Big city vs. a small-town girl

I was driving through a larger city last week, freaking out about the onslaught of stop lights and the multiple lanes of traffic, when I got into a debate with my travel mates. Everyone in the car was from what I term "downstate" - y'know, not from the 'dacks. And oddly enough, they all contend that it was much easier to navigate and travel in urban/suburban areas.

What? It seems my friends are all crazy.

They listed their concerns when traveling in the mountains:

1. GPS doesn't always work
2. Darkness
3. Windy roads
4. Not many people
5. Wild animals
6. Getting lost
7. Let's sum it up - basically fear of the unknown...

This made me start thinking about perspective. I took a minute to counter their reasons with my own take:

1. Paper maps - never leave home without one! Honestly, I have horrible luck with most gps gadgets - and there are awesome detailed maps available for folks like me.
   (Yeah, I know this makes no sense, but I can read an old-fashioned map better than following a little blue dot on my phone.)
2. Cars have lights, cell phones have lights, and what do you think flashlights were made for!? What I suggest is that you actually stop, turn off the lights, and take some time to gaze up at endless starry night sky.
3. All the more reason to slow down and enjoy the views! One of my favorite things is wondering what will be revealed around the next corner or at the top of the next hill.
4. Shhhh. Hear that? It's the sounds of nature and peace.
5. Yeah, aren't they cool? Keep your distance & respect their space and you should be fine.
6. One of my favorite things! It's how we find a new favorite restaurant, a new trail to hike, a beautiful view. a secret swimming hole!
7. Everything is unknown at some point in our lives. Isn't it time to conquer the fear?

Change of scenery

I have to stop and wonder, though, if others face a bit of trepidation when planning their Adirondack travels.

My friends' fears of the secluded mountain life are exactly the things I embrace. I mean, if asked to list my favorite memories from my days spent in Schroon Lake as a child, they would include feeding bears at the Minerva dump (no, you can't do this anymore), random drives that always had us exploring little town stores which led to discovering tasty local goodies, filling our drinking water jugs out of fresh mountain springs, and swimming in secluded watering holes.

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That being said, and it being the spooking season, I do have one favorite memory that would probably freak my friends out if I shared it with them. It still gives me goosebumps once in a while - although I have to say it's led to many scenic rides and cool discoveries over the years as I try to retrace my route. It's from a point in my childhood when my brother and I got lost on a random backroad long before gps & cellphones were the norm. You really can find some pretty amazing things when you just hit the road and drive - of course, you may never be able to find it again.

(The following excerpt is from a blog first published in 2014. For the record, it's a true story and I'm still searching.)

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A Ghost of a Memory

It was like a Ghost Town; actually, it was a Ghost Town…

One day, and this memory has stuck out in my head for years and years (27 to be exact), we found a Ghost Town. I mean, a real, honest to goodness Ghost Town. We had taken a drive down a backroad as was tradition, and eventually turned off onto an unmarked right-hand road - dirt path is probably more accurate. Soon enough we were forced to stop driving, and we decided to park and walk along the path for a bit. When the trees eventually opened up we found ourselves in the midst of our biggest discovery, ever. It was a town, maybe that’s being generous - it was a small encampment. Every building was abandoned; weeds and trees grew up through the broken foundations. Doors hung off of their casements in crooked angles. In my memory, every house is a bleached off-white, grayish color. The color you see on decaying houses along the ocean’s coast. The color of tombstones.

There was a circle in the center of the small village - I can only imagine it was the town green, a gathering place for town meetings. This, too, was severely overgrown. And, I can remember as we looked around (snooped around), opening doors and noting that many items still remained in some of the buildings, I can remember the distinct feeling of being watched. Of wondering if we were alone. Of having a chill settle in, and an uneasy feeling come to rest. My brother felt the same, though he didn’t openly mouth these words; I could tell by his stance and the forced levity in his voice as he spoke - he was "creeped out" (for lack of a better description).

I kept catching glimpses out of the corner of my eyes of movement. Wanting to seem brave, I laughed it off, chalking it up to what must be an animal - a bird perhaps, or chipmunk, something quick and fleeting. We decided to start walking back to the car when movement to our right caught our attention. Since the sun was shining, and obviously, obviously this creepy feeling couldn’t be real, we goaded each other into investigating. What we discovered was a graveyard that may have included the whole population of this town. There were very few variations of last names, and I can remember thinking, "wow, this family lost 6 members all within a year." I felt the chill wear off as the inquisitiveness kicked in. I walked from stone to stone in wonder, reading aloud the names. Acknowledging that they had existed, wondering how they lived and why the families had settled here. There were children, so many children’s markers. I wondered if anyone had survived. Was there a plague? Famine? This needed investigating when we got home.

As the sun started to lower, we knew we needed to make our way toward the dirt path and civilization. But it was hard, we didn’t want to leave - we felt a pull to stay to keep taking in the scene. We looked around one last time, still feeling watched - but not scared, or at least not as scared as earlier. Okay, who am I kidding - of course I was scared.

That evening when we talked to my dad about our discovery, he mentioned that it might have been an old settlement called Irishtown. He remembered his dad telling him about it when he was a young boy... (cut to the present!)

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It was a dark and stormy night…

Actually, it was a gorgeous fall day, and I was on a mission. I was going to get lost again, find the town of my childhood memories, and prove to myself that my childhood imagination may have been a bit more active than normal on that day.

I'll admit, I was a bit scared. I mean, c'mon it's the Halloween season and the woods are a little darker and louder than during the hot summer months. Aas I had no intention of investigating on my own, I brought along Greg, my willing (or at least, agreeable) partner-in-adventure.

Following some suggestions from a local, we narrow down our route options and hone in on our number one contendor - Loch Muller. This has got to be it! The directions are as follows: Drive up Hoffman Road for 6 or 7 miles. There is a paved road now called Loch Muller - park at the end. Across the road there is an unmarked wooded trail. Follow it for half a mile or so into the woods. Eventually you will come to a cemetery. "It’s creepy." Enough said, I am sure this is my town.

Loch Muller - easier said than found...

We head out of Paradox and into Schroon Lake, proper, where we stop to refuel both the Bug and our bellies. We’re driving a vintage VW (sans heat) - which I have to give a shout out to as we've been cruising through the backroads of the Adirondacks & it hasn't broken down at all today!

After passing through town and Greg noting that Flanagan’s was hopping - because it’s Sunday Football (hint, hint) - we turn right onto Hoffman Road. We follow our directions to a tee, and I am amazed to find Loch Muller so easily. However, everything is backward - this can’t be my town. The path was supposed to be on our right - not our left. I’m disappointed, but I do think it’s pretty intriguing that this path is not marked in any recognizable way - maybe my memory had failed me, maybe the town was off to the left. Either way, we are here and it’s worth investigating - I do still love reading historic gravestones.

We park the Bug, and Greg gets out a neon yellow T-shirt. I seriously didn’t even realize he owned anything this obnoxiously 80s. He indulgently explains that it is hunting season and he knew we would be hiking in the woods. Obviously, I am not dressed appropriately, but I’m loud, so hopefully that counteracts my lack of glow.

It’s late afternoon as we head into the woods. The leaves are crunching under our feet, and the sunlight is coming through the overhead branches in patchwork patterns. Besides the occasional random sound in the woods that has me quickly looking around, it is mostly silent. A comfortable silence, but of course, a bit "creepy" too - thanks to my over-active imagination.

We cross a picture-perfect stream (yes, I literally took some pictures), and the path turns slightly upward. I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve taken the wrong path when a small sign appears.

It is rotting and leaning against the base of a tree: "Cemetery Loop" with an arrow directed toward the right. So, maybe it doesn’t say, "Kim’s Secret Ghost Town," but at least we’re getting somewhere. We walk on, and soon can spot the stones through the trees.

As we round a slight bend, the entrance presents itself, along with a sign of "Unmarked Graves" with a list of names. Right away, Greg notes how many children there are.

We enter the cemetery and it amazes me that this small piece of history exists tucked away so far from civilization. The stones are deteriorating, and we can’t help but note that if we were creating a Halloween scene, this would be it. The ground is uneven, and it makes me a bit uneasy as I realize that the heaves are actually, most likely, bodies in the unmarked graves. This may not be a town, but we have discovered a great piece of history.

We take the times to read the stones, or at least the ones that are still legible.

The sun is getting lower and we need to head back home. The woods are active, I hear a few odd sounds - a high pitched moan, and maybe it’s just my imagination, but I have to confirm the origins: "What was that? It’s a bird, right?" My counterpart answers with a shrug and an indifferent, "I don’t know." (For those playing along at home, that was not the right answer.)

I quicken my steps and feel a great sense of relief as I finally spot the bright blue Bug through the trees. We load up and after one failed start (yes, I almost freaked out), we are up and running.

We choose to head northwest — we don't know where our next stop will be, but we're not scared of getting lost; although often winding and narrow, Adirondack roads were built with intention. At some point we are bound to encounter a town or small village, and from there we will get our bearings through the mountains and head back home. Or, perhaps we'll finally discover my ghost town. I mean, really, how hard is it to find an abandoned town in the mountains??

The search continues…

Ready to conquer your fears of losing your way on the backroads? Discover your own ghost town? Get lost in the Schroon Lake Region this season - you never know what you might find! But, please, if you find my ghost town, write down the coordinates, send me the gps info (not that I'll be able to progam my electronics correctly), and take pictures. One day my mystery will be solved!

 

A morning of exploring in the Siamese Ponds Wilderness

The Siamese Ponds Wilderness Area is one of the largest Wilderness areas in the Adirondack Park. It extends some 24 miles north and south, 18 miles east and west, and is made up of over 114,000 acres of Forest Preserve lands. During the early 1900s logging became an important industry in the region, and most of the Wilderness area was heavily cut over. This heavy logging created a large quantity of slash and in turn caused devastating fires to tear through the region significantly impacting this natural resource. Today, the signs of forest fires are all gone and the traces of logging have pretty much disappeared. A young forest is all that remains giving the hint of logging operations some 100 years.

Height of Land Mountain (HLM) is located just south of the Essex County border in Warren County, Schroon Lake is not all that far away either. HLM resting at 3021 feet in elevation is only shaded by its taller cousin Gore Mountain that sits less than a mile to the north. Why is HLM so important to the climbing community? Well, HLM is a 3000-footer which means it makes its way onto many hikers' checklists. For example, hikers climbing the Adirondack 3000-footers and the small group who are working on the 770 (which is all the 3000-footers in the Northeast - also known as the NE770). As a hiker whose sights are set on this 3000-footer I planned to tackle this moderate climb with my wife Corenne and close climbing companion Jim “I-love-to-break-trail” Hopson. Well, I'm not actually all that sure he loves breaking trail, but he sure is darn good at doing it.

Second Pond Trailhead

Setting off for a later start on this estimated 4-mile hike we met at the intersection of Route 8 and Chatiemac Road in Johnsburg, which is roughly 30 minutes southwest of Schroon Lake. I had done some research on this mountain but found nothing supporting the opportunity for views, but we remained optimistic. We drove separately the 2-miles or so up Chatiemac Road to the trail for Second Pond. We had thought about bringing skis along just in case the Second Pond Trail was skiable, but running late as usual, we left them home. The trail, come to find out was in great shape for skiing and used quite frequently, very recently, as a matter of fact. "Oh well," we said almost like a chorus, as we strapped on our snowshoes.

We started up the trail on a whip, and Abby our four-legged hiking partner was happy to see the warm weather. She’s not a big fan of winter, but if the trail is broken or the weather is warmer, she’s all in. As we passed by Chatiemac Lake to our left we were quite surprised by the force of the wind coming off that small frozen body of water. The snow drifts were immense and to my estimation 5 feet deep. Of course we didn’t need to push through them, they were very solidly wind-packed and stomped out by previous snowshoers and skier. Game trails for deer, variant hares, and what appeared to be fox were all over and crossing at several locations where recent fallen trees have provided shelter and food.

After an initial gentle descent to the lowland we happened upon a secondary ski trail, which was not on any map I owned - I'm still unsure exactly where it goes. From here we would have to start climbing. The trail we were using would deliver us up the shoulder between Height of Land Mountain and Gore Mountain if we so chose, but we opted not to go quite that far. We could see HLM off to our left and just 0.6 miles away, as the crow flies, so we just decided to go for it. From here it would be a short bushwhack through an open hardwood forest of maple and beech saplings to the top. The snow was impressively deep, much deeper than we had anticipated. With Jim volunteering to take point for the start, I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures of the area. Corenne, stuck in the middle, would soon take lead as Jim stepped aside and I moved to the middle, Jim was now at the back resting. The snow seemed to continually get deeper with a top powder layer and a thin crust in the middle, with more powder on the bottom;we pushed through knee-deep snow on the flat areas. When we approached small depressions and steep terrain in the landscape, the snow depth increased to near waist deep molasses.

Summiting Height of Land Mountain

Soon the slopes would get very steep and we used every tree we could to help pull us up and give us added support. Now it was my turn to break trail. Wallowing through I managed to keep a solid pace for quite some time, but eventually I had to take a break and Jim jumped right on in making route to the summit. We approached some rocky terrain as we neared the plateau on the ridge, but to our disappointment there were no views from this spot. The ridge was now quite flat but we were still a quarter of a mile away from the actual top of this beast. The flatter terrain was a joy to our legs and the snow seemed to be a bit more consolidated not even reaching our knees at this point. However, when we passed through the chin hobble, the snow deepened in an unconsolidated state of waist deep powder. The good news was we could see the summit just ahead of us, rearing up in a sharp face, lined with a steep rock ledge. We would for sure have some sort of wintery view. Once we tugged our way up from balsam tree to balsam tree we stood atop the sharp summit area and found a slightly obscured view out toward the south side of Gore. This was a different view of Gore, one that doesn’t get seen too often. From this view there are no visible ski trails, and the fire tower is unseen, giving this busy mountain a sort of secluded beauty we were happy to see.

The true summit was yet about 250 feet away, through dense firs, which we broke through to stand atop Height of Land Mountain. Our descent was one of humor and speed. Of course the speed for which we tried to descend made for the humor. The track we made up was still not consolidated fully, so every few steps we would bury the front of our snowshoes a bit deeper and with the momentum of our downward retreat we would have to fight the urge to plummet forward. We did, on occasion, find ourselves rolling on our backs and fighting the snow to right ourselves again; the trail was a delight to finally stand upon. We exited the final portion of this adventure in prime fashion and looked forward to visiting the new Paradox brewery and grabbing a bite in Schroon Lake on the way home.

 

Let’s talk about finding a sense of solitude.

 

I’m used to spending my time among the higher peaks of the region. I love the mountains, but so do lots of other people. That’s generally OK, but sometimes I want something different, something that feels more remote.

 

For years I’ve seen the pictures of a place called Pharaoh Lake Wilderness Area. I’ve drooled over the Milky-Way-splashed night sky, the forested shores, and the maps detailing the trails that crisscross the area’s 46,283 acres. This summer, I decided it was time to visit.

 

Planning

Since this was our first trek into Pharaoh Lake Wilderness Area, I figured we’d camp next to the lake it’s named after. That decision was easy enough; now for the fun part — planning. I love poring over the maps, calculating mileage and elevation changes, and picking the best route. This area is perfect for that. There are a dozen ways to approach Pharaoh Lake — some more direct than others — that are accessible from the many parking lots dotting the area’s perimeter.

 

The shortest route, the Pharaoh Lake Trail, approaches the narrow outlet of the waterbody from the south in 3.3 miles. I decided against this, as I was more excited to spend time on the much wider northern portion of the lake. At 441 acres, Pharaoh Lake is one of the largest in the Adirondacks, and since it’s in a designated Wilderness Area the shore is void of houses. That sounded perfect, because I wanted to gaze across open water beneath a starry sky.

 

After some deliberation, I chose to approach from the northwest, a 5-mile route that climbs slowly to a height of land at the base of Pharaoh Mountain before descending to the northernmost tip of the lake, where there are several primitive camp sites available on a first-come, first-served basis.

 

A road less traveled

My wife, Anna, and I left Saranac Lake in the morning and took Route 73 to the highway. On the way, we passed lines of cars parked near some of the region’s most popular trails. It was the beginning of a nice summer day, and the mountains were already busy.

 

We hopped on Interstate 87, heading south, and took Exit 28 toward Schroon Lake. We met our friend Gabe at a gas station and headed south along Route 9, then took the first left on Alder Meadow Road. After a few miles the road forks — we veered left onto Crane Pond Road.

 

The road became hard-packed dirt and we soon reached the parking area and trailhead. The road does continue past this so it’s possible to shave a mile or so off the hike, but I don’t recommend this unless you have a high, four-wheel drive vehicle that can handle mud, big rocks, and deep trenches.

 

Into the wild

I can’t say enough good things about Pharaoh Lake Wilderness Area, so I’ll just outline my favorite parts. The dirt road climbed gently from the lot, running parallel to a raging stream at the base of the hill we were skirting. Through the trees we could see rapids and waterfalls as walked. After more dirt road — and more uphill — we were delivered to a stunning wetland area with open water in its center. Dragonflies darted in front of us and birds called from every direction. Then came Crane Pond and its beautiful outlet, which is crossed on a well-constructed wooden bridge.

After a little more climbing and some twists and turns, we saw a sign for Pharaoh Mountain. There were a couple more small ponds, each different and each stunning, that provided the perfect excuse to rest. At the first one, our pause was greeted by a great blue heron, which skirted the water’s surface as it flew along the far shore.

It was up and up again, this time along the wildlife-rich Glidden Marsh, before we descended to our destination. The lake was everything I expected it to be — open, blue, and remote. We only saw a couple of small hiking groups on our way in, something the mostly-vacant campsites echoed.

Out of site

I dropped my pack and eagerly explored a few camping options before discovering one situated on a piece of forest that juts into the lake. It’s probably the most idyllic campsite I’ve seen in the Adirondacks. As we set up camp, a couple of cedar waxwings made their presence known by flitting about on their creamy-gray-colored wings. That was how the rest of the evening went. We startled a sunbathing garter snake, saw another great blue heron, and watched as a beaver left its cove, which bordered our campsite, and made a beeline toward some destination across the lake.

 

The loons arrived around sunset and delighted us with their calls, and shortly after sundown I watched the biggest moth I’ve seen awkwardly make its way along the shore. The next morning I was up shortly after sunrise. I jumped into the lake, swam around for a bit, then made a cup of coffee. A loon family that included two little loonlings swam by not 20 feet from where I sipped my coffee as a pileated woodpecker drummed in the distance. The forest’s day shift was just waking up, and I was in heaven.

Instead of climbing Pharaoh Mountain, we enjoyed the campsite for a few hours before packing out. We will be back, after all, and the mountain could wait. There’s something to be said for finding peace and a sense of solitude, and we were all perfectly content seizing the moment before returning to the rigors of adulthood.

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Schroon Lake is close to Pharaoh Lake Wilderness Area, making it an ideal stop after a backpacking adventure. Go swimming at the public beach then have dinner. If you need more ideas, check out these sample itineraries.

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Three seasons of whitewater rafting near the Adirondack Hub

We have Adirondack river adventures in three flavors. Take to our "water highways" to construct an adventure at your favorite speed. Back in the days of the Erie Canal, waterways were the way to get around. Now that people have alternatives, water travel is all of the enjoyment, with none of the drawbacks. Thanks to Adirondac Rafting Company we have three different seasons of potential rafting fun, each with their own special appeal.

Spring for thrills

This is the kind of rafting most people will think of first, which is whitewater rafting. This is negotiating the rapids on the Hudson River with a paddle and a pounding heart.

Make no mistake, this is a lot of fun.

Roaring through a roller coaster of water, directing the raft together as a team under the instructions of an expert river guide, and enjoying the calm scenic travel in between. This is great splashy fun that is at its best during the spring thaw season.

For spring, with its cool temperatures and guarantee of getting wet, you'll need wetsuits and helmets - provided by the rafting company. However, you'll want to be prepared with the proper under layers! If you've been stalling on that silk underwear, now is the time to indulge. This quick-drying, warm even when wet, kind of fabric is perfect for wearing under a wetsuit. While silk is the classic, there are now all kinds of high tech fabrics to choose from. Kayak shoes or other waterproof footwear is another good idea.

Spring rafting is all about teamwork. It takes every paddler working together to get through the tricky parts. This is seventeen miles of wilderness, but with the swift current it takes less than a full day to experience. No worries, though, there are quiet stretches where you'll be able to enjoy the delicate gold-green of the spring forest waking up. The forest is at its delicate best in spring, with early wildflowers and plenty of sunlight reaching through the not-quite-fully leafed trees.

Summer for exploration

Summertime... when the rafting is easy (y'know, as the song goes). When the spring rush settles into the warmth of sunny weather, slower currents, and full greenery, our summer rafting trip is more like a cruise than a roller coaster.

There are still tricky bits to maneuver around, but bathing suits, shorts and tops, and sunscreen are all we need. It's still a good idea to avoid cotton, which gets wet and stays soggy. This can get uncomfortable.
The urgent spring thaws have ceased, and the current slows down. There are more stops for side trips and swimming in the lovely summer weather.

The intense green of the summer forest is full of birdsong and the river sparkles in the sunshine. While you may be dressed and afloat in modern conveniences, there are stretches when it can seem like you've floated back through time. There are so few reminders, either of sound or sight. There is only the splash of the paddles and the murmur of conversation. That's another nice element of summer rafting; more time to chat with your raftmates!

It is a wonderful way of getting away from civilization. Just for a little while.

Fall for spectacular

The third season to enjoy rafting is when you experience a ride through an absolute festival of flaming leaves.

The river in fall is at its quietest, with a scent in the air that is brisk and crunchy, like a fine apple.

It's a bit cooler in fall, so I suggest going back to the wetsuits and longjohns. As you float along, you'll be surrounded by an entire forest in all its autumn glory. This is the best time to bring a camera, even if that means you need to take some precautions. Try either a sport camera, or one secured to your body in a waterproof "shooting bag."

Those long, slow drifts are when you'll have time to take it out and try for some lovely shots to bring home.

The shoreside excursions are even more photogenic in fall, but remember that even the finest camera work is not the same as actually being there. Be warned, this is something you will tell your friends. "But it was even better in person."

It's the memories that bring it all back.

After personally experiencing all that rafting has to offer, I urge you to pick a season and give it a try.
To avoid disappointment, plan ahead and book the trip as part of a getaway. Don't expect to just show up. While you may luck out and be able to book a last-minute trip, for the most part these are not spur-of-the-moment assemblies. The big bus has to be loaded, the gear checked, the guides ready, and the paddlers geared up correctly. This is so much better than theme park ride. This is an Adirondack whitewater rafting ride. This is the real thing.

Find a great place to stay. Enjoy our places to eat. Find more adventure.

The Newcomb – Minerva region contains some of the most extensive boreal habitat in the Adirondacks. As a result, this area offers terrific, easy, roadside birding opportunities. There are plenty of hiking trails too!

Birders are already flocking to the Newcomb – Minerva region this summer to view Red Crossbills, which are “irrupting” due to an excellent cone crop on all of the coniferous trees. White-winged Crossbills have also been arriving in July. The crossbills are singing and will be nesting this summer, and again in the winter. Red and White-winged Crossbills are nomadic and move from place to place wherever they can find seeds. The crossbills’ diet of cone seeds allows them to nest at any time of year whenever there is a good supply of seeds. In the Adirondacks, they typically nest in winter. Nestlings are fed cone seeds. While many of our breeding species are quieting down by summer, the crossbills are just beginning to sing!

Santanoni Drive

Santanoni Drive in Newcomb is a short, dead-end road that leads down to the Hudson River. Listen for Black-backed Woodpeckers, Boreal Chickadees, and both Red and White-winged Crossbills.

Tahawus Road

Tahawus Road in Newcomb offers miles of birding along the Hudson River. It is one of the few areas left where the increasingly rare Rusty Blackbird can be found. Black-backed Woodpeckers, Boreal Chickadees, and both Red and White-winged Crossbills inhabit this area. Habitats include boreal forest, marsh, and mixed forest.

Birders often find the history of the Tahawus area interesting. The old McIntyre Iron Mine blast furnace now has interpretive signs explaining the fascinating history of 19th century iron smelting. If you go birding along Tahawus Road, allow time to visit the blast furnace and read about its history.

Blue Ridge Road

The Blue Ridge Road traverses great boreal habitat. Much of the western end is narrow with no wide shoulders for parking (except where there are trailhead parking areas such as at Cheney Pond or the Roosevelt Truck Trail’s north entrance), but the eastern end is wide enough to pull over for roadside birding. Listen for Black-backed Woodpeckers, Boreal Chickadees, and this year, both Red and White-winged Crossbills. The newly acquired Boreas Ponds Tract, accessed from Blue Ridge Road, has not received a formal state land designation yet, but there will be plenty of new birding opportunities regardless of the designation.

Route 28N

Route 28N between Newcomb and Minerva is a terrific birding area. Each year, I find Black-backed Woodpecker nests right along the road. Boreal Chickadees are most abundant in this region. Great locations: The area near the intersection with the Blue Ridge Road, the marsh three-quarters of a mile east of this location, the barn area just over the line into the town of Minerva (where the new snowmobile trail crosses the road), the railroad bed south (Olive-sided Flycatchers nest here), and the Boreas River all make wonderful birding stops along Route 28N. Red Crossbills have already been found at the marsh and the Boreas River. Evening Grosbeaks can be found in this area year-round. A pair of tame Gray Jays nested by the barn area this year and look for food when they spot people!

Moose Pond Club Road

Moose Pond Club Road is located at the Boreas River Bridge on Route 28N. It is a rough dirt road that traverses boreal habitat. (The road leads to the Vanderwhacker Mountain Trail – the first mile of this hiking trail offers great birding!) Visiting New York City birders just reported finding a fledgling Black-backed Woodpecker along this road! They also found Red Crossbills near the Boreas River Bridge. Yellow-bellied Flycatchers and Boreal Chickadees, among many other species, can be found along the road. The road is not plowed in winter, so snowshoes or skis would be needed.

Hewitt Road

Hewitt Road is a short dirt road that runs along a marsh. The marsh is formed from the outlet of Hewitt Pond and Stony Pond Brook. Look for Alder Flycatchers, Common Yellowthroats, and Swamp Sparrows among other marsh birds. This area is under-birded, so it may hold yet-to-be-discovered surprises!

Roadside birding can be a lot of fun! For those with limited ability to hike, the Newcomb – Minerva region offers the chance to find sought-after boreal species right along the roadways.

To stay safe, be careful where you pull over on the backroads – don’t park along a turn, for instance. Make sure other drivers can see your parked car. On the paved roads with lines, make sure you park outside the white line to be legally parked.

Enjoy the many wonderful roadside boreal birding opportunities offered in the Newcomb – Minerva region, and loads of hiking and paddling options too! Visitors can find great lodging and restaurant options in the area.

Clearing the dust

Given a forecast of sunny skies and mid-50 degree temperatures, we decided to take an afternoon off last week and revisit what we recalled as being a super paddling adventure.

I looked back at my photo library, and realized that we had not paddled the Schroon River since 2010. Then I looked at my kayak, hanging in its storage rack on the side of a building, and realized that I hadn’t really paddled much last year at all, either, as was indicated by the amount of dust and pollen that had settled on the up-facing side of it.

My husband Kevin and I have matching 13-foot Necky Manitou kayaks for casual lake and river outings in the Adirondacks. They track well, and are great to take out on bigger lakes, but are maneuverable enough to navigate around rocks etc. on easy to moderate river runs.

I’m guessing that we prioritized alternate sports last year, as I only remember going paddling once or twice, and using our smaller whitewater boat for those outings. Hence the layer of dust stuck to the side of the boat.

I figured I’d let nature clean the boat as we paddled, and we prepped for departure.

Gear up, Put in

We loaded the boats on top of Kevin’s van, and donned our spring paddling attire.

Even if the sun makes the air feel warm, the water is still quite chilly in April, so insulating gear is a necessity, even if you plan to stay dry. For me, that consists of thermal underwear under a wetsuit (including neoprene gloves and booties), with layers of fleece jackets on top. This attractive ensemble is topped off with a personal flotation device (PFD), and of course, sunscreen (SPF). We also packed a water bottle and snacks for a planned break.

This is a two-car situation. The put-in for this adventure is located where the Blue Ridge Road crosses the Schroon River in North Hudson off exit 29 on Interstate 87. Access is via the former Frontier Town parking lot. We met there, and dropped the boats under the bridge, drove to the Schroon Lake beach/boat launch area and left the van with its kayak-carrying roof rack there, and headed back toward the put-in location with my car.

We stopped on the way at what I clearly remember being the crux of the paddle when we did this in 2010; the Schroon Falls at the Route 9N bridge crossing. That time, we paddled through this whitewater - a technical little drop off that would have filled my boat with water had we not used our spray skirts. This year, we decided to carry our boats at that point, as the water is a little bit higher, the air cooler, and we wanted to remain as dry as possible. Given this, we stopped to evaluate the best place to land our boats for the carry, in advance, from a land perspective.

We decided that the best plan was to paddle quickly to the right under the bridge, avoiding the falls, and carry the boats to reenter the calmer water just below them.

And, since in our memories the rest of the paddle was fairly easy, we left our spray skirts in the van.

 

To Schroon Falls

I parked my car and we put on our PFDs, grabbed our paddles, food and water and launched our boats at about 1:30 p.m.

 

The first section of this paddle, from exit 29 to Schroon Falls is about 4.75 miles on the water. This time of year, the current is fairly swift, and we paddled at a leisurely pace, enjoying the gorgeous tree-lined waterway’s scenery.

The water was so CLEAR. A couple of times, we could see schools of huge fish. At first we thought they were trout, but concluded that they might be carp.

Not long after we left, though, we could hear the distinct sound of rushing water ahead. We were about to learn a lesson in planning and depending entirely on 6-year-old impressions.

According to a map I consulted AFTER we got home, what we heard was Linsey Falls.

Class II

Class II.- Moderate. Medium-quick water; rapids with regular waves; clear and open passages between rocks and ledges. Maneuvering required. Best handled by intermediates who can maneuver canoes and read water.

Though the sound was at first a bit daunting, Kevin paddled ahead and I followed the line he chose. There were certainly some quick moves required to avoid rocks and to steer straight, and there was definitely one dip that dumped a few gallons of river into my boat.

So much for staying dry. (But we were wearing the wetsuits, so I remained comfortable on this bluebird sky day.)

I wasn’t able to both frantically paddle AND take pictures while in the Falls themselves, so we decided to paddle backwards toward that section and I took a picture of Kevin “eddying out” behind a rock.

Dam, Kevin

We had a bit of a break from pay-careful-attention whitewater for a short bit, then heard the sound of rushing water again. This time, it was a dam that we remembered we could fairly easily paddle over. It is comprised of wood, and includes a sort of water-covered ramp down to the next level. I followed Kevin’s line again, near the center of the dam, and easily slid down to the water below.

By now I was comfortable with the faster sections, and we navigated a few more of them before arriving at the Schroon Falls, where we planned to take-out and carry. And eat a snack.

I watched as Kevin headed way over to the right, and paddled fast to enter between some boulders to land on the rocks where he could pull his boat out. I copied everything he had just done, but he stepped into the water up to his knees in order to help steady my boat while I got out of it. His report: the water. is. definitely. cold.

Running Schroon Falls way back in 2010

We then shuttled our boats past the falls to the area we’d put back in, and stopped for snacks.

Schroon Falls to the Lake

That first section took us about 1.5 hours. After a very short break, and after Kevin sponged all of the excess water out of our boats, we got back into the boats for what turned out to be about 9 miles of twisting, serpentine water. There were sections with camps right on the edge of the water, and we passed the Medcalf Acres Riverfront campground, which is not yet open. The current was still substantial, though slowing as we progressed toward the outflow into Schroon Lake.

There were fallen trees all along the river, and at one point we feared we would have to carry around, but found a kayak’s-width section to squeeze through.

As we got closer to the lake, the landscape became far more remote-feeling; wild. All along the river we encountered a variety of wildlife. Wood, mallard, and common merganser ducks, fish, kingfishers, a small weasel-like animal that dove before we could identify it, and a deer.

May the Wind be with you

The winding river was very serpentine - in fact that 9 miles was only half that by car. Every now and then, there would be a substantial headwind, and though I didn’t consult the compass on my phone I was sure that it was a north wind, and that once we arrived at wide open Schroon Lake, we’d have to paddle against it.

When we finally arrived at the mouth of the river and onto the open lake itself, we were in for a surprise. We were treated to a miracle tailwind, which is a good thing, given my out-of-paddling-shape arms. We paddled the last bit around the first peninsula on the right to land on Schroon Lake Town Beach near the boat launch.

Getting out of the boats, we realized that our feet, though covered in neoprene, were very cold from getting wet and sitting on the bottom of our boats - essentially “on” the cold water. It’s important to prepare for these conditions, and a wet or drysuit is definitely recommended.

This is a terrific spring paddle, and though I imagine the upper section likely gets very “bony” later in the warm season, I bet the Schroon Falls to the boat launch section is popular during summer and fall, too. We arrived at the van at around 6 p.m. - for a total of 4.5 hours of paddling.

Happy to arrive at the van and change a few layers, we put the boats up on the roof rack. And after all that, they were still dusty.

-Kim Rielly is the director of communications for the Regional Office of Sustainable Tourism.

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This week in awesome ADK news:

 

Farm fresh from the Coast

Paddling ’Round the Mountain race

Who’s up for the Waterfall Challenge?

Bridges of Essex County: Whiteface Region

Garage sale like a pro

Why Lake Placid? 10 perfect reasons

Malone Golf Club: Did you know?

There’s an Adirondack *Shakespeare* Company?

Guest Blogger: Tara Bradway

You may be so fortunate as to live right here in the Adirondacks, or you may be so fortunate as to get to vacation here each year, or you may be so fortunate as to have your first Adirondack adventure in your future. No matter which, you may or may not be so fortunate as to have been introduced to the Adirondack Shakespeare Company yet.

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tara Bradway, the Artistic Director and Co-Founder of the company. I’ve been so fortunate as to helm this pretty amazing ship with my partner in crime and in life, Patrick Siler, who is the company’s Executive Director (and other Co-Founder).

Now, you maybe saw the name “Shakespeare” and had a little reaction. (I do all the time, but my reaction is one of joy. I realize not everyone reacts the same way.) Maybe you read some of his plays in high school. Maybe you had a great teacher. Maybe not. Maybe you’ve seen a movie or two. Maybe they were great. Maybe not. Maybe you’ve even been to see a production at the theater. Maybe it was terrible. Maybe not. It’s hard to live in today’s world without some exposure to the Bard, and for many people it’s not in their top five life experiences.

We’re here to change that.

For one thing, we don’t do Shakespeare the way anyone else does. Our cast of fully professional actors arrives here in the Adirondacks fully memorized and ready to dive into twelve to fifteen hours of rehearsal for each production. We don’t worry about sets or fancy costumes or props. It’s all about nailing the language. The actors don’t have anything else in the way of being present with each other and with you, our audience. Even lights. We perform with the lights up, and we’ll actually talk to you. (It’s even ok if you want to talk back!) With everyone on the edge of their seats, it’s impossible not to feel electrified in each performance.

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.

ADK Shakespeare has been around officially since 2010, although we began producing as a project called “Shakespeare IN THE RAW” in 2008. Our first summer festival was held in Schroon Lake in 2010, and we have happily called Schroon home for the last six years. Our home space is the Scaroon Manor Amphitheater on the west shore of Schroon Lake, and let me tell you this is an incredibly special place. The Amphitheater is the only remaining structure of Scaroon Manor, which is now a campground and day-use facility owned by New York State and administered by the Department of Environmental Conservation. ADK Shakespeare is a Steward of the Scaroon Manor Amphitheater — a beautiful stone amphitheater modeled on the Hollywood Bowl but ravaged by over 60 years of Adirondack winters. It is one of the company’s goals to see this space revitalized, with new seating and weather cover. Last year, we were thrilled to have the stage resurfaced!

 

And one man in his time plays many parts...

Since our first official season as Adirondack Shakespeare Company in 2010, we have produced more than half of Shakespeare’s canon. We are on track to completing the entire canon by 2020. As far as we can tell, that’s faster than any other company in the world has produced the full canon for the first time.
Some other fun facts:

1. We have decided to produce Hamlet every year. Other theaters offer A Christmas Carol every year, or ballet companies produce The Nutcracker … we thought one of the greatest plays (and ghost stories) in the English language deserved an annual spin. Every Hamlet is different, so every Hamlet will be different too.
2. We have produced Henry VI Parts 1, 2, & 3 twice, but have yet to do a full production of Much Ado About Nothing (coming this summer!).
3. Our productions are uncut. That’s right, every word is there. Although there are (for many of Shakespeare’s plays) multiple texts, we favor the First Folio. We compile a script using the First Folio as the basis, and sometimes make changes based on what appears in a First or Second Quarto, or Second Folio. Actors are encouraged to research changes and make decisions about word choices too. Once we’ve arrived at this script, though, we are going for 100% of those words. And if you can believe it, an uncut Hamlet can and should run just under three hours. That’s right. Come check it out this fall!

Thy friendship makes us fresh.

So, that’s Adirondack Shakespeare Company in a nutshell. If you really want to get a sense of our spirit, though, I have a little story to share with you about our most recent season. Maybe you even heard a piece of it in the newspaper, on the radio, online, or from someone you know. On the first day of our Autumn Season when the cast was arriving from New York City and beyond, a car full of our beloved actors was struck head-on by another driver. (Thankfully, no one was killed.) Four of actors were taken to Glens Falls Hospital for their injuries and were released several hours later, but one was airlifted to Albany Medical Center with a skull fracture. We, needless to say, were frantic.

Two surgeries and two hospital stints later, Sean Lounsbury was released and has since been working towards a miraculous full recovery. He’s back to New York City, back to work, and as of January 17, back on stage — appearing in a very special remount of this autumn’s production of Hamlet, in which of course he was not able to take part. (You can see him back on the Adirondack stage in just a few weeks as Bassanio in The Merchant of Venice, and reappearing as Flint in Songs of the Iroquois: Turtle Island. He’s also taking on Hamlet himself this coming autumn, so he is indeed back with a vengeance!)

In the tumultuous days following the accident, the cast held each other close and supported each other. We were also grateful for the incredible support of our community in and around Schroon Lake. At first we couldn’t imagine climbing into cars, driving to rehearsal, putting up a play. But as we began to heal from the trauma, the art began to feel important and even necessary. We were not going to let the chaos keep us down. Slowly, we started rehearsing — at first at the house, and soon at the nearby Tannery Pond Community Center. And through all the tumult and turmoil, we somehow managed just nine days after this accident to open The Winter’s Tale and then the very next day to open Hamlet. Nothing else I can think of gets to the heart and soul of this company and the extraordinary people we have gathered than this story right here.

If music be the food of love, play on.

If you’d like to get to know us a little better, come out to catch a show this April, this summer, or this autumn. This spring, we are producing The Merchant of Venice (for the third time), Julius Caesar (for the first time), and our original play Songs of the Iroquois: Turtle Island. Later this year you can expect The Comedy of Errors and Much Ado About Nothing, as well as the return of our annual Hamlet in the autumn playing in repertory with Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.

Find out more about the Adirondack Shakespeare Company and plan to catch one of their upcoming performances during your next Schroon Lake stay!

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All photos provided by Adirondack Shakespeare Co.: Header photo: Sean Lounsbury (Pistol) and Katie Fanning (Boy) in Henry V at Scaroon Manor Amphitheater, 2014, Photo by Meghan Blakeman; Adirondack Shakespeare Company logo. Design by Patrick Siler; Tara at Manor: Tara Bradway, Artistic Director, pictured at the Scaroon Manor Amphitheater, 2012; Patrick at Manor: Patrick Siler, Executive Director, pictured at the Scaroon Manor Amphitheater, 2012; John Hardin (Mercutio) and Calder Shilling (Romeo) in Romeo & Juliet at Scaroon Manor Amphitheater, 2015, Photo by Meghan Blakeman; Sean Lounsbury (Friar Lawrence) in Romeo & Juliet at Scaroon Manor Amphitheater, 2015. Photo by Tara Bradway; Cast of Hamlet at the Whallonsburg Grange Hall, 2015. Photo by Nat Angstrom.

I’d love to start this story off by telling you I had a magical time cross-country skiing in the wonderfully wild forests of the Adirondack Hub. I’d love to tell you that everything was perfect. If you use the internet at all these days, you’ve probably seen travel advertisements, where all the people are smiling, the sun is always shining, and nothing is ever wrong. No one ever shows the tears, the gear malfunctions, the tiring agony of breaking trail through feet of snow for miles and miles - that "Instagram vs. Reality" display.

I set out on Sunday morning, a mere two days after the Adirondacks received 12+ inches of snow, hoping to find quiet trails and a new adventure. And, now, I’m here today to tell you the real story, what really happened out there in the wild. Frankly, it wasn’t at all what I had planned, but, as a lover of the childhood drink lemonade, I tried my very best to make lemonade out of some very frozen lemons.

Here’s how the day began:

Stop 1

Saturday night I sat in bed trying to decide which trail I wanted to visit. I landed on Wolf Pond. Why? I have no idea. There was nothing online that said “this is a good trail for cross-country skiing.” For all I knew, it was going to be a hilly nightmare. But “Whatever,” I told myself. “I’m a strong skier.”

When I arrived in the parking lot it was a surprisingly warm 5-degrees. Call me crazy, but the sun felt good. Another vehicle was already there. Orange vests and beagles gave this group’s goal away: they were rabbit hunters. Hunting has never bothered me; I grew up in a hunting family, but when I realized I grabbed my backpack without my red bandana tied to it, I considered finding a new spot (even though I had a maroon coat, I like to make sure I'm very seen). The hunters told me they were going way off trail and not toward the pond, so I wouldn’t have to worry. So, I went for it. Not two minutes down the trail (which was a narrow, windy trail not really ideal for skiing as it turns out), I started to smell something familiar, something awful. It was dog poop, covered in snow in the middle of the trail, that I had just skied over. I took my ski off to remove the poop now stuck to the bottom, but it had frozen solid already. Great.

I don’t want anyone to think I am against dogs or anything. They can’t pick up their own poop. But we can. And we certainly don’t need to cover it with snow in the middle of the trail. The trails are here for us all to enjoy. The lesson learned here at the Wolf Pond trailhead is to always be aware of your surroundings. When in the woods with hunters, wear bright colors. When cross-country skiing or snowshoeing, mind the yellow and brown snow. Nothing sours your mood quite like a ski with a frozen chunk of poop on it.

Stop 2

I ended up getting most of the poop off my ski in the Wolf Pond parking lot, but by that time I decided to head somewhere else. I stopped at Overlook Park in Newcomb so I could use the running water in the public bathroom to fully clean my ski. (This is also a great spot for a scenic moment of zen on a clear day, with the High Peaks in the distance.)

Stop 3

An hour after I started skiing at Wolf Pond, I decided to check out two small ponds with small trails near Minerva. Twentyninth and Rankin ponds are not large and each trail is under a mile round-trip. Neither trail was broken out (meaning it was all deep, fresh powder ahead). Twentyninth Pond was the first I chose to visit (it's a waypoint on the route to Stony Pond). On the map, it’s only 0.3-miles from the trailhead, but breaking trails it might as well have been 300. I couldn't even see my skis for awhile under all the snow!

The trail consists of rolling hills. For the beginner skiers, I’d recommend avoiding this spot unless you’re ready for a workout. There’s a small tent site on the shore of Twentyninth Pond. On my way back to the car I realized how much fun I was having on the down hills. Having been skiing (downhill) for most of my life, it always takes me a little by surprise how awkward I feel on cross-country skis going down a hill. But today, I was having a blast on the downhills. In fact, I skied down and then went back up one hill just to do it again. And then I did that a few more times. Now, the woods were quiet, save a Hairy Woodpecker drumming away, the sun was shining, and I was all smiles. 

I never did make it to Rankin Pond, but all’s well that ends better. Even ventures outdoors that don’t start as romantic or transcendental as you hope can still turn into positives.

Lessons learned

Not every trip into the woods goes as planned, but if you are prepared for different scenarios, it’s less likely to end badly. Here are some of my tips for how to have a good time cross-country skiing when everything else seems to go wrong: 

• Have a “plan B” trail in mind. Sometimes trailheads are not plowed immediately after a storm, or they are full. Always have a few options in mind to help ensure you have the opportunity to get out there and ski!
• Know how to safely share the woods with others, including hunters and dogs.
• I always have snowshoes strapped to my backpack after a very traumatic experience cross-country skiing a few years ago. (I was 3-miles from the car and my binding broke so I had to tie a rope around my boot/ski, effectively making a long, skinny snowshoe. It was that or bare boot back to the car.) Gear breaks sometimes. It happens. Know how to fix it or have a backup plan in case something goes wrong in the woods.
• Take a deep breath. I won’t sugar coat it: I cried on Sunday. But you know what? It all worked out. My skis are now poop-free and I ended up having a great day exploring some new trails.

A recipe for skiing success is not complicated: equal parts preparation and attitude, mix, and enjoy!

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The roads to Boreas Ponds and Great Camp Santanoni are also excellent skis, but they are long. To combine skiing with another activity, the Roosevelt Truck Trail is perfect for birding and gliding! Or, hit the links and ski on the Schroon Lake Golf Course. After you’re done skiing, head into town for a warm meal and a cozy bed, and to start planning your next trip!

When spring comes to the Adirondacks, it's a glorious sight. The bright blue sky domes deciduous trees showing hints of green. Birds sing, frogs croak and all around are the sounds of water running over rocks. Even a short hike is a treat for the senses.

We were getting a late morning start, so my son and I headed back to the Hammond Pond Wilderness in North Hudson to explore Chalis Pond. The trail, which starts on Ensign Pond Road, is only 0.6 miles long. There is an easy incline to the first part of the trail, then it is mostly flat. At the end of the trail the lovely pond opened up in front of us.

Four people were fishing on the pond, floating in small rowboats and canoes. Sitting at the edge of the pond, we watched countless young trout play in the shallow water. Chalis is a reclaimed trout pond, which means that at one point all the fish in the pond were eradicated to eliminate non-native invasive fish, most likely escaped bait fish. The pond was then restocked with trout. If you plan to fish in Adirondack ponds, please note that live bait is prohibited in most places to protect the native trout populations.

We like to watch aquatic life, and we got quite a show at Chalis Pond. Besides the trout, there were many tadpoles and gilled salamander larvae. The salamander larvae are particularly fun to watch. With their short legs and tail fins, they look like a strange cross between lizards and fish, and proved fascinating to my nine-year-old hiking partner. Salamanders are not lizards. They are amphibians like frogs and spend much of their lives near water. Later in the summer we'll spot them in wet areas and after a rain.

My son discovered clusters of frog eggs in a swampy area just off the trail. He has asked for a return trip in a week or so to see if they've hatched. For kids who like to explore nature, like mine, a springtime hike to a pond can be very rewarding.

Submitted by guest blogger Sue Repko

Kid-friendly winter adventures you can’t miss

In the Adirondacks, we embrace the outdoors year-round, regardless of the season. Winter here tends to linger longer, but there’s nothing quite like the crisp, frosty air and the company of family to banish cabin fever. Once the thermometer hits 20 degrees, it's time for the kids to head outdoors. And when the sun is shining, even colder temperatures are welcome—it’s all about dressing appropriately. I help the little ones bundle up in jackets, snow pants, boots, mittens, and hats, transforming them into colorful bundles of warmth.

Schroon Lake offers at least ten exciting winter activities for children that promise to create unforgettable memories:

1. Go sledding

It's time to go sledding on the hill by the frozen lake! Cuddle up with a child in a tube, and you’ll zoom down the hill at top speed, laughing joyfully all the way. Once you hit the ice, you’ll glide effortlessly and be amazed at how far you can go. Instead of trekking up the hill, it’s easier to take the stairs. You can stay at the top and give a good push when they shout, 'Ready!' Then, watch them slide down. Enjoy the beautiful vista before you—the iced lake stretches out, surrounded by mountains blanketed in pines and birch trees. Everything is dusted with snow, and the view seems to go on forever.

2. Get your skate on

Grab your skates and head to the covered pavilion overlooking the frozen lake—it’s the perfect spot for some icy fun! Don’t have skates? No worries! You can borrow a pair from the hut right next to the rink. Kids will love gliding across the smooth ice, practicing spins, or racing each other under the shelter of the pavilion. Plus, the views of the snowy mountains make it extra magical. Afterward, warm up with a hot chocolate and share stories about your skating adventures!

3. Explore the ice

Once the ice is safe, take your little ones for a walk on the frozen lake and let them experience the unique perspective from that vantage point. Schroon Lake is a popular destination for ice fishing, as it freezes earlier than lakes farther south. Here, you can stroll through a village of ice fishing tents, where anglers patiently wait for their tip-ups to move. Strike up a conversation about their luck, and you’re sure to hear some fascinating stories. You might also spot groups of snowmobiles zipping by or a skier gliding effortlessly across the ice, powered by a colorful parachute. Don’t forget to wave hello to cross-country skiers and ice skaters enjoying the lake, too.

4. Make tracks

Take a peaceful walk or snowshoe through Scaroon Manor and soak in the stunning views of the frozen lake and surrounding mountains. The stillness of winter creates the perfect backdrop for spotting wildlife or simply enjoying the serene beauty of nature. Bring along a chart of animal tracks and challenge your little explorers to identify the creatures that have left their marks in the snow—deer, rabbits, or maybe even a fox!

5. Build a snowman

The answer is almost certainly yes! If the snow is good for packing, it’s time to build! Create your snowman masterpiece using whatever you have on hand—sticks for arms, a scarf, a carrot nose, a hat, and maybe even some pebbles or buttons for eyes. You can also find kits with wooden pieces if you want to get extra fancy. Snowmen are guaranteed to bring smiles to anyone passing by, spreading a little winter cheer. And don’t stop there—why not build a snow fort? Gather the kids to shape walls and towers, and get ready for an epic snowball fight. Just make sure to watch out—you never know when a snowball might come flying your way!

6. Enjoy the scenery

You can go snowshoeing at Stone Bridge and Caves in Pottersville on Fridays through Sundays, where the trails wind through a magical winter wonderland. Explore the serene, snow-covered forest and take in breathtaking views of unique rock formations and frozen waterfalls. Bring your own snowshoes, or rent a pair on-site if you need them. After your adventure, warm up by the fire pit and enjoy a cup of hot cocoa or a snack from the gift shop. It’s the perfect spot for a family outing or a peaceful solo trek in the great outdoors.

7. Go for an adventure

Hire a real Adirondack guide for an unforgettable family adventure, whether it’s ice fishing, snowshoeing, or winter hiking. These experienced guides not only ensure your safety but also share their deep knowledge of the region’s history, wildlife, and outdoor traditions. Learn the art of ice fishing while hearing stories around a warm fire, or explore serene snow-covered trails with the added bonus of spotting scenic vistas. A guided adventure is a perfect way to experience the Adirondacks like a local and create lasting memories with your family.

8. Have a snack

For a simpler time, take your child’s hand and stroll down Main Street to enjoy some tasty treats, like cookies and scones at Pinecone Mercantile or a homemade pie at Pitkin’s. If you’re up for a bit more adventure, bundle up and head outdoors to make s’mores around a crackling fire. Pack some marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers, and let the kids toast their marshmallows to golden perfection. The mix of cozy treats and crisp winter air is sure to create warm memories for the whole family.

9. Get creative

Feeling artsy? Head outdoors to create snow sculptures or frosty masterpieces with food coloring and spray bottles. If you prefer to stay warm, head to the Schroon Lake Public Library. It’s the hub of our town with welcoming staff and offers much more than books for adults and children. There’s always story time or perhaps your child would prefer to find a book or puzzle to put together by the window that overlooks the lake. 

10. Go to an event

Schroon Lake offers a variety of exciting winter events that are perfect for families. From ice fishing derbies to winter festivals, there's no shortage of activities to enjoy. The community also hosts festive holiday celebrations, like tree lightings and local craft fairs, ensuring that the season is full of opportunities to make special memories together. Winter in Schroon Lake is a magical time for families to come together and embrace the snowy outdoors.

Discover your next family adventure

Plan to visit to the Adirondack Hub in the winter months and create unforgettable family memories. Whether you’re ice fishing on the frozen lake, sledding down snowy hills, or exploring snowshoeing trails, there’s no shortage of outdoor adventure. Schroon Lake offers the perfect setting for a winter getaway where families can bond, explore, and make lasting memories together.