6 Days, 5 Nights, and 63 Miles: An Adventure in the Western High Peaks 11/19-11/24/10

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Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6

I'd known for several weeks prior to embarking on my adventure that I wanted to spend some serious time in the woods. Although I had spent all summer in the outdoors for work (sleeping inside on only 5 occaisions), my woods time since Labor Day had been restricted to weekends only, and I was starting to itch for a serious adventure. I had an entire week off from work, and there was no way I wasn't going to take advantage of the opportunity to cover some serious distance during that time.

I put a lot of thought into where I wanted to go, and in the end, selected the Western High Peaks as my destination. It's an area of the Adirondacks that I've spent a considerable amount of time in, but is so large that there were still places I'd not yet visited. This would not be a peak bagging trip, as I'd already climbed the mountains of the Seward and the Santanoni Rangers numerous times each, but rather an opportunity to cover as much ground as I could, to visit new areas, and to revisit areas I had fond memories of and which I'd not seen in quite some time. Having entered (and exited) the Western High Peaks at all of the other major trailheads (Upper Works, Lake Placid, Coreys, and Long Lake), the decision to start and end in Newcomb was an easy one to make. Having also desired from quite some time to do a circumnavigation of the loop around the Seward Range comprised of the Northville-Placid Trail, the Calkins Brook Truck Trail, and the Ward Brook Truck Trail, it wasn't hard to come up with a route to follow.

And so, after several weeks of anticipation, my friend Danie and I found ourselves pulling up to the trailhead at the Santanoni Preserve in the darkness on Friday evening.


Since we were getting a late start on Friday, after my having to work Friday afternoon and having to drive an hour from Saranac Lake to the trailhead in Newcomb, we'd decided that the hike in that evening would be a short one to one of the lean-tos on Newcomb Lake.

The trailhead was easy to find; I had been expecting to spend some time in Newcomb looking for it, but the road to the Santanoni Gatehouse was well marked and easy to find from Route 28N. There is also ample parking at the trailhead for quite a few cars, and judging from the accommodations for horses trailers, carriages, and handicapped riders, this is a popular trailhead for horseback riders as well (the Western High Peaks have a fairly extensive network of horseback trails, allowing for longer through trips or loops, and even for wagons to be pulled on many of the trails, most of which follow old logging or state fire roads).

The rising moon saw us donning our packs and setting off. Almost immediately, we noticed the cold. Gone were the warmer temperatures of October and early November- this was winter starting to set in for sure. Fortunately, we'd come quite well prepared with winter sleeping bags and lots of food and warm clothing. We even decided to carry snowshoes with us, rationalizing that while the chances were good that we'd not need them, it sure would suck to get stuck without them in the backcountry during a surprise late fall snowstorm that dumped 2 feet of snow. Winter camping rules were certainly starting to come into play! This would be a trip of sleeping with water bottles to prevent them from freezing and overcoming the desire to stay in one's sleeping bag on cold mornings.

Our first four miles or so of the hike followed the main road into the Santanoni camp. This gravel road is still often traveled by cars driven by those working to restore the camp, and so it is in pretty good shape and makes for a pleasant walk. We had our headlamps on at first, but the moon soon became so bright that we were able to turn them off and walk in the pale light. Moon was so bright, in fact, that it was almost too much to look directly at. The ground was also covered in a dusting of snow, which reflected the moonlight quite well and further brightened the woods. Danie's malamute Inga was quite excited to be in the woods, and spent the first few miles running laps around us in the woods.

We first passed the farm complex, about a mile in. Here, fruits and vegetables were grown for consumption at the great camp, and I'm guessing they also had livestock too. Several buildings still stand here, as does the foundation of what appears to have been a stable that burned down. There must have been some problems with recent vandalizing on the premises, as there were numerous signs posted announcing that the State Police patrol the area regularly. In the moonlight, the boarded up buildings had an eerie appearance, and I would've liked to have explored the area some more, but we were eager to get to camp for the night, and so we quickly continued on.

At the junction with the horse trail, which splits off the main road to the camp about 2 miles in and cuts due north towards Moose Pond, we encountered a parked truck. We'd noticed while signing in at the register that there was a group of 4 that had signed in for 9 days, indicating that they planned to camp at the base of Baldwin Mountain. One of them must've gotten permission to drive in on the road.

Beyond this junction, the trail gradually made it's way downhill to Newcomb Lake and the great camp on the south shore. Just before reaching the lake, we passed another junction with the trail leading up the west shore of the lake to the Newcomb Lake Lean-to. We passed on this trail, however, intending to camp on the east shore at the Ward Pond Brook Lean-to. I had heard reports of an epic swamp just north of the Newcomb Lake Lean-to which we'd have to cross the next day if we selected that route. We opted instead to take the slightly longer route around the east shore, which also gave us the opportunity to check out the great camp on the south shore along the way.

In addition to the two lean-tos, Newcomb Lake also has many designated campsites around the lake. We soon encountered two of these shortly before crossing the outlet. While not much for views, they were both in excellent shape, and were comprised of mowed grassy clearings next to the road. Not really “wilderness” in the true sense of the word, but not everone needs that, and we would find plenty of wilderness for ourselves farther in.

Shortly beyond the outlet crossing, we reached the great camp itself. Here, we did take some time to top and check out the buildings. All are in excellent shape, and we were able to peer in through the windows and see some of the bedrooms and the main hall in the center of the complex. The camp itself is comprised of several different buildings, all connected through a network of covered porches. Everything was well kept up, and looked fairly habitable. Kudos to the Santanoni Preserver for all their hard work in maintaining the premises. Even the fire extinguisher inspector had been by, earlier that same day judging from the date on the tags.

One thing about the camp we did find curious was the presence of pegs sticking out of the walls of many of the buildings. These wooden pegs looked quite new, and we spent a few minutes puzzling over their purpose. They were located way too low (or two high) to be useful for hanging stuff from. At first, we thought maybe they were to prevent procupines and rodents from getting up at the windows and chewing at the sills, but it seemed like these pegs would make it easier for them, not harder. There were pegs above some of the windows, as well. We postulated that they might be to provide attachment points to secure some sort of covering over the windows, but there was far more than were needed for this purpose. We never did figure out what they were for. There was no sign of Douglas Legg, the child who disappeared from the camp in the early 70's, either!

After exploring the camp, we continued our way around the east shore of the lake. The trail here leaves the road and becomes a well defined foot path through the woods. We passed several more campsites, all right on the water and in excellent shape, and soon were stepping out of the woods onto a very nice little beach. We had just finished commenting on what a nice spot to go swimming it was, and how we'd have to return during warmer weather, when we turned around and saw the old bathhouse with its changing rooms, which we'd at first missed in the dark. Apparently, others had had the same idea before us!

Beyond the beach, the trail continued along the shore for some ways, passing some of the largest Cedars I've ever seen in the Adirondacks. Here in the woods, away from the road to the camp, the large trees, moonlight, stillness of the air, and thin covering of snow all combined to create a pretty fantastically wonderland through which we hiked. “It reminds me of Narnia,” Danie said to me at one point- and indeed, it wasn't at all hard to imagine that we would come around a corner in the trail to find a street lamp awaiting us.

Continued...

Day 1 Continued

After joining an old logging road, and taking us up and over a small hill, we found ourselves at the Ward Pond Brook Lean-to, having covered the 6 mile hike in just less than 2 hours. This lean-to sits on the northern shore of the lake in a picturesque little clearing near the lake. There's not much of a view of the water itself from the shelter, but it's close by, and looks like there would be good swimming here too in the summer months. The lean-to itself was in excellent shape. Judging from the entries in the register, the lean-to gets very little use.

By this point, the moon was high overhead, and everything in the woods was illuminated. We prepared dinner for ourselves (even though I'd eaten dinner before leaving Saranac Lake, and stopped for chili and a milkshake at Stewart's on the way, I found myself pretty hungry upon arriving at the lean-to), and prepared for bed. Before turning in, Inga and I went for a short walk farther along the trail... it was quite obvious that few people ever venture beyond the lean-to, as the trail become distinctly less defined north of the lean-to.

Before falling asleep, Danie and I both affirmed that with it's beautiful beaches, interesting history, plenty of campsites, and a seeming lack of crowds, Newcomb Lake was a destination that we'd certainly have to return to in the future, and introduce to our friends. There is certainly enough there to occupy a full weekend with enjoyable hiking and camping.

Continue to Day 2

Great trip. I checked out your pictures & I'll look forward to the rest of the report. Cold River country is something special. It would be a gas to do some ski backpacking in there ...

mirabela said:

Cold River country is something special. It would be a gas to do some ski backpacking in there ...

Click to expand...

I went through the Cold River area in January almost 5 years ago. We were on snowshoes, not skis, but yeah, it was awesome... no sign of a single other person for miles.

We awoke to find that the weather had changed. Instead of clear skies and cold temperatures, morning brought with it warmer weather and partially cloudy skies. The temperature had risen so much, in fact, that the air was quite unsettled, and there was a stiff breeze ripping across the surface of the lake. The water, which had been perfectly smooth the night before, was now being whipped into a frenzy. Most of the light covering of snow had melted overnight.

We quickly prepared a hot breakfast, oatmeal for Danie and grits for myself, packed up, and set out on our way. As I'd noticed the evening before, the trail north from the lean-to was not well traveled, but still easy to follow. We soon reached the junction at the very north end of the lake, near the inlet. Here, the trail around the lake continued it's circumnavigation of the water body by heading south along the west shore, past the Newcomb Lake Lean-to, returning to the road to the great camp. We took the trail straight ahead, to the north, as marked by the sign indicating Moose Pond (and the ominous message scratched into the arrow on the sign: “No trail to pond”).

Whereas it had been quite obvious that most of the hiker traffic turned around at the lean-to, it was even more obvious that the vast majority of those who ventured beyond the lean-to stuck to the loop trail around the pond and avoided the trail to Moose Pond. This trail was quite faint in spots and fairly overgrown as well. Fortunately, it was well marked, fairly free of blowdown, and for the most part, not at all difficult to follow.

Not too far past the junction we reached our first obstacle of the trip: a flooded beaver meadow that the trail disappeared down into. Fortunately, the dam itself was right in front of us, and we were able make our way across on or just below it... our footing wasn't too sure at times, and the alders were quite dense in one spot, but we were able to get across without getting our feet wet. The surface of the water had frozen over, but with the warmer temperatures, that thin sheet of ice was covered with a wet layer of water.

With the beaver dam behind us, we continued north. The going was a bit slow at first, due to the overgrown nature of the trail and the lack of a discernible tread to hike on, but the trail soon joined another old logging road not too far beyond the beaver dam, and we started to move much more quickly. Before long, the trail left the logging road to skirt around another swampy section, and again it was difficult but not at all impossible at times to keep on the trail. Soon we were at the outlet of Shaw Pond. We never saw any sign of the old trail north to the Cold River Horse Trail, but we weren't really looking for it either.

Beyond Shaw Pond Outlet, the trail rejoined the Moose Pond Horse Trail. The Moose Pond Trail was like a backwoods interstate compared to the faint path that we'd been walking on for much of the morning- a wide, well graded, gravel road that has been closed to motor vehicle traffic but is still accessible (and readily used by) horses and horse-drawn wagons. On the east shore of the outlet of Shaw Pond was a clearing, perhaps the location at one time of a hunting or logging camp.

Before heading north towards Moose Pond, we walked a hundred feet or so south to check out a campsite we saw from the junction. Not designated, and within 150 feet of the trail, but certainly it appeared to be in common use. It was comprised of an old gravel clearing, perhaps a site where gravel was excavated for use in grading the road, and certainly a durable surface to camp on. While checking it out, I started to smell smoke. I asked Danie if she could smell it too, which she could... we checked out the coals in the fire pit the fire pit, but they were cold.

We started north on the horse trail, and just when I was about to convince myself that my nose had been playing tricks on me, we came around a corner in the trail and saw a wall tent. Definitely set up for hunting season, and the wood stove was going full force, emptying plenty of smoke out into the air. No one seemed to be nearby, however, and we heard no noises from within as we walked past. The occupants must've all been out hunting off the trail, and we never saw any sign of them.

Beyond the wall tent, the trail climbed steadily uphill to a short pass between Moose Mountain and a nearby hill. A little ways beyond the pass, the trail turned east atop a bluff overlooking tMoose Pond, which we could see through the trees. Here, we encountered another junction. The horse trail continued right, around the east side of the pond, while a short spur trail on another old road bed went left, descending down to the shore of the pond. As we still had many miles ahead of us, we decided against checking out the spur trail. A sign at the junction, whoever, indicated that it was .2 miles down this side trail to the shore, and that there were 2 campsites down there.

Again, it was quite obvious that most traffic heading north on the Moose Pond trail turns around at Moose Pond itself. The trail, however, was still in excellent shape, well graded and packed with gravel, and it was apparent that it does receive some regular horse traffic use (as well as horse drawn wagons). The trail cut around to the east of Moose Pond, staying fairly far away from and high up above the pond as it did so. We soon passed near Shaw Pond, a pond at which the beavers have apparently been so industrious in damming the outlet that the water has started to flow in the other direction towards Moose Pond. Here, we encountered yet another obstacle: a bridge that had been dammed up by beavers, forcing water to run out around the bridge and severely eroding a deep gully on one side. Our passage across this gully consisted of us balancing carefully across a log beam originally intended as a support for the bridge itself, but now providing us with a bridge that allowed us to continue without climbing carefully down into the gully and back out again.

North of this “alternate” outlet to Shaw Pond, we encountered Emrine Brook, a mountain stream coming off of the southern slopes of Santanoni and Little Santononi Mountains. There was no bridge across Ermine Brook, but the crossing was wide and easy as the water was fairly shallow. We passed two campsites on the north side of the brook, one with a picnic table located right on the shore of the stream, and another in a wide gravel pit a little ways beyond the stream crossing.

Ermine Brook itself is also obviously another turn around point for many people who choose to venture out in this area. The road ceases to be graded with gravel beyond the brook, and turns into a narrower woods road that is fairly muddy in some spots. We also started to encounter some blowdown along the trail, which had been quite clear of fallen trees and branches up until the Ermine Brook crossing. Still easily traversable by hikers and horses, but I don't think any wagons are going to make it beyond Ermine Brook any time soon without some trail cleanup.

The road itself ended in a small clearing just south of Calahan Brook. In the clearing was an old, rotted picnic table overturned in the woods, and a old decaying pile of firewood. Clearly, it used to get use as a campsite, but I don't think anyone has camped there in a long time. The trail, now a narrower path, lead down to Calahan Brook from the clearing.

Calahan Brook itself presented the third, and most difficult to surpass, obstacle of the day. Again, the trail here forded the brook without the aid of a bridge, but unlike Ermine Brook which drains a relatively small area, the water here drains a much larger area on the upper slopes of Couchsacraga and Santanoni Mountains, and it was deep and quick flowing. Any good stepping stones were submerged beneath the water, and many were also quite unstable, as we discovered in trying to cross them. Inga, ever the first in our “pack,” quickly ran through the water, and hopped up onto a large boulder on the other side, and promptly lost her footing and fell into the water. I immediately burst out laughing, and then when I jumped up onto the same boulder, I discovered the hard way for myself that it was covered in a thin sheet of ice! Karma, I guess. The crossing was difficult, and Danie only managed to get across with one foot dry, while the tops of both my ankles were quite damp.

The trail was in the worst shape yet beyond Calahan Brook. No longer following and old road, and with plenty of blowdown across the path, the going was a bit slower. Even for horses, I can imagine that the going wouldn't be easy, and we saw several spots where those who'd passed through on horseback had been forced to meander off the marked trail to get around a fallen tree.

This would prove to be the worse section of the trail, however, and it would only improve as we continued to get closer to Shattuck Clearing. Soon, the trail joined an old road, which then joined another better defined road not too long after. We continued north, and then angling to the west, around a hill that stood above Moose Pond Outlet. We soon reached an old clearing with a foundation and some old barrels about... another testament to permanent inhabitation in this wild area that was once a common site.

Continued...

Beyond the clearing, we soon reached the junction with the Cold River Horse Trail. The trail right led north some 10 miles or so to the Northern Lean-tos, the Cold River Canyon, and eventually to Duck Hole. Our journey, however, took us straight on the path towards Shattuck Clearing. We descended a wide woods road down the far side of the hill, and soon found ourselves standing in the clearing on the east side of Moose Pond Stream where stands two lean-tos. As it was 1 in the afternoon, we elected to stop here for lunch.

The lean-tos at Moose Pond Stream are both in excellent shape, and each has a picnic table. It appeared as though they had originally been constructed side by side, but one appeared to have been placed on skids and moved a little ways uphill at some point. It must've been recent, as the fire pit in front of the moved lean-to looked pretty new. The old fire pit, constructed of cement, was still there, standing guard in from of a grassy space where the lean-to used to be. These lean-tos also don't get very much use, I think. There was evidence that horses had been by recently, but not a lot of what you expect to see at most lean-to sites- cut branches in the woods, trampled paths leaving the clearing, etc.

We quickly ate our lunch in the lower lean-to. We'd already traveled nearly 10 miles since breaking camp in the morning, and still had more than 6 miles to go to get to our intended destination for the evening: the lean-tos at Calkins Brook.

The trail west out of the clearing at Moose Pond Stream continued to follow the wide woods road. Soon, we reached another junction with the Rich Lake Access Road to Shattuck Clearing. A prominent sign here warned hikers that public access on this trail to the south ended 1.5 miles further, where the old road crossed the property line from state land to the ESF Huntington Preserve. I was reminded of a classmate at Paul Smith's, whose father worked for ESF at the preserve. His father had stories from back when the road was still open. Employees of the preserve would frequently hike the Northville-Placid Trail between Long Lake and Lake Placid, and would drive into Shattuck Clearing on the access road before hand to hide a cache of food to pick up at the halfway point, thus limiting the overall load they needed to carry into the woods!

We turned right at the junction and continued north the last mile to Shattuck Clearing. As we got close, we started to pass through some really nice pine plantations. These plantations were quite nice to walk through, and we could hear the breeze whispering through the tops of the towering pines while our footsteps seemed to echo in the silence below. Before long, we saw a campsite and a blue marked trail on the right side of the old road- we'd finally reached the Northville-Placid Trail! Shattuck clearing couldn't be far beyond, and sure enough, after about 500 feet we walked into the small clearing. I quickly signed in at the register while Danie went down the horse trail to check out the ford to see if we'd be able to cross.

I'd soon joined Danie down at the shore of the Cold River. The river here was quite wide, quite deep, and flowing not quickly but at a decent pace. Had it been summer time, I think, we would've gone for it, but with the cold November temperatures upon us, crossing here was definitely not an option. And so back up to Shattuck Clearing we went, to take the Northville-Placid Trail east up the Cold River a little ways, first crossing Moose Pond Stream on one suspension bridge, and then crossing the Cold River itself on another suspension bridge. Inga took a little bit of convincing to get across the Cold River, as the walking surface of the suspension bridge was corrugated metal, and I think she was a bit wary of the heights involved! It was also a bit weird walking in a single lane path again after so many miles of old roads, but soon we found ourselves on the far side of the Cold River and headed north on the Calkins Brook Truck Trail. Our diversion had added about 2 miles total to our trip, and the light was beginning to fade, so we took off up the trail quickly.

Soon, we encountered the blow down that is prominently mentioned on the DEC's trail conditions webpage. The storm that resulted in so many trees being knocked over must have been impressive... in an area about 400 feet wide, and what looked to be about a mile long, not a single tree had been left standing. The entire forest had been completely obliterated, and it was only just beginning to grow back. What was curious was the narrow but long stretch of devastation, and the fact that trees on either side seemed untouched. What could have caused such destruction along a thin line like this? Tornado, or perhaps a localized microburst? Either way, the trail itself was quite clear of blowdown, thanks to the effort of whatever trail crew opened it up again with chainsaws. The DEC website states that horseback riders may not be able to pass through this area, but there was only one overhanging limb that one on horseback might have to duck or dismount for. I'd think that horses will have no problem here.

Just past the blowdown, after entering the woods again, we encountered another junction. Here, the main trail took a sharp turn left and a short side trail led straight a few hundred feet up to the shore of Latham Pond. I told Danie I'd catch up to her, and went up to the trail to check it out. According to the ADK Guide Book, there used to be a lean-to on this small pond, but it was removed some time ago. The guidebook mentions that there are some small campsites here. I never saw any sign of the campsites or the former lean-to site, but I didn't explore beyond the south side of the pond, where the trail reaches the shore. It looked like there was a faint trail that headed around the west side of the pond, and I'd speculate that perhaps the campsites were located in that direction. I did get some pretty views of the lower slopes of the Seward Range from the south shore, however.

Back on the main trail, I continued north in pursuit of Danie and Inga. The trail continued with easy grades, mostly maintaining a slight uphill trend. There were some nice open spots along Boulder Brook which enabled me to get a pretty sweet photograph of the Seward Range itself. The upper slopes were all covered in bright snow and ice, and were illuminated by the rays of the setting sun.

Beyond Boulder Brook, the trail climbs up to a pass between two foothills of the Seward Range, and I caught up to Danie and Inga about midway up to the height of land. Danie had her pack off and was relaxing on the ground, an incredibly unusual sight. Danie is normally a bastion of energy, and with her high pitched giggle, can keep others going physically and mentally after they normally would have quit were they alone. To see her taking a break like this while hiking was quite unusual, and indicative that we'd already had a hard day.

After breaking out some butterfingers and peanut butter cups to get some more energy, we continued up the hill. We soon passed a solitary hunter. He was wearing only day gear, and given the gathering darkness, I assumed he was camped out nearby. Just below the height of land, we also passed a spring on the west side of the trail, well marked and with a complementary cup to use hanging on a nearby tree branch.

We crossed the height of land just as it was getting too dark to see without headlamps, and began to descend the other side towards Calkins Brook. Knowing that the lean-tos were located not far beyond the pass, we started to eagerly watch out for them, hoping that each bend in the trail as we descended would bring them into view. And indeed, it wasn't long before we came around one such bend in the trail, crossed Calkins Brook itself on a wide bridge, and came into the clearing with the two lean-tos.

Selecting the closest lean-to for habitation, we threw our packs down, and stretched out every muscle in our bodies. We'd covered 18 miles since leaving camp that morning. While certainly not the farthest I've ever hiked in a day, it's the farthest I've ever gone while carrying that kind of weight. Danie remarked that her feet really hurt... funny enough, my feet were the only part of my body that wasn't sore!

We soon had a roaring fire going (there was plenty of cut and split firewood nearby, and we soon learned from the lean-to register that a sole occupant had been there for a full week, leaving only that very morning), and dinner in our bellies. Danie went to the outhouse, and announced upon returning that she'd had the “hershey squirts!” Not good. Our friend Meg had been sick similarly a week or so before, and Danie had been to visit her. Apparently, it wasn't just the intensity of the hike that had tired her out so much towards the end of the day, but the fact that she was feeling a bit under the weather as well. With nothing to do but turn in the for evening, and see how she felt in the morning, we did so- and thus ended one of the hardest days I've ever had of hiking.

Continue to Day 3 Below

In contrast to the warmer temperatures that greeted us the morning before, the third day dawned clear and cold. Having arrived in the gathering darkness the evening before, I finally got a good chance to examine our surroundings. The Calkins Brook Lean-tos are located in a pretty little clearing adjacent to Calkins Brook itself. According to the Plinth, Quoin, and Cornice Associates map, the location of these lean-tos is the former site of the Santa Clara Lumber Company's Camp One, but there was little nearby to indicate that a lumber camp had once stood at the spot. It was also obvious that the lean-tos had recently been worked on, and our observations were confirmed when we read in the lean-to registers that the Lean2Rescue Projects had recently been in the area to raise the lean-tos, replaces the roof on each, and stain them. As a result, but shelters are in excellent shape, and this combined with the pretty little clearing alongside the brook makes for a nice destination that I don't think too many people ever visit.

Despite a full night's rest, Danie soon realized that she was still feeling too sick to continue on our expedition around the Seward Range and back to Newcomb. Fortunately, we were quite close to the Raquette River, an area which she'd visited several times for work in previous years and knew quite well. It was determined that I would continue on alone, while Danie would take the horse trail to Stony Creek, and from there catch a ride back to Newcomb.

I was still packing up when she was ready to go, and so, after she'd passed off to me some of her extra food she'd not be needing, we said our goodbyes, and she and Inga headed north up the trail. (Side note: I talked to her not too long after I got out of the woods, and she had no trouble at all making it back to Newcomb ok, and recovered from her illness!) Soon after, I was ready to head out myself, said goodbye to Calkins Brook, and headed north on the truck trail myself.

The going on the truck trail beyond the lean-tos was quite easy. I soon reached the junction with the Raquette River Horse Trail, a single track that cuts west from the truck trail to join the Raquette River Trail north of the falls. I continued north past the junction, and several subsequent old gravel pits along the trail that looked like they'd been used as campsites in years long past. It wasn't long before I reached the turn off for the Calkins Brook herd path up Donaldson Mountain. The trail here, after having angled somewhat to the east, makes a sharp turn to the north in a small clearing, while the herd path continues east along the north shore of Calkins Brook, eventually ascending Donaldson Mountain and joining the herd path from Seward just north of the summit.

In reaching the turn off for the Calkins Brook Herd Path, two things happened. First, I'd finally circumnavigated the Seward Range, not in one go (as I planned to do during this trip), but rather through a series of trips. I'd hiked every other trail bordering the foothills of the Seward Range on various previous trips, and the trail between the Calkins Brook Herd Path and Shattuck Clearing was the only section I'd left to hike. Secondly, in starting to traverse known ground, I began what was to be a walk down memory lane that would continue over the course of the next several days, revisiting many spots that I'd been to before on various trips spanning my hiking career.

Concerning this area in particular, I'd primitive camped in the woods near the start of the Calkins Brook Herd Path several times, once in the early spring of 2006 as part of a failed attempt at the Seward Range (we encountered far too much unbroken out snow high up to even summit Donaldson) with my friend Brendan, and again in the fall of 2007 with the Paul Smith's Outing Club. On the later trip, we were able to successfully summit Donaldson and Emmons in the pouring rain before returning to camp.

I've heard rumors that the DEC has plans to put in a couple of designated campsites near this area as a result of the increased popularity of the Calkins Brook Herd Path, but I saw no sign of any designated campsites so this apparently has not happened yet. Regardless, there is some excellent flat ground for camping if one travels up the herd path a few hundred feet, and then turns north and walks into the woods.

From here, I continued on the truck trail. To the north of the herd path, the truck trail begins a steady but significant climb uphill to yet another pass between the Seward Range and one of the larger foothills adjacent to the range. As I approached and entered the pass, I started to see an interesting transformation in the woods around me. The dusting of snow that had been scattered throughout the woods when Danie and I had entered the forest on Friday evening had mostly melted with the previous day's warmer temperatures. Yet when I crossed over this pass, I entered into a land that was had more than just a dusting of snow! The woods around me bore definite accumulation, not as much as an inch, but still enough that it was reminiscent of winter.

As I began to make my way downhill to the trail from the Seward Trailhead, I encountered another lone hunter. He'd just left the woods after spending all morning bushwhacking on the northern slopes of Seward. He indicated that he'd encountered many beaver ponds along the way, and that he'd been out for the previous four days, camped at the Blueberry Lean-to. Apparently, he'd had enough of the woods, and was ready to head home.

Continued...

Not too far after encountering the hunter, I reached the trail from the Seward trailhead. After having traveled nearly 30 miles, I was once again near civilization, as the trailhead was located a mere mile down the trail to the west. Civilization not yet being where I desired to travel, I turned east and once again began the trek the remote areas of the Western High Peaks. I found it interesting how much of the trail into the Ward Brook area I remembered from previous trips. Several of my first backpacking trips were into this area, and I vividly remembered several of the brooks, and especially could quite easily recall having seen the gigantic glacial erratic sitting in the middle of Blueberry Pond on the north side of the trail.

The air here was quite cold as well. I speculated in my head that the northern slopes of the Seward Range were steep enough to be in permanent shadow this time of year, resulting in conditions that cool the air to temperatures lower than that of the surrounding areas. This air probably then sinks northwards towards the Ampersand Lake area. Presumably, this is why I had encountered so much snow still on the ground once I'd traveled north of the Seward Range. Certainly, I could feel frigid drafts of air sinking down from the higher elevations along the numerous streams I crossed that flow north of the range.

I soon reached the Blueberry Lean-to, which was empty. It was here that I stayed on my third ever backpacking trip, and quite coincidentally, it was the third lean-to I'd ever stayed in. This had been in the late summer of 2005, and as I recall, we climbed only Seward on that trip, which was my 3rd High Peak. The trip had been an exciting one, especially during our descent of Seward when we became lost on the myriad of herd paths climbing the mountain (this had been just prior to the consolidation of the numerous paths into one distinct and well defined trail).

Beyond the lean-to, the trail soon joins the Ward Brook Truck Trail where it heads south, crossing the barrier between the privately owned Ampersand Club and state land (and I can remember standing in the clearing at the junction during that summer 2005 trip admiring the stars). Just east of the junction lies the beginning of the herd path up Seward, marked with a small cairn on the east side of a stream. I'd been following many foot prints in the snow since joining the trail from the Seward Trailhead, and many of these foot prints turned off the trail here, to ascend Seward via the northern approach. Only a few ventured further yet down the Truck Trail, and it was in pursuit of these foot prints that I continued on.

Reaching the Ward Brook Lean-to a little ways beyond the start of the Seward Herd Path, I determined that this would be the location of my lunch break for the day. While laying out my cheese, humice, pepperoni, hot sauce, and pitas, three younger guys showed up from farther east on the truck trail. Carrying only day packs, they indicated that they had just climbed Seymour, and that the top was pretty much in full winter conditions. After eating a quick snack, they continued west along the trail, headed back to the trailhead. As I continued to eat my own lunch, I reminisced about past nights spent in the Ward Brook Lean-to itself. I'd first stayed here in the Fall of 2005 during the First Annual Duck Hole Trip with the Paul Smith's Outing Club, a weekend that had no shortage of rain. It was my fourth backpacking trip, and the lean-to was the fourth I'd ever stayed in. On that trip, we climbed Seymour and visited Duck Hole, all in the continuing and never-ending precipitation. I returned there again in the Fall of 2008, during a visit in which my companion and I climbed all four of the major peaks in the Seward Range. As with the Calkins Brook Lean-tos, it appeared that the Ward Brook Lean-to had also been the beneficiary of some recent renovations, courtesy of the hard working Lean2Rescue Project.

With lunch out of the way, I continued to make my way east on the Truck Trail. Soon after leaving the Ward Brook Lean-to, I encountered the start of the herd path up Seymour. Every single set of tracks left the truck trail here. From here on out, it seemed, I would be following in the footsteps of the deer and coyotes, venturing where no human had set foot in some time.

Due to the popularity of the Seward Range, there are four lean-tos located along the trail that traverses north of the range, and soon I was at the final 2 lean-tos, clustered together in the former site of the Santa Clara Lumber Company's Camp Number Four. Camp Four has always intrigued me- in the days before easy travel, residents of Corey's actually used to venture deeper into the woods to purchase goods from the general store here, rather than make the trek all the way to Tupper or Saranac Lakes. I spent a single night here alone in the Fall of 2006, having just climbed Seward, Donaldson, and Emmons earlier that day and before meeting up with some friends the next day for the 2nd Annual Duck Hole Trip. I have always meant to return to Camp Four and spend some time poking around in the woods, but have never had the opportunity to do so. On this trip, I had intended to spend the night here, but with a full stomach still of lunch and having arrived with several hours of daylight left, I instead elected to continue to the Cold River before retiring for the night.

I'd not ventured beyond the Ward Brook area on the Truck Trail since the 2nd Annual Duck Hole Trip in late 2006, and the character of the trail has changed somewhat from how I remember it. East of Camp Four, the trail has become quite overgrown in spots, and I imagine that trying to trek through here in the summer could mean almost bushwhack like conditions, with plenty of leaf covered branches to push through. Furthermore, the trail has a considerable amount of blowdown on it, enough to slow one's advance on the path but nothing significant enough so as to make further travel imposssible.

Presently, I'd found that I'd passed beyond the cold northern slopes of the Seward Range, and back into air that had been somewhat warmed by the sun. Shortly before the Truck Trail makes a turn to the south towards the Cold River, it passes through a decently sized beaver pond. Here, ice covered much of the water, and I was able to get across easily by jumping from tuft of grass to tuft of grass. I did encounter one tricky spot, however, where balancing on floating icy logs was necessitated by 2 foot deep water without any tufts of grass to use for support. Somewhat tricky with the size of the pack I had on, but soon I was on the far side of the beaver flow and headed to the Cold River.

I re-entered the Cold River area at Mountain Pond. Here, the Northville-Placid Trail joins the Truck Trail from the south, and the two continue together to Duck Hole. Here, my journey of first imprents across a blank canvas of snow ended as I joined the two sets of footprints that had come north up the Northville-Placid trail, belonging to the two hikers who'd passed through the area a few days before. If they make it this far, most hikers continue the remaining distance to Duck Hole, a decision which I don't blame them for as Duck Hole is certainly one of the most picturesque destinations in the Adirondacks. Shortly beyond this junction, however, lie the Cold River #1 and #2 lean-tos, two shelters that seem to receive very little use due to their proximity to a site with significantly better perspective. I'd spent a night at the Cold River #2 Shelter in January of 2007 during a snowshoe trip that comprised the 2nd leg of our 4 legs during which myself and several other members of the Paul Smith's Outing Club successfully section hiked the entire Northville-Placid Trail in the winter.

And so, having already stayed in the other shelter, I set up residence in the Cold River #1 shelter. The shelter looks somewhat rickety, and could use some repair, but the roof seemed durable enough and free of leaks. My first task, prior to setting up camp, was to take a walk down to the Cold River before dark, and examine the prospects of a river crossing in the morning. I'd heard that it was possible here to rock hop across the river, and I found the opportunity to continue my hike via the Cold River Horse Trail on the far shore to be an appealing one. I soon determined that rock hopping would not be possible right at the lean-tos with the current water level, but just up stream, above the confluence of Moose Creek and the Cold River, such a crossing appeared possible. I soon vetoed this idea, however, after getting a good look at the rocks. There appeared to be many, more than enough for a river crossing, however, they were all covered in a good layer of ice. The chances of ending up in the river, rather than across it, seemed to great to face, especially considering the solitude in which I'd found myself alone and without companion.

I returned to the lean-to, collected firewood, and soon had a nice fire going over which I cooked my dinner. Darkness came early, and while reading away the time before sleep overtook my senses, I found myself missing Danie, who I'd originally expected would accompany me for the entirety of the trip. While I'd spent numerous nights alone in the woods, the next 4 days would be the longest about of time I'd spent solo in the woods since the summer of 2009. While the prospect of so much time alone with my thoughts was a daunting one, I knew based on experience that it wasn't an impossible task to undertake. It was with these thoughts that I slipped into sleep, ending my third day on the trail.


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More to come as I keep writing it!

What a great trip. Congrats.

The dawn of Day 4 brought yet another return to warmer weather. There had still been some snow on the ground the previous afternoon when I'd arrived in camp, but most of it was gone by the time light had crept up over the horizon in the morning. The day was not to be a clear one, and the morning light of the sun was heavily muted by low level clouds that had moved in after midnight.

After a quick breakfast of grits, I grabbed a water bottle and headed farther east down the Truck Trail. My intended destination for camp that day was the Ouluska Lean-to on the Cold River, just south of Rondeau's Hermitage. I'd intended for the day to be an easy one from the start, and with the extra miles I'd traveled the day before, I was in no particular rush to leave camp. Having some extra time available, and not needing to leave the Cold River #1 and #2 Lean-tos until the afternoon, I decided to spend the morning on a return visit to Duck Hole, a little over a mile to the east.

Duck Hole is one of my favorite destinations in the Adirondacks. Here, at the site of a former logging camp, and more recently a Ranger Station that was removed in the 70's, two lean-tos sit in an open field adjacent to a pretty little lake. The lake itself is created thanks to an old dam, constructed by the CCC to replace previous logging dams that were erected at the site. As the dam deteriorates, the State has no plans to fix it up, and the character of Duck Hole is sure to change when the day finally comes that the dam can no longer hold back water.

I've been to Duck Hole on four separate previous occasions. My first visit was on the First Annual Duck Hole Trip, in the fall of 2005. We also passed by Duck Hole during our January 2006 trip on the Northville-Placid Trail (and I remember seeing a month old set of solitary snowshoe tracks in the snow, the only visitor to the area in the weeks prior to our arrival). The first time I spent a night at Duck Hole was in the Fall of 2006, on the Second Annual Duck Hole Trip, and I spent several nights there in the Fall of 2007 on the Third Annual Duck Hole Trip, during which we also treked to Bradley Pond to climb Henderson Mountain. It'd been three years since that last visit to Duck Hole, and it felt good to b returning, if only for a brief period of time and not to spend a night.

Unlike the portion of the Ward Brook Truck Trail to the west, that section of the Truck Trail that coincided with the Northville-Placid Trail was in excellent condition. I quickly made time, passing the junction with the Cold River Horse Trail and the ford across the river, climbing the rise and descending to Duck Hole. I first passed the site of the ranger station, on the north side of the trail. This grassy clearing is now a designated campsite, and while it does not share the scenic views of the two leant-so down by the shore of the water, it is certainly better protected from the elements due to the large trees that surround the site.

Beyond the tent site is the interior register. I opened the book, made an entry for my visit, and checked the previous entries. A group of two, presumably the boot prints in the snow that I'd seen the day before, had passed through a few days prior, but the register was devoid of any entries for at least a week before their trip. With colder temperatures, and the coming of winter, the remote sections of the woods certainly were becoming devoid of human visitors, in contrast to the crowds that sometime trek into the woods and away from civilization during the warmer months.

Into the grassy clearing I headed, first heading to the left to check out the upper lean-to, in which we'd taken up residence during our Second and Third Annual Duck Hole Trips. This is a newer lean-to, built in recent years to replace an older one that had been down closer to the water, and it is in excellent shape. I sat inside the lean-to, eating a granola bar, and protected by the roof from the rain drops that started to sprinkle down out of the sky.

After consuming my snack, I headed across the clearing to the other lean-to, located down near the dam. This lean-to is not in so good of shape as the other one is. The floor is quite rotten in several places, and the roof obviously has numerous leaks. Someone had tried tying a tarp across the roof, and using rocks to anchor it down, but the tarp had simply ripped, leaving ragged fragments of blue nylon head in place by the rocks. This is a lean-to that is certainly going to need to be replaced in the near future, and hopefully the DEC has funds and manpower to do it (or perhaps it will become another project for the Lean2Rescue Group!).

Before leaving, I also took some time to check out the dam. The dam itself seems to be in fairly decent shape, and I don't think there's any concern that Duck Hole will lose it's pond any time in the near future. The bridge over the top of the dam to access the Bradley Pond Trail has been removed for quite some time now, and the river crossing below the dam looked doable, but quite icy.

With noon approaching, and not wanting to get started on the hike south on the Northville-Placid Trail too late in the day, I finally said goodbye to Duck Hole and started to make my way back west on the truck trail. As I approached the bridge over Moose Creek, the scattering of raindrops that I'd felt falling from the sky intensified into actual rain, and soon became a downpour just as I reached the lean-to. I pulled out my food bag in the lean-to, and began to eat lunch, hoping that if I delayed the start of my hike long enough to fill my stomach, the rain might cease, but it was to no avail. The downpour continued, and soon I found myself donning my pack, and heading out into the deluge.

The Northville-Placid Trail leaves the truck trail at Mountian Pond, and continues to follow an old logging road for some time. I'd last traveled through this area in January 2006, and it was interesting how, without the snow, nothing looked as I remembered it. I did see the remains of some old logging bridges where the trail crossed sizable streams, which were interesting even if they had almost completely rotted away. For the most part, however, I kept my head down as I trudged through the rain, eager to get to the Ouluska Lean-to and out of the rain.

At one point, I passed through what was very clearing the clearing of an old lumber camp. The forest was starting to reclaim the clearing, but their was plenty of old equipment lying about- metal shovel blades, old buckets, and the like. Beyond the clearing, the trail apparently left the old road, and began some gentle undulations, up and down the topography as it approached the Cold River. I began to encounter some blowdown, again some larger trees forced me off the trail and slowed my progress, but nothing significant and I was able to continue forwards with a decent pace.

It wasn't long before I'd reached the site of Noah John Rondeau's hermitage. Here, despite my eagerness to get to the lean-to, I paused for a bit. Rondeau is perhaps the most famous of the Adirondack hermits, and when you know the history of the area and how much time he lived alone here, there certainly is something to be said for the aura that one feels permeating the woods at his hermitage. In addition to the wooden sign marking the spot, and the plaque commemorating his life, some of his equipment still lies in the clearing. Most noticeable are parts of a wood stove, and a large old metal kettle. The kettle still has the piece of wire cable that Noah must've carefully untwisted the individual wires too, threaded through the loops on the kettle, and then wrapped back around the cable itself so that he could hang it over his fire. Additionally, the lack of snow allowed me to notice something that I'd not seen on my previous winter visit to the site- a clearly defined foundation hidden in the grass nearby the pile of equipment. Perhaps this was where his cabin was... one can only speculate. Rondeau's hermitage is definitely an area that I'll need to revisit, and to do so properly I'll need to spend a full day there I think in order to explore the whole area!

Continued...

With reluctance, my desire to get dry won out over my wish to stay at Noah's, and I continued south along the trail. Soon, I'd reached the lean-to, and it was not even 3 in the afternoon! I easily had enough time to reach the Seward Lean-to before dark, however, I'd already stayed there, and had not yet stayed in the Ouluska Lean-to. I changed out of my wet clothes into dry long underwear, got into my sleeping bag, pulled out the lean-to registers, and began to read.

The registers in the Ouluska Lean-to were main reason I'd planned such a short day, which ample time spent at the lean-to in the afternoon. The adopter for the Ouluska Lean-to, Gary Koch, does an excellent job and takes good care of his lean-tos. He's been making yearly visits to the Cold River area in fall and spring to clean up the lean-tos and do trail work on the Northville-Placid Trail. His care of the lean-tos, as I understand it, predates even the Adirondack Mountain Club's Lean-to Adoption Program.

Another thing Gary has done that is really neat is to type up all the entries hikers make in the lean-to register for the Ouluska Lean-to, and bring out copies of the entries to put into binders that are kept with the current register notebook in the lean-to. In total, three binders contain every register entry made since 1986, covering nearly 200 typewritten pages. I'd had the opportunity to briefly scan through these documents when passing through on our winter trip. In knowing about them prior to arriving at the lean-to on my return trip, I'd planned to spend a good amount of time reading them all.

And read through the register entry's in their entirety I did! What a wealth of information... Some cool entries:

An entry by Pete Hickey

An entry by Neil Woodworth and Fred LeBrun

Multiple entries by Jeff and Donna Case on their annual spring traverse of the Northville-Placid Trail

An entry by my aunt (forum member Pat T) and my cousin on their 1998 trip from Long Lake to Lake Placid

Entries from myself and two of my companions from our winter trip through the area nearly 5 years ago

An entry from a hiker who was at Duck Hole the day the trail crew removed the bridge

An entry in the 80's by someone who was friends with Richard Smith, as well as friends with someone who'd worked for the CCC building the Ward Brook Truck Trail

And some interesting things I learned from the plethora of information available in the entries:

Apparently, traveling through Ouluska Pass has become much harder in recent years. There were plenty of reports of groups that had come through the pass in the 80's without any mention of difficulties. There were much fewer reports of groups going this way in recent years, and those that did travel through the pass reported epic levels of blowdown.

Before it was removed, the lean-to at Wanika Falls appears to have been a popular destination for the final night on the Northville-Placid Trail. Now that it's gone, many groups apparently spend their final night at Moose Pond instead.

Using Emmons Slide as an ascent route to get up onto the Seward Range appears to have declined in popularity over the years. Many groups reported difficulty in finding the slide, with confusion as to the correct tributary of Seward Brook to follow being the main culprit.

It sounds like the old lumber camp clearing on Seward Brook, part way up into Ouluska Pass, is still pretty easy to find. There were multiple entries in the 90's from members of an “Adirondack Logging Research Society,” who claimed to be researching old logging roads and camps of the Santa Clara Logging Company, and actually trying to find the roads and camps in the woods.

Apparently, it's possible to find the spot at Rondeau's Hermitage where Noah wished he would be buried when he died.

I also read a few entries from people who came to climb Couchsacraga the way Noah did it, by crossing the Cold River at the hermitage, and bushwhacking up the mountain from the west. There were multiple entries by a guy who'd climbed all 45 of the other high peaks, and for whom it took several attempts over the span of a few years to successfully finish by climbing Couch this way.

I also read a rather amusing entry by someone who'd come to the area planning to spend an entire day meditating at Rondeau's hermitage. He got bored after a couple of hours of it and gave up.

It took me over four hours, but I did read every single entry in the journals. By the time I'd finished, it was dark, and after making some dinner, I climbed back into bed for the night. The rain continued outside the lean-to, but inside I was warm and dry. No fire this night, but the temperatures were the warmest they'd been by far in my trip, and I was content to simply let myself fall asleep listening to the patter of raindrops striking the roof, knowing that I was probably at the moment tens of miles from the nearest human being.

Continue to Day 5

Great read. I had the map out and followed your route while I read. Wild trip!

I awoke to the continued sound of falling rain. In fact, it wasn't just simply falling... the skies had opened up, and a torrent of descending raindrops had the woods under siege from the deluge. I had told myself the night before that if I awoke to continued rainfall, I might just pack up and high tale it out of the woods all the way back to Newcomb, and leave the woods a day earlier than planed. This morning, however, two things changed my mind. The continued onslaught of the rain made me very much not want to hike anywhere any time soon, and I really didn't want to leave the woods just yet.

And so, having decided to stick to my original itinerary and head only to Moose Pond Stream, I went about packing up inside the lean-to as slowly as possible. As I began to stuff clothes and my sleeping bag back into their sacks, I made an interesting discovery- on the interior left wall of the lean-to, when one is facing into the shelter, was an inscription- the names of all the forest rangers who'd built the shelter back in the 60's, and their patrol areas! Certainly an inscription of historical significance, surrounded by what many would consider to be mere vandalism.

The rain continued unabated as I packed, and I could see that the Cold River had come up at least a foot overnight. Luck, it seemed, was on my side today, however. Right as I finished packing up later in the morning, the rain began to taper off, and sure enough, as I started south on the Northville-Placid Trail, ended completely, with the only drops of water hitting me being those that were dripping from the overhanging trees. A few hundred feet south of the lean-to, I crossed Seward Brook, a pretty decently sized stream that descends from Ouluska Pass and the upper slopes of the Seward Range. In the late 90's, the bridge over this brook had washed out, and was not replaced for some time. Judging from the numerous entries in the lean-to register at the Ouluska Lean-to, this had presented some difficulty for quite a few hikers. A few years ago, a group from the ADK came in and replaced the bridge, for which I was particularly thankful, as I certainly would not have been able to get across the brook without getting significantly wet without it.

While much of the Northville-Placid Trail in the Cold River area is characterized by flatness, the short portion between the Oluska and the Seward Lean-tos was decently hilly. No single hill was very big, but the trail continued a constant up and down undulation as it traveled along the shore of the cold river, descending down into gullies where tributaries joined the river, and climbing back up out of them.

With the absence of rain, the weather immediately started to change. I saw and felt some of the most peculiar atmospheric effects during this day. As I hiked along the Cold River, the air neglected to maintain a constant temperature. While I was high above the river, it was quite warm and moist. When I descended into the aforementioned gullies, however, I could feel a strong blast of cold, dry air running down from the higher slopes. This denser air stuck to the deeper gullies, following the tributaries and eventually joining the cold river as it continued its descent, and in some of the gullies, the flow was strong enough to create a stiff breeze. I would later see that this was only the beginning of the strange laws of physics at work in the atmosphere that day.

I soon reached the Seward Lean-to. We spent a night here on our winter expedition through the area in January of 2006, and it's funny how different it looked without any snow. What I found most interesting was that I had absolutely no memory of Millers Falls, a very prominent and easily noticeable feature of the Cold River at the lean-to. Here, the water cascades over a rock outcrop easily 5 feet or more in height, and creates quite a racket. As I recall, during our winter trip, the cold river was jammed full of ice and snow, and I can only surmise that there was perhaps enough of both to disguise the waterfall from our view. Additionally, the lean-to faced 180 degrees in the complete opposition direction as compared to my memory. It's funny the tricks that time can play on what we recall.

After a quick break to read (and record an entry in) the register, I continued on my way. A little ways south of the Seward Lean-to, the trail joins another old logging road, which it followed over gentle grades all the way to the Cold River 3 and 4 lean-tos. This road dates to the 1950's and the aftermath of the “Big Blow,” a hurricane which wrecked havoc in the Cold River Area, forcing even Noah to call it quits and move out of the woods for good. With so much timber on the ground, and a serious concern that it could lead to devastating fires, the conservation department somewhat controversially opened the Cold River area to salvage operations, allowing trucks and mechanized equipment into the area to pull out what fallen trees that could be harvested. Much of the forest has grown back, and the wide track of this old road, now simply a hiking trail, serves as one of the few reminders of that event that took place nearly 60 years ago.

While following the logging road, I encountered another atmospheric phenomenon, this one quite visually impressive. It seemed that enough cold air from the highest slopes of the seward range was channeling down the Cold River valley that it was collecting and pooling in the stands of trees through which I was hiking. Such air, being much colder and denser than the warmer that had moved in with the rains the day before, naturally collected along the forest floor, and in mixing somewhat with the higher moisture content of the warmer air, began to form fog. And not just fog... but spectacular fog that hugged the forest floor. It was one of the most remarkable things I've ever seen in the woods... the fog, quite dense and thick in spots, was never more than 5 feet off the ground. In fact, as I looked through the woods as I hiked along, I could clearly see a distinct line at about head height. Above this height, the air was clear, but below, hazy and densely shrouded in moisture. It was one of the neatest things I've ever seen in the woods for sure.

My progess on the old logging road was quick, and soon I was back at the Cold River 3 and 4 lean-tos, which I'd passed by with Danie and Inga only 3 days before. My circuit around the Seward Range was complete, and now I had only to make my way back to Newcomb. I crossed back over the Cold River suspension bridge, as well as the bridge over Moose Pond Stream, and soon found myself back at the campsite near Shattuck Clearing. It was here that I decided to stop for lunch, as it was after noon and I'd only a few miles to go before reaching the lean-tos at Moose Pond Stream. While chowing down on my standard lunch time affair of cheese, hummus and pepperoni on a pita, I took some time to explore shattuck clearing. I seemed to recall that at one point, Shattuck Clearing had been the site of a monumental meeting that shaped much of the future of the Adirondack Park, and how wild areas within the park were to be managed. Ironic, in a way, that such a meeting would've eventually resulted in the removal of the ranger station and former lumber camp at which the meeting had been held. All I found was old clearings slowly being encroached upon by the forest, as well as the occasional apple tree to indicate prior occupation by human inhabitants.

While exploring Shattuck Clearing and the vicinity, yet another atmospheric event took place. The woods had been quite silent and still. Suddenly, and out of nowhere, a tremendous breeze erupted, shaking and ripping the trees side to side. As I hurredly chomped down on the last few bits of food, I could hear trees cracking and crashing down around me in the woods. I looked up to see a fairly sizable paper birch snap midway up the trunk and come collapsing down to the forest floor. I grabbed my pack and quickly made my way down the old road towards Moose Pond Stream. And then, just as suddenly as it had began, the breeze stopped, and the forest became still again. Things weren't quite the same, however- the clouds had given way to patches of blue sky, and the temperature had noticeably dropped a few degrees. Perhaps all the commotion had been he result of a front?

Continued...

On my way to Moose Pond Stream, I again passed the same solitary hunter Danie and I had passed several days before, north on the Calkins Brook truck trail. I chatted with him for a few minutes, and he indicated that he'd been camped down near the Cold River for some time, and we then went our separate ways.

I arrived at Moose Pond Stream with a fair amount of daylight left. Having taken some time to cook up one of my containers of Jiffy Pop over the stove, I used some of the wood that had kindly been left behind in the lean-to by previous occupants to get a fire going. The temperature continued to drop to more seasonable temperatures as the sky cleared up and the sun sank below the horizon. With camp set up, a roaring fire in front of the lean-to, and warm popcorn (and later dinner and hot choclate) in my stomach, I found myself feeling quite happy that I'd not given into the earlier temptation to hike all the way out. In fact, I briefly considered trying to stretch my remaining rations so as to be able to spend another night at the Fish Rock Lean-to on Newcomb Lake. Without another dinner in my food bag, however, I quickly abandoned this plan. I should have stolen some of Danie's food from her pack before she left the woods!

I couldn't complain, of course, as that night's rising moon found me reading in my sleeping bag in front of the fire. It had been another short day, but one that had brought about the end of the wet weather and helped to raise my spirits considerably.

Continue to Day 6

In the early hours of the morning, I awoke to feel something light and damp brushing against my face. I sat up, and looked out of my sleeping bag. The temperature had dropped considerably, and in the rays of the setting moon I could see small, white, feathery objects settling out of the sky... snow! The late autumn weather was back on track, with the sensation of winter approaching once again.

I remained in my sleeping bag until the sun began to mount the horizon, and then got up and broke camp. As I was packing up, the sound of a loud crack, almost painful in its amplitude, suddenly permeated and filled the woods. The roar rumbled and echoed off the hills and mountains, and my first though was that perhaps the hunter I'd encountered the previous afternoon had gotten lucky. It sounded like no gunshot I'd ever heard before, though, and as the sound faded and silence returned to the woods, I was left to wonder just what I'd heard.

After a satisfying breakfast of warm grits (with all my remaining butter mixed in!) I was on my way, headed south back to Newcomb, and the end of my adventure. My path once again took me along the old roads between Shattuck Clearing and Newcomb, and I was traversing through forest Danie, Inga, and I had passed through several days previously. I once again faced the rough stretch of trail, riddled with blowdown, after I left the Cold River Horse Trail, pressing on to Calahan Brook.

Ever since the heavy rains a few days before, the Calahan Brook crossing had been in the back of my mind, not presenting itself as a major concern, but still a focus of aprehension as I made may way back out of the Cold River country. The crossing had been difficult enough with low water on my journey north, and I was afraid at what I might find after seeing the creeks and streams swollen with water after the deluge.

When I reached Calahan Brook, sure enough, my fears were confirmed. The water had risen significantly, and even 24 hours of dry weather hadn't been enough to allow the flow to subside. The force was submerged beneath 2 or 3 feet of water, and there was no chance I'd make it across here without getting my feet significantly wet. I first searched downstream for a crossing, and then made my way upstream. It was apparent that I was not the first traveler to face high water here, as the banks of the stream were riddled with herd paths, presumably from prior travelers looking for safe passage.

A short ways upstream, I discovered what I figured was my best option. Here, several large boulders divided the stream into a few narrow but deep channels, and the distances between these boulders was short enough that I figured I could easily hop across. I stepped out on the first boulder, and braced myself to make a leap to the second boulder, which occupied the center of the stream. I'd seen ice on many of the rocks in and near the flowing water, and so I cautiously made the jump out to the second boulder. As soon as my foot came into contact with the rock, my fears were immediately confirmed- the boulder was completely covered in a thin, slick sheet of ice. I immediately dropped down to all fours, scrambling to stay on top of the rock. All the weight in my pack pressed against my back, threatening to pull me sideways and topple me into the water. My bare hands pressed painfully into the rock and ice, and it was only through sheer strength that I was able to hold on to the rock and avoid taking a wet tumble off the side.

I caught my breath, carefully stood up, and made the leap to the far side of the brook. It had been a close call, almost too close for comfort. It was only upon making it safely to the far side of the flowing water that I happened to look upstream, and see a shallow shoal of rocks across which the stream widened its flow. The shoal had been hidden from my view prior to crossing by a bend in the stream, which was unfortunate, as I probably could have easily crossed there without the threat of ice or water coming up over the tops of my boots. Ah well, at least I had made the crossing safely and was still quite dry.

Back on the trail, I was able to make good time heading south. This trail, as we'd found previously, was in much better shape on the south side of Calahan Brook than the north side. The forest slipped by me quickly on either side. Ermine Brook was also up, but as it was a shallower stream to begin with, the crossing presented me with no difficulty at all. Beyond Ermine Brook, I was back on the gravel road, and able to pick up my pace even more.

As I approached the south shore of Moose Pond, a funny thing happened. The sun set, and it was only one o'clock in the afternoon! Moose Mountain is high and steep enough that, in the winter, it stands in the way between the afternoon sun and the trail itself. I found myself hiking through about half a mile of dusk, with sunlight visible through the woods on higher land to the northeast. As I continued on my way, the sun slowly rose back up over the shoulder of Moose Mountain, and I found myself hiking in daylight again. I can't quite recall ever having had the experience of, as a result of the topography, watching the sun set, and rise again a few minutes later while hiking.

Beyond the stretch of darkness, I approached the junction with the trail to Newcomb Lake again. The wall tent that we'd seen on our hike north previously was gone, and there were tire and horse tracks that appeared to be several days old in the dirt. At the junction, I stuck to the main trail, avoiding the longer path to Great Camp Santanoni for the shorter approach directly back to Newcomb.

By now, the trail was a wide woods road, and it was quite obvious that it sees regular use by horseback riders and those using horse-drawn wagons. It wasn't long, in fact, before I encountered fresh tracks of a wagon and horses in the dusting of snow that covered the ground.

South of Moose Mountain, I passed through an open area that was slowly reverting to forest. While I didn't see any sign of historical human activity in the open field, I did find myself imagining that it must've once been the sight of a lumber camp. Across the field, I spotted a nice view of a lower peak of Moose Mountain to the northwest, standing watch over the cleared area.

After passing through the clearing, and crossing a feeder stream of Newcomb Lake, I caught up with the horse drawn carriage. Here, I found a family consisting of a couple and their two kids breaking down a camp. They had quite a setup- not just a single wagon, but two wagons in a row, pulled by two incredibly beautiful draft horses. I stopped to talk with the couple, who indicated that they were breaking down one of several camps that they'd erected in the woods. They were quite nice, and the gentleman told me that every year, he puts up several hunting camps in the woods and then rents them out to people to use. I was just about to move on when he asked me if I'd heard a loud boom that morning. I indicated that I had, and that at first, I'd thought it was a gunshot, but wasn't sure. We quickly determined that if we'd both heard it as loud as we did (he said he was wearing earmuffs at the time), and were about 10 miles apart from each other upon hearing the noise, that it was no gunshot. Although we both agreed that it sounded somewhat similar to canons that we'd heard fired in the past, our best guess was that it had been a sonic boom. Perhaps some military pilot, crossing the Adirondack region, had pushed their throttle a little bit too much.

I bid the family a good day, and continued on my way. Up and over the shoulder of Baldwin Mountain I went, passing another one of their camps along the way. The ascent was steady and long but not difficult, and soon I was descending the other side. The final miles flew by, before long I was back on the road to Newcomb Lake, and passing through the Santanoni Farm. I did take some time to examine some of the buildings during the daylight, as we'd passed by in the dark before. South of the farm, I noticed a trail that we'd missed on our hike in, leading several miles west to connect to the Visitors Interpretive Center trails at the Newcomb Vic.

And then, the parking area came into sight. I had reached the end of my journey, after traversing 63 miles through one of the most remote sections the Adirondacks has to offer. I was happy to leave the woods, and head home to Albany in anticipation of thanksgiving dinner, yet disappointed to have to leave such a beautiful and lonesome wilderness. I think in addtion to the West Canada Lakes Wilderness, the Western High Peaks is certainly up there as one of my favorite spots to hike and explore in the Adirondacks. For me, the journey had been the opportunity to revisit some of my favorite destinations as well as explore new ground, and yet, I've only scratched the surface of what the area has to offer. Even during the short time she spent with me on my adventure, my friend Danie would laugh every time we passed an old overgrown logging road that split off from the trail, and my body twitched, so strong was the desire to follow the “road less traveled” and see where it would take me. I'm sure it won't be the last time I return to the Western High Peaks.

Whew! Finally finished.

Here's a neat comparison that shows how much the water in the Cold River came up after the rain:





And a comparison of the dam at Duck Hole between Fall 2005 and Fall 2010 (some deterioration of the dam is evident, also neat to see growth on the trees):

I really enjoyed this read, thanks!