Adirondack "Ice-in" Canoe Trip

"On a warm November night, would you offer your ear to the loon….? "

Saranac “Ice-In” Paddle Trip Nov. 13-15, 2009
an Adirondack Mountain Club outing

Way back in “Ought-seven”, I paddled onto the Adirondack’s Middle Saranac Lake in mid-November and camped for 2 nights. That year, it was very cold with some snow on the ground, but there was no ice when I launched. The trip was inspired by an article I read in “Boundary Waters Journal”, the magazine of Minnesota’s Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, in which some men sought out the exact weekend in which the lakes would freeze, then took a long canoe trip in Minnesota lake country. Those paddlers found themselves deep into the wilderness when they HEARD the lake freezing and had to start out late at night to avoid getting trapped by ice too thick to paddle on, and too thin to walk on. I wasn’t going to do quite that, but 2 years ago, I did have to use my “bail-out” route and carry all my gear over a half-mile trail instead of paddling up the then-frozen creek I used for access to Middle Saranac Lake.

Fast-forward to 2009. In September, while considering outings I might lead for the Adirondack Mountain Club, I decided to reprise that trip, but wanted to share the fun. I announced a mid-November “Ice-In” paddle trip, and Joe R. jumped on board enthusiastically. A couple weeks later, Manon P. and Bill T. joined up, and we had a good-sized group going (all the better to break ice with, my dear…). The focus would be on paddling and eating, with the latter taking the lead if we had too much ice. I monitored weather forecasts for the Tupper Lake-Saranac Lake area, with AccuWeather and NOAA disagreeing on overnight low temps, because a warm air mass was slowly moving north into Adirondack lake country. Overnight lows in the teens would be enough to form some ice, but daytime highs in the 40s and even 50s, would likely melt that each day. Our weekend forecast was for rain and unseasonably warm temperatures - quite different than I had expected and hoped for. Just 3 days before our trip, Joe’s brother-in-law, Magilla (Buffalo firefighter, actor, and Great Lakes surfer), passed away, so Joe’s family duties required him to remain in western New York.

Early Friday morning, after a much-needed stop at one of our local Tim Horton’s, three of us hit the road under clear skies, arriving at the South Creek launch site on Route 3 in early afternoon. We were quite pleased (at least I was) to see ice across most of the creek, with pockets of open water interspersed along the way. We checked the thickness of the ice by tossing rocks onto it, and the rocks bounced off. Then we poked at it with our feet and were able to break though, so we decided that we would proceed with our plan to paddle down the creek to the lake. The weather forecast indicated warmer temps and rain for the weekend, so no more ice would be forming anywhere… we hoped! We unpacked the cars and dropped our boats into the water to begin loading. Manon had her Bell Yellowstone solo canoe, Bill had a beautiful “stripper” Adirondack guideboat that he built himself, and I had my red Wenonah Solitude solo canoe.
Moments before we arrived at the launch, a lady had pulled up in her vehicle and began setting up an easel to draw or paint that scene. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the artist took a group picture for us as we stood proudly by our boats with the all the optimism that a moment like that is capable of having. We finished loading and set out onto the hard surface of the creek. Bill took the lead and crunched his way forward, breaking a path through the ice for Manon and me with his sturdy wooden boat and long wooden double-bladed paddle. We still had to punch through the ice in order to put our paddles into the water, but it wasn’t hard to do - it was actually fun! When we reached the lake, there was no ice at all and paddling was easy. Once out of the narrow creek, Bill turned his boat around and began using his wooden oars to row across the lake. We heard a loon, seemingly welcoming us onto it’s lake. Based on several previous trips on Middle Saranac Lake, I had chosen a lean-to on the far eastern shore as our destination. Site #63 is a small, beautifully situated lean-to that I had camped in back in the late 90s when I did a 7-day solo trip through that part of the Adirondacks. We cruised off-shore and found our site by the bull rushes at the point where the Saranac River flows out of Middle Saranac Lake. It was just as I had remembered it - a nice lean-to, beautiful open woods, a high forest canopy, and a large rock on the shore where I had watched a sunset turn into a dark starry night many years ago. I think Manon and Bill liked the site as much as I did, and we began carrying gear into the shelter. The first order of business was to string up a cover to protect the picnic table, so I set up my big green tarp. Because the weather forecast predicted freezing rain at night, I also hung a small tarp in front of the lean-to to keep out wind-blown rain and wind, and to provide a space where we could huddle around the small propane heater that I brought (it turned out that the weather was milder than predicted, and we never used the heater). We each took control of a different aspect of our camp, and soon, we had a kitchen set up and enough wood for a small fire (branches gathered in the woods), ready for a match. Curiously, 2 large, seemingly healthy trees (1 to 1 ½-foot diameter) that had stood immediately behind the lean-to, had been cut down and sawn into 2-foot logs that were stacked on site. Bill walked to an adjacent site and saw a similar curious pile of logs. It seems like such a travesty to mow down those trees merely for firewood. Later, we would stop on an island campsite and see more cut and stacked trees. I found that to be disturbing, but welcome an explanation and justification of the practice.
That night, we had hearty soup (actually an accidental combo of soup and chili), followed by brownies and biscuits that Manon and Bill baked in a reflector oven. Bill hung a bear bag, Manon had her big canoe barrel, and I had my Ursack and Bear Vault food canister stashed in the trees up the hill behind the lean-to. The temperature was warm enough, so we all sat close to the fire that night, eating, drinking, telling tales, and looking up at the billions and billions of stars that twinkled above in the clear night sky.

When we woke up Saturday morning, it was a beautiful day - warm (for November), cloudy, but no rain. We boiled water and had our breakfast - Manon made “Cowboy coffee”. A power boat sped past and went between the colored navigation buoys and into the river. Just as we were gathering our gear to begin paddling, a light rain began. The rain stayed with us all day, except for one short interval. We paddled down the Saranac River and soon were approaching the upper lock. In summer, the lock is staffed by college students who operate it for all the passing boaters and paddlers. In November, it’s a fun do-it-yourself lock; large signs tell you exactly what to do. We could have carried or dragged our boats 100 feet to the lower river surface, but we wanted the fun of operating a lock. Manon and Bill worked the levers and pushed the gates closed, then opened the lower gates after the water level evened out. It took only a minute or two for the lock to adjust for the 2-foot difference. We walked our boats out of the lock and stepped back in. Continuing down the river, we soon entered a wide section, then passed through a narrows by a vacant lean-to, and were finally on Lower Saranac Lake. Bill saw a deer on the shore. Our objective Saturday was just to paddle and do some sightseeing, so we headed north along the shore into Boot Bay. There were small power boats (fishing boats) at 3 or 4 campsites, and as we paddled/rowed past one of the sites, we heard someone let out a loud “whoop!” immediately followed by a gun shot. Not wanting to discover whether that gunplay was recreational or a warning to us, we kept on going, got away from the hunters, and regained our tranquility while floating past the many islands that dot the lake. We worked our way around and between the islands as a light rain continued to fall. Small air bubbles dotted the surface of the lake, but the rain didn’t bother us. About half-way down the lake, we made a grand turn toward the south shore and headed back to the river. I made sure we passed by Bluff Island with its 30-foot high cliffs that are great for jumping or diving, if you are so inclined. None of us wanted to go for a swim, so we kept moving. When we approached the narrows again, we took a break in the vacant lean-to. After resting, we paddled and rowed back up the river. A large bird flew overhead, and we realized that it was a Bald Eagle. Immediately after the fly-over, the rain stopped! …. for about 5 minutes, then resumed, creating little bubbles all across the surface of the water. We walked our boats into the lock, locked through again, and arrived at camp with a couple hours of daylight remaining. Dinner that night would feature little potatoes that Jane bought for me to share. Anything resembling cooking is a big deal for me, but I safely boiled the little spuds, drained the water, added butter, salt, and pepper, and it was good! Of course, we combined that with other food we each had, and made a great meal of it. The light rain stopped, Bill built another small campfire, and we enjoyed that while I finished off the remaining beer that I had brought along. I slept well.

By morning, the rain was gone. Mild temperatures remained, along with a heavy overcast that filled the sky with brooding clouds. When we got up Sunday, we were so full from our good supper that none of us was particularly interested in breakfast. After slowly and reluctantly breaking camp and packing all our gear, we loaded the boats and launched off the sandy beach that was covered by thick piles of wind-blown pine needles. Bill led the way as Manon and I paddled in single file. Just before we entered the ice-less South Creek, one of the loons gave us a final tremolo serenade, providing the perfect end to the perfect Adirondack weekend.
　
Photos http://bit.ly/ADK-MiddleSaranacNov09

(Note: The opening line is a paraphrase from Meatloaf’s classic song, “ You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth”.)

A Dozen Eggs and a Buck

Webshots album: http://bit.ly/StrawIslandCleanUp09

Strawberry Island Clean-up Nov. 2, 2009
I was off today, the weather was ideal, and I wanted to paddle. We decided to do a clean-up on Strawberry Island (in the upper Niagara River near Buffalo, NY), since my Monday paddlers and I visit that scenic location often from May through October. Jim and Jinny were not available, but Patti Z. showed up at the Town of Tonawanda boat ramps at the foot of Sheridan, near Aqua Lane. We came prepared with gloves and trash bags, and I also brought an iron rake. The river was beautiful, calm, and flat, as we paddled out of the small “harbor” and into the current of the Niagara. There was one fishing boat on the water when we made the crossing. A large flock of small gulls (about the size of the Common Tern) were feeding on a school of small fish. I didn’t recognize the species of gull, and they were much smaller than the Herring Gulls and Ring-Billed Gulls that are commonly seen there (I think they were migrating Black-headed Gulls) . We landed on the outer strip of sandy beach on the eastern (Tonawanda) side of the island and prepared to gather trash. Patti took off walking along the shore while I waded into the milkweed pods and brambles of the interior. Unlike last spring, there were no animals to be seen anywhere on the island, except for a couple Canada Geese sitting on the northern shore. While picking up all sorts of rubbish, I also saw several goose eggs laying unattended on the ground, apparently abandoned when the embryos failed to develop earlier this year. After an hour or more, we came back out with nearly full bags of various items. I also sported many briars all over my clothing. We left most of what we had gathered by the boats and moved in the other direction, onto the broader, flatter, more open section between the river and the lagoon. There were a few flat trampled spots that had obviously been used by waterfowl hunters, as evidenced by the concentrated trash, including spent shotgun shells and beer cans. By the time we had walked all over that section, we had already been on the island for over 2 hours. We loaded the trash bags into and onto our kayaks and paddled upstream, around the wavy point, and took out again on “Goose Poop Beach”, the broad sandy beach that faces upstream toward Buffalo. In contrast to where we had just spent so much time, this beach was nearly litter-free. Obviously, there had been a beach clean-up there in the last month or 2, and we had to look hard to find a few pieces of glass in the sand. Moving into the trees and away from the beach, Patti found a few beer cans, and I picked up an old rusted charcoal grill. That area was refreshingly clean, so we soon moved on again. We paddled around the next point and cruised the shore, going downstream. When we reached the open end of the lagoon, we split up and paddled the inner shoreline of the island. Once again, I found the littered site of a duck blind, and got out to clean that up. We met again at the far inner end of the lagoon on what I’ll now call “Beer Bottle Beach”, another thin strip of sand that had broken glass everywhere - in and out of the water. We spent at least another half-hour there picking up glass, and Patti also picked up a large iron hinge and a railroad spike. We also saw a few very large freshwater clam shells in the water. By then, we had walked almost the whole island, and I was getting tired. My trash bag had grown to a huge size, and was held onto my kayak by laying the rake handle across it with a bungee cord to hold it down. We paddled back down river and across to the boat ramps. Just as we were approaching the ramps, I looked to my left, did a double-take, and saw a large deer with a really nice set of antlers. He was standing behind a chain link fence and looking out at the water. I snapped a couple pictures of the big buck, then he walked back along the fence line, as if trying to find his way back out of the enclosure he somehow got himself into. Patti called the SPCA, and they were going to alert the landowner to open a gate so the deer might find his way out again (“Out of the frying pan and into the fire”). I dumped all the trash in, and next to, a town trash tote, and we were finally finished. After about 4 hours of clean-up, Strawberry Island was a nicer place to be.

Black-Headed Gulls http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black-headed_Gull

Left on the island: about a dozen unbroken goose eggs
WHAT WE PICKED UP:
3 beach towels and a t-shirt
A huge iron hinge
RR spike
plastic bait tub
beer bottles - broken and whole
assorted cans, mostly beer
Shotgun shells- hulls and lots of wads
shell white insert thingies
Lots of styrofoam - pieces and cups
bits of lumber (not trees or branches)
bottle caps
a big Christmas Tree Store bag
Styrofoam worm container
Syringe
Plastic water bottles, pop bottles
Rubber ball
Plastic toy shovel (for a sandbox)
Rusty TV tray-style charcoal cooker
a bobber
and a child’s flip-flop