MarkL
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Wanakena <--> Stillwater Traverse
Sunday through Tuesday, May 3-5, 2009
Solo
Stillwater Reservoir is in some other region of the Adirondacks. I’d never been there, which made it seem all that more remote.. I didn’t even know offhand how to drive there, which made it somewhat mysterious. In my original conception of this hike, I would drive to the south shore and get a boat ride across to the north. Studying the maps just before this hike, it looked like the road to the south shore of Stillwater required a high clearance vehicle, which made it inaccessible to me, as well as remote.
Somewhere I have a map of the region that gives an indication of the severity of the blowdown from the 1995 derecho, known as “The Microburst”. But even if I could find it, it probably didn’t have enough resolution to help me, even if I could navigate accurately using it. Anyway, I’d bushwhacked through some areas intensely impacted by that storm about a month after it, and knew it was possible. I figured that in the 14 years since then, some of the blowdown had become easier to see through, walk through, or break through.
As originally conceived about 8 years ago, this was to be a south-to-north traverse, involving either a buddy and 2 cars, or just me with my car in Wanakena and somehow getting a ride to the south shore of Stillwater and a ride across to the north. If I recall correctly, I was thinking of aiming for Sand Lake, where I’d pick up the Five Ponds Trail for an “easy” 15 mile hike to Wanakena. Trying to find someone willing to do this with seemed as daunting as the logistics of the latter option. Then, sometime last year I discovered the National Geographic-ADK series of maps, and bought the one that has the whole area on one side of a piece of paper. Somehow, seeing it like this, especially with the Red Horse Trail marked, made the hike seem more within my ability. I’d heard of the RHT, but wasn’t sure if or how well it was still maintained. I scaled off the distances involved and found the bushwhack was only 5-6 miles (one way), and the idea of a round trip traverse was born. I was encouraged and relieved to find that this route would be shorter and involve a lot less bushwhacking than the original idea. On the other hand, the route wouldn’t be as “epic”, so I wouldn’t end up with as much of a sense of accomplishment as with the original idea. On another hand, because it had become a round-trip, the distance would be greater, and the bushwhack would be about as long as originally conceived.
With Spring being early, I couldn’t wait until after St. Lawrence U’s graduation. By then, the bugs and visibility could get quite bad. Very few leaves were out yet, so I would see terrain features at a much greater distance than would be possible in another month, maybe even in another week. I hit the weather web sites as the potential target days drew close enough that the forecasts might be somewhat accurate. It looked good: Comfortable daytime hiking weather, chance of rain only 10-30%, and only a little cooler at night than I wanted. The idea was to go without a tent or sleeping bag to keep the pack small for bushwhacking. I had no problem with not packing the tent. If there were some rain at night, I would hunker under the emergency blanket which I’d already be using for its reflection and convection protection. My problem was with how to sleep reasonably warm w/o a bag. Here’s the sleep system I came up with: -Ground sheet from my one man tent. -1 closed cell pad, full length. –basic bivy sack, no screen or poles. –Heavy polyester cloth bag liner -Windshield sun reflector. I’m really proud of recognizing this as bivouac gear. It’s made of very thin foam, and between the foam and the reflectivity, I think it has an excellent warmth to weight/bulk ratio. I thought about Reflectix, the metalized bubble wrap, but didn’t know how the bubbles would fare in the ‘whack. Also, it would be more bulky. I got this idea from Elliot Adams(?), first barefoot 46er, who used a sleeping rig built w/Reflectix, ensolite, and duct tape. Anyway, the reflector went on top of me inside the bag liner. -3 balaclavas and a toque -extra layers on feet, legs and body, including a fleece hoody. For dinners I packed instant rice, dehydrated peas, 1 ramen pkg, two pouches of fish, and a homemade soda & beer can alcohol stove. Enough talk of gear and food.
Plan A was to start hiking Saturday evening, around 8PM. Whatever miles I knocked off that evening would make the remaining 3 days easier and increase my chance of success. Plan B was to finish packing Saturday evening…Saturday night…late Saturday night and start early (6-7AM) Sunday morning. Plan C was to sleep later than Plan B so I could start out with a passable amount of sleep.
Sunday, May 3, 2009. This report is already more than page long and I haven’t even started hiking, so I’ll cut to the chase, the start of the bushwhack south of the Wolf Pond junction. To get there, you can start in Wanakena from the Truck Trail or Dead Creek trailheads, a boat ride to Jenack’s Landing, or even from the end of Young’s Rd. in Star Lake. Anyway, I hit the trail at 11AM. I’ll be vague about landmarks at times. That’s because I don’t want this report to help establish a herd path or a common route. I started the bushwhack at 5:05PM. Last summer I had explored the first ~2 miles of the bushwhack with GlenL. It pretty much followed a brook upstream to a chosen tributary which flowed through an abandoned beaver dam. Glen and I turned around at that dam, but I was determined to go further on the first day, even though I didn’t get there until 7:45PM. I went another 20 minutes and found a place to sleep just before the light faded too much. Although I’d gotten a late start this day, I looked on the bright side: Having done ~2.5 miles of bushwhacking, I had only about 3 miles left the next day before getting to the Red Horse Trail. The alcohol stove worked well and I slept pretty well, despite a chilly (upper 30’s?) night.
Monday, May 4. I got up at 6:30AM and had 2 packages of Alba w/powdered milk for breakfast, plus some trail mix. At 8:55AM I was hiking, and very soon got to a large marshy area which I’d anticipated from looking at the map before bedtime. I easily went around to the right then worked my way left along the hillside on the other side. I saw a ~40’ cliff which just wasn’t indicated on the map where I thought I was and where I planned to turn SE, then S to get down to a landmark lake. I consulted the old maps, and they didn’t show a cliff there either. The new map showed a possible cliff further NE, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t walked that far. Not so sure, however, that I wasn’t vulnerable to doubt about that. I went around the cliff and headed south down a drainage til I saw the lake. I followed it at a distance, to the east end, then went up a small knoll and down towards an outlet drainage from another lake. Crossing that, I went partway up what I thought was a particular hill on my route, then started contouring around. Then I thought that I was so far up the hill that I might as well summit it, or go through the col between its two summit knolls. I was pretty sure I was in that col when I took a bearing for the next drainage to the SE, but that drainage seemed narrower than on the map, and the slope of the terrain on the other side didn’t seem right. It didn’t make sense and I was frustrated. I kept thinking I should just go due south to hit the second lake and see where I was. But I also wanted to try other tactics for finding my way and making progress. I was on top of a hill with some bare rock, and looked for a benchmark, but found none. My altimeter had been very erratic, so I couldn’t really trust it. I went S or even SW off that hill, and after a few minutes caught sight of the lake. I got to its shore and decided I must be at this point on the shore, very close to the east end. I headed east, then SE to get around the east end, but found myself north of a more easterly part of the lake. So I realized I’d first come out quite a bit further west of the east end than I’d originally thought. This was all very disturbing; for not only did I have further to go to get around the end of the lake, but apparently my navigation was more deficient than I’d thought. I didn’t have a GPS, and given the outcome, didn’t really need one. But it sure would have satisfied the gnawing curiosity about where I’d been. Well, maybe I’d figure out my mistake on the way back. It was at this time that I first started to wonder if it would be prudent to turn around and just call it a great first attempt. But the bushwhack had been so unpleasant that I didn't want to do it again. So I kept going on the provision that I’d frequently re-evaluate my progress. If poor progress meant an unreasonably hard third day, then I’d turn around. Finally I was truly beyond the east end of the lake and could turn south. I was now on the lookout for any remnants of an old trail that the 1921 Cranberry Lake quad showed going from High Falls to Trout Pond. I don’t know how long ago this trail was abandoned, but thought I might see its tread from time to time. I wondered if I’d see an old trail marker, but thought that they’d either be engulfed by the tree by now, or lying on the ground with the long-dead tree. From time to time there appeared to be a tread, but I couldn’t follow it for long. Maybe sometimes it was the old trail, and sometimes only a game path.
__________________
Sunday through Tuesday, May 3-5, 2009
Solo
Stillwater Reservoir is in some other region of the Adirondacks. I’d never been there, which made it seem all that more remote.. I didn’t even know offhand how to drive there, which made it somewhat mysterious. In my original conception of this hike, I would drive to the south shore and get a boat ride across to the north. Studying the maps just before this hike, it looked like the road to the south shore of Stillwater required a high clearance vehicle, which made it inaccessible to me, as well as remote.
Somewhere I have a map of the region that gives an indication of the severity of the blowdown from the 1995 derecho, known as “The Microburst”. But even if I could find it, it probably didn’t have enough resolution to help me, even if I could navigate accurately using it. Anyway, I’d bushwhacked through some areas intensely impacted by that storm about a month after it, and knew it was possible. I figured that in the 14 years since then, some of the blowdown had become easier to see through, walk through, or break through.
As originally conceived about 8 years ago, this was to be a south-to-north traverse, involving either a buddy and 2 cars, or just me with my car in Wanakena and somehow getting a ride to the south shore of Stillwater and a ride across to the north. If I recall correctly, I was thinking of aiming for Sand Lake, where I’d pick up the Five Ponds Trail for an “easy” 15 mile hike to Wanakena. Trying to find someone willing to do this with seemed as daunting as the logistics of the latter option. Then, sometime last year I discovered the National Geographic-ADK series of maps, and bought the one that has the whole area on one side of a piece of paper. Somehow, seeing it like this, especially with the Red Horse Trail marked, made the hike seem more within my ability. I’d heard of the RHT, but wasn’t sure if or how well it was still maintained. I scaled off the distances involved and found the bushwhack was only 5-6 miles (one way), and the idea of a round trip traverse was born. I was encouraged and relieved to find that this route would be shorter and involve a lot less bushwhacking than the original idea. On the other hand, the route wouldn’t be as “epic”, so I wouldn’t end up with as much of a sense of accomplishment as with the original idea. On another hand, because it had become a round-trip, the distance would be greater, and the bushwhack would be about as long as originally conceived.
With Spring being early, I couldn’t wait until after St. Lawrence U’s graduation. By then, the bugs and visibility could get quite bad. Very few leaves were out yet, so I would see terrain features at a much greater distance than would be possible in another month, maybe even in another week. I hit the weather web sites as the potential target days drew close enough that the forecasts might be somewhat accurate. It looked good: Comfortable daytime hiking weather, chance of rain only 10-30%, and only a little cooler at night than I wanted. The idea was to go without a tent or sleeping bag to keep the pack small for bushwhacking. I had no problem with not packing the tent. If there were some rain at night, I would hunker under the emergency blanket which I’d already be using for its reflection and convection protection. My problem was with how to sleep reasonably warm w/o a bag. Here’s the sleep system I came up with: -Ground sheet from my one man tent. -1 closed cell pad, full length. –basic bivy sack, no screen or poles. –Heavy polyester cloth bag liner -Windshield sun reflector. I’m really proud of recognizing this as bivouac gear. It’s made of very thin foam, and between the foam and the reflectivity, I think it has an excellent warmth to weight/bulk ratio. I thought about Reflectix, the metalized bubble wrap, but didn’t know how the bubbles would fare in the ‘whack. Also, it would be more bulky. I got this idea from Elliot Adams(?), first barefoot 46er, who used a sleeping rig built w/Reflectix, ensolite, and duct tape. Anyway, the reflector went on top of me inside the bag liner. -3 balaclavas and a toque -extra layers on feet, legs and body, including a fleece hoody. For dinners I packed instant rice, dehydrated peas, 1 ramen pkg, two pouches of fish, and a homemade soda & beer can alcohol stove. Enough talk of gear and food.
Plan A was to start hiking Saturday evening, around 8PM. Whatever miles I knocked off that evening would make the remaining 3 days easier and increase my chance of success. Plan B was to finish packing Saturday evening…Saturday night…late Saturday night and start early (6-7AM) Sunday morning. Plan C was to sleep later than Plan B so I could start out with a passable amount of sleep.
Sunday, May 3, 2009. This report is already more than page long and I haven’t even started hiking, so I’ll cut to the chase, the start of the bushwhack south of the Wolf Pond junction. To get there, you can start in Wanakena from the Truck Trail or Dead Creek trailheads, a boat ride to Jenack’s Landing, or even from the end of Young’s Rd. in Star Lake. Anyway, I hit the trail at 11AM. I’ll be vague about landmarks at times. That’s because I don’t want this report to help establish a herd path or a common route. I started the bushwhack at 5:05PM. Last summer I had explored the first ~2 miles of the bushwhack with GlenL. It pretty much followed a brook upstream to a chosen tributary which flowed through an abandoned beaver dam. Glen and I turned around at that dam, but I was determined to go further on the first day, even though I didn’t get there until 7:45PM. I went another 20 minutes and found a place to sleep just before the light faded too much. Although I’d gotten a late start this day, I looked on the bright side: Having done ~2.5 miles of bushwhacking, I had only about 3 miles left the next day before getting to the Red Horse Trail. The alcohol stove worked well and I slept pretty well, despite a chilly (upper 30’s?) night.
Monday, May 4. I got up at 6:30AM and had 2 packages of Alba w/powdered milk for breakfast, plus some trail mix. At 8:55AM I was hiking, and very soon got to a large marshy area which I’d anticipated from looking at the map before bedtime. I easily went around to the right then worked my way left along the hillside on the other side. I saw a ~40’ cliff which just wasn’t indicated on the map where I thought I was and where I planned to turn SE, then S to get down to a landmark lake. I consulted the old maps, and they didn’t show a cliff there either. The new map showed a possible cliff further NE, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t walked that far. Not so sure, however, that I wasn’t vulnerable to doubt about that. I went around the cliff and headed south down a drainage til I saw the lake. I followed it at a distance, to the east end, then went up a small knoll and down towards an outlet drainage from another lake. Crossing that, I went partway up what I thought was a particular hill on my route, then started contouring around. Then I thought that I was so far up the hill that I might as well summit it, or go through the col between its two summit knolls. I was pretty sure I was in that col when I took a bearing for the next drainage to the SE, but that drainage seemed narrower than on the map, and the slope of the terrain on the other side didn’t seem right. It didn’t make sense and I was frustrated. I kept thinking I should just go due south to hit the second lake and see where I was. But I also wanted to try other tactics for finding my way and making progress. I was on top of a hill with some bare rock, and looked for a benchmark, but found none. My altimeter had been very erratic, so I couldn’t really trust it. I went S or even SW off that hill, and after a few minutes caught sight of the lake. I got to its shore and decided I must be at this point on the shore, very close to the east end. I headed east, then SE to get around the east end, but found myself north of a more easterly part of the lake. So I realized I’d first come out quite a bit further west of the east end than I’d originally thought. This was all very disturbing; for not only did I have further to go to get around the end of the lake, but apparently my navigation was more deficient than I’d thought. I didn’t have a GPS, and given the outcome, didn’t really need one. But it sure would have satisfied the gnawing curiosity about where I’d been. Well, maybe I’d figure out my mistake on the way back. It was at this time that I first started to wonder if it would be prudent to turn around and just call it a great first attempt. But the bushwhack had been so unpleasant that I didn't want to do it again. So I kept going on the provision that I’d frequently re-evaluate my progress. If poor progress meant an unreasonably hard third day, then I’d turn around. Finally I was truly beyond the east end of the lake and could turn south. I was now on the lookout for any remnants of an old trail that the 1921 Cranberry Lake quad showed going from High Falls to Trout Pond. I don’t know how long ago this trail was abandoned, but thought I might see its tread from time to time. I wondered if I’d see an old trail marker, but thought that they’d either be engulfed by the tree by now, or lying on the ground with the long-dead tree. From time to time there appeared to be a tread, but I couldn’t follow it for long. Maybe sometimes it was the old trail, and sometimes only a game path.
__________________
