Friday, July 8, 2011

More Long Pond, White Hill Wild Forest Part 5

The dogs and I explored Long Pond, a remarkable body of water in the White Hill Wild Forest:

I walked up to what appeared to be grassy ridge and discovered that it was in fact an old beaver dam of enormous size, now covered with grass but still holding back a very large and deep body of water. I did not climb up on it, however, being unsure how sturdy it was and fearing the consequences should I dislodge some of its sticks:

Long Pond was full of yellow waterlilies in bloom. I'd learned in Ohio that these were Spatterdock, but my Peterson's Field Guide informs me that the Adirondacks' species is called Bullhead-Lily. Both are rather unfortunately and unattractive names for a lovely plant:

But mostly I just enjoyed my time alone (except, of course, for the dogs) in the wilderness. No phones ringing, no television, no radio, no horns honking, no demands that I do or be anything other than be who I was and where I was. This is wilderness hiking to me. I think that heaven must be like this, though without the Mosquitoes and Deer Flies:

The Deer Flies were, in fact, so heavy that every time I'd lift my camera to snap a photo, a few of them would land on my hands and begin biting. Once or twice a Deer Fly landed on the camera's lens and had to be shooed off in order to take the picture. And the Mosquitoes continued their sneakier version of attacks all the while. Nevertheless, who could not feel the serenity of such a wild and lovely place?:

The main body of Long Pond laid just over the old beaver dam and was a whole different environment. But I was so happy where I was that I just enjoyed it:

Clover saw some Bullhead-Lily buds and tried to investigate. Perhaps she thought they were small animals, or perhaps she wanted to eat them. Both of my Papillons are voracious plant eaters, nibbling their way along the forest paths, at least when they slow down:

Seamus is more placid and, like me, is content to hold still and gaze at the scenery:

Little Clover was so thoroughly wet that she looked, as my mother used to say, like a drowned rat. But she was happy, having a far happier life than a pampered show dog who never gets to have such experiences:

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