where it will be headed next or even when. No sooner then May realistically.It sits waiting to become my rolling home again.At the moment covered in a thin layer of snow. Held in trust for now and waiting for adventure.

It’s been a busy time since returning from my Adirondack sojourn and writing has been down the list unfortunately. I made two lists soon after arriving home and have been trying to knock them out every since. Lists are a great tool for achieving short term goals provided a person doesn’t make them too extensive. I have a tendency to do that even though I know that’s not a good idea. The good news is that quite a few things have been crossed off those lists! Things can often get postponed but usually get done.I started the rough draft of this post two weeks ago! Other subjects ended up jumping ahead and now things have gotten out of sequence. MOONTABS is like one of those time travel series on Netflix where it’s hard to keep up sometimes.

Awhile back Zane and I were getting some things out of the storage container at the farm. It’s 20 foot long and about 8 feet wide. Fully packed with contents from our former Hill House. Furniture,books, and antique furniture. Kitchen items and cookware. Camp Edith is pretty well furnished so we didn’t need to move much there in the spring of 2021. I can’t say for sure when and where all the stuff will end up being used but I am not ready to part with all of it. It’s being held in trust for now I suppose. The fire of 2012 changed the way I view things. I have gotten strange about having everything in one location. There’s a bigger story there to share sometime.

While we were in the storage container we uncovered our old cider press. Zane started reminiscing about it and how we hadn’t used it in a long time. He asked if we were going to make cider this fall and I gave him a rather vague answer. We had to move it outside to get at the items we were after and Zane continued to mention making cider. I was too focused on the task at hand to think about much else. We got the things we needed moved outside and I asked Zane to help me move the cider press back into the container. He surprised me by saying no! “It’s going to camp” he said. “Otherwise we will never use it.” I reluctantly agreed to his request and the cider press was loaded onto the truck with all its accessories. As we drove back to Camp Edith I realized it had been 3 years since we had last made cider. Time sure had passed by. Zane was right and had made a wise decision I decided. Things had been set in motion thanks to him.

The story of the cider press itself spans several decades. Let’s jump back for a moment. It’s the late 1980’s and I am living in the old farmhouse on Lead Mine Road that was my first purchased home in 1983. It had belonged to my Uncles and had been part of the Archie Downing farm at one time. My Uncles had rented it out for years since the 70 plus acre property had been purchased sometime in the 1970’s. I was renovating it and had been fortunate to purchase the 22.6 acres across the road from it that had been part of the original farm. I was very in tune with my rural heritage at that time. Hunting,fishing,and trapping. Working as an electrician and getting time off whenever I could wrangle it. I spent a lot of time just down the road at my father’s farm helping out. It was a busy life and I lived close to the land. I had a garden. Raised a meat pig each summer. It’s no surprise that I would soon discover the fun hobby of making cider.

At the time my best friend has an adopted second cousin of mine. He was two years younger and we shared many common interests. One fall day he mentioned having made cider with some people he knew near his home. We gathered up some miscellaneous apples and brokered a deal with them to make some cider for ourselves. Their cider press was ancient but fully functional. The whole process was new to me and I was fascinated with it. We came away with several gallons of cider. I also came away with the thought that I needed a cider press of my own. The search was on in a time when the internet didn’t exist and paper catalogs were the source for locating such things. Ads in magazines were a good source as well. I can’t say for certain where or when I found the ad for a cider pressing kit that could be purchased. But I had found one!It was time to get serious!

The company who sold the cider press kit was called Happy Valley Ranch. They still market cider presses today and the designs haven’t changed from what I can see. The prices have increased since 1989 but that came as no surprise. What confuses me is that I thought that my cider press came from Oklahoma for some reason. Happy Valley Ranch is located in Alabama currently. I am going to call them and ask them some questions! I wrote a review on their website this morning. I am waiting to see if they post it. Regardless the company still exists and still makes the “Homesteader” model that we own. I can attest to its quality after 33 years of owning it.

I ordered the cider press sometime in May of 1989. It was over $800 by the time I got it shipped if my memory is correct. It was delivered by UPS truck in two large and very heavy boxes. The kit contained all the wooden components,cast iron parts,and all the necessary hardware. The maple framework pieces were solid maple of excellent quality. They certainly didn’t use any junk hardwood. I was recovering from an acute appendicitis when it arrived. I wasn’t supposed to be doing any work but wasn’t good at following doctors orders and was totally bored being stuck at home. I got some of the kit parts inside and began assembling it. The wood that made up the frame was maple and it needed to be treated with a food grade preservative. The manufacturer had recommended this and sold an aerosol spray as an accessory.One application was recommended but I bought two cans so I was certain that I would have enough. It was a good decision and one that I have never regretted. I used all the spray in two different applications taking time to dry the pieces between. The finish has lasted for years and our press still looks great after 33 years! The treated pieces were assembled inside the house and taken out to my garage. It took some time to complete the assembly and it was a great way to stay busy during my recovery. The doctor wouldn’t let me return to work till July but by the end of June I had helped my father get most of his haying done. Physical therapy comes in many forms! The completed cider press sat in my garage covered and up on blocks. Cider season was months away.

Autumn came quickly after a busy summer of working at Newton Falls paper mill in the Adirondacks. I had camped some while working there and had worked a lot of overtime during the different phases of the project. My annual strategy at the time.I was ready for a break so I took a layoff in October. I stayed busy getting my firewood done,hunting,and later trapping. I lived a very cost effective lifestyle and never worried much about money. It’s funny how things changed so many years later. But that’s a different set of chapters and is not important in this story. It does serve as a solid foundation of my desire to live in the season and in the moment. I was trying to manage and manipulate time. Still figuring things out. In that time and now my new hobby had gotten into motion and we were learning how to use the press.A new chain of events was being forged.

I don’t remember all the details of the first time we used the press and all my photos from then were destroyed in the fire of 2012. I don’t think anyone else has any either. But I do remember many things about that fall fortunately. My friends and I scoured the countryside for apples every chance we got! My bestie had a nice Macintosh apple tree behind his house trailer and we picked it clean. Those apples made fabulous cider especially when we blended in the tarter wild apples we found on an old homestead near there. Things were very different in 1989 where we lived. There were less houses and an abundance of unposted vacant land. We searched all the old farms we could find looking for apples. Getting permission when we could or just wandering unposted property. These days that would never be able to happen. We found trees right next to the backroads sometimes and stripped them of their small apples. The cider was tart from those feral apples so we experimented with blending apples as we ground them. We washed the apples first at my house where we made all of the cider. We usually were a group of three to four so that made the task easier. We split up the jugs of cider and I froze a lot of mine. We were young men in our mid to late twenties and liked to party some when we closed out the day making cider after dark under the outside lights in front of my garage. It was a fun and memorable time for us! One memory stands out!

It was November and getting much colder. We found some late hanging apples somewhere that were still in good condition despite the lateness of the season. They were golden colored and rather small. Tart but with enough sweetness to make a decent run of cider we figured. The night we decided to run them through the press it was very cold! Well below freezing and almost uncomfortable. The cider that flowed from the press was crystal clear has it hit the draw off catch basins. On warm days the cider comes off brown as soon as the air hits it. This cider was very different! I had begun experimenting with making a fermented concoction in my refrigerator with different batches of cider. It took about 3 weeks in the fridge to brew out a somewhat alcoholic beverage we starting calling “hooch”. (Hoochinoo is a word used by the Tlingit indigenous people from Alaska to refer to their fermented beverages made from fruit). We also knew that Hooch was a bootlegger prohibition term and we liked that comparison. I never tested our hooch for alcohol content but it was a lot like beer. We quickly learned not to overindulge on our tasty hooch however. It had a wonderful cleansing quality if you catch my drift! Sorry if I offend anyone with stories of drinking alcohol here! I promised honesty and directness on this site. Not to mention making the hooch would be leaving out a certain twist of the tale. This is why…

The wonderful clear cider from the November pressing gave me an idea. It was never allowed to reach room temperature and was placed directly into the fridge that evening. It stayed clear and after about 3 weeks began to have a effervescence to its content. We were amazed at the quality of this run of hooch! Bubbly and tingly to the tongue! It was like a sparkling wine resembling champagne almost! Very smooth! We made made it quite by accident and were never sure whether it was the apples themselves or the clear cider that made this special batch! We truly enjoyed it though! It was also special as it was the last batch of the season that fall. We had kept track of our progress each time we pressed. We were using one gallon repurposed plastic jugs so it was easy to keep the count. We had pressed 75 gallons that first season! The press had exceeded my expectations in so many ways! And it was only the beginning of a hobby that would follow me through time.

I have decided to leave the story here for the moment. There is more to this story that should be told with accuracy and detail. The fact that we even have the cider press still is a miracle. It was stored in a location that survived the fire of 2012. That makes it even more special. It also connects the dots to the outcome of part two of this series. The title of this posts sums things up well I feel. A possession that has been held in trust for over 3 decades. I hope the cider press will be around for many years and continue to provide memories for everyone who uses it. We take precautions these days to protect those objects that allow us to engage in our hobbies. It’s good to know that cider presses are still being produced. It’s also good to know that we have resumed our hobby once again!✍️

Many Chances

Posted on October 16, 2022October 17, 2022 by Greg Washburn

It’s a calm and cool morning here at Camp Edith but very peaceful. I returned to the valley yesterday after my sojourn in the Adirondacks since October second.The leaves have mostly gone by there now but are in full regal here. It’s like getting a second chance at autumn! It gave me pause for some serious reflection early this morning as the shots of duck hunters echoed across the lake waking me at daylight. It was going to be one of those mornings! The words were arriving even before that first sip of maple syrup infused coffee. I have a busy day of catching up after arriving home but wanted to get a few thoughts down before the events of the day could push them into the backseat.

It was cool inside the camp this morning and not especially pleasant. I had thrown a little wood into the wood stove at 4AM but it had been reduced to a few glowing coals by the time I finally got up. First things first though! Coffee! While waiting for it to brew I noticed the rising sun hitting the treetops across the lake on Bigge Island. A picture was in order. Coffee and the fire would have to wait. Time was of the essence so when I couldn’t locate my Crocs I slipped my bare feet into my hiking boots. I was quite the sight in my bathrobe but there was no time to waste. The bathrobe was no where near warm enough for this morning’s chill I quickly decided as I stepped out the squeaky screen door. But the pictures were worth a little discomfort. The morning was off and running!

The scent of coffee greeted me as I stepped back inside to tackle building the fire. It kindled quickly and was soon warming the interior. It had been 76 degrees inside when I went to bed last night and Zane had opened the porch door. I call the porch door “The Thermostat” in Camp Edith when using the wood stove. It works and wood fired heat is basically free for us. There were but two things lacking at this point. My tablet and my music. It was writing time.

One of my favorite Pandora music stations has been painstakingly created by the thumbprint process they offer. I named it “Band of Horses Radio” after the band by that same name. The first song up this morning was strangely ironic. “On My Way Home” by the Band Of Horses. It was about to be one of those mornings. Turn it up and let the horses run.

Music isn’t necessary for writing but often sends me to the deeper recesses of Tazmania. My personal place of creativity. A forest where each tree is a story. That’s a story all it’s own and people get lost in Tazmania all the time. Imagination runs wild there as do the memories. I never know where a path will lead or how times it will branch off. My go to place of music when writing is Indie rock typically. I discovered Indie rock in the fall of 2017 and have followed it ever since. It’s a never ending series of new bands and new music. These songs are special because there are no memories attached to them initially.They are freshly neutral and waiting for memories to be attached to them. Indie rock and 2017. The old life was falling behind and the new me was rising. It was a new chance and a new now. A breath of fresh air that would become a gentle wind.

People who follow my rambling storylines often find redundant threads with no chronological order. Kind of like the Star Wars movies. The first movie didn’t start at the beginning of the story or end with that episode. They jumped all around. I’ve always admired that approach! Filling in gaps and satisfying curiosity. The questions aren’t always answered immediately anyway. The big question this morning is where is all this leading? It’s leading to reflection and self awareness. When the chances come do we take them? Will we take them? Or let them slip away? That’s a place of reflection where each person must stand.

My Adirondack sojourn was productive and I was able to write quite often. But there was adventure as well. It reminds me of an old fashioned carburetor using a mix of fuel and air to produce the horsepower. This morning my thoughts are running back to times of challenge and decisions. I haven’t been able to pull a story together with any clear message. These past few days have been filled with list making, emails, and a gathering of intel. It’s time to put another date on the calendar. October 16,2023. One year from today. A day of comparison. A day of answering questions. Did I take the chances and run with them? Or hesitate? Or land somewhere in between? Don’t worry if you are lost right now. I wrote this to challenge myself and set a deadline of sorts. Consider it the continuing introduction.

Autumn is speeding forward and here in the valley the transition is in full swing. I am transitioning as well into a new living arrangement. There are numerous other small details to close out as winter approaches. There are lots of new plans being formulated and investigated. It won’t always make sense or nor should it I have decided. I believe in following the invisible energy and connecting the dots that lead somewhere. I believe in taking chances so I do. The experts say that living in the past breeds depression while trying to live in the future breeds anxiety. Living in the now seems to be a good approach. We are approaching two years of the blog site being created. It’s been fun and I plan to continue with it. The MOONTABS vision is much larger though. The stories of the past. Plans for the future. Adventure and challenge. Life in the now. Mark your calendar. October 16th 2023. It won’t be about where I have landed. It will be about where we have landed. A day of reflection for all of us.

I dedicate this post to all who support the MOONTABS vision. Those who support me and give me inspiration. One person in particular. I also wish to acknowledge my Uncle Kenny. His wise words advising me the importance of keeping journals decades ago has never been lost on me. It was the first rock of a foundation that was destined to be built upon. No need to be lost here but if you are never fear. I will lead you back with a story or two. Next time. ✍️

They Come In Waves

Posted on October 13, 2022October 13, 2022 by Greg Washburn

Thursday morning. Day 12 here at Fish Creek State Campground.Well not exactly! I was gone for 3 days recently on a mini adventure. I hit the Northway South with the pedal down and the music loud. The full grandeur of the autumn transition surrounding me as the turbos sang and the ponies ran under the hood. I suppose it’s a paradox this love of horsepower and steel to a lover of nature. I surely do appreciate a finely tuned piece of machinery though. I hope to ride the torque driven feel of full electric some day. On the slippery slopes of climate change and our unrelenting need for natural resources it’s difficult to fathom at times where everything is headed. It’s all about making decisions and following through with them. That’s something I do understand. But this post is about life and adventure not sticky subjects. The adventure? South to the land of Moonies,cornfields, and history. A place where hooting owls and night skies lit by a full moon would connect the dots of mysterious positive energy. But that is another story for another time.

The days here at Fish Creek have been full and meaningful I’d have to say. A mix of paddling and hiking followed by nightly fires. Meals are sporadic at times and I cook when the mood strikes me. This morning breakfast was in order so I cooked sausage,eggs, and pancakes. The wind is fierce today and it was challenging outside cooking on the griddle.Nothing some carefully placed aluminum foil couldn’t cure. Camping is not supposed to easy anyway. I had made a simple dinner last night since I was beat from paddling in the waves getting back to camp. Oh yes! The waves! Over deep,dark water they provide a powerful connection to nature.

I had watched the weather forecast and knew that outdoor adventure would be difficult if not ill advised today. High winds and rain were heading into the region. The winds had begun yesterday and it had been difficult paddling but still very rewarding. Seeing the loons and the mink had sealed the deal for me. My aches today were well earned and I don’t mind them. The wind would wake me several times last night as pine cones pinged off the roof of the Airstream like mini drumbeats. Camping under the huge pines is not without risk I suppose. I have good insurance I thought and had drifted back to sleep. The large stand of pine surrounding the camper are strong and sturdy. They remind me of a family in their grouping. Each one makes the others stronger and helps protect the group. I don’t worry too much camping under them at any rate.

By daybreak the wind had increased and the gusts kept getting stronger. White caps were driving into the shore with powerful surges. 10:53AM now and things are still ramping up. If it was a warm summer day I would be paddling out in my kayak to greet the waves. I love to paddle up through whitecaps then spin around and surf on top of them in the kayak. It’s a rush of horsepower of a different type. It challenges the body but it’s very exciting! “Flat Slapping” the surface of the water with the kayak paddle when the waves attempt to flip you over. In warm summer water in a life vest there’s nothing to fear and usually I have the body of water to myself. I haven’t done it this season but I have tackled some decent sized waves a couple times. These whitecaps here today are cold looking and uninviting. I’d rather stay in here and write while watching them!

I have always loved the power of water even when it’s calm. Running water is a powerful force of nature that stirs emotion and imagination. I love hiking to waterfalls and sections of rapids here in the north country. We are blessed with numerous and diverse waterways. In a watercraft fighting the current to paddle upstream or against the waves is a humbling experience and invites physical challenge. Running with the current and on the waves invites feelings of a different nature. I have spoken with Zane about my desire to take a whitewater paddling class and go out with a licensed guide on the Hudson river up here in the Adirondacks. We have picked our person and location but missed the window of opportunity for this season. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t introduce my son to such an activity but he’s one to tell me if it’s not his thing. Ice climbing was like that! We both agreed that it might not be our favorite new hobby. It was fun though! To me the lover of raw horsepower whitewater may offer something more then a thrill seekers adrenaline rush. Can’t say for sure just yet but I have a feeling. I chase those feelings and they rarely disappoint me.

I have strayed far from my original story but the wind is increasing and the waves are getting bigger by the minute. This camping adventure has brought some wonderful moments into the MOONTABS journey. There is but one autumn 2022 and I have tried to live it well. Four successful hikes since being here. Ampersand the best and most challenging then Goodman and Coney Mountains back to back one day last week. Mount Arab on Tuesday this week. Hey wait! Did I just complete the Tupper Lake Triad a second time? I hadn’t planned on doing that. They are great small hikes that I recommend them given the wonderful autumn views of the surrounding region. I enjoyed each of the hikes but Coney Mountain would offer up something else!

I had completed Goodman Mountain but hadn’t stayed long there as some kind of ladybugs were hanging out on the summit and crawling all over me. Not biting just annoying. I decided to do Coney Mountain as a second mountain for the day as plenty of daylight remained. I was feeling pretty strong and hard charged the trail. I even jogged up for awhile. Rare these days but something Zane and I did many times. On the Marcy Dam trail ( the Interstate to us) we would always run on the way in and on the return. Laughing and jumping roots along the way! Passing other hikers who thought us crazy. I suppose we were to a degree. Happy and super fit it was easy even with a 40 pond pack. It was epic! I don’t run so well since my pelvic injury but I am practicing my new style. I land somewhere between a young Forrest Gump and an Olympic sprinter. Probably closer to the young Forrest Gump to be honest. I have made strides though with no pun intended. I won’t stop trying to improve my distance challenges or my conditioning. There are many trails remaining that lead to lofty summits where the buzz sits waiting for me. I had to mention the running thing. Things have changed. Call it a new wave I had to surf.

On the Coney Mountain trail I overtook a couple hiking. We were taking their time and picking their through the hazards. Always a good idea. They both had trekking poles which is good.I feel they reduce the risk of injury. The woman greeted me and asked about my beaver stick trekking poles. “Did you find those at the trailhead?” she asked with a curious tone. “No I made them” I replied. We began talking after that while everyone caught their breath. We exchanged names so it’s time for new characters! Enter John and Elaine! I liked their friendly open demeanor immediately and their interest in my beaver sticks. I was suddenly swept up by an impulsive thought! I would offer to give them one of my trekking sticks. It was one that I had trail tested and trusted but it wasn’t one of my favorites. But it was a nice one so I offered to leave it under their car after hiking the mountain. John said “How do you know we won’t get back first?”. We all laughed at that one! I bide them a temporary goodbye and resumed the hike with a renewed vigor. I sure do love talking to people I thought. Hearing bits of their stories! I summited quickly after a brief push for the top. There were three people on top. A quiet young man who had hiked up in a pair of Crocs. Not my choice of footwear. I didn’t engage in conversation with him as his eye contact and body posturing indicated a desire for privacy. There was an artist hard at work off to the side but I left her to her work as it appeared she was on a roll painting the beautiful valley that lay beyond her easel. There was also a young lady whom I had passed on the Goodman trail and recognized. We said hello to each other and chatted briefly. Most people are friendly on the summits and ones who aren’t I leave in peace. Everyone has their own reasons for being there and we don’t know what someone might be wrestling with or trying to overcome. Think positivity and kindness.

It was getting later and I wondered if John and Elaine had turned back because she had mentioned a sprain in her leg. I decided to go catch up with them in case they had needed to return rather then summit. I had been busy while on the summit. I wasn’t carrying my usual pack and had noticed that I had a black Sharpe in one of my compartments. Hmmm… beaver stick with poly preservative on its surface. A Sharpe. A promise to give the stick to them. Time on my side. It all added up quickly! But could I remember the beaver stick poem that I usually offer with a gifted stick?It took a minute but luckily it’s short and sweet. It was the perfect setting for adding a flair to the gift. I took my time writing on the stick and only made one small mistake. Too bad I didn’t have sandpaper with me too! I added some personal information about MOONTABS and signed the stick with a custom greeting.It was time to get moving!

I began a quick descent and hadn’t gone far before I met John and Elaine working their way up the trail with steady determination. I jokely remarked that I had thought they had tapped out! We laughed about that! I said you better take the stick now just in case. We got to talking more and I was realizing the time of day. I said I will walk back up to the summit with you. Elaine began talking to the artist and John sat on the summit talking with me. John had a great story to tell and I wanted to hear more.Elaine joined us eventually and we took some photos together. John said “ I better keep this beaver stick safe! It will be worth something some day!”We laughed about that especially when I said “John you might be freezing some day and that stick will make good firewood!” The power of the now surrounded us there on Coney Mountain as the setting sun appeared on the horizon. Time was speeding past and it was time to get moving.

Elaine wanted to stop and talk with the artist who had finished her painting. It was stunning and she had been working on it a mere 5 hours! I learned her name was Sandra Hildreth. A local artist of repute. I asked her permission to use her name here. Please check out her work! She has an office in the village of Saranac Lake. We decided to make sure she got down the mountain safely. Something I had already decided to do for John and Elaine. We began our cautious descent and the conversations ran wild as darkness began to blanket the lower forest. Sandra blew past us in a hurry to get to a meeting. Time stood still and I was enjoying the story of John and Elaine. At one point Elaine said something about not getting hurt. I joked and said if you get hurt I will go Forrest Gump in the jungle and run you on out of here! Pretty funny! We hit the end of the trail and said our goodbyes but not before promising to stay in contact. What a remarkable day that had started so ordinary. But it’s never ordinary when I meet extraordinary people and share in moments. I was touched by strange emotions on my drive back. Waves of them. Then I almost hit a deer and got back to reality!

The wind has picked up and the rain is pelting the Airstream. I will be staying in today and using the shower in the camper. There will be no evening campfire later. I have everything I need here in my home on wheels for the moment.Food,music, heat, and running water. My phone,my tablet, and books. The waves are hitting hard on the shoreline outside the camper. It’s a solid now moment and a part of this lifestyle. My imagination can run wild at times. They come in waves these stories of mine and wash up on the shores. Life comes in waves too. Sometimes floating and sometimes sinking. We have to learn how to swim that’s all. Waves are yet another connection to nature.

Oh btw! Remember Mr.Jangles? He is alive and well after our strike on his headquarters. Apparently he has recruited allies here in the Adirondacks! I have been under attack for days now. Chipmunks and red squirrels messing with my truck and my lawn furniture.There’s signs of a party left behind on my picnic table! Good thing the Airstream is all metal otherwise they would have gotten in. I guess if they were truly malicious they would have chewed through my brake lines. Maybe they have! Can’t check today in this rain. Maybe I can recruit the mink I saw yesterday. It would a formidable adversary to take to Canada next summer. I don’t know if it likes to travel though. It might get car sick. Not sure about getting it across the border either. These things can be worked out I suppose. They say deeds are more important then words. How about a big helping of both? The waves have begun to lay down some and tomorrow is another day.

I dedicate this post to John, Elaine, and all the good people I meet out on the trails. The hooting owl doesn’t represent death as some people think. It represents wisdom and understanding. It represents change and new beginnings. We don’t have to search for such things. Time brings them and they come in waves.✍️

The Loon Family

Posted on October 10, 2022October 13, 2022 by Greg Washburn

We are approaching the middle of October and the transition continues with an increasing pace. I continue to camp here at Fish Creek and will most likely return to the valley a day early. This is it for my ADK camping season in the Airstream for 2022. Zane and I will no doubt be returning to the Adirondacks at some point but it’s unclear just when. So many wonderful experiences are filling my days and nights these days. Somehow the energy tells me where to place myself and nature does the rest. How best to explain these occurrences may challenge me to a degree. But I enjoy challenge and searching for answers. I have studied nature my entire life but can’t begin to answer the question so many ask. What is the meaning of life? To me it is a cycle. The meaning belongs for each individual to decide and is uniquely theirs. As for me, I need but follow the seasons to find what defines life. I have arrived to a new and exciting season of my life. Autumn. A time I hope to be my most colorful. A time to show colors that were always just below the surface. It would take the approach of autumn before they would begin to show. Autumn is a time of great expression in nature. A time of new life being created in some species. A time when things prepare to slow down for a slumber of sorts. I feel these things and gracefully accept the truths as nature offers them.But such thoughts take us far from the stories and to the edge of the forest lands of Tazmania.

Last week I spent a wonderful afternoon paddling up Fish Creek beyond my campsite. It’s a favorite destination of mine and I also used the opportunity to collect some old beaver sticks for firewood. The shorelines are well stocked in certain spots with the remnants of beaver feed piles. Once they have dried out they are excellent firewood! It’s important to note that tampering with a beaver house or dam is illegal. Be careful where you gather your sticks! The loose piles along the ponds and streams are legal pickings for savvy collectors! Just how the sticks are produced is interesting. The beaver cut small trees and saplings then drag them into shallow flat spots onto the banks. There they can gnaw the bark from them in relative safety. They leave the peeled portions behind as a type of garbage I guess you could say. Sometimes they have feed piles out on the spongy bogs where they enjoy their meals in complete safety. The peeled sticks often end up being used to build dams and lodges so they do serve an alternative purpose.The beaver have few predators here in the Adirondacks but a hungry coyote or larger bobcat could possibly kill one. I have seen pictures of some that were crushed by trees they were cutting! That’s rare though. People are their main predator when fur prices make their plush pelts in demand. Luckily for the beaver, pelt prices are very low these days. I used to trap them a lot years ago in Macomb. Other animals as well. I longer trap but remain true to my rural heritage and mention it here. It was something I was taught and a skill passed down between generations. I was a proud and successful trapper for some 30 plus years. I feel to never write about it is a falsehood as trapping taught me many things about nature. It kept me outside and always wandering. It is as much a part of me as anything else connected to nature. I must write of being a fur trapper, hunter, and fisherman on these pages or forever be false in my life journey story. That I can not do my friends. The truth is the truth and I will not abandon it here at any cost.

I hadn’t traveled too far upstream and had already procured a nice collection of beaver stick firewood. It serves a second purpose as well. One I call beaver stick ballast. The front of my canoe is very light if I don’t have weight,a person, or dog there. When alone adding firewood weight to the front aids in controlling the bow especially if it’s windy. It’s a time tested approach to paddling that I often employ while camping. Otherwise I use smooth rocks and small cobblestones. I traveled leisurely up the creek and soon entered one of the narrower sections. I call them the connectors. There were numerous photo opportunities and I got some great shots there. I ducked into Copperas Pond for a moment searching for the loon family I had written about last July. The pond was deserted and eerily quiet. Few birds although I had encountered several ducks that were totally fearless. They must have been campsite ducks to be that tame. Fun to watch as they stood on a log in the sun preening their shiny feathers. I missed the calls of my forest friends the white throated sparrows. They always remind me of the bush country in Eastern Quebec. They are very plentiful there and you hear their signature calls from daylight to dark.The forest had become absent of summer birdsongs. The transition was truly ramping up!

I entered the mouth of a small lake that’s called Little Square Pond. I typically pass by most of it unless we decide to swim off some rocks near the entrance. It’s a fairly big pond and susceptible to waves if the wind is blowing. It was totally calm that day though and I decided to explore it further. I was looking for fresh beaver sticks that would make good trekking poles but hadn’t found any yet. The beaver sign was strangely absent. Most of what I was seeing was old and beginning to weather severely as it began to rot. I kept wondering what had happened to the beaver population here? Trappers? Disease? Or just a move to better food sources? The beaver do exhaust their forest habitats near their chosen waterways. It was going to be slim pickings for beaver sticks! I began to paddle the Western side of the pond’s shoreline exploring. I saw plenty of old beaver sign but nothing fresh and no active lodges. The shoreline was steep in places and heavily forested. I found a primitive campsite that I hadn’t known existed and made a mental note of it. I continued paddling around the pond enjoying the colorful leaves and loving the warm sunshine! As I began paddling down the Eastern side of the pond I heard a strange sound. I couldn’t identify it and at first thought it was a woman’s scream. I heard it occasionally after that and realized it was not a person. I spotted a couple of loons and decided to check them out for a minute.

As I approached the loons I realized the source of the strange sound! There were two juvenile loon chicks swimming around their mother making weird screeching noises! The three of them would take turns diving under then resurfacing further up the pond. I tried to guess where they would pop up to get myself closer to them. Eventually I was successful in my attempts and the mother came up very close to me! The chicks surfaced shortly after and I got some great photos plus a couple videos. The chicks were lighter colored then their mother and their heads were gray. Hers was the dark black that all adult loons have in common. They were obviously very attached to their mother and stayed very close to her. One of the juveniles ended up some distance away after one of its dives and began its screeching in earnest. It finally managed to produce a signature loon call although it wasn’t perfect! The chicks were learning to speak and I was fortunate to be witnessing something very special! They stayed close to me for some time and I was enjoying the moment to the fullest! The warm sun, calm pond, and my loon friends in front of me with the beautifully colored ridges in the distance. I paddled away and began to speculate about certain possibilities. Could this be the loon family I had seen early in July at a nearby pond? The father was gone it appeared. The pond was some distance away but it was all one connected waterway. The family could have swam from one pond to the other. Maybe the chicks could even fly by now. They would need to fly shortly I surmised with winter getting closer all the time. The chicks certainly had grown since July! My imagination began to run wild. Maybe the mother had discovered the huge northern pike in their pond and recognized the potential threat. I had lost it overboard after an epic battle and could attest to its size. It would have had no issue swallowing one of the tiny chicks back in July. I decided that these were the same family of loons at that point. Regardless of my theory I was happy that two loon chicks had survived the hazards of water.

The magic of nature is there to discover but it’s all about timing so much of the time. I have witnessed many wonderful things as I wandered afield through forest,swamp, and stream. To witness the baby chicks in July and then to see them again in October was truly something amazing! Today I paddled up to Floodwood Pond for a little catch and release fishing despite the windy conditions. As I approached the entrance of Copperas Pond this afternoon I spotted three loons up the waterway and recognized them as the loon family. I figured that I would encounter them later when I paddled in their direction so I left them to their fishing. The fishing was horrible on the windy pond but I did manage to land one small bass before I left. As I paddled up towards Little Square Pond I spotted one lone loon. It was one of the juveniles and I got very close to it. It was busy fishing and I wondered where the other two had gone. I found them way up in the mouth of Little Square Pond fishing together. I got a nice photo and a short video of the two of them together. Nature was taking its course it seemed. The lone juvenile was becoming comfortable being on its own although I suspect that they joined up later. I had hoped to see one of the juveniles trying to fly but that’s asking for a lot!

My day would soon get more interesting as I paddled the winding stream up towards Floodwood Pond. I finally found a slender peeled beaver stick! It wasn’t a perfect specimen but given the selection it was still a worthy collectible.There was no active beaver lodge nearby so I assumed that the feeding beaver was just passing through. It’s hard to say really. Sometimes hermit beaver survive with little evidence of their existence. I continue to be baffled by the lack of beaver sign here. It’s something that will bring me back sometime to further investigate the surrounding areas.

What happened next was a rare and special treat! As I rounded a corner of the creek I spotted something on top of a sunken log deadfall on the bank. It was a mink. It dropped out of sight and I figured that I would never see it again but got my phone camera ready. I nosed my canoe up to the end of the log and spotted the mink! It was peeking over the top of another log at me! I got a quick photo and sat perfectly still with the canoe wedged against the log. The mink became curious and jumped up onto the top of the log before diving off into the shallow water. I put my phone camera onto video and waited for a few seconds. The mink appeared and put on quite the show! I filmed it for 51 seconds before it fled downstream. It was so amazingly agile and flexible! Fast as lightning! What an incredible video I shot! Timing is everything! I felt very fortunate to capture the moment!

In conclusion I would have to say that I have been very fortunate over the years to be able to enjoy nature in its finest moments. Living in the country and being able to easily visit the Adirondacks. You just never know what you will encounter or when you will encounter it! That’s the draw. Such moments pull me deeper into the circle and I cherish them! It’s MOONTABS and more!

No Autumn Plans?Hike Ampersand!

Posted on October 4, 2022October 5, 2022 by Greg Washburn

Autumn is moving along quickly here in the Adirondack Park. The leaves continue to change everyday now and many are being dropped now. They litter the forest floor with colorful patterns that call to the observant hiker. It was Monday October 3,2022 and I was waiting for my cousin Jen at the trailhead to Ampersand Mountain in the empty parking lot. She had asked me days earlier if I had time to hike Monday.Perfect timing I had told her! Yes I would love to go!I hadn’t needed to travel far from my nearby campsite at Fish Creek Ponds State Campground so I had arrived ahead of schedule. I took a few minutes and double checked my small pack one final time. I readied my beaver stick trekking poles also. I was ready!

The beaver stick trekking poles I mentioned are nothing more then sticks that the beaver had eaten the bark from and abandoned. Bark is the favorite food of beaver. They must get plenty of fiber!The beaver sticks are super strong and flexible depending on the species of tree that had been cut. I trim them to length if necessary but quite often find ones that are perfect and require only a little work. I clean any dirt or mud from them before I trim off any sharp edges and any excess bark that the beaver missed. I sometimes treat them with polyurethane to preserve them. A superior one that is unique is added to my personal collection where it waits for special attention. I wood burn on them sometimes to mark certain occasions or dates. To gift a hand crafted one to someone is something I enjoy! I hope to write a post just about beaver sticks someday and have added it to the promised story list. I carry two beaver stick trekking poles to maintain balance and agility. I also use them to help propel myself up the steep sections of the trails. If ever needed they would also make a formidable set of weapons. They are all natural and I find a connection to nature in them. When I firmly grasp them I am truly ready to hike!

The Ampersand Mountain trailhead is very easy to find because it’s right beside NYS Route 3 between the villages of Tupper and Saranac Lakes. It’s a rather small pull off that fills up quickly most days. There’s always room alongside the highway though so that helps with the overflow. I had packed light for the short hike. Water, energy bars, and a partial jar of peanut butter. Peanut butter became a stable when hiking the high peaks several years ago.We ate it plain with just a spoon most of the time. It’s a good energy food that’s simple to carry. I had a winter hat and extra clothing as well. But I was far short of the survival gear pack that I carry backcountry. I suppose that mindset could be considered not being prepared. It would have to do as my big pack had been left behind at Camp Edith.

For clothing I dress in layers and none of them are ever cotton! Yesterday I was wearing a dry weave t-shirt, fleece zip up, with an insulated vest to top off my layers. Basic hiking pants and my old trusted Merrell brand hiking boots. These hiking boots just wouldn’t wear out but several extremely high mileage years had taken a toll on them! I use them for special occasions now because I just don’t want to retire them yet. I tried a set of Keen’s but was rather disappointed with that model’s durability. Comfort was never an issue though. I bought a new set of Keen hikers today to give the brand another chance. Different sole style so I will see! Most of the hikers in my truck are Merrill’s. Yes I travel with several pair! You don’t drive without a spare tire so why would you hike without a spare set of hiking boots close by?

Enter a new character: my cousin Jennifer.She arrived ahead of time to the parking area and we exchanged simple greetings as we prepared our gear for departure.Jen is married with two teenage boys.She grew up with her sister, father, and mother on the Washburn homestead property in Macomb. She is 18 years younger then me and we didn’t see each other much when she was growing up even though we lived on the same road. Time changes things and eventually we saw more of each other however.I attended her wedding and would see her at the Washburn family reunions twice a year. When she became an avid hiker we began to talk more frequently. Especially after I joined Facebook in 2018 and began writing there.We had talked of hiking together but had never been able to coordinate because of logistical issues. Work mainly. This day was spontaneous and not planned months in advance. Call it a grand alignment event if you have an imagination and believe in strange twists of fate. The power of circumstances and decisions made with a gut feeling. Either way I was happy that we would be hiking together! Why make everything heavy and overthink the moment?

Jen and her family are outdoor enthusiasts to the max! They enjoy a variety of different sports and activities across all four seasons. Jen and her husband Adam are working together to become ADK 46ers.They are making substantial progress and I enjoy following their story! Jen is the hands and the inspiration behind the Instagram page: Hunterfamilyoutdooradventures. They live a full and busy life! Their story is interesting and unique so please join them as they live the outdoor dream! I can relate to them in so many ways!Jen’s gift for photography truly brings their journey to life! I admire the page for its detail in portraying a family enjoying their love of nature and adventure. There is love and positivity in their journey. A great place to connect with like minded individuals! Check it out!

Ampersand Mountain is not one of the ADK high peaks but what it lacks in height it makes up for with views! At 3352 feet its bare rock summit offers a 360 degree view of some beautiful sections of the park. Some of the high peaks are right there in front of you at the summit. The Seward Range being the most prominent. In the other direction you get fantastic views of the Saranac Lakes and St. Regis waterways. The 1,765 feet of gain that is ascended to summit Ampersand is rated tough by the Alltrails app. I suppose that depends on your personal definition of tough. The trail is an in/out and fairly short at 5.4 miles round trip.The final ascents are tricky in a couple spots but easy to negotiate.With sturdy hiking boots and trekking poles most hikers will have no difficulty. Micro spikes aren’t a bad idea for the final portion of the trail either. Wet rocks are always tricky regardless of your level of skill in my opinion. I want to get myself off the mountain by not being injured. My advice is always be cognitive of potential hazards. The rewards of most summits are worth a little effort and risk in my opinion. Ampersand is one of those mountains.I rate it: better do it or you are missing out!

The trailhead lies just across Route 3 from the parking area and is very well maintained. It meanders rather smoothly at first through stands of large maples and hemlocks. There are several tiny streams that are bridged or timbered across. One section has a small raised boardwalk that sits above lush and colorful ferns. Autumn is kissing them a golden color and when the sunshine hits them they are stunning! Yesterday the canopy above was garnished with many different stages of color. The transition is underway and many leaves have fallen but most are still held fast. Some remain green even. It depends on their species where they enter into the transition. The soft maples (red) are shedding their brilliant red leaves quickly. The aspen (popple) are lagging behind and just becoming yellow. The other species are in varying degrees of change and no two trees are identical. Autumn is a time of sensory overload for me. It’s difficult to absorb everything with so much color everywhere. I find it’s best sometimes to just stand still and wait for things to show themselves. There is life everywhere. Tiny plants and seedlings. Many have ended their annual growth cycle and are preparing to go dormant until spring. The falling leaves will be their protective blanket under the snow that will arrive here shortly. The forest is a place of death as well. Broken trees and limbs cover the forest floor. Stumps and leaning deadfall’s. Dead trees standing and waiting for their time to return to the earth. The layers of dead leaves continue build up and cover some them as well. But nothing is wasted in the forest. Mosses and decomposers cover the dead trees and fallen trees. The decomposer fungi are everywhere once you train your eyes to spot them and recognize their importance in the bigger picture. There are numerous species of them in the Adirondacks. Many are edible even! After attending two mycology seminars I decided that viewing them is to be preferred over collecting them! “Look a likes” can be deadly and toxic! We stick to our favorites in the valley. It’s interesting how the dead wood benefits so many other life forms. There is a profound connection in the the cycle that repeats itself over and over. For me it’s a humbling reminder of my place in the order of things.My place of existence within the circle of nature. It’s not an unhappy moment. To accept our life cycle is to learn. To learn is to grow. A walk through the forest is never boring or lacking in details. In the smallest of clues nature leaves puzzle pieces. They fit only one way and take time to assemble. Decades for me. Harmony with nature surrounds the casual hiker. That moment when the senses align and a certain peace arrives. It can be a powerful lesson of living in the now.

Jen and started out from the sunny,warm parking and entered the forest trail. I was immediately struck by the change in temperature and regretted not wearing gloves. Jen took the lead and despite our brisk pace I felt cold. Prepared? Not so good I decided! We moved quickly and the trail remained fairly flat with only a few hills to crest. We stopped to take pictures of certain things. The rising sun through the trees and colorful leaves. Glacial erratics sprinkled here and there like game pieces in a giant’s marble toss. Eventually the land began to rise and the ascents started. We reached the site of an old structure. There’s almost nothing remaining of the stone foundation and it’s difficult to discern. There’s an old rusty sink in the center and some rusty pipes. I mentioned to Jen that I thought that this was a hermit’s cabin site once. I later learned that my facts are askew. These was my third hike up Ampersand over the years and I remembered a descriptive plague that was once here. Gone now. History disappears too quickly sometimes.Regardless it was a beautiful spot with a tiny flow of running water and a somewhat flat spot on the forest ridge. There would be answers at some point to fill in the blanks.

The land continued to rise and we kept up our steady pace unless we were taking photos. We encountered another couple and had a great conversation. They were familiar with Jen’s hometown. In fact they lived there part of the year and frequently went to a common restaurant. It’s a small world as they say! Great conversations Dan and Deb! We soon entered a section of the trail that I refer to as the steps. A steep rise with many rocks that trail stewards had wrestled into place somehow. It must have taken many hours to build the staircases. There are a couple sets of the way to summit Ampersand. Many hikers have benefited from the stewards hard work and I remembered some pictures I seen of some of them. These cats were strong and solid! Men and women who proudly poised beside their lasting legacy of hard work. I suddenly realized that I was no longer cold and mentioned that to Jen. Me either she said! Off through the trees we could see evidence of our continued elevation gain. Glimpses of what was to come. The sun was warming the forest and our exertions were warming us quickly.I felt a burst of new found energy in the moment. Nothing new and I embraced the feeling for what I recognized. Empowerment in strong physical experience that was well within my body’s capabilities. In that moment I push for what lies beyond. The buzz that waits for me on the summit. I can remember hikes with Zane where it eluded me and I wondered how I would ever make it to the top. Then the energy would hit from some unknown source.It’s seems like a carburetor thing after a certain point. A mix of emotion, air, and inner energy that the mind sends to the muscles. The muscles will obey the mind long after they sound their warning. I wasn’t worried. This short hike would never require me to summon my inner zombie unless I was injured. Best avoided always but never out of a hiker’s equation.

Enter a new character. My invisible friend known as my inner zombie. His story is my story at a different level. I must accredit the author Jack London for the idea behind creating the force that I call my inner zombie. His fictional story of a lost and stranded individual moved me many years ago when I first read it as a boy. It’s a wonderful read for those with adventurous spirits. My story will be best represented by telling of some of our high peaks quests. Post pelvic surgery days for me mostly but there were many other times!My inner zombie was safely slumbering yesterday and that’s where I wanted him. He needs his rest because when he’s summoned it gets a little rough on my body.It’s not as strange as it sounds! I enjoy assigning names and titles to many things. Another story now added to the promised list and I am going to have fun writing that one! My inner zombie is a beast and one glutton for punishment. I can always count on him though. I finally know that the 1.5 percent Neanderthal DNA I carry is good for something!

Jen and I were both really enjoying our physical challenge of the ever rising trail. There were many more rocks now to scramble and the forest was transitioning into evergreens and smaller deciduous species.Birch mostly and a few aspens.Crossing the rocks was a decision making process of avoiding the wet rocks. My worn Merrill’s were minus some tread so I stuck to the dry area whenever possible. I would sometimes need to hold my beaver sticks in one hand and reach for a tree or root to get past a steeper scramble. The day was continuing to warm up and we were sweating some but not uncomfortable like we would have been on a summer day. Autumn hiking brings many rewards and coolness is one of them. The land below us continued to offer hints of views yet to come. The trail suddenly split and there was a steeper less traveled trail off to the right. I asked Jen if we could go that way as it looked challenging. She agreed and after a short ascent we were rewarded for our efforts! We stood on a scenic overlook and it was breathtakingly beautiful! The leaves were spectacular off in the distance! We took photos and relaxed for a moment before taking off again. This is the part of the hike where I always get a new found surge of energy. We continued to push forward with renewed vigor and soon entered an amazing set of rock formations.

I knew that we were getting closer to the summit because I recognized the gap between the rocks where the trail led. The rocks towered over our heads and were vividly detailed in the bright sunshine. I was totally lost in all the details surrounding me. Jen mentioned it as well! It wasn’t too long before we spotted the long bare rock approach that leads to Ampersand’s summit. My words can not describe what waited for us there. We slowed our forward momentum and turned in circles to take everything in. Wow! That was the word I suppose. We reached the summit and began snapping photos. It was an epic moment! Jen and I removed our packs enjoying the summit buzz as I call it. We got some great photos and enjoyed an informal hiker’s lunch. Other hikers began to arrive at the summit and we began talking to them. One fellow arrived who was very eager to talk. No problem for me!

Enter a new character into the journey. The man’s name was Steve and he lived in nearby Tupper Lake where he had spent most of his life. He was a walking source of information and knew all the distant mountains by name. Jen and I had recognized certain landmarks given our experience and time in the Adirondacks but Steve filled in a lot of blanks. We talked for a long time. I mentioned a mega 46er legend whom Zane and I had met on the trail to our final high peak. Allen Mountain. What a day. I wrote of that day on an older post on this page. I couldn’t remember the number of times this individual named Gary had summited all the high peaks but knew it was over 70 times! Impressive and mind boggling! Steve said that he knew Gary and had spoken with him just this summer. Gary had been busy hiking it seems! His new count was 88. 88 times a 46er! Wow! I mentioned that I would like to interview Gary and get more of his story. I asked Steve why does Gary do it? Why not branch out and see more of the world? New trails and new challenges. Steve said that Gary quite simply loves the Adirondacks so he wanders them constantly. Impressive to me is this man’s accomplishments! Steve was being reserved about his own accomplishments and I knew that he too had quite the story to tell! We didn’t pry and he left shortly afterwards.

I had questioned Steve about the old cabin ruins we had passed on the hike just before reaching the steps. He mentioned that several cabins had once adorned the ridge. I was never really certain though about the true story or history there. I had been confused thinking that the Adirondack hermit Noah John Rondeau had occupied the site. Steve corrected me and said that Rondeau had lived in a forest pond setting known as “The Duck Hole”. Research yesterday sent me in confusing circles as I scoured the internet. There were so many unfamiliar names and places that were unknown to me. And I thought that I knew the Adirondacks! Silly me! It’s going to take some intense research to uncover something I hope to record correctly. I have always desired to hike into the Duck Hole and set foot upon its banks. Something about the name I guess. I found it on a map years ago but never made a connection. I do believe though that Rondeau may have lived in more then one cabin over the years. He’s worthy of a historical blog post as I retrace his footsteps and discover more about him. Who can say what else waits for me along those trails?

Steve had mentioned a plague on another part of Ampersand’s summit that we might find interesting. It refers to the Hermit Of Ampersand. The plaque is dedicated to a man named Walter Channing Rice who spent 8 years on Ampersand on fire watch duty. His story is very detailed I discovered in my internet research project. Check him out! His father had a bit of pioneering spirit when he brought the Rice family up into the Adirondacks. Walter was a remarkable individual! His sons erected the plaque on Ampersand in the 1930s. Walter must have been connected to the cabin ruins we found in some capacity. My research indicated that his living quarters were much closer to the summit. I am going to further research this story and revisit it.

Jen and I found the plaque where Steve had said it would be but found something else as well. Some concrete and cut off anchor bolts drilled into the summit near the plaque. We immediately guessed that they had once belonged to a fire tower. Research confirmed that the state of New York had erected a fire tower on the summit of Ampersand in 1920. It was functional for some fifty years until 1970. It was removed in July of 1977. The era of NYS fire towers and the individuals who occupied them were being fazed out as aircraft surveillance during the fire season became more economically viable. I find a sense of loss in that piece of history for some reason. I guess the answer is in the task itself. Individuals spent hours up in the towers scanning the far horizons for the smoke of forest fires. Those individuals must have been possessed of a certain mindset I feel. Hours and hours of silent vigil although they did get to chat with the many hikers drawn to the summits. I suppose the job had more merits then one might expect.Fire towers might be an interesting blog post. The count of promised stories now surpasses 10!

Jen and I reluctantly prepared to exit the summit eventually after spending some wonderful time there. We had put our layers back on even though it was so warm and sunny. A north born breeze was nipping at our now inactive bodies and we were at risk of getting chilled. We sat for a time below the upper summit and basked in the sun out of the breeze. I later regretted not putting sunscreen on my face! October sunburn! I had the sunscreen in my pack but never used it. Silly me! We enjoyed the 360 degree views of Ampersand as long as we could before starting our descent. We encountered quite a few groups of hikers on their way towards the summit. We would always say hello and I would take a quick glance at their gear. Most were well equipped so that was a positive! The descent offers a different set of scramble challenges and while it requires less exertion it still dictates caution. Foot placement is everything and I lost my balance in a forward slide once. My beaver sticks enabled me to stay upright and avoid a fall. We stopped often on the hike out and continued to take photos. We searched for small details and unique sunshine photos through the foliage. I was feeling strong and experiencing no pain. Jen and I talked about many different things but one thing in particular is noteworthy. We wanted to hike together more often. Bring family and friends along to share in the wonderful challenges. Build memories together and strengthen family bonds. To share a love of nature that unites people. I feel that to share in challenge builds trust and understanding. To share my words and love of nature is a summit of a far different lofty destination. As Jen and I stood on the summit of Ampersand I gazed at many familiar sights. My time in those places was solid in memories and in deed Comfortable and reassuring. But the blue,gray of far distant horizons and the unknown waiting there calls with silent beckoning. This story is far from over.

So that’s a short glimpse into Ampersand Mountain! A worthy destination of beautiful challenge. The day Jen and I shared now true MOONTABS! My third ascent of Ampersand and certainly not my last. As I closed this post out I realized that I hadn’t mentioned why each of my Ampersand summits has been uniquely different and meaningful. It’s a story worthy of yet another promised post. That post must wait for its time. I wanted this one dedicated to my adventure loving cousin Jennifer and her family. To recognize her unique journey that is connected to mine through family and more. It’s a new beginning with endless possibilities. That’s enough for today. The autumn sun is on the water just outside the Airstream. Time to run!✍️