Innholdsfortegnelse for June Annual Outings Guide 2018 i Adirondack Explorer

Shortly after moving to the Adirondacks in 1996, I climbed Giant Mountain. Not only was it my first High Peak, it was the first time I’d climbed anything higher than the hill in the back yard where I grew up. While incredibly rewarding, the hike was harder than I had imagined even though I was a fit, thirty-year-old marathon runner. It was humbling. Nevertheless, like many others before me, I was hooked on the Adirondack Mountains, and I wanted more. That same year Grace Leach Hudowalski celebrated her ninetieth birthday, an occasion covered in the local papers. I’d never heard of Grace or the Adirondack Forty-Sixers, but I was smitten by the photo of her beaming with her birthday cake, proudly sporting her Forty-Sixer patch. I did some reading and…

The feel of sweat rising on the brow from honest exertion is motivation enough for some to take a hike, but most folks set out with another goal in mind: a lofty summit with expansive views, a secluded trout pond, a cool swimming hole on a lazy bend in a river. As a photographer with an insatiable appetite for sweet, natural things, I am lured by the prospect of finding picturesque waterfalls and berry patches. A route that offers both—such as the sixteen-mile High Falls Loop—is nothing short of hiker’s heaven. My friend, Lisa, and I plan to do the loop over three days, with overnights at High Rock on the Oswegatchie River and at the Janack’s Landing lean-to on Cranberry Lake. We don’t leave the trailhead in Wanakena until…

Until this past winter, I’d never heard of the Independence River Wild Forest. Not having discovered this underappreciated corner of the Adirondacks earlier has been my loss. The Wild Forest tract comprises seventy-six thousand acres on the western edge of the Adirondack Park, some fifty miles north of Utica. By Adirondack standards, it’s pretty flat country, a place to visit for its lakes and ponds and streams, not for spectacular views from bare summits. But it’s quintessentially Adirondack in the ways that count most: it’s wild, beautiful, and remote. My college-age son Nick and I set out to explore the region this spring, hiking in an eight-mile loop that took us to Big Otter Lake and Pine Lake. We began at the end of Partridgeville Road, several miles northeast of…

One thing about paddling the Northwest Bay Brook into Lake George: it’s no secret. We realized this when we pulled into the parking lot off Route 9N just north of Bolton Landing. It was just after 10 a.m. on a Sunday in August, and there were nearly a dozen cars in the parking lot. As we drove down to the launch ramp, a couple in a loaded canoe took off into the placid water and disappeared around a corner. In the time it took us to offload two kayaks and our gear for the day, another couple and two kids had parked, loaded their canoe, and were ready to go. “This is a beautiful bay to paddle,” assured the father, Dale Hettrich, who was with his wife, Jen, and two…

Every time I drive past the Deer River Flow on Red Tavern Road, I slow down to admire the stunning view southeast toward Debar Mountain. On a few occasions, I have stopped to take pictures. Finally, I decided to paddle the thing a few summers ago. My friend Phil Blanchard and his twelve-year-old son, Ben, planned to join me, but Phil fell ill on the morning of the trip. Phil didn’t think his suffering should stop Ben and me from enjoying ourselves, and it didn’t take much persuading for us to come around to his point of view. The Deer River Flow is shaped like a Y. From the southern put-in on Cold Brook Road, it’s nearly three miles to the large concrete dam that impounds the water. About halfway…

Doing the Seven Carries is a great adventure no matter what the season. Last winter we chose a day blue with sunshine to ski the ponds and intervening woodlands. It’s a ski trip that comes especially recommended when snow is sparse. Our group of five schussers and two doggers leave a car at Paul Smith’s College on Lower St. Regis Lake and then pile into a second car to shuttle to Little Clear Pond, our starting point. A new layer of snow-fuzz tops the ice, a perfect surface for kicking and gliding our way through the wilderness. After skiing across Little Clear, we follow a carry trail for a half-mile to the bog at the east end of St. Regis Pond and then ski along a narrow channel to the…

I once met a man on the Jackrabbit Trail who was skiing to Lake Placid as part of an arduous loop. He had skied from the end of Averyville Road outside the village to Oseetah Lake and across the lake to the village of Saranac Lake, where he followed local trails to the Jackrabbit for the return to Lake Placid. Well, maybe it wasn’t a complete loop. I don’t know how he got from the village of Lake Placid to his starting point on Averyville Road. Anyway, it’s an interesting trip, but I figure most people probably aren’t up for an eighteen-mile ski that includes a mile-and-a-half climb on the Jackrabbit toward the end of the day. Last winter, Carol MacKinnon Fox and I did just a portion of the…

We were all happy to be on our first backcountry ski trip of the season, but none of us was as excited as Ella. She often bolted ahead of us, eager to see what snowy adventure lay around the bend, and she kept her high spirits throughout our ten-mile tour despite numerous face plants. “I think Ella has white-nose syndrome,” I remarked after one of her plunges into the fresh powder. “She does, but she’s not concerned about it,” Sue said. “She’s kind of batty,” I added. I don’t think we hurt Ella’s feelings. She knows only a few words of English: sit, wait, lie down. Since “joy” is not part of her vocabulary, she could only act it out. And what a stage for self-expression: fluffy snow had buried…

I’ve been here before, so I know we’ll get out of this mess eventually, but I suspect Sue and Jeff are starting to have doubts. They are unfamiliar with Slide Time. We’ve been bushwhacking for more than an hour up Whiteface Brook in search of the long slide on the southwest side of Whiteface Mountain—the very scar, visible from Lake Placid, that gives the peak its name. Since we need to follow the brook only a mile or so, you’d think we would have reached the slide by now. But our progress is measured in dribs and drabs. Hop to the next rock, grab a branch, pull yourself onto the bank, climb over a fallen tree, return to the stream, and wedging your boot against a boulder, step up and…

In winter, this place would be crawling with skiers. But on a weekday morning in August, I’m nearly alone, or so it seems. I’ve come to Whiteface Mountain to ride my bike down slopes that I have skied for years. Although I can see few other riders, the bike park’s operator, “Downhill” Mike Scheur, has plenty of things to keep him busy. Next weekend is the annual 5K Downhill, part of the Gravity East tour competition. Scheur and his helpers have to string six miles of yellow caution tape along the course. It’s a winding, precipitous, hang-on-for-dear-life route that runs from the top of Little Whiteface to the base lodge—a drop of 2,400 vertical feet. “I want to impress them,” Mike tells me. “We have to show them we can…

Carol Fox had visited OK Slip Falls three times—twice in fall, once in winter—but not on the state’s new hiking trail and never with some guy jotting down every word she said. I advised her everything would be fine if she said clever and witty things. Mainly, though, I wanted to get her impressions of the trail and the falls, one of the highest in the Adirondack Park. Of course, she could describe the 250-foot cascade from her earlier trips. “I love how you turn the corner and it’s just there,” she said on our hike in. “You’re at eye level with it.” The state bought OK Slip Falls from the Adirondack Nature Conservancy in 2013, but it didn’t open a trail until this past summer (2014). The conservancy acquired…

A hike up Noonmark Mountain offers the experiences of a Great Range expedition in a compact, half-day excursion. You ascend through the mixed hardwood forest of the lower elevations, then the conifer woods, and on to an open rocky summit. The trail progresses inevitably from moderate pitch to steep scramble, just like the routes to the big guys—only the stages are measured in fractions of miles. And best yet, the 360-degree view from the summit is as spectacular as from any peak in the range. Hiking companions who had just gained Forty-Sixer status vouched for the fact that you can trek three times the distance to gain a peak with nowhere near the visual reward we earned on Noonmark. We were a sizable expedition team for our mid-September outing. Along…

Though short, shallow, and lazy, the Kunjamuk River doesn’t lack for grace or beauty. For an overview, prospective paddlers would, ideally, fly over it in an airplane; barring that, they could try Google Earth. Either would reveal the serpentine and remote nature of this small waterway and the difference in character between the upper and lower sections. From its ultimate source—eight-acre South Pond—at nearly 2,400 feet in elevation in the mountains of the Siamese Ponds Wilderness, the Kunjamuk carves a circuitous route west, falling off the state land. It turns ninety degrees and flows south into a valley about seven hundred feet below. The valley is remarkably flat, a narrow corridor scoured and leveled by glaciers over ten thousand years ago. The river wobbles in a tight series of meanders…

After carrying our canoes a quarter-mile, paddling briefly across Deer Pond, and then carrying another half-mile, Sue Bibeau and I were eager to begin our exploration of the Essex Chain Lakes, a string of pristine ponds surrounded by wild peaks. As soon as we put in, though, we encountered another canoeist, and we had to stop for a chat. It was Mike Carr, executive director of the Adirondack Nature Conservancy. Without him, we wouldn’t be here. Thanks to Carr and the Nature Conservancy, the Essex Chain is now part of the forever-wild Forest Preserve and open to the public for the first time in more than a century. The conservancy purchased the 17,320-acre Essex Chain Tract in 2007 and sold it to the state in 2012. Part of the tract,…

In early June, I enjoyed one of my most memorable canoe trips in the Adirondacks: I spent the morning paddling around lovely Boreas Ponds, taking in breathtaking views of the High Peaks. I had the place all to myself. This might seem surprising, given that the state had only recently purchased Boreas Ponds from the Nature Conservancy. Usually, such a magnificent acquisition to the Forest Preserve will attract curiosity seekers. Yes, it was a weekday, but my guess is that the explanation lies in the difficulty of getting there—especially with a canoe. In theory, it would be possible to drive to Boreas Ponds along a well-maintained dirt road, known as Gulf Brook Road, but that thoroughfare is barred to motor vehicles. Anyone wanting to paddle the ponds will have to…

It’s barely above zero, and we’re skiing across Lake Durant into the wind. After pulling on my balaclava, all I can hear is my breathing. In fact, the world has been reduced to my breathing and my cold fingers. I start to wonder what I’m doing here. And then I look up at Blue Mountain, the big guy in this neighborhood, encrusted in white, thrust up against a blue-gray sky, and the sight reminds me: This is fun. By the time we reach the end of the 2.5-mile lake, we’re warmed up, and the fun has just begun. We intend to ski through the Blue Ridge Wilderness to Cascade Pond and Stephens Pond and then return to the car in a series of gentle descents on the historic Northville-Placid Trail.…

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I lived in the Adirondacks for close to fifteen years without owning a pair of snowshoes. My husband and I have been such avid skiers that I never considered giving any other mode of winter trekking a try. “Why snowshoe when you can ski?” was always my pretzel-logic excuse. In a moment of clarity, I finally came to my senses and purchased a pair this winter. I am now kicking myself for not doing so sooner. I’ve spent the last few weeks getting comfortable with my new deck-clad feet by climbing, descending, and bushwhacking all over the local hill near my home in Saranac Lake. We’ve had some fresh snow overnight so I’m feeling like it’s time to branch out and try a real…

When I was a novice backcountry skier, I once climbed to Klondike Notch, the pass between Howard and Yard mountains in the High Peaks Wilderness, and endured a frightful descent on the way back, falling on my butt a few times to avoid slamming into trees. Maybe that’s why I didn’t return for ten years. Now I’m sorry I waited so long. Sue Bibeau (the Explorer’s designer) and I skied to the notch in early spring and thought it a delightful trail. The steeper parts require intermediate skill, but the woods are so open that if you’re uncomfortable staying on the trail, you can traverse back and forth among the trees. In difficulty, it reminded us of the harder sections of the Jackrabbit Ski Trail, the twenty-four-mile route between Saranac…

Have you heard of the legend of Rogers Rock? We’re not talking about Major Robert Rogers, the leader of Rogers’ Rangers in the French and Indian War. We’re talking about Tom Rosecrans, the rock climber. Rosecrans has climbed in the West, the Himalayas, and East Africa, among other places, but he’s spent most of his time in the Adirondacks, where he has logged about seventy first ascents, and of all the cliffs in this part of the world, he’s most at home on Rogers Rock. The 650-foot slab rises straight out of Lake George. Legend has it that, in March 1758, Major Rogers was fleeing Indians when he came to the brink of the cliff. He strapped his snowshoes on backward and retraced his steps to make it appear he…

I’m lying in bed at 4:45 a.m. The alarm hasn’t gone off yet, but I won’t be going back to sleep. I’m climbing Wallface today. For this I blame my friend Mike. We did a couple of small rock climbs last year, top-roped stuff, and right away he starts dreaming about Wallface, the seven-hundred-foot cliff that overlooks Indian Pass. It may be the biggest wilderness cliff in the Northeast and we may be a couple of middle-age wannabe climbers, but, hey, we’ve got gumption. Thankfully, we also have Don Mellor. Mellor, the dean of Adirondack climbers, has scaled Wallface about fifty times. At fifty-five, he remains muscular and wiry, the perfect physique for clinging to rock walls with fingertips and toenails. Mike, a reporter for Associated Press, had asked Don…

I have driven past Moxham Mountain in Minerva many times and admired its cliffs from afar. Back in the seventies and eighties, rock climbers put up more than a dozen routes on these steep slabs, but because the approach crosses private land, Moxham was omitted from the most recent climbing guidebook. That must be frustrating for climbers, especially since most of Moxham Mountain lies within the public Forest Preserve. But even though you can’t scale the cliffs, you can enjoy the view from the summit, thanks to a new trail that ascends Moxham on state land from the other side of the mountain. The Student Conservation Association built the 2.7-mile trail under the auspices of the state Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC). Starting on a dirt road on the north…

I grew up in Saranac Lake and have been hiking in the Adirondacks for much of the last four decades. However, until this spring, I had not hiked up Jay Mountain, actually Jay Mountains, plural. My hiking calendar always seemed to omit this double-peaked ridge east of Upper Jay. At 3,600 feet, it ranks an obscure seventy-ninth highest in the Adirondacks, which is one reason I paid it little heed. Not that I limit my local peak bagging to four-thousand-footers. A candidate for my guidebook, Hiking the Adirondacks, Jay was omitted because it didn’t have an officially maintained trail. While I was looking for a hike in celebration of my fifty-first birthday, several friends unexpectedly and enthusiastically suggested the Jays. “Jay Mountain is my favorite hike in the Adirondacks,” said…

For the casual and experienced paddler alike, one of the great joys of canoeing in the Adirondacks is to ease your way along a flat, meandering stream through open country. Though maybe not as well known as some northern routes with similar character, a stretch of the West Branch of the Sacandaga River in the Silver Lake Wilderness offers the joys of a low-key float, combined with easy access and a comfortable paddling distance. On the day after Memorial Day, my wife Jeannie and I had the river to ourselves, except for paddling companions Mark Bowie and Mike Prescott. I suspect that canoeists would find similar solitude almost any time they make this trip. Though this route in the southern Adirondacks is within easy driving distance of the Capital Region,…

Every September since 1983, paddlers of all ages and abilities have been gathering with boats of all different shapes and sizes to take part in a quintessentially Adirondack event. Beginning in Old Forge and ending in Saranac Lake, the Adirondack Canoe Classic, commonly referred to as the Ninety-Miler, leads participants through some of the most scenic waterways of the Adirondack Park. The three-day race encompasses all kinds of water, from big lakes to narrow streams, and requires more than five miles of carrying. After fifteen years of living in the Adirondacks, I decided it was high time I give the Ninety-Miler a whirl. In 2011, I entered the race with my friend Allison Warner, and we were one of the 250 teams (over five hundred people) massed at the start…

The Capital Region forecasters were predicting a high of thirty-five degrees, meaning this day would rival the warmest in six weeks. So my son Nicholas and I debate: ski pants or blue jeans for our snowshoe trip? Nick, a college student who spends most of the winter in Potsdam—where it can be fifty degrees colder than this—quickly settled on blue jeans. I came around too, though not until walking around the house in ski pants for so long that I scared the cat. I later was informed, by the Explorer editor, that blue jeans are not appropriate attire for a winter hike. Like other cotton clothing, blue jeans will not insulate if they get wet. Now I know. In our case, though, we never felt in danger. Our destination was…

On the Peavine Swamp trail system in the northwestern Adirondacks near Cranberry Lake I found a tranquil route through open forest, culminating on a knoll overlooking the Oswegatchie River. Removed from the more challenging terrain of the High Peaks backcountry, the trails allow the skier to settle into a soothing rhythm of kick and glide over level ground and rolling ridges. The occasional gully or steeper pitch is enough to rate the trail’s difficulty moderate or intermediate—but in a low-key way. It’s a good trip for looking around and appreciating the forest, and on a clear day in early January, I was accompanied by two skiers who were well qualified to be guides through these woods: Jamie Savage, professor at the Ranger School in Wanakena, and John Wood, senior forester…

From time to time I’ve played with the idea of putting together a list of quintessential Adirondack adventures. It would include, for example, climbing the Trap Dike on Mount Colden, skiing Mount Marcy on a bluebird day, and scaling the eight-hundred-foot cliff on Wallface. Last summer, I ticked off another adventure on my bucket list: rafting the Hudson Gorge. My friend Mike got me into this one. He arranged a trip with North Creek Rafting Company with the intention of writing an article for the Associated Press. I readily agreed to shoot some photos and video. Our Hudson Gorge outing differed from most in one important respect: instead of riding in rafts, we piloted inflatable kayaks, known as duckies. These vessels are open, like canoes, but as in a kayak,…

The forecast today is for upper eighties with high humidity, but at the moment it’s cool and breezy. I’m sitting on the front steps of the Explorer in Saranac Lake, waiting for my cycling partner, Tom Boothe. He has agreed to join me for a forty-eight-mile bike trip around Whiteface Mountain. I’ve done this route several times, but I’m a little nervous. Tom and I have never ridden together before. In fact, we hardly know each other. I do know that Tom is a serious rider: he just returned home from a 103-mile weekend ride in Virginia. I also know that he is a retired Navy captain, and as the daughter of a career military man, I have a feeling he is probably as gung-ho in his recreational pursuits as…