Brook Trout Ponds -Little Joe and Buckhorn

06/11/2016 Brook Trout Ponds -Little Joe and Buckhorn My buddy Dan had a list of brook trout ponds in which he wanted to try his luck None of these ponds had marked trails. We set out on Saturday and made camp at one of the car-camping sites along the Sacandaga River. Nice site except for the trash pile 100 feet away, mostly used diapers. We pre-made our lunch and packed it into day packs and headed out first to Cod Pond. This body of water had a trail and was only a mile or so in. Others had reported it was a nice pond to paddle including its outlet. The pond was pretty, the campsite was ok. We decided to save the day paddle for another time and go check out one of the trout ponds in the area. First we decided to have half our lunch and consult the map to determine the route to our next destination. There is no official trail to this pond, but like many in the Adirondacks there was a fisherman’s path. We followed the path and soon found the pond and a decent campsite. Loaded up the canoe and headed into the water. Immediately saw lots of life in the pond, newts hanging out just below the surface, and a few brookie fingerlings. Dan had a cleo on his line, I had a mepps #2 aglia. Dan got the first hit on a cast close to the shore near the campsite and landed a 12” brookie. It wasn’t long after when I had the first bump on my lure. A bump with no set, meant I had to check whether the hook needed to be sharpened, it did. A few more casts, one into deeper water and I landed my first brookie, another 12”. We paddled around the pond, dropping a line into every tempting spot. Found another campsite and had our second lunch, by his time it was late afternoon. We fished some more and kept only 5 trout between the two of us, the smallest of which was 10”. Dan switched lures around a few times trying out different rigs. He even trolled a bit with a lake clear wobbler and worm, an Adirondack classic set up. He landed one of the nicer trout on this rig. While removing the hook he noted the fish had a newt in its mouth. Must have been on a feeding frenzy. Neither of us knew that brook trout ate newts. I should note the sky was overcast and we had some fog on the lake. The air was misty at times, not enough to get us wet but we had on rain gear just in case. Great fishing weather. We packed up and headed back to camp.

At camp, Dan cleaned the fish and then himself by swimming in the river while I readied dinner. Today was our friend George’s 50th birthday. For the occasion we brought in a few beers, the brand George always brings on trips. We popped them open and toasted to George; then proceeded to drink his beer. We ate dinner close to 7pm. We ate overlooking the river. Our western view included a feeder stream on the other side with a downed birch tree providing color contrast. No pictures except for in my mind. As the sky darkened, we headed to our tent and hammock. Warm and cozy all night. Wind kicked up a bit, but we both slept soundly.

I awoke first and sat by the river for a bit, then put some water on so we could have coffee as soon as Dan emerged. He is in charge of coffee since he uses real stuff. If it was just me, I would have had instant. My hammock was all packed up before Dan finally exited his tent. He made us coffee, and we sipped it while overlooking the river and maps. Simultaneously, we planned our day’s bushwhack and our two-week summer trip to the Quetico wilderness. The destination for today would be a series of ponds in the Siamese Ponds Wilderness. Reports of brook trout prompted Dan to put his on his list. We would first need to find a place to cross the river. There was a trail marked on the map near the county line brook on the other side of the Sacandaga. We found a pull off and took a side trail to the river’s edge. We forded the stream and headed up the edge of the brook. We soon found the trail, well-trodden but unmarked and a campsite. We followed this trail for a while until we found a spot to take a bearing to head off trail. It was late morning by the time we headed out, and this would not be an easy bushwhack. We figured this trail would ease it a little, but the elevation changes would be significant no matter what direction we headed. Our bearing took us up hill a bit and after about a mile, we hit the outlet of the pond. We would then follow this outlet up gaining significant elevation. For most of it, we climbed right up the stream. This was a long cascade of small falls, channels and open faces. The water had worn the rock down enough, that even these “sliding rocks” with about a 30 degree grade we had good traction. A few climbs up some difficult sections. And then it leveled out for a bit. Here the water was joined by 3 feeders which didn’t show on the map. We followed the one with the most current which proved to be a mistake. We realized we were heading in the wrong direction and instead of heading back down, and then going up, we corrected by following the contour around the hill until the first pond came into view. Away from the stream there was much witchobble and spruce to deal with, so it was slow going whether we were in the stream bed, or parallel to it. We made it to the first pond a little past 1pm. The next, and larger would be a little farther. We pushed through the spruce here and made our way to our goal. The outlet of this pond had a natural rock dam which gently eases into the pond itself. It was pretty, surrounded by hills on all sides except for the outlet gorge. We sat on the flat rock and ate lunch while talking about the adventure so far. This spot was on Dan’s list and he didn’t think he would get here anytime soon. We were both glad to finally reach it, though it was work. We definitely earned this one. Split up, we circumnavigated the pond meeting at a little used campsite on the far side. We were hoping to find a boat to do some fishing. No boat was to be found, except for 2 inflatable rafts. One of which was torn to shreds near the campsite. The other was stored on the other side of the pond in a sealed bucket complete with paddles. It would be too small for the two of us, but we inflated it anyway to see if was seaworthy. Dan used it to fish in the middle, while I shore fished. Nothing for me, but Dan landed another 12” brookie. As it was getting close to 4pm, we needed to head out. Consulting the maps, we could find no other real option besides the way we came in, except for perhaps a slightly different bearing from the outlet stream to shave a little distance.

Down the stream we went, much easier but still a work out climbing down rocks and ensuring we didn’t slip down the sheets of rock. The woods off to the side weren’t any easier. When the stream turned, we took a bearing and pretty much went straight to our approach trail. By this time my left knee was starting to get sore. We made it back to the river and crossed it pretty much the same way as we did on the way in. From pond to car it was exactly two hours. It was now 6:20pm and we had a few hours drive to get home. I am certain to be sore tomorrow or the next day, but it was worth it.

Happy Birthday Zaida -Trail Stewardship and French Louie's Cave

05/30/2016

Happy Birthday Zaida -Trail Stewardship and French Louie's Cave

I try to do a backpacking trip every Memorial Day Weekend. This weekend would be dedicated to the memory of my grandfather who on the 30th, would have turned 100 years old. Zaida left us almost 3 years ago, but his memory lives on. Prior to leaving I put together a brief summary of Zaida's life and a few photos and sent it to his kids and grandkids. I then left for the woods for some volunteer work, relaxation and reflection.

I picked up Sheldon early Saturday morning and we made our way to Wakely Dam. We chatted about Scouts and his trip to Philmont. I reiterated our agenda which was to hike to Colvin Brook lean-to so I could do my spring assessment and general cleanup. Then return to the NPT and continue to Cedar Lakes noting major blowdown and clearing any which could be done with hand tools. I would also clear more on the return trip Monday. Sunday we planned on visiting French Louie's Cave, relax and go fishing, perhaps explore some more off-trail weather depending. We were expecting thunderstorms to pop up throughout the weekend. I had also mentioned this weekend would have been my grandfather's 100th birthday.

At the trailhead it was hot and muggy just as expected. A few bugs were around, but it wasn't to bad yet. We hiked into Carry lean-to and chatted with the boaters who were there for the weekend. They were from the Catskill area and volunteered with the Catskill Mtn Club doing trail work. We gave them some suggestions for day trips from that spot. The trail from Wakely to the Sucker Brook trail is along an old road, so travel was easy. We made the turn onto the Sucker Brook trail which would soon be added to my mileage of responsibility. The NPT had been cleared of major blowdown to here and it appeared to continue to the Cedar River. I rock hopped across and assessed the lean-to, did some general cleanup and noted the few visitors since last October. Sheldon had remained on the other side, but when he saw I stayed dry on my crossing, he came over as well. I finished sweeping out the lean-to, and we headed back. On the re-cross of the river, Sheldon slipped and in order to not completely fall over, stepped into the river soaking his boots. Fortunately I made it across without incident.

We re-traced our steps to the NPT, filled up our water bottles at the spring and continued our way to the Cedar lakes. As we hiked along, I would clear minor blowdown and Sheldon would note on his GPS major trees which would need the chainsaw to clear during the next window. The wet boot was beginning to cause a blister for Sheldon so he kept a watch on it. Coming the other way, two young ladies (sisters) passed us by. They were thru-hiking the trail. They signed in at the registers as “The Cash Sisters”. I wished them a safe and fun journey. At Cedar Lakes Dam we met up with a group of folks who hailed from all across the Northeast, but knew each other as students at RIT. I shared with them the location of a downed cherry tree where good firewood could be found as this area gets a lot of use and firewood is scarce in the immediate vicinity. One of them asked where a good place to hang her hammock was, and I pointed to a location where I had used in the past.

It was starting to get late, so far we had avoided the potential thunderstorm of the afternoon and the bugs were not bad at all. It was hot though, and we were both soaked in sweat. A swim or at least a dunking of our heads would be a welcome relief once at camp. We made camp at the tent site on Beaver Pond. We could hear voices at the lean-to so we didn't even bother to go over there. A small fire was started so that we could ward off the bugs with smoke if they decided to find us and also to dry out some of our clothes and Sheldon's boots. I headed over the bridge to get water from the spring and met up with two of the lean-to inhabitants (Amber and Justin) plus their dog (Maggie). We chatted a bit, about the trail and the lost dog posters and referenced the posts on the forum. When I mentioned my name on the forum, both Justin and Amber said “ohhhh, you're duct tape, we though we recognized you from Rob's videos.” We talked and laughed a bit more and then I headed back to camp to make dinner. I fished a bit with no luck. The fish weren't biting, but the bugs were beginning to, so I headed back to camp. The sun was barely down and I could not stay awake. It was an early bed time for us both. I was still a bit sticky from sweat even though I had washed down in the lake. The peepers were making a racket, yet I still managed to fall asleep rather quickly. It cooled down over the night to make a very comfortable night's sleep.

As usual, I was up before dawn. I restarted the fire, made some coffee and grabbed my fishing pole. Again, no luck. The sun was just emerging over the horizon as was Sheldon from his hammock so I mentioned the sun's status to him and he grabbed his camera. We both ate granola for breakfast and planned to head to French Louie's Cave for our morning adventure. French Louie died a year before my grandfather was born. Both were amazing me who led full lives. It was barely 7 am, we had our whole day ahead of us. As we hiked towards the wagon wheel campsite, I noted the location of the old trail which headed to the shoreline... another future exploration. At the wagon wheel campsite, we took a bearing and headed off trail towards the top of cobble hill. The witchopple was starting to grow in, but the spruce swamps were relatively dry, so it wasn't particularly difficult. We noted a few water sources along the way for the future. Our bearing took us just below the cave, so we had to turn a bit go uphill to get to the cave itself. Sheldon went straight up, I opted to go around the shoulder. Like yesterday, it was hot and muggy, but inside the cave it was much cooler. I sat on a rock which acted as a heat sink, pulling heat from me. I was cool in no time. We relaxed, and explored a bit more. Some of the other crevices and caves had ice still in them. We ventured into one dark crevice and it was almost cold.

We didn't really want to leave, but knew we would need to eventually. We headed back to the water source then took a new bearing towards the fisherman's lean-to. As we approached the NPT, the terrain looked familiar and I knew to swing left instead of having to climb up and over a ridge which was thick with both live and dead spruce. The tread on the new trail to the fisherman's lean-to was more obvious since last time I was there. We relaxed some more at the lean-to. We could hear some thunder way off to the south. There was a nice breeze keeping us cool, but we also knew this could mean we would eventually get the rain we so far had avoided. The hike back to camp went quickly, we chatted a bit, but also spread out slightly due to our different paces. I mentioned the other trail exploration would have to wait until another time as my knees were telling me they had enough and the weather seemed sketchy.

Back at camp we did some chores, and I found myself sitting near the firepit with my bandana over my head and my face in my hands. Sheldon came by and asked if I was sulking. I told him I was tired and was resting my eyes. This was true, but there was another detail I neglected to mention. For some reason thoughts of my grandfather caused me great distress, I felt a general sense of sadness. No specific details, or memories. I said I needed to take a nap, so I went to my hammock. I closed me eyes and smiled seeing my grandfather sleeping in the backyard in my dad's hammock; which then broke causing him to land on his rear. I think I slept for about an hour. Some voices of hikers going down the trail awoke me me from my slumber. They were looking for a place to camp. Sheldon was going to tell them our site had plenty of room but he didn't want to speak for me. I said, if they come back tell them to join us. I then went for water from the spring. On my way back I decided to visit the lean-to. The Rochester area backpackers who I had chatted with online were there, as were two of the previous night's inhabitants. We all shared stories of the trail, the area and other spots. One guy, I cannot recall his name, had an uncanny gift of knowing the zip code of every town. He and I shared intel about different locations we had both visited and also traded some secrets. The group started to make dinner so I headed back to camp. Sheldon had already eaten and wondered if I had gone off exploring or whether I visited the lean-to. He went fishing while I fixed my dinner. I was making a quick beef stew with some dehydrated veggies and a can of beef & gravy I had picked up at a dollar store some time back. For a while I had wondered why the heck I had bought this generic can. Earlier I joked with Sheldon that it was probably not much different than a can of dog food. I half expected it to have been made by Alpo. As I was making my stew it dawned on me why I had bought it, and also why I brought it on this trip, I got two cans of this stuff for a buck. It was a “good deal”, Zaida would have been proud. I opened the can and it smelled ok; for canned roast beef. The stew turned our better than expected. I was barely done by the time we could hear the storm approaching, so I hastily picked up and we got to our respective hammock before the sky really opened up.

A good storm ensued. I do not know how long it lasted. It was barely raining when I answered nature's call at some point in the middle of the night. By morning, all I could hear on the tarp was the rain which was dripping off the trees. We had a nine mile hike out, plus driving so we both decided to get up early. I was up first and made myself coffee and packed up everything except my tarp just in case the sky decided one last water dump. Both of us were packed up and were on the trail before 7. We passed by the Cedar Lake #1 lean-to quietly as all were apparently still asleep. After we passed, we both commented on the soaked hammock and mishmashed tarp in the woods behind the lean-to. I guess the inhabitant did not fare as well as us with her set-up.

From the dam to the junction, Sheldon would walk in front at his own pace while I would stop and cut more blowdown that I skipped on the way in. The rest of the hike out was uneventful. We made good time even with a break at the Cedar River flow. At the car before noon. We stopped for lunch in Indian Lake village. Across the street was the Chamber of Commerce where Sylvia was working. I placed my order and went over to say “hi”. Sylvia and I had never met in person, we only chatted online through the NPT facebook page. She was also a NPT trail enthusiast and steward. The sign on the door said she would be back at 12:45, so I went back to the tavern to finish eating. I would return after I ate, while Sheldon was settling up the bill (he bough me lunch, thanks buddy.) I walked into the office and said “Hi Sylvia.”, she looked towards me and said “Russ Byer, I saw the glasses and knew it was you.” We gave each other a hug and talked a bit about the trail maintenance we had done and some other areas to visit. Sheldon was waiting, so I headed back to the car.

During lunch I reminded Sheldon that today would have been my grandfather's 100th birthday. He asked, “when?”

I said “right now.”

“Then raise a glass” was his retort.

At that moment 12:30 Eastern Time, I along with the other members of my family around the world were celebrating the memory of my grandfather with a toast. “To Zaida.”