My wife and I camped along the Schroon River with intentions of me starting the final leg of my hike again on Monday. But what do they say? “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
The weather forecast for the coming week had temperatures hovering around 100 degrees every day. Now I don’t know about you, but that’s a bit too hot for hiking.
We already made reservations for the following weekend at the KOA near Lake Placid where I planned to finish the hike. So we would go there and I would hike the last section of the trip from north to south rather than in the direction I had been going.
The following morning Pat dropped me off at the trailhead with about 50 miles to go. The weather was perfect and I made good time.
The first night out I made it to Moose Pond. As always on the first day, I had packed a frozen steak for that night’s dinner. That, along with some instant potatoes, was always great. I grilled the steak to perfection and enjoyed my meal.
That night I put my tent inside the lean-to because there was a chance of showers. That’s when I had a visitor around 2 a.m.
I was awoken by a clunk or clank at the fire pit which was followed by something sniffing through the nylon tent right next to my ear. I quickly put things together. I had cooked my steak a few feet away and left my little unwashed grill on the stone fireplace. Yup: that was a surefire reason for some critter to stop by.
Quietly I reached under my pillow and retrieved my flash light. I put it up to the side of the tent and turned it on. With a grunt and some scratching of claws on the wooden floor, the bear ran off.
In the morning my grill was licked clean and medium-sized bear tracks covered the ground. Before long I finished my breakfast and hit the trail.
Later that day I came across a couple of hikers. I laughed to myself. They both carried over-sized, stainless steel pistols on their hips.
“You’re pretty well-armed!” I said.
“Well,” the woman replied with a bit of excitement, “There are bears in these woods, you know! What do you carry for protection?”
I searched through my pockets and came up with a little two inch jack knife.
“Yea, I shared my steak with one at Moose Pond last night,” I said with a little chuckle.
Moose Pond was their intended destination for the night, but I bet they continued on, never stopping until they reached the end of the trail near Lake Placid.
I continued on and took a bath at Duck Hole. It was a beautiful spot until 2011 when Hurricane Irene washed out the dam. I am glad I was able to see it before that happened.
My journey continued ever southward. I detoured around a new beaver flow and finally came to the Cold River. That river had numerous waterfalls and once held five-pound brookies. I stopped at the site of the famous Adirondack hermit Noah Rondeau before continuing on.
The following day I spent a night at the last lean-to along the shore of Long Lake. I had leaned up against a large boulder near the water after dinner. Being so tranquil and beautiful, I finally woke up somewhere around midnight. I guess the small waves washing against the rocky shore had lulled me to sleep.
The following day I crossed the highway and started a very steep ascent. It was a hand-over-hand climb to the top. If I had hiked up from the south, I would have descended this instead of struggling my way up the face.
From there it was a very gentle, downhill walk all the way to Tirrell Pond where I would spend the last night of the trip.
Some hikers had made a fire of dry driftwood along the shore. We traded experiences of our hikes while downing a couple of beers apiece that they had packed.
In the morning a strange feeling came over me. I’d spent 12 days in some of most beautiful wilderness you’ll ever find. There’s a mystical attraction to the mountains that dwells within me. It’s keeps calling me back.
But my adventure was just about over. I reluctantly shouldered my pack and turned once more towards the lake. Quietly I whispered, “I will be back.” Slowly I headed for the road where my wife met me for a second time at Lake Durant.
I truly hope that in a couple of years I am able to do that trip one more time. I know that at my age it’s a lot to hope for. But what was it that the old television comedian George Gobel used to say at the end of each show many, many years ago?
“I’ll see you next week if the Lord is willing and the creeks don’t rise.”