History & Adventure Along the Upper Delaware River

A view of Roebling's Delaware Aqueduct from the river

When most people hear the words “Delaware River” it conjures up an image of George Washington standing in a boat, surrounded by ice, while his troops did all the rowing. Let’s flash forward about 230 years and head upriver about 150 miles…oh yeah, and make it summertime. Here, the river cuts through a canopy of green trees, the water is cool and refreshing, and peoples’ interests lie in attacking whitewater rapids, not German mercenaries. Here the river is a place of respite and recreation.

Every summer hundreds of thousands of people flock to the Upper Delaware Scenic & Recreational River for boating, fishing, camping, and wildlife viewing. On any given summer day, rafts, canoes, and kayaks mingle with anglers, swimmers, and spectators on the water and around the shore. With about a half-a-dozen touring companies each with as many bases and campgrounds, about 15 public launches for privately owned boats and off-river based guiding companies, and all the private homes along the river with their own launch areas, one would think the river would be anything but tranquil. Guess again. Anyone with the will and means to make a few small sacrifices can enjoy blissful tranquility on the Delaware just about any day of the summer, even on peak holiday weekends.

Timing is usually the key. Starting a run at 9:00am almost ensures a full two hours of having the river to yourself. Start early and paddle past the crowded campgrounds still waking up from the previous night’s revelry. More times than not, the only other folks on the river this early are fishermen and park rangers. The average start times for most of the people using the commercial outfitters seem to fall between 11am and 1pm. A short 6 mile run means you will be pulling out at 11am and packing up just as the crowds begin to muster. Similarly, postponing your put-in time until after 2:00pm can often mean the crowds are 30-60 minutes ahead of you. Since kayaks and canoes are much faster than river rafts, expect to pass a few of these along the way. Unless the rafts are full of noisy partiers, once you pass them you tend to forget they are even behind you, after all, you are facing downstream.

Rachel Waters from Waymart, PA kayaks frequently on the river

Location is also another important factor. The bulk of the rapids fall between Narrowsburg and Pond Eddy. In fact the elevation change in the 26 miles from Narrowsburg to Pond Eddy is 160 feet, the bulk of it occurring in the first 10 miles. Under the right conditions a paddler at the head of a rapids section can look at another boat only a few hundred feet downstream and actually get a sense of feeling higher than the boat in front. While this area does remain wildly popular, a greater number of starting points are 12 miles south of Narrowsburg, past, what is arguably, the best section of the river.

Pick up a map from the National Park Service before your trip. A number of outfitters offer
kayaks, canoes, and rafts for rental. http://www.nps.gov/upde/planyourvisit/boatrentals.htm
If you are venturing on your own, be sure to plan accordingly and check the river
conditions on the hotline: 845-252-7100

The Ten Mile River launch is one of the best places to start a trip down river. It is an easy launch with lots of room for unloading and it is fairly calm, so getting into the water is a breeze. Additionally, directly across the river lie a small set of riffles that can be reached by paddling upstream just a little ways. This is a good place for a novice to give it a try. If you are a first-timer, try the riffles. If it proves to not be for you, paddle back to the shore and it is an easy out. If you continue downstream you will encounter more rapids, each set getting slightly more difficult until reaching the Zane Grey launch in Lackawaxen. Also along this section are some great rock formations that are perfect for a picnic, sunning, or swimming. Between the Kunkeli Rapids and the Zane Grey launch, Minisink Falls drops to the river from the left. You can explore the falls if you can park your boat and if you are willing to make the short trek up to the falls via the tunnel under the highway. 

To get up close and personal with Minisink Falls
means getting out of your boat and venturing through
a concrete conduit

Below Lackawaxen, Cedar Rapids, Stairway Rapids, and Mongaup Rapids also offer some fun. Even these rapids are definitely worth hitting, tacking them on from a launch at Ten Mile means a very long day on the water. Additionally, they are spaced a good distance apart from each other, so there are some monotonous stretches of river, especially at Pond Eddy, in this area. Likewise, the further south you go towards Matamoras, the busier the river gets. For whatever reasons, proportionally more paddlers tend to tackle the Pond Eddy to Matamoras section than they do points further north. 

No matter where you paddle, wildlife sightings are common. Mallard Ducks, Canada Geese, and Common Mergansers can be spotted with little effort. Great Blue Herons and Bald Eagles are almost as common. Aquatic mammals such as Beaver, Otter, and Muskrat are less commonly seen, but no stranger to the river by any means. Similarly, non-aquatic birds such as Tanagers, Blackbirds, Waxwings, and Swallows can all be seen perching along the banks.

Mother Mallard and her ducklings. The Upper Delaware is a great location
for bird watching either in a boat or from the banks

The historians and geologists can also find plenty of things to spark their curiosity along this section of river. Rock formations carved out by eons of rushing water can be explored up and down the banks. Several waterfalls can be seen from the river here as well, most cascading down craggy cliffs from some unknown source far above the river. Old rock quarries dot the landscape. Long abandoned, only piles of rock tailings are left to tell where they once were. These quarries served to provide Bluestone a growing country from the colonial period through the 1930s. A few are still in operation today, but operate on a very large capacity within eyesight of the river. It may be a wild and scenic river now, but at one time this was a highway on industry. Rafts of felled timber floated down this river well into the mid 20^th century and along the shores canal boats hauled tons of Anthracite Coal from Scranton to the markets in New York. Remnants of the canal system can still be seen below Lackawaxen where John Roebling was commissioned to build an aqueduct to alleviate canal traffic that crossed over the river (see photo above.) Now a bridge for vehicles, Roebling’s aqueduct still stands today as the oldest suspension bridge in the country. The aqueduct was built just a few hundred yards downstream from the Minisink Ford, a natural low water section in the river, where, two-and-a-half years after Washington made his famous crossing 150 miles downstream, another lesser known figure of the Revolutionary War made his own crossing. Here, in 1779, Joseph Brant, a Mohawk, lead a mixed force of Loyalist militiamen and Iroquois warriors across the river after decisively defeating a contingent of New York militia on the hills just outside of Lackawaxen. History, it seems, is not without a sense of irony. The site of Washington’s crossing is managed by state agencies in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. While it is a National Landmark, this designation is generally considered lesser in precedence than a National River since a landmark may be established by the Secretary of the Interior, whereas a National Scenic and Wild River can only be established by the President or Congress and is managed by the National Park Service.

Please check out these National Park Service webpages prior to your adventure. 

Upper Delaware Scenic & Recreational River

River Safety

Equipment & River Distances

Tusten Mountain Trail: Upper Delaware Scenic & Recreational River

Looking out from the Tusten Mountain vista.

Most of the Delaware River from northeast Pennsylvania border with New York to just south of the borough of Delaware Water Gap falls under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service. The Upper Delaware Scenic and Recreational River covers the northern section while the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area presides over the southern part. In addition to the actual “river” the “Water Gap NRA” has an extensive collection of trails for biking, equestrian use, and hiking. The “Upper Del” is not so fortunate. The vast majority of the land abutting the river is private and hiking opportunities are scarce. There are a few areas of note for woodland ramblers to check out, one of which is the Tusten Mountain Trail.

Located about halfway between Narrowsburg, NY and Lackawaxen, PA, the Tusten Mountain Trail is a three-mile loop that offers a nice view of the valley as well as a wide array of other natural and manmade things to investigate. While not lengthy, it is definitely a moderate hike due to some steep sections as well as some rocky (and in winter, icy) terrain.

Park Service map. Note marks parking area.

The trailhead is rather easy to find. Simply park at the Ten Mile River boat launch and look for the kiosk. Maps for the trail, provided by the Park Service are generally available there. The trail is located on private land owned by the Greater New York Councils of the Boy Scouts of America and is situated within the Ten Mile River Scout Camps approximate 14,000 acres. Several scout tent sites and lean-to areas are located along the trail. Please be respectful of the property and friendly to any scouts or other hikers you may encounter. This area of the scout camp is primarily used for weekend camping by scout troops that are canoeing on the river and for hiking. Additionally some weekday encounters with scouts can be expected in summer as this area is sometimes used by older scouts on multi-day backpacking treks. The campsites are available for use by scouting units, but are not open to the general public.

The trail officially begins at the kiosk and follows the dirt road along the Ten Mile River for a short distance before coming to a stone bridge. The bridge was constructed in 1875 and is a favorite subject for artists and photographers. Immediately after crossing the bridge are some ruins. Reeve’s Mills and Tusten were former villages that used to occupy this area. Here the trail gradually begins its ascent, still following the road for about another 0.4 miles. An abandoned quarry is visible on the right side of the road in this section. Immediately across the road is an old tailings pile from the quarry. Presumably, quarried stone was loaded onto sleds or carts and taken to market; the scrap was pushed to the side and left in piles. This is one of many tailings piles and quarries that dot the entire mountain. After a little bit, the road makes a quick descent. There is a large boulder on the right side of the road and a small vehicle turn-around to the left.

Here, turn right and proceed about 100 feet to a sign-in box. After signing in, hikers can choose to proceed directly to the summit by taking the left fork on the yellow trail or opting for a longer ascent on the red trail. The yellow trail rises sharply with only two short, flat sections. It involves some scrambling near the top. The red trail is rather flat until it meets up with the other part of the yellow loop. From the yellow/red intersection the trail is fairly gradual until it meets the cliff and then it gets rather steep and sketchy. Regardless of which way one takes to the top, crossing through this terrain will be necessary in order to complete the whole loop. Similarly, side trails and intersections can be found no matter if one hikes the loop clockwise, or counter-clockwise. Anyone hiking here should be wary of these side trails as some are not blocked off and a few lead miles away from the area. Others lead to private property and few, if any are marked or show up even on satellite maps.

Some notes attached to the official BSA map for Ten Mile River Scout Reservation.

The summit area has a great vista that overlooks the river. Several large slab rocks are perfect for a picnic or just a quick rest. Immediately below the summit is another old quarry and is worth exploring, but use care. A number of other quarries can be found in the way down from the summit by following the loop clockwise. Anyone hiking the trail in a counter-clockwise manner will encounter the other quarries on the way up.

Wintertime trekkers up Tusten Mountain should be prepared for ice. Snowshoes are not always needed, but boots and some sort of cleat (Yak-Trax, Kahtoolas, etc.) are suggested. Similarly, melting snow can make the trail muddy quite often throughout the winter. Rain runoff and seep make parts very muddy the rest of the year. Boots are not needed in warmer months, but they are not a bad idea.

Turkey and upland game birds are frequently seen in the area. Vultures are a common sight from the vista and eagle watchers should be on the lookout closer to the river. There are a number of Poplar trees in the area as well. Their white blossoms can frequently be seen in the spring along with Bluets, Violets, and Red Columbines. Great Rhododendrons also grow in the area along with Mountain Laurel. Due to the summer canopy, these bushes usually do not bloom. If they do, it is generally later in June and early July. Of course autumn is a wonderful time to explore this trail as well. There is a wide variety of hardwood trees on Tusten Mountain and each yield different hues from late September through the end of October. Although the trail is closed for a two week period during deer hunting season in late November and early December, Tusten Mountain offers something for every hiker year round. 

Tusten Mountain Trail Information: http://www.tusten.org/TustenTrail.htm

Ten Mile River Scout Reservation: http://www.tenmileriver.org/

Upper Delaware Scenic and Recreational River: http://www.nps.gov/upde/index.htm

Autumn Adirondack Adventures

Heart Lake at the Adirondak Loj

The first time I laid eyes on the Adirondack Mountains I was nine years old. My family took a vacation there prior to my cousin’s wedding in Schenectady. I don’t remember much about that trip aside from taking a boat ride down the Ausable Chasm. Back then they had wooden boats (I think) and nowadays they use rubber rafts to navigate the two mile gorge. I also remember riding the chairlift up Whiteface Mountain with my mom. I’m not sure if that chairlift is still there today. It probably was replaced by the Gondola, and given that ski-history is somewhat of a hobby of mine, you’d think I’d know, but that ride was long before I started skiing and even longer before I started taking note of the annual changes to various ski areas throughout the Northeast….but I digress. When we got off the lift I remember looking up to the summit and being disappointed that it didn’t go to the top of the mountain. I also recall seeing the other High Peaks of the region off in the distance and being amazed by them. I had been to the Smokies two years before that and had taken a tram ride to the top of one of those mountains as well, but something about these mountains were special. They were dramatic.

The next time I would visit the area would be six years later, this time to hike with my scout troop. I had already climbed big mountains out west by this time, yet as we approached the Adirondak Loj I peered out at the peaks with awe. We climbed two mountains that trip, two more the next year, and then I climbed a few more with my college outing club a few years later. One peak I didn’t scale was Mt. Colden, the eleventh highest in the Adirondacks. My first attempt to climb it was in 1998 but I was ill prepared for the six inches of snow that remained on the trails in late May. A second attempt was made in 2003 but was thwarted by a thunderstorm. Hopefully this trek would be successful.

I convinced my wife that a camping trip would be a good idea. I hadn’t been to the ‘Dacks since my climb up The Wolfjaws (see the earlier past about that trip) and the two of us hadn’t been camping in a long while. We weren’t roughing it by any means. Sure, we were tenting, but we were staying at the Loj campground. Lake Placid’s amenities were only a ten to fifteen minute drive or so away. On the way up we made the obligatory stop at The Loft in Lake George for a burger. The Loft is strategically placed just off the Northway and I must pass it going to both the Adirondacks and northern Vermont. Not stopping is not an option. After munching on the monstrous mix of meat, cheese, onions, and mushrooms we continued northward. Next we were getting off the exit for Route 73 and began making our way up the Keene Valley. It was late September and the area had just been hit hard by flash floods from hurricane Irene. Debris still littered the roadsides and creekbeds still showed signs of recent overflow and erosion. Even the road to the Loj had taken a hit. Thankfully the campground was intact and open for business.

Rather than deal with cooking we chose to dine out at the Lake Placid Pub & Brewery. I eat here almost every visit. The beers are excellent, the service is great, and the food is delicious. I suggest the ribs, and I suggest getting there early if you want them. When the daily supply is extinguished that’s it. If the weather is conducive to al fresco dining, opt for the deck and enjoy a meal and some fine ale watching the sunset over the peaks while last rays of light play on the waters of Mirror Lake. After dinner we headed back to camp in preparation for some hiking the next day.

Rocky Falls

My wife isn’t much of a hiker. Tackling an Adirondack High Peak was something she wasn’t going to do, but she wanted to hit the trail so we opted for a short, easy hike out to Rocky Falls. For late September, it was rather warm. Evidence of the storms was present as the trails were still muddy in places, but things overall were in good shape. Perhaps this was an omen of good things to come on my planned pitch up Colden the next day. After our morning hike we headed back into town for some lunch and then made our way over to Tupper Lake to visit The Wild Center solely so we could see the otters. The Wild Center is geared for kids but suits childlike 30-somethings equally as well. This was my second visit. We partook in some Italian food for dinner, so I carbed up on Alfredo at Nicola’s before calling it a night.

Day three started early for me. My wife slept in and had a day planned at one of the spas. I was going up. My hike began the same way as it had a dozen times before. A well-trodden two mile stretch of trail serves as the main thoroughfare leading from the Loj to the High Peaks. It’s a fairly level trip to Marcy Dam and I made good time. I was met with one detour just before the dam. The trail had been wiped out at the dam and the course was rerouted over some rocky sections of the creek. I was able to rock-hop without event but was rather shocked at the state of the dam and the lake. Irene had shown her wrath to the area. I lingered for a moment or two taking in the damage but also the fall colors. I also consulted my map. A bunch of trails merge here and lead to various peaks and camps, but they are well marked and choosing the correct one was not an issue.

Now the climbing started. Gradually at first, but little by little the incline increased. Here still the trail was in good shape and showed signs of regular use. I had been passed by another hiker very early after leaving the Loj and a few were just in front of me when I got to Marcy Dam, but they had all headed in other directions. I stopped for a quick break at a trail shelter just before the split to Lake Colden where a DEC Ranger passed me. He too was not going my way. It was 10:00am and I was pretty sure I was alone. The route I chose was not a popular one. Most hikers attack Colden from the campground at Lake Colden. I was taking the Lake Arnold route.

Before heading out I made sure the trail was open. There were still a few trails closed due to storm damage and I knew the Arnold approach was not a priority for the Rangers. Even the folks at the information center could only give me sketchy reports. Of course they told me the trail was sketchy all the time. Being a seasoned ADK hiker, I’ve come to prepare for sketchy. As I climbed higher my pace slowed. Not only was the trail getting steeper, but after the split for Lake Colden it became significantly rockier and at points ran concurrent with a stream bed. This proved to be the norm rather than the exception, but I eventually made it to Lake Arnold without much difficulty. I stopped for a snack and reloaded an empty water bottle before pressing onward. I could see the summit now, but the path snaked around to the other side of the mountain and it faded from my view.

Lake Arnold

The next leg was rather interesting. Flat areas were flooded and I found myself up to my knees in mud on several occasions. In many places the puncheon was under water or simply gone. My guess is even before Irene made her visit this section was in need of some maintenance. There were a few downed trees here as well, but only one forced me off the trail. Soon I encountered the sign notifying me I was entering the Alpine Zone (always a welcome thing) and shortly thereafter the trees began to shrink and then disappear altogether as I crested the north summit. I was tempted to linger here, but I had to press on. Descending only to have to go back up is always disheartening but the last push up to the summit wasn't as painful as I thought it was going to be. Of course in the back of my mind I knew I’d have to come back this way. It was later than I planned to be where I was at so taking the longer route down to Lake Colden and out Avalanche Pass was not an option. I was past my turn-around time and didn't want to gamble with unfamiliar trail. Sadly, there wasn't much time to take in the panorama.

Mount Marcy from the Colden Summit

The return trip was uneventful but memorable. Even though gravity was helping my descent, it was slow going at times. Downclimbing bare rock I scrambled up earlier could now prove to be hazardous. It always is. Fatigue, plus the laws of physics, can lead to a bad fall and the long haul downhill takes a toll on the knees. As I made my way lower and lower the shadows of the afternoon began to bend the light as it hit the trees. The canopy was a palate of fall colors and changed often. It reminded me of Prince Prospero’s palace in The Masque of the Red Death, the foliage filtering the light like the stained glass windows in Poe’s story. I arrived back at the shelter where I had seen the Ranger earlier in the day. A hundred yards below that I ran into the first humans I had seen in just over seven hours. It added to the surrealness of the situation. This was my first solo ascent of an Adirondack High Peak and my first ascent of anything by myself in a number of years. I stopped by Marcy Dam again for a bit and enjoyed my last few minutes of solitude. In forty minutes I would be back in camp.

Fall Colors at Marcy Dam Lake

When I made it to my campsite I found my wife napping. She enjoyed her day at the spa. I cleaned up and we headed out to town for dinner at the Great Adirondack Steak and Seafood/Brewing Co. One more night in the tent and then it was time to slowly head home via North Creek and Cooperstown, but that’s another story for another day.  

Olana State Historical Site

Olana State Historical Site, New York

I am not an architecture aficionado by any means. I'm usually too interested in natural things. Don’t get me wrong, I like interesting buildings, but I rarely go out of my way to see one. I am fascinated by Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater, but actually taking the time to visit it has never been high on my agenda. I’ve never even been in the Empire State Building in spite of the fact that my grandfather was one of the steelworkers who erected the original mooring mast on the building before it was replaced by the broadcast antenna that currently sits atop the massive Manhattan edifice. On the rare occasion I do visit a historical building, I normally am consumed by taking a microscopic view, or rather a series of microscopic views, camera in hand, searching for good photo ops and imagining what someone who lived in the place experienced in day-to-day life. I look for the odd shape of a window pane, how light showing through a skylight casts a shadow on other elements in the room, a rusty portcullis, the flaking pain around a doorjamb…that sort of stuff. My approach to Olana was no different.

I have lost track of how many times I have driven past Exit 21 on the Thruway, saw the brown-and-white road sign, and paid no attention to it what-so-ever. I knew what it was, but I had little interest in stopping. I was either on my way to Vermont or to Pennsylvania, or (even worse, I suppose) on my way to Windham Ski Area which is off the same exit, but in the opposite direction. Olana was always an afterthought. In fact, much of the Hudson Valley is an afterthought to me. Maybe “afterthought” is a strong word. Let’s say “also-thought”. Given my passion for the outdoors and the environmental movement, one would think I would have an attraction to the early period of “wilderness” themed art and writing that came from this area.

The fact is I don’t. Cole, Cropsey, and Church to me symbolize fantasy, not reality. They were from an era where the wilderness was still feared. It was something that needed to be tamed. Man’s job was to carve out the wilderness, but was never a part of it. Cole’s art in particular annoys me. Wondrous landscapes, often exaggerated in their grandeur, always contained some element of man’s hand…a road, a horse and rider, a distant farm. Church, being a disciple of Cole started his career painting in such the same manner. Following Cole’s death, Church began a modest road to redemption and little by little began to focus on the landscape, eliminating man’s presence. I say “a modest road” because by this time much of the surrounding hills had been obliterated by man. The logging industry and the need for pastures to support the wool industry had devastated the Hudson and Delaware valleys. Perhaps this is why Church went on grand voyages around the world looking for new subjects. What he saw around him had been ravaged by the wheels of the infant Industrial Revolution. What had been the American frontier only a few decades before was now a series of coal-smoking, brick and iron towns connected by turnpikes and canals. I suddenly began to understand where Church was coming from…perhaps.

Frederic Church was a man of means. His art showings were akin to a present-day theatrical blockbuster premier. His constructing a home befitting of an artist such as himself was inevitable. Like many other significant persons of his day, the Hudson Valley was the place to be. However, many of his contemporaries built summer cottages and retreats from their city homes. Church was different. Olana would become his permanent home.

Our tour of Olana was confined to the actual house and the visitor’s center. Rambling around the vast expanses of property would have to wait for another day. However, it came as a bit of a surprise to me that the vast majority of the building and additions to the house were done after Church’s artwork ceased to be the talk of the town. American tastes were changing. The American landscape was changing. Olana became Church’s focus.

The same attention to detail Church had once put into his masterpieces on canvas he now put into the design and decoration of his estate. This wasn’t just relegated to the buildings, but to the grounds, the farm, the gardens, and the miles of carriage roads he built on his property. While the surrounding landscape of his neighbors to the south) Church became, at best, a fledgling conservationist. He planted massive amounts of trees of dozens of varieties on his hillsides only to break them up by carriage paths. The house’s Persian design, while wholly unique even by today’s standards, contains classical elements of middle-eastern floral and geometric patterns. Local stone blends with earth-tone colored brick. The mingling of man and nature reminiscent of his earlier works can be seen throughout the grounds. Church’s use of large plate glass windows throughout the home allow one to gaze upon the natural surroundings as if they were looking at one of his paintings. Olana was, in my opinion, Church’s obsession and attempt to relive his past. However, unlike his previous masterpieces which were intended to gain him fame and fortune, Olana was for his family and friends. It is not opulent, quite the opposite in fact. It was a home, it was intimate, and it was lived-in. Its grand staircase/stage was use for parlor performances. Friends were likely to find a crash space on a bed in a hallway if no other room was available.

Still in all, I found myself consumed by the decorations and the details of Church’s designs. Perhaps because, while now things of museum piece quality: the hats, the tea cups, the frayed sofa, the Aztec sculptures, the taxidermy peacock, a piano, these things were once used and were bit parts of the Church family’s life. Instead of looking through the glass windows at the scenery, I looked at the windows, searching for where the stem had been cut from the plate. I stared at the patterns in the tile work, trying to imagine things in the way Church might have done. I gradually became lost in the details of the home, probably in the same manner Church did and upon departing began to rethink my opinions of the man himself.

Olana is less than an hour's drive south of Albany, New York. The grounds are open during the day throughout the year. Organized tours of the house and studio are available Tuesday through Sunday, and holiday Mondays, from April to October. From November to March, tours are conducted Friday through Sunday. Reservations are recommended, but not required, for groups of fewer than 15 people. (518) 828-0135 www.olana.org.

Paddling in the Bashakill Wildlife Refuge, New York

Sometime in early July I found myself cruising the backroads of southern Orange county New York when, thanks to a detour, I found the Walkill National Wildlife Refuge. I eagerly looked up info on this area as soon as I got home, and filed it for future reference. In my research I also discovered the Bashakill Wildlife Preserve, just slightly to the north of the Walkill. I thought that paddling both of these areas in the same day sounded like a good idea. Two somewhat lazy rivers ripe with birds and wetland plants each only a few miles long would make for a great day of discovery.

My friend Rachel had been asking me to take her on some sort of an adventure for a few weeks. Several attempts were made throughout the summer but between the cold, rainy summer weather and my crazy schedule, I still wasn't able to do anything with her. Thankfully she didn't have to start her fall semester until after Labor Day, and few days before I had some time in my schedule and we had a break in the weather.

Few of my trips ever seem to go off without a hitch. Thanks to some delays courtesy of my ill dog, my morning plans went haywire. I had planned to leave around 8am, it was now close to 11am as we got on the road. Thankfully, we encountered no traffic and made it to the Bashakill area sometime around noon. The put-in spots weren't very well marked. I had just been over this way a few weeks earlier when traveling to the Shawanagunks and didn't even realize that the wildlife area was here. It's kind of hidden in plain sight, thus I think it gets overlooked quite often. My plan was to put-in at the south end of the refuge and paddle upstream to the north. Instead, I nearly missed the road at the northern end as well.

There was fairly large parking area a few hundred feet away from the put-in spot, a gravel and mud embankment off the side of a bridge. Some colorful locals were there fishing and a few of them had parked at the launch spot, thus not leaving a lot of room. After unloading and moving the car to the lot, we shoved off. Rachel had only been kayaking a few times before and didn't want to do something dangerous, but at the same time she had grown bored with the Upper Delaware. So had I, so this worked out well.

Initially, we encountered some expected litter. A plastic bottle here and a bait container there, not to mention the expected lost bobbers and some tangled fishing line, but after we paddled around the first bend it became fairly pristine and after only a hundred yards we spotted a Painted Turtle taking in some late summer rays. It was a nice day. The summer had been exceptionally cool and rainy and a sunny day with highs in the low 70s was a very welcome change.

A trip here a few weeks earlier would have had us paddling the channel during the height of Pickerelweed season. Most of the blue/purple stalks had started to wilt by the time we got there, but nonetheless they were still fairly full and gave harbor to several Great Blue Herons. We saw several throughout the day.

We zig-zagged back and forth through the wetland for about two hours, stopping frequently to gaze upon more herons, turtles, lilies, and other plants that are found in abundance along the Bashakill. It was by no means a challenging river, but I don't think that's why people come to this place. We passed only two other boats the whole day, both on the way downstream. We could hear a few people making some noise at one of the launches near the southern end of this section, but we didn't paddle down that channel to explore who was there or what we might find. We pretty much had the place to ourselves, so we figured why should we spoil it? Granted it was a weekday and most of the schools had already started back, but I have the feeling that this place doesn't see much traffic to begin with.

NY-17 (The Quickway) skirts the north end of the preserve near Wurtsboro and US-209 runs parallel to the river to the west. My guess is most people on The Quickway are too busy wondering what in the hell they are doing on it in the first place and aren't thinking about the wetland in the valley below them. Sullivan County is a relatively forgotten place. It's Drive-By country nowadays. Much of the once majestic Catskill resorts are closed or have been turned into summer camps run by people who either don't have the fiscal means for the upkeep or simply lack the skills to properly use power tools. It doesn't surpise me that many people don't visit the preserve. I too myself am guilty of driving right by the place on more than one occasion, this morning included.


Due to the canine related morning mishaps and the amount of time we lollygagged on the Bashakill, there was no time left that day to head south to the Walkill. That will remain an exploration for another day and I'll undoubtedly return to the Bashakill as well.


For more information visit: http://www.thebashakill.org

Backpacking on the Wolfjaws: Adirondack State Park, NY

Sometime in the early spring of 2009, my buddy Dave, hit me up with the idea of doing some backpacking on the Appalachian Trail. He wanted to do the whole thing in sections, but he wanted to start in Georgia. He propositioned me with the notion of driving 16 hours, hiking for two days, and then driving (almost) another 16 hours back. I’ve done a lot of crazy things, including a marathon drive from Alabama to Pennsylvania once…once. This is precisely why I wasn’t going to go for his plan. Instead, I offered to take him to the Adirondacks. I hadn’t done any serious hiking there in years, and, in my opinion, bagging all 46 peaks over 4000ft is just as lofty as section-hiking the entire AT.

I began planning in earnest. I laid out a few routes and after some careful decision making, taking into account some of my previous Adirondack adventures, my hiatus from serious backpacking for 2-3 years, and the fact that I didn’t want to re-bag a lot of peaks I’ve already notched in my belt, I decided on an itinerary that would take us over 5-6 High Peaks, only one of which (Mt. Marcy) I had done before.

Things didn't go quite as planned. Dave, hadn't backpacked in a while and admitted this en route to New York. The hardest hike he had ever been on was climbing Mt. Tammany in the Delaware Water Gap, a mere 1200 or so feet, and no where near as steep or as rugged as what we were taking on here in the Adirondacks. OK...not a problem, I’ve dealt with novice backpackers before. This, however, would turn out to be only one of the foibles that we were to encounter on this trek into the High Peaks.

We actually did pretty well on Sunday and made it 4.5 miles to our shelter in about two hours in spite of the muddy and sloppy trails. Dave and I had made a stop at one of my favorite gear stores in the northeast, The Mountaineer, in Keene Valley, prior to getting to the trailhead just up the road. There we stocked up on some supplies we couldn’t buy at home and rented the mandatory bear-proof cans we needed for our hike. In spite of my years of experience, and the Leave-No-Trace Instructors’ certification I hold, the NY State Department of Environment and Conservation does not see it fit to allow me (or anyone camping in the Eastern High Peaks Region) to rig up lines and bags to properly secure provisions from critters, no matter how much of an expert one actually is. I’m sure the fat-cat at the State Assembly who conjured up the idea of mandatory use bear cans has never had to pack and haul one of these damned things several miles into the wilderness. To maximize space and pack for best weight distribution, we didn’t even pack our backpacks before leaving. I knew we would only have to re-pack everything once we acquired the cans. After an hour of going through everything and splitting up the gear and food and paying for parking, Dave and I were off.

Dave and I left the trailhead in Keene Valley and made our way along John’s Brook. The trail was fairly level and offered some good photo opportunities. This would have been great had I not decided to leave my good camera in the car. The weather report for the week said “Rain, Clouds, Thunderstorms…”, so I opted to leave my behemoth digital SLR behind. With probable cloud cover and potentially no sweeping vistas to shoot I didn’t see it worth toting the extra weight. (Maybe without the bear can I would have lugged the extra couple pounds.) I had my cell phone camera, and Dave had a point-and-shoot, we were photographically covered. Then for some reason my cell phone didn’t power down correctly and the battery died in a mere 2 hours while desperately searching for a signal in the New York backcountry. I wasn’t even going to take it, but I wanted to have a camera, now I was left with a useless piece of plastic and silicon. This is the same reason I don’t use a GPS, but at least with a GPS a few AA batteries can put you back in business. Not so with a cell phone that uses a micro-USB jack to recharge. (I also neglected to take my hand-crank/solar cell charging unit, a present that I rarely use because I never take my cell phone.) In spite of the superior photographic equipment we lacked, Dave’s point-and-shoot seemed to suffice and we got a few nice snapshots of the brook, the new footbridge, and our campsite.

We stayed at the Wolfjaws lean-to, a three sided shelter common in the ‘Dacks. There was no view or anything especially scenic at the campsite. An outhouse, called a privy here in the North Country, which had obviously been moved several times over the decades served as our human waste receptacle. A rushing stream, still frigid from the spring thaw served as our water source. If it had been a hot day, I might have been tempted to scour for swimming holes, but not today. A recently fallen fir blocked the access to the stream and we were forced to detour among and around the broken boughs in order to fill our water bottles. This would become a common occurrence while we were encamped there.

Monday’s weather was superb! It was our intent to knock off Upper and Lower Wolfjaw peaks, then make for The Great Range and get Armstrong and Gothics before the end of the day. We made it up to the junction of the Lower Wolfjaw/Upper Wolfjaw trail pretty quickly. It was only 0.5 miles to the top of Lower Wolfjaw. I would have preferred to leave our packs at the bottom of Lower Wolfjaw and retrieve them after we bagged the peak, but with my luck a NYSDEC ranger or some Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) member bestowed with some type of backcountry police power would have spotted the two bags, checked to see that all the food and “smellable” items were secured in the bear cans (which they were not right at this point), and then we would have been issued a ticket or warning. That would have looked great. “Eagle Scout/Leave-No-Trace Instructor/Backcountry Advocate/Outdoor Recreation Department manager cited for wilderness illegalities.”

Getting to the top of Lower Wolfjaw took us an hour! The mud, slick rocks, and scrambling up six-foot rock faces, one after the other, just killed us. We were toting full-packs and my trekking poles were slowing me down. One was bent and I couldn't collapse them down and stash them on my pack in order to free up my hands. Dave wasn’t doing much better. His heavier cotton-based wardrobe and old-school sleeping bag made his pack a bit heavier than it could have been with better gear. Regardless, we got to the top and felt pretty good, but we sucked down a bunch of water. It took us 30 minutes to get back down to the junction and then we started up Upper Wolfjaw.


What came next was the roughest, nastiest trail I've ever hiked in my life. 1.0 miles took us over 1.5 hours. I was expecting some scrambles and handhold use, but I've never before had to take off my pack, throw it up to the next level of trail, and then chimney climb up between two boulders. This was sick! We made it up but were down to a pint of water each. I had planned on us running short before we made camp that night, but I had also planned that we would be running out of water only a mile or so from day’s end. From previous June escapades in the ‘Dacks (coupled with the very rainy spring we had) I fully expected a few perennial streams would have been flowing as well. Faced with at least three more peaks and three more miles we did some quick math and opted to head back down to the shelter we were at the night before.

Coming down wasn't that great either. It was a long, disheartening down-climb back to the shelter. My knee decided it was a perfect time to pop out after slipping on some rocks, and the descent wasn’t much faster than the hike up. Out of water, muddy, and slightly bloody we staggered back into the Wolfjaws lean-to somewhere after 5:00pm. Thankfully no one else moved in, although we would have welcomed some comely French-Canadian ladies, or, in actuality, anyone who was willing to cook our dinner. Instead our only visitor that night was a local Pine Martin. The furry weasel-like creature must have smelled the canned shrimp I added to the evening fare. That made me think if he smelled it, a bear could have as well. So now I’m all hyped up thinking we were going to have “Close Encounters of the Ursine Kind”. I would have taken a picture, but….well, anyway. Sleep came soon after sunset and sometime in the middle of the night it began to rain. We were supposed to be camping under a tent-fly tonight, six miles or so away. Dave pointed out that he was now glad we ran out of water. The weather wasn't great Tuesday. In fact, it downright sucked. It rained all Monday night and didn't let up until 10am on Tuesday. We had read that there were T-storms likely on Tuesday and with the rain and quagmire-esque trail conditions we opted to head out of the woods. In spite of our self-inflicted physical abuse we felt fine after returning to camp on Monday night, but now the legs and back sure felt a lot worse and it was noticeable on the hike out. We checked out John’s Brook Lodge, also known as JBL, and spent some time there talking to the caretaker.

The lodge is nestled three miles or so into the wilderness and is only accessed by foot or pack-animal. The annual resupply missions to JBL are done mostly by ADK volunteers and by helicopter. Consequentially, the nightly fees to stay in this 100+ year old vestige of the glory-days of early Adirondack expeditions are a pretty penny. Lean-tos and tent sites are also available nearby for a slightly lower fee. JBL is worth a stop and given the fact that we were in no rush to get out we took our time reviewing the collection of Adirondack memorabilia in the JBL historical collection, and had a damned tasty brownie as well.

Dave and I rambled back to the parking lot in Keene Valley, stopping only briefly to dodge around a young, nouveau-hippie woman meditating on one of the footbridges and for a quick reconnaissance of some other lean-tos closer to the trailhead. Then we headed up to the Adirondak Loj, (purposefully misspelled by the builder) rented a lean-to, cleaned ourselves up, and headed into Lake Placid for some beer tasting at the Lake Placid Pub and Brewery. We sampled a few of the offered beers and I took a half-gallon bottle (know to beer snobs like myself as a “growler”) of 46ers India Pale Ale back to camp to accompany dinner. Dave opted for a growler of Ubu Ale. I have had LP Brewery beers before and was hoping the High Peaks Hefe-Wiezen was available. It wasn’t...bummer. We headed back to very quiet campground and proceeded to cook up some beans, rice, and chicken. We polished off most of the beer and decided to call it an evening after we ran out of dirty jokes to tell.Now a day ahead of schedule, we headed over to the Adirondack Wild Center in Tupper Lake on Wednesday and checked out the cool stuff there. Two school groups had just beat us there, and we didn’t get to really enjoy the experience. Watching the otters swim around was neat but the school groups there made it a bit crowded, and I constantly felt like I was going to nail some poor pre-kindergartener with my knee. We stayed for about an hour-and-a-half, still not seeing everything there was to see, and we decided to start the trek home.

We stopped in Queensbury and chowed down on a Loft Burger with double bacon, cheese, onions and mushrooms. The Loft Burger restaurant is strategically located on the corner of Routes 9 and 149 just off the Northway and is a frequent stop of mine either on my way to or from Vermont. While my backcountry cookery is excellent, Dave had to admit that the Loft Burger was perhaps the greatest-worst-for-your-arteries thing he had ever eaten. I have to agree.
All in all, it was the first serious backpacking trip I took in 3 years. I was hoping we would have found better water sources or had taken more water bottles, but I didn't beat myself up and surprisingly I was only moving slow due to the terrain and conditions. We didn't bag all the peaks we planned to, but I got two more that I didn't have before. Dave has since forgotten about his original plans to section-hike the AT and now has his sights set on bagging more High Peaks. Two down and 44 more to go for him, I’m only slightly ahead of his count. Thankfully, the mountains aren’t going anywhere.
For Additional Information See:

The Adirondack Mountain Club, Johns Brook Lodge and the Adirondak Loj:
http://www.adk.org/

The Mountaineer: http://www.mountaineer.com/

The Adirondack Wild Center: http://www.wildcenter.org/

The Lake Placid Pub & Brewery: http://www.lakeplacidpubandbrewery.com/

The Loft Drive-In: (518) 793-2296