Bushwhacking Rules One and Two - The Woods Don't Care

As a loyal reader of this blog you know that when I go hiking I sometimes go off trail and do a bit of bushwhacking. I like to drudge up old and forgotten Adirondack routes and trails, and this fits nicely with searching around for patches of old growth forest or finding Beech trees that have BBD resistance. I commonly plan my routes so that my path at some point intersects a formal trail that I can follow out of the woods. Occasionally, when the trail I am seeking does not appear as expected, an alarming thought crosses my mind; "What if I cross the trail without realizing it?" This is usually accompanied by the even more disturbing thought; "What if I already crossed the trail and I'm heading off into the un-tracked wilderness? Oh no..." (then I recall that it is the Adirondacks, it might be wild but it is hardly un-tracked)

This has happened a few times but the the outcome has always been the same. Within a few minutes I step onto the the trail I was looking for. And this inevitably brings a smile because when you are bushwhacking even a lightly-used marked trail looks like a four-lane highway through the woods. From this I've developed a rule of thumb (Rule Number One of Bushwhacking); "You won't miss the trail, you'll spot it when you come to it, keep going." This rule has served me well because doubt can be a serious problem in its' own right. And doubt --edging towards panic-- has been the undoing of many a "lost" hiker or hunter.

This year I learned an interesting variation on my rule, which is; "you won't spot the trail if you are walking in the wrong direction." As you might imagine this corollary rule didn't appear out of the blue. I was attempting to reach Twin Ponds from the Thirteen Lake-Puffer Pond trail but tough conditions, and a late start, had caused me turn back short of the ponds. Heading back to rejoin the trail, which was less than a mile away, I decided to take an alternate route to avoid swampy terrain I had crossed on my way towards the ponds. After beating my way through rough terrain for nearly an hour I started to question my "rule number one of bushwhacking". The terrain didn't seem right and I really should have rejoined the trail by then.

I generally avoid using GPS for route finding but I had been recording my track using the GPS in my phone. So I pulled it out to have a look, and what I saw surprised me. If the GPS track was correct, I was going the wrong way. Only then did I pull the compass out of my pack and check my direction. Damn, I was traveling west when I wanted be going north. Correcting for this I came upon the trail after only a few minutes. I had been traveling parallel to it for some time.  And the first rule of bushwhacking was confirmed. No way I would have crossed that trail without knowing it. (smile)

There was a lesson learned from this. It wasn't just over confidence, heck I hadn't even considered the possibility that I might be walking in the wrong direction. It was really a combination of hubris and laziness; the source of so many disasters, big and small. It was heavy overcast that day so there was no sun in the sky to help stay me on course and I hadn't bothered to check my compass. So now I have a new rule --Rule Number Two of Bushwhacking-- check your compass even if you already know the direction you are traveling.

I almost always have a couple of GPS devices with me, so why not just use GPS for route finding and eliminate the guess work? For starters, all the experts say that you shouldn't do it. Guidebooks, DEC and ADK websites, articles in the newspapers about hiker rescues, etc, all warn against "relying on electronic devices" to find your way when hiking. But this advice runs counter to common experience. Most of the time any decent GPS device, either a dedicated unit or the GPS feature built into a smartphone, can provide your location within a few yards. So why not use them?

The problem is that there are a variety of ways for these devices to fail or to give you incorrect information. Usually at a most inopportune moment. Still, the warning should really be that you should not trust to GPS alone to avoid getting lost. If know how to use your GPS device, and how it can fail you, then your GPS device is another tool you can use for route finding. I was going to conclude this little tale by saying "here are all the ways that GPS can fail you in the field; I've learned them all first hand." But that would have been foolish, I'm sure there other failure modes that I have not yet discovered. So here are some of the ways in which GPS can fail you in the field.

1. Your phone probably has a useful GPS capability but you must enable the "Location" feature for it to work. Setting your phone to record your track is pretty easy these days but if location is off it won't work. A good App should warn you if Location is off but this warning is easily overlooked. A good practice is to check your track on the phone periodically to make sure that all is well. Otherwise you might find that (the electronic equivalent) of birds have been following you through the forest and eating the breadcrumbs you have dropped. 
2. Many people turn "Location" off because GPS puts a heavy load on your phone battery. My phone is over two years old and with "Location" turned on the battery lasts only six to eight hours; not enough for a full day of hiking. I carry a small auxiliary battery that I can use to recharge my phone in the field, but even this can go wrong. I recently returned from a trip to find that the track I thought I was recording ended 2/3rds of the way through the hike. At one point I had noted that phone battery was getting low and had plugged in the external battery. I had forgotten, however, that if the battery level in the phone falls below a certain level (10% I think) the phone disables the location feature to save itself (sort of HAL like). This had happened. The catch is that plugging in the external battery does not re-enable the GPS capabilities of the phone. So the later part of the track was not recorded.
3. The battery life of hand-held GPS units varies considerably and cold temperatures reduce the power output of all batteries. Lithium cells are much more effective in cold weather and should be used in GPS receivers. And, if you are using your GPS for anything more than amusement, you should carry spares (thanks Mom).
4. Anticipate that you will not have Cell service while hiking. The GPS in your phone will work because the GPS system does not rely on the cellular network. But this means that your phone will not be able to download maps while you are in the field. To see your location on a background map you must plan ahead and download the appropriate map imagery before you go. Otherwise you might find your phone showing your location as a dot on a blank background. It is surprisingly difficult to get the right maps onto many devices ahead of time so verify that you have the maps you need before you leave.
5. Beyond dead batteries and software failures any electronic device you take with you on a hike can fail. A common cause complete failures is having the device in your pocket when you wade into a lake or river and it's deeper than you thought. Oops.
6. Depending on where you are hiking you may find that your device cannot lock onto the GPS satellite network to give you an accurate location. Dedicated GPS units that can use both the US GPS network and the Russian GLONASS system are the best defense against this problem. The more satellites your receiver can use the better your chances of getting a signal.
7. Finally, there are a surprising number of ways for the compass feature of your GPS unit to be completely wrong. With practice and care you can get the correct heading from a GPS compass but I have learned to be skeptical of GPS-based compass readings.

The best hedge against all of these potential problems is to carry a standard compass, and the appropriate maps, and know how to put them to use.

Christmas 2015; The Weather Outside is Not Frightful; At Least So Far

Christmas in Long Lake is usually white or at least frozen. Even if there is no snow you expect ice, or an icy crust, especially in the forest. And, if all else fails, the mountain summits should be coated in white. But not this year. It's December 26th (2015) and there is no snow or ice to be seen -anywhere. Not in the shadows deep in the forest and not on distant summits. It looks like October before the first hard freeze.

The afternoon temperature passed 60 on Christmas eve and night time temperatures have dipped below 30 only a few times. There was a coating of snow on the summits in mid-November, (see my post on climbing Kempshall Mountain in early Nov.) but even that has completely disappeared.

It was under these unusual conditions that Elle and I set off on a walk to the historic Santanoni Preserve great camp complex. The ten mile round trip feeling like a walk on cool fall day.

Newcomb Lake with just a hint of ice. December 26th, 2015.

It's tempting to point a finger at climate change as the cause of this unusual weather but climate and weather operate on different scales; different time scales and different geographic scales. A point seemingly lost on those who consider the area occupied by the United States to be the entire world.

For example, when U.S. Senator Jimmy Inhofe brought a snowball into the Senate chamber (February, 2015) to make the point that it was cold outside so therefore climate change must be a hoax, he personally damaged our national standing around the globe (except apparently in Oklahoma). People around the world could only laugh and shake their heads at how silly the Americans have become. But they also had to wonder; is someone paying him to be stupid? Or, is he really unable to understand the distinction between weather and climate?

So now, looking at the reverse side of the coin, let's be clear, a single warm month in one small region does not mean much. If the current Octoberish weather becomes the norm for December then climate change might be the cause. And, as the argument that I commonly hear goes, so what if it does? The climate has always changed. We just have to adapt.

Ok, but it's still a question of scale. Based on our current knowledge of climate changes in the past, it's the pace of change that is the problem. An five degree increase in the average global temperature over a period of a thousand years would represent an extremely rapid rate of change. But even so, we would expect that thousand years to provide time for natural systems to adapt. It would be a disruptive event but ecosystems could adapt rather than collapse. That same change over a time span measured in decades it might very well be an event unprecedented in the history of the earth. We can only guess at what that scenario might bring but it is unlikely to be a good thing for a human population of eight to ten billion people. And it seems pretty foolish to give it a try to see what happens.

Still, gene preservation aside, we humans are selfish creatures and if the world is going to have a melt down those of us who live in the north can take advantage of it for a while. So let's get back to the hiking.

Elle, on the bridge that crosses Sucker Brook on the northeast corner of Newcomb Lake. This spot is a half mile past the camp complex. The trail passes through a beautiful forest with notable old cedars present.

By Adirondack standards, for December, this is a sunny day.

The bathhouse and beach. This spot is quarter mile from the main lodge site. It doesn't look like much at this time of year but there is a nice sand beach and this is a great spot for a swim on a hot day.

Ripples are visible in the sandy bottom of the lake. That's Moose Mountain near Moose Pond visible in the distance.

A lovely spot along the trail around Newcomb Lake. The trail around the lake is rugged and strikingly beautiful.

Kempshall Moutain: Forgotten but not Lost

Kempshall Mountain, elevation 3380, lies just east of Long Lake in the southwest corner of the High Peaks Wilderness. The mountain's only real claim to fame is that a fire tower previously stood on the summit. The tower was closed in 1971 and removed from the mountain in 1977. By 1990 the trail to the top was officially abandoned. The old trail can be reached on foot by hiking north on the Northville Lake Placid Trail (NLPT) from the Tarbell Hill Road trailhead just east of Long Lake village. It's 4.5 miles From the parking area to the trail junction. Old guidebooks to the NLPT listed Kempshall as a two mile side trip with good views of the high peaks. But, without the tower, there are no views and recent editions have noted that the trip up Kempshall is "not recommended".

Wow, an abandoned trail listed as "not recommended". For me that's an irresistible combination. Views are not everything and these routes are often times fascinating for other reasons. That was certainly the case for the climb up Kempshall. Hopefully you can get a sense of it from the pictures.

Snow had fallen two nights before but as I hiked the temperature rose to above freezing. I was fascinated by the changing conditions as I climbed from the notch at 2300 to the top of the mountain at just under 3400 feet. At the lower elevations the snow plastered on every tree was transitioning directly to water and every gust of wind produced a shower of cold water. 

Most of the day was heavily overcast, but occasionally the sun burst through.

A few of the old State trail markers can still be seen along the trail. 

Setting off I didn't know what to expect. This trail is mostly forgotten but would it be hard to find or follow? The answer to that question is a definate no. The junction where the Kempshall Mountain trail leaves the NLPT is not marked, but it would be hard to miss. And the first mile of the route follows an old tote road to a notch between Kempshall and Blueberry mountains. On top of that, it soon became evident that the trail has recently been brushed out. Someone has cut back the small trees that quickly obscure abandoned paths in this neck of the woods. In a few cases larger blow down had been cut as well, up to the size that you might tackle with a hand saw.

After about a mile of moderate uphill hiking the path crosses a pretty little brook and steepens. At that point, at about 2300 feet, the trail enters a particularly dense spruce-fir thicket. The trail narrows and the trees close in. The route then alternates between moderately steep and very steep as it climbs 1000 feet in less than a mile. It was in this stretch that the recent work on the trail became highly evident and much appreciated. Blow down blocking the trail had been cut and, in places where rerouting was necessary, marker ribbons had been added to show the way.

The fire tower site is completely hemmed in by the forest. The tower foundations are evident, so I know that this was the spot, but there no openings for views. Even so, the trees, the snow and the light produced some appealing images. 

Despite the recent work it's safe to say that the Kempshall summit does not get a lot of visitors. The climb up from the notch, and the summit itself, have a distinctly wild and forgotten feel. Totaling 13 miles for the round trip, with a steep climb for the last mile, the hike demands endurance even in summer. Doing the hike in mid-November it was an adventure. I was prepared for early winter but I had not anticipated the large amounts of water coming off the trees. I was pretty wet when I got to the top and my slow pace on the steep and icy descent meant that it was dark when I got back to the car.

A perfect day.

Santanoni Preserve - Newcomb Lake to Moose Pond

By the time I finished my hike to Moose Pond I had, according to my GPS, covered over 17 miles. That's a long walk, but it's not as difficult as it might sound because much of the way was over trails that follow what were once well-built woods roads. That makes for relatively fast and easy walking. It also didn't hurt that it was a nearly perfect day for hiking; early fall, cool, and mosquito free. I walked the Newcomb Lake road to the Moose Pond crossover trail. Then over the crossover trial to the Moose Pond Horse trail and out the Moose Pond trail to the pond. I returned following the Moose Pond trail back to the Newcomb Lake road and out.

The route as recorded by my GPS and viewed in Google Earth. That's Newcomb lake on the right and Moose Pond at the upper left.

The highlight of the route is the five mile trail that connects the Newcomb Lake road with the Moose Pond Horse Trail. The Newcomb Lake road is the five mile long gravel road leading to Camp Santanoni on Newcomb Lake. This area is managed by DEC as a historical site and the road (closed to public vehicle traffic) is a great walk in its' own right. The road also delineates a section of the High Peaks Wilderness boundary so, when you leave the road (after four miles) you immediately enter the High Peaks Wilderness. The five mile long trail that connects the road with the Moose Pond Horse trail is a beautiful and invigorating walk.

Fall in the Adirondacks. Even the swamps look good.

The first section of the connecting trail stays south of Newcomb Lake until you reach the unnamed inlet stream at the west end of the lake. This stream flows through an extensive wetland which is crossed without difficulty over a solid bridge and then a long split-log boardwalk.

Bridge over the inlet stream.

The boardwalk crossing the Newcomb Lake Inlet. 

Just past the end of the boardwalk you reach a trail junction. Turning right the trail leads along the north shore of the lake and loops back to the great camp area and the road. The trail to Moose Pond turns left (west) and enters a spruce/cedar forest.

For someone interested in forest communities, and succession in forest communities, this section of the trail is fascinating. The terrain is flat, and wet, and the forest mix is typical for that type of terrain; dominated by Spruce and Balsam Fir. The interesting part is that the Spruce here are larger than is commonly seen. Probably not virgin timber large, but old second-growth large. Added into the mix are large Cedars that appear to be quite old. On a clear fall morning this section of trail felt like a trip back through time.

Large cedars are mixed in with Spruce, Balsam Fir and other tree species.

And this trail is little used. From the bridge the trail stays close to the stream for a mile or so and this section of trail is overgrown with some blowdown to work over and around. There are a few places where if it weren't for the trail markers you might have to search around a bit to find the path.

Eventually the route gains enough elevation that you enter a mixed hardwood forest. This section of the route covers roughly two miles before joining up with the Moose Pond Horse Trail. It's not a particularly interesting section and much of the route follows what I took to be old logging roads. The larger trees are Sugar Maple and Yellow Birch so there may have been selective logging in this area. None of the trees are particularly large and my guess is that logging took place here 50-75 years ago.

A highlight of this section is the beaver pond/swamp/meadow that you reach about half way between Newcomb Lake and the Moose Pond trail. It's an attractive spot and from the beaver dam you get an interesting view of a sharp little pinnacle on a ridge of Moose Mountain.

Fall in the Adirondacks.

Past the beaver pond the trail trends to the northwest as it contours around a couple low ridges. About a half mile before the junction with the Moose Pond trail the route veers to the south, travels in that direction for a couple hundred yards, turns west, and then back to the north.. Much of the crossover trail is faint, but at this point the route-finding becomes a significant challenge.

I knew that the Moose Pond trail was a quarter mile away to the west and I could have simply headed in that direction until I hit it. That option was unattractive, however, because a swampy wetland lies between the two trails. That quarter mile would have undoubtedly been wet and muddy so finding the path was still the best bet.

Reaching a place where I could no longer pick up any hint of a path I suspected that the trail had been re-routed and that I missed a detour. So I doubled back to see if I had missed a turn. I back-tracked for over a quarter mile and, if there was a detour, I couldn't find it. In any case, continuing on where I thought the trail should be, I soon spotted a trail marker and an arrow sign nailed to a tree. From there it was just a couple hundred yards to the junction with the Moose Pond trail. If you go this way you should be comfortable finding your way through the woods.

There it is! Back on the trail.

It's hard to keep up the pace when hiking on a day such as this. Every turn of the trail brings another photo opportunity.

From the junction it's 1.3 miles to Moose Pond with a decent little hill in between. Given the the round trip from the junction to the lake would add 2.5 miles to an already long day, I thought about just turning towards home. But I'm glad that I didn't. The view across Moose Pond to Santanoni Mountain, and its' prominent slide, was a delight. And, the forest around the pond is older. Most of the old trees are hardwoods with some large Maple and Yellow Birch present. But, best of all, close to the edge of the pond I spotted a White Pine in that rare category of "trees with diameter over 48 inches". Trees of that size are rare in the Adirondacks today.

Moose Pond with Santanoni Peak in the background. The slide is well know to residents of the Long Lake/Newcomb area. You see it as you drive east towards Newcomb on Rte. 28N.

Whitehouse to Canary Pond; Quiet and Remote

The last time I stood on the suspension bridge that carries the Northville Lake-Placid Trail over the West Branch of the Sacandaga at Whitehouse I was around 10 years old. That was close to 50 years ago.

Image 1: Bridge over the Sacandaga West Branch. The bridge crosses over a rock outcrop in the center of the river (now covered with trees). The total length of the two spans is close to 300 feet. 

That visit took place during a family camping trip to the State Campground on the Sacandaga River just south of Wells. My family was one of a half dozen families who regularly camped together at various campgrounds around the State. My childhood was punctuated by those trips. If I remember correctly, on this particular outing, a couple of the Dads decided to take a bunch of the kids on a hike. The bridge at Whitehouse was new at that time and a 300 foot long suspension bridge over a major river was well worth a look; especially since several of the Dads worked for what was then called the New York State Conservation Department. I don't actually remember the bridge but I know we stood on it because there's a family photo to prove it. What I do recall is that we hiked to a place where a USGS benchmark was set into a boulder alongside the trail. There is a benchmark noted on current maps about a mile north of the bridge on the NLPT so we probably went that way.

On my more recent visit (September, 2015) I did cross the bridge. I was headed for Canary Pond and I thought I might try to go the extra couple of miles to reach Silver Lake from the north. But I turned back at Canary Pond and the nearly 14 mile round trip was plenty of hiking for one day. It took me nine hours to walk that route and a big reason for that was that it was an absolutely gorgeous early fall day with the leaves just starting to turn. I took lots of picture and that takes time.

Image 2: West Branch Sacandaga looking south from the bridge at Whitehouse. 

The human history of the area is described in fascinating detail by Bill Ingersoll in Discover the Southern Adirondacks. As Ingersoll notes, the first settlers to the area arrived in the 1850s and over the roughly 100 year period between settlement and acquisition by the State the land served many uses. The first settlers may have attempted to farm the land but the long winters and thin soil would have discouraged that idea, and from 1900 onward a succession of hotels, hunting lodges and finally a boys summer camp occupied the site. The surrounding wilderness has been owned by the state going back to the late 19th century and the 350 acres where the bridge is now located were acquired in 1962.

The hike south to Canary Pond passes through a rapidly maturing 2nd growth hardwood forest. The Silver Lake Wilderness lies in what was once part of the great northern hardwood forests that covered most of New York State. Sugar Maple, Yellow Birch, and American Beech were the dominant tree species and, today, stands of Birch and Maples are rapidly approaching maturity. The Beech are mostly gone; killed off by Beech Bark Disease. This route passes through forests where many trees are approaching 36 inches in diameter with a few larger ones mixed in. There are also stands of Hemlock and I measured one Hemlock on the slope leading up to Mud Pond Notch at 47 inches in diameter.

One of the more interesting sights along the way to Canary Pond was the beaver dam on a small stream between Mud Pond and Canary Pond. This dam is (or was) an engineering marvel. On the day I hiked the route (Sept. 27, 2015), it was very dry; northern New York State had received below average moisture for the year and August and September were notably dry. The beaver had managed to completely block the stream and the outflow below the dam amounted to barely a trickle. As seen in images 3 through 6, the beaver pond was quite large -over 6 acres as measured in Google Earth- and water was backed up to the very top of the dam. Unfortunately for the beaver shortly after my visit the area would receive between three and four inches of rain in a 24 hour period. I have to wonder if the dam stood up to that deluge.

Image 3: Beaver Dam along the trail between Mud Pond and Canary Pond

Image 4: The pond the beaver build.

Image 5: Looking up at the dam from the stream bed. The water in the foreground was standing water in the stream bed. Almost no water was getting through the dam.

Image 6: Looking back across the pond from the far side. The dam,, and the vantage point for the three pictures, is in the farthest distant corner of this shot. On the far shore left of the beaver house. 

I'd be interested to know if the the dam stood up to the heavy rain but I'm sure the beaver will manage, they have been damming this stream for centuries if not longer. Using our ability to view historical imagery in Google Earth we can see that over just the past 15 years the pond pictured above has filled and drained several times. The sequence of images that follows comes from Google Earth showing imagery from 2013, 2011, 2009, and 2006. From this we see that the current large pond was created since the date of the most recent satellite imagery for this area dated from August 2013.

The yellow lines in image seven are the tracks capture by my GPS. There are two lines because one is the track on the way to Canary Pond and the other is the track from my return trip. As you can see, the lines don't overlap, and the difference averages around 30 feet. I keep promising to write more about GPS accuracy, and explain why the tracks differ by that amount, so maybe I'll get around to that soon.

Image 7: The beaver pond/meadow as seen in Google Earth imagery from August 2013.

Image 8: The beaver pond/meadow as seen in Google Earth Imagery from May 2011. You might also wonder why this image is "fuzzy" when compared with the one from 2013. The most recent round of imagery used in Google Earth (as seen in image 7) is at a higher resolution than was previously available.

Image 9: The beaver pond as seen in imagery from May 2009. The beaver had dammed the stream and filled the pond.

Image 10: The beaver pond/meadow as seen in Google Earth Imagery from June 2006. The dam was out and the pond was a grass-filled meadow.

I did eventually make it to Canary Pond, a lovely and remote body of water (Image 11). Along the way you pass Mud Pond, site of a lean-to that is in particularly good shape. Ingersoll says that the appreciation of Mud Pond requires a special aesthetic (images 12 and 13) and for tired through hikers on the NLPT the difficulty of getting to the pond to get water probably does lead to a bit of cursing. But I thought it was pretty enough and marshes look to me like an exceptionally good place for bird watching. By the way, the stream that Ingersoll mentions as a source of water for campers staying at the leanto, was completely dry on the day I was there.

Image 11: Canary Pond

Image 12: Mud Pond

Image 13: The path over the outlet of Mud Pond. A split log bridge passes through and should keep feet dry most of the time.

Image 14: Fall foliage along the Sacandaga West Branch.

Five Ponds Wilderness - The High Falls Loop

The people of the State of New York claim ownership but make no mistake, the Five Ponds Wilderness is the kingdom of the Beaver. That's what makes Five Ponds so great. It's real wilderness: wet, muddy, buggy, overgrown and generally inconvenient.

I recently (Sept 2015) hiked the route known as the "High Falls Loop". With a couple of short side jaunts that hike covered 17.1 miles; very close to my limit for hiking miles in one day. There are challenges, and the general messiness that defines the place, but Five Ponds is also an uncommonly flat area. The elevation differential between Cranberry Lake and High Falls is just 100 feet and the area's defining feature, the Oswegatchie River, follows a meandering path through a broad valley. Long stretches of the trail follow a track originally built to support a logging railroad and that solid base makes for fast and easy walking.

High Falls Loop showing my GPS track (blue). The complete loop includes a half mile of road walking between the two trail heads near the village of Wanakena. The yellow line shows the trail south to the five small ponds after which this area is named. The gray lines show the routes of historic trails abandoned following the 1995 storm that caused extensive blowdown throughout this area. (Image capture from Google Earth)

The Five Ponds Wilderness is all about the water. There are lakes, ponds, streams and the Oswegatchie River. Then there are swamps, bogs, and marshes of every size, shape and variety. And if that's not enough there are Beaver ponds at every possible stage of succession. 

A wet meadow. The Five Ponds area is noted for its' open meadows including the large open area known as "the plains." The plains is classified by the New York Natural Heritage project as a boreal heath barrens; an uncommon ecological community type. The area pictured is a wet meadow just north of the plains. 

High Falls on the Oswegatchie River. This is the falls at a time of very low water. August and early September 2015 have been unusually dry.

I started the day heading south on the High Falls Loop East Trail. This popular trail connects Wanakena with Janacks Landing on Cranberry Lake and it provides access to various trails and destinations in the northeastern quadrant of the Five Ponds Wilderness. It is also the shortest formal trail to High Falls. The route covers 6.1 miles to a trail junction where you follow a half mile side trail to the falls. A sign near the falls reads "Wanakena 9 Miles". That's the distance if you return by continuing around the loop on the west side trail. Which is what I did. The two trailheads are less than a half mile apart on South Shore Road in the Hamlet of Wanakena so the loop hike is easy to manage without the need for two cars.

The Oswegatchie River from High Rock

As mentioned, a good part of the route follows a grade originally built to support a railway. The rail lines were laid just after the turn of the 19th century by the Rich Lumber Company to enable timber harvesting on the 16,000 acres the company owned south of Wanakena. I haven't seen references to exactly when the rails were removed but the state acquired the land in 1916 and it's likely that the company took the rails with them when they departed. By that time the forest had been heavily logged and intense fires had swept the area. Much of the High Falls Loop trail passes through a second growth forest that is roughly 100 old. After the state took ownership of the land the railway grade was converted to a truck trail. That woods road was abandoned when the Five Ponds Wilderness was created and and the route became the west side trail.

Along with the falls, a highlight of the trip is the unique ecological area known as "The Plains"; a large open area that was present before the logging started. The Plains is classified by the New York State Natural Heritage project as a Boreal Heath Barrens.

Looking into the "plains" from the south. An uncommon combination of environmental and ecological factors has apparently kept this area from being reclaimed by forest. At least at the rate that might be expected,. However, it seems likely that over a longer period the trees will recolonize much of the area and the plains will fade into the surrounding forest.

As mentioned, much of the route is on a relatively smooth and level trail that makes for fast walking.
But there is one recurring challenge. The route has recently been flooded --or currently is flooded-- by beaver activity at more that a dozen locations. The wetter terrain lies mostly in the southern half of the route but the one place where I was not able to avoid wet feet is less than a half mile from where the west side trail joins the road in Wanakena. The trail crosses over a slightly raised causeway between a swampy area and a made-made pond and Beaver have damned the culvert that allows a small stream to flow through. The result being that the causeway itself was completely flooded (Image 4). Short of backtracking and bushwhacking around the entire mess there was no way to avoid walking through the water. Given that I had already walked over sixteen miles, and that I was ready to be done hiking, I just plowed on through. Had I started the loop on this trail the story would have been different. Getting wet feet at the start of a long day presents a significant problem. Looking back I realized how many places I had just barely made it through while staying dry. If you hike this route expect to do some wading and plan accordingly.

It looks like you could stay dry by walking in the grass on either side so you'll have to take my word for it; there was no way through this section without getting wet feet. A man-made pond is just out of the photo on the right and the water visible in the trail is the edge of pond backed up by the Beaver. That water is coming in from the left and the grass there stands in several inches of water.

One of the many places where the path crosses a beaver dam.

One of the reasons I really wanted to hike this route was to finally get a first-hand look at the havoc wrought by the infamous Derecho storm of 1995. That storm, on July 15th 1995, caused extensive blowdown throughout the Adirondacks and the forests of the Five Ponds Wilderness were particularly hard hit. Just over 20 years have passed since the storm and evidence of the event is starting to fade. The route passes through several areas where nearly every large tree was knocked down; evidenced by the lack of large trees and by the tangle of large decaying logs lying everywhere. Equally striking is the bright sunlight that reaches the forest floor in these places. Areas where the canopy was knocked down are now filled with saplings of the pioneer tree species that fill in whenever an opening appears in the forest.

Following the 1995 storm trail crews cut through hundreds of downed trees to reopen the trails.

The trail crosses a mud hole on this log. The log sways a bit and you need to be sure footed. It was dry on this day but this crossing could be quite daunting when it is wet.

That 1995 storm figures in my family history as well. The storm passed through just after sunrise on a Saturday and we were planning on attending a family reunion in Long Lake on Sunday. We live in Saratoga Springs and we experienced the storm as a notably severe thunderstorm. During the day on Saturday we heard reports that the storm had been much more severe in the mountains and that several campers had been killed by falling trees. Driving up on Sunday morning we could hardly help but notice the many trees down along the roads but, it was not until we got to Long Lake, and heard my Dad's story that the uniqueness of the event came into focus. Dad was then a member of a hunting and fishing club that leased the area around Rock Pond (south of Little Tupper Lake, now part of the Whitney Wilderness). He had arrived at the cabin the club maintained near the pond on Friday and planned to drive out to Long Lake on Sunday morning to attend the reunion. Shortly after the storm passed it became clear to him that that was not going to happen. The cabin where he was staying, and, his pickup parked nearby, were both unharmed, but several miles of woods roads lay between him and pavement and large downed trees lay across the entire route. I don't recall exactly what he did on that Saturday but probably got into his canoe and went fishing thinking that other club members (some of whom are also members of our family) would eventually arrive.

Instead, the silence of Sunday morning was broken by a float plane coming in for a landing on Rock Pond. Another club member had flown in to make sure he was OK and he hitched a ride back to Long Lake by plane. Hearing his tale of experiencing the storm in the forest was harrowing enough but the human tragedy was brought home when we reached the Lake Eaton campground for the reunion. A camper trailer crushed down to the axles sat forlornly in the parking area.. No one was killed at Lake Eaton but a camper did die at Lake Lila; a place where we have camped several times.

Following the storm much dismay was expressed over the loss of old-growth timber in the Five Ponds region; many large, old, trees were toppled. But storms like this have blown through the Adirondacks many times before and will continue to do so in the future. From the perspective of a human lifetime this is significant forest event and, for a few families, a deep tragedy. But in 100 years direct evidence of the event will have vanished and unless we do something really stupid the forests will go on. And the beaver won't care.

Adirondack Life: Lowdown on the Blowdown

USGS Historical Maps Via Topoview

In the days before Google Earth (and similar) one of my favorite pastimes was to pour over printed maps. And my favorite maps were the large scale topographic maps produced by the the USGS, the United States Geological Survey. Back in the day we actually went to a store and bought the maps we needed and a collection of large-scale maps covering the Adirondacks was a non-trivial investment.

Going back to the mid-90s the USGS has also provided digital access to maps from its' vast library. That access has evolved considerably over the last 20 years culminating in the recently unveiled Internet application called TopoView. TopoView provides public access to (nearly) the entire library of historical topographic maps created by the agency over the past 135 years; over 170,000 map sheets from different editions (year and scale). If you want to dive right in the link goes to the TopoView home page where you'll find a short video that explains how to use the application. Or just go straight to the application and start poking around. The TopoView interface is well designed and well executed. Best of all, it's fun to use; at least I think so.

A screen capture of the TopoView interface. The box in the lower left provides details map sheets available for the selected grid cell. Clicking the map image in the box opens a high resolution image of the map. Links in the box allow maps to be downloaded in several different formats.  

TopoView is a remarkable application and, for the Adirondacks, it provides a unquie source of historical data. The Adirondack region has undergone two great transformations over the last 200 years. The first was the destruction of vast swaths of virgin forest by logging and fire starting around 1850 and lasting into the early 20th century. The second transformation has proceeded more slowly but is well underway. It is the regeneration and succession of the Adirondack forests following the  protections put in place starting in the 1890s. The maps available via TopoView provide a timeline and geographic snapshot of  that second transformation.

Let's look at some maps that illustrate what I'm talking about. The four maps that follow are:

• 1898 - USGS 1:62500-scale Quadrangle for Thirteenth Lake. The map is overlaid with two current hydrologic data sets (also available from the USGS). The red lines represent streams and rivers and the dark blue areas are represent water bodies (lake and ponds).
• 1954 - USGS 1:62500-scale Quadrangle for Thirteenth Lake, NY - with hydro overlays
• 1954 - USGS 1:62500-scale Quadrangle for Thirteenth Lake, NY - water boundary overlay is not shown to make it easier to see the representation on the topographic map
• 1997 - USGS 1:25000-scale Quadrangle for Bakers Mills, NY - a higher resolution recent map

Map 1: 1898 - USGS 1:62500-scale Quadrangle for Thirteenth Lake. The map is overlaid with current hydrological data. The red lines are streams and rivers. The dark blue areas represent water bodies (lake and ponds). The mis-alignment between this 120 year old topographic map and the modern GIS layer is clearly visible. But this map was made in the days before aerial surveys and it met the accuracy standards of the day. Quite remarkable actually, this is not easy country to move around in.

Map 2: 1954 - USGS 1:62500-scale Quadrangle for Thirteenth Lake, NY - with overlays. The modern boundary layer for the Mud Ponds aligns closely with the outlines shown on the topographic map.

Map 3: 1954 - USGS 1:62500-scale Quadrangle for Thirteenth Lake, NY - water boundary overlay not shown. Note the addition of the trail that reaches the ponds.

Map 4: 1997 - USGS 1:25000-scale Quadrangle for Bakers Mills, NY - a higher resolution recent map with water boundary and stream overlays. The current hydrological overlays align closely with the topographic map. 

I download the topographic maps using the TopoView application and loaded them into qGIS (Quantum GIS, open source GIS) so I could add the high resolution water layers that provide an up-to-date geographic context. Map one, from a USGS map printed in 1898, shows an approximation of the size, shape and location of the two ponds (Mud Ponds, in the Siamese Lakes Wilderness). But that's not to say that the map did not meet the accuracy standards of that time. Given the survey methods available then the map was very likely up to standards and accurate enough. If you wanted to visit these ponds that map could serve as your guide. While it is ultimately true for all data, geographic data is always an imperfect and approximate representation of the real world. It's easy to forget that when reading a well produced map from a trusted source. USGS topographic maps are produced to meet an accuracy standard that defines acceptable levels for accuracy and errors. You can learn more about this here.

Map two shows the same water layers overlaid on the USGS map from 1954 and, as you can see, the alignment between the USGS map and the modern water layers is significantly better. This map also shows a trail. That trail was not shown on earlier coverages of the area. Map three is the same configuration but with the display of water boundaries turned off. This makes it easier to see the ponds as they are represented on the topographic map.

Map four was made using the current base map from 1997. The newest map is higher resolution with a scale of 1:24,000. The earlier maps represented a scale of 1:62,500. The alignment of the water layers with the latest topographic map is very good. An interesting side point is that the trail visible in the 1954 map is no longer present on the map. See my post on a recent hike to these ponds to learn more about why this point was important to me.

The maps I downloaded from TopoView to create the above images were retrieved in the GeoTiff format. That format provides the highest quality option for maps retrieved from TopoView. The KML option is nearly as good and works best with Google Earth. The GeoPDF format is best if you want to print a copy of a map that you download. And the JPG option is good for viewing maps directly on your computer, especially in a web browser.

In upcoming posts I'll discuss additional opportunities and issues associated with this incredible source of historical geographic data.