Indholdsfortegnelse for July/August 2021 i Adirondack Life

EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMEN As the last surviving co-founder of the League of Extraordinary Adirondack Gentlemen, I was greatly entertained and inspired by Mark Obbie’s excellent article, “Backwoods Brotherhood,” in the June 2021 issue. While the Adiron-dack Commandos’ record of outings and members dwarfs our little group’s, we share the same appreciation for the benefits of going into the woods for escape and adventure—it proves that, despite our advancing ages, we are ammortal. According to Catherine Mayer, of Time Magazine, “The defining characteristic of ammortals is that they live the same way, at the same pitch, doing and consuming much the same things from their late teens right up until death. They rarely ask them-selves if their behavior is age-appropriate, because that concept has little meaning for them. They don’t structure their…

Few nations are as smitten with their flag as the United States is with Old Glory—the subject of our national anthem, the banner we pledge allegiance to with right hand over heart, the symbol of a nation, “indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” America’s flag-love was on full display on July 5, 1954, when thousands of locals and visitors came to Jay’s village green to celebrate Independence Day with a parade, homemade games—including one involving betting on mice—a square dance and fireworks. A large flag was suspended over the middle of the park and another “huge and beautiful” one—254 inches by 167 inches—hung from the side veranda of the nearby Tobey Homestead, according to the Elizabethtown Record-Post. The televised Army-McCarthy hearings—part of Senator Joseph McCarthy’s crusade to root out…

THERE’S THE WHITE CLAPBOARD house with the big cross over the woodpile, sitting on a lonely stretch of road between tiny Willsboro and tinier Reber amid nearly 185 acres of abandoned farmland. There’s the shady three-bedroom on a main street in Malone, with the peaked roof and enclosed porch, as well as the smaller one-family around the corner, at the end of a dead-end road, that’s completely tax-exempt. There are the 226 acres of farmland in Churubusco, steps from a Catholic monastery on one side and less than a mile from the border crossing with Canada on the other. And there’s the nearly 1,000-acre plot abutting Dry Channel Pond, an isolated fishing destination just west of Franklin County’s St. Regis Canoe Area, outside the village of Tupper Lake. A disconnected…

It started with the word “nonplussed.” We had used it incorrectly in an Adirondack Life story about Lake George’s Elvis Festival, a gathering of impersonators of the King. That was 15 years ago. From then on, we heard from her a couple of times a year. Her messages were succinct, usually a sentence at most that pointed out typos, such as “minuscule” misspelled in an article about invasive species. It pains an editor to realize she’s made a mistake (trust me), but this reader’s notes didn’t shame. It was humbling that someone considered our words so carefully. As time went by, her messages included fewer corrections and more Adirondack-related questions—when could she read Joe Connelly’s latest book, on what mountain was that dog in a long-ago Guide to the Great…

I awoke in near-darkness to chirping, peeping and tweeting—the “dawn chorus.” I sat up in my sleeping bag where I was camping along the shores of Horseshoe Lake to better hear and identify the avian songsters. The ethereal song of a nearby hermit thrush was flutelike. A white-throated sparrow chirped and elegantly whistled its short tune. It was time for a dawn birding hike to Horseshoe Bog. The cool air was perfect for active birds and fewer black-flies. I had a quick breakfast and made the short drive to a pull-off at the Department of Environmental Conservation gate. From here, a dirt road leads through various natural habitats, each with different birdlife. On one side of the road is classic mixed woods—a blend of hardwoods and conifers of various tree…

BIG MOOSE LAKE, EAGLE BAY, NY 13331 The Waldheim. Seventeen cottages with fireplaces overlooking scenic Big Moose Lake. Established in 1904, The Waldheim has changed little since. Rates include three delicious meals served daily in a central dining room. Unstructured opportunities allow guests to relax, recreate or be with family. 315-357-2353. www.thewaldheim.com. INDIAN LAKE, NY 12842 Timberlock. A rustic resort that enables its guests to connect to the magnificent lakeside setting and focus on time with family and friends, without the distractions of today’s fast-paced life. One of the oldest summer family resorts in the Adirondacks, surrounded in all directions by miles of NYS Forest Preserve. Rates include private cabin, three hearty, healthful meals a day plus a host of activities. 518-648-5494. www.timberlock.com. OLD FORGE, NY 13420 The Lofts On…

With Reservations If hikes to Rainbow Falls (seen here), Indian Head or other popular St. Huberts trailheads are in your plans this summer, you’ll need to plan ahead. Advance parking reservations are now required for the 70-spot lot near the Ausable Club, and barriers have been installed along portions of Route 73 to prevent roadside parking. The 134-year-old Ausable Club signed a conservation easement with the state in 1978, allowing the public to access trails on its 7,000-acre Adirondack Mountain Reserve, including those leading to the adjacent state-owned High Peaks Wilderness. But as the number of visitors has exploded in recent years, the Department of Environmental Conservation and the club agreed to try the reservation system as a pilot program, citing concerns over trail overcrowding and public safety. Go to…

I had just met Richard Stewart when he begged my pardon for keeping his fly down during our talk. The 80-year-old explained that breezy pants were just the way of things now, as there wasn’t much time left between urge and stream. That led to a story about a recent disaster, when he ran outside to relieve himself and accidentally aimed his shirttail instead of the necessary apparatus. “I wet myself right to the knees,” he said with a laugh. (“When you lose your humor,” Stewart added, “you lose everything.”) Stewart speaks in stories, and not just off-color ones—though you’re bound to hear plenty of those. “Everything was passed down in stories,” he said of his North Creek–area upbringing. And so he’s taken up the yarns of his forebears and…

AUGUST 28, 2011, as water flooded the Upper Jay firehouse, volunteer firefighters Ralph Schissler and Dennis Perpetua helped evacuate the station, moving equipment and trucks. Desperate calls to the station increased as the Ausable River rose. In a department vehicle, Schissler and Perpetua sped down Route 9N toward the hamlet of Jay. “We saw the flood surge, the water coming at us like it had burst from a dam,” says Perpetua, recalling the beginning of the “bedlam” that was Tropical Storm Irene. As the river overtook the road, “it looked like it was covered and moving with black pepper. It was grasshoppers evacuating the fields, like something Biblical.” That day and into the night the Jay Fire Department made numerous rescues, at one point pulling an entire family from their…

The first time I went up an Adirondack mountain was Mount Jo, right from the Adirondak Loj. I went with a coworker, an experienced hiker. Not me—I was in Timberland work boots and jeans. We got blown off the mountain a few hundred feet below the summit by a June storm that started whipping rain through the trees, then snapped lightning just west of us. I saw his eyes get wide, and we got hopping down those big erratics. Back on the ground we laughed and ate jerky at the Loj. It was filled up with hikers waiting for the storm to pass before heading out. There were college kids with torn boots and older ladies with their hair tied up in wild gray nests, a few people popping out…

When I was a boy, the two weeks off my father received each year were precious days, but we always spent them as a family, camping at Lake George. The Northway hadn’t been completed yet, so getting to the lake was an all-day trip from our home in South Jersey. Many times we’d arrive after dark. Setting up camp in the inky blackness was always an adventure. There was the inevitable wrestling match with the old Army surplus tent with its umbrella-style supports that never quite um-brellaed out properly. But we’d finally get it pitched. Then one of us would hold the flashlight as Dad tapped in the tent stakes with the back of my brother’s hatchet, holding a pair of socks on top of the metal pins to muffle…