A New Way Into Fort Jackson State Forest - Part 1

I'd had my eye on a certain Barrett Road, which I could see on the map would take me into a little used, little known section of the Fort Jackson State Forest. As a bonus, it looked like it would have access to the banks of the St. Regis River. I took the dogs there one Sunday and traversed the one lane dirt road, stopping now and again to remove fallen trees across the road. But the clouds of deer flies were so incredibly fierce that I hurried out of there, never even letting the dogs out of the car. A few weeks later, thinking that deer fly season had passed, I took the dogs there again:

I found a place to park and let the dogs out:

The wind was blowing and kept any deer flies away from us as we explored the woods:

I took off through the trees in search of the river. Daphne and Madeline kept watch on me:

At first we just traveled in the general direction I thought the river was located:

Fergus, I think, was questioning my sanity. Who could blame him?:

I decided that we were on a wild goose chase with the distinct possibility of getting lost, so I turned around and headed back to the car:

I drove farther into the forest, found another place to park and headed once again toward the river, this time on a dirt lane:

This dirt lane wasn't safe for my car, but it made a fine hiking trail for the dogs and me:

And before long I saw the St. Regis River just ahead of us:

We broke out of the dark forest and into the bright light of the riverbank. Seamus waded right in. But there was more to see and do once we'd found the river, and I'll post Part 2 tomorrow:

Spectacular Wanakena, New York - Part 2

I'd just finished hiking up to the Cathedral Rock fire tower with my four youngest dogs and was taking a driving tour of nearby Wanakena, New York. By the way, they really are a "gateway to the wilderness." They aren't kidding. I once launched a canoe from Wanakena on a week long wilderness adventure on the Oswegatchie River:

The houses in Wanakena were quite nice, and everywhere was evidence, besides the obvious trees, that this was a community secluded in the middle of the Cranberry Lake Wild Forest:

There was a public beach on the shore of the Oswegatchie and I stopped and got out of the car to snap a photo or two:

A mother, two children and a Jack Russell Terrier were enjoying the public beach (notice one of the children to the right) and I could see the famous 171 foot suspension foot bridge (built in 1908) just downstream (or was that upstream?):

The Jack Russell Terrier saw my car full of dogs and started barking furiously. My dogs didn't bark much, probably because they knew I forbid hysterical barking fits and was within striking distance, but they sure were interested:

The only church in town was the historic Western Adirondack Presbyterian, and they were having a fund drive for money to maintain their notable historic building:

As I drove through town I continued noticing that nearly every porch was screened. As I said in yesterday's post, this is serious Black Fly and Deer Fly country. As Seamus and I found out on the Wolf Pond loop trail, those insects are nothing to trifle with:

A giant old White Pine, Adirondack themed shutters and trim, a flag with yet another screened porch:

A very nice place under the Spruces with Adirondack chairs on an non-screened porch. I'll bet they weren't sitting there in June:

Adirondack twig art and more screening:

Ferns, trees and, of course, a screened porch:

This idyllic setting was the last house I saw before I turned on the road toward the Wanakena Ranger School. But I'll post about that tomorrow:

Spectacular Wanakena, New York - Part 1

I was having a great weekend up at the farm and had just hiked up to the Cathedral Rock fire tower and back. But the day was still young, so I drove to the hamlet of Wanakena:

Wanakena is a hamlet on the shores of the Oswegatchie River and Cranberry Lake. I once began a week long wilderness canoe adventure in Wanakena, so I remembered much about the village and this felt a like a bit of a homecoming. The Cranberry Lake Wild Forest was evident even in the hamlet itself, with big trees shading the homes:

And many of the homes had a summer camp feel to them. Indeed, many of them were only summer residences:

And nearly all front porches were screened. This is prime Black Fly and Deer Fly country:

It was a relaxed and friendly place:

And water was everywhere, so owning a boat was a natural thing to do. The golf cart, I guessed, was for driving around town:

Adirondack siding. How appropriate:

Red Adirondack chairs on a deck without screening. Oh wait, there's a screened porch behind the deck. Black Fly and Deer Fly seasons are not to be trifled with:

I stopped at the Post Office and General Store to buy myself a sandwich for lunch. They had prepared sandwiches, all organic and very healthy at - well, very healthy prices. Apparently this is a high-end tourist town:

This 171 foot suspension footbridge was constructed in 1908 between the village and the Rich Brothers Lumber Mill to get employees to and from work. It still stands today and has become a bit of a tourist destination. I remembered walking across it when I was in Wanakena years ago for my canoe trip:

I was enjoying my driving tour of Wanakena and thinking how pleasant it must be to spend summers here. But there was still more to see. I'll post more tomorrow:

Quebec Brook In June, Part 3

The dogs and I reached what appeared to be the end of the trail. It didn't feel to me as if we'd gone 2.5 miles, but then it had been a straight, level and easy to walk trail. I searched for any continuation of the trail but could find none. The deer flies were becoming bothersome at that point, so it was time to turn back toward the trail head. We again passed by the marked portage with the log bridge:

And along the moss carpeted sections beneath the Balsam Firs:

I stopped to take a few photos of the extraordinarily lovely Quebec Brook and the dogs had a drink of water:

We all explored the riverbank and by this time everyone was wet except me. I too became wet when one foot slipped into the water and the dog leashes around my neck prevented my other foot from pushing me out of the water. It was a dilemma which wound up getting both of my feet quite wet. But it was becoming hot and actually felt good:

I tried to take some nice photos of the wild beauty but it was becoming increasingly difficult because of the deer flies. I held up the camera to snap a shot and at least ten deer flies were boring into my hand before I could snap the shutter. I tried to take a couple of videos but couldn't hold the camera still:

Clearly it was time to get back on the trail and head toward the car:

There would be no more leisurely stops along Quebec Brook. The deer flies were driving us forward, though they seemed to be concentrating on me and leaving the dogs alone:

I was endeavoring to appreciate the beauty all around me while I kept increasing my speed as the deer flies attacked with ever growing vigor. I called the dogs over to "heel" when we passed the spot where the Snapping Turtle had been:

Almost to the trail head. I made a mental note to return in the autumn when the deer flies would be gone:

We arrived at the trail head, a remote spot on the remote Blue Mountain Road. I fought the deer flies as I signed out, again noticing that no one else had hiked here in two weeks and there'd been very few hiking this year at all:

We all hopped back into the car, keeping the windows closed as ravenous deer flies buzzed angrily against the glass. I turned on the air conditioning:

On the way out along Blue Mountain Road, I stopped to photograph these lovely Wild Roses:

Quebec Brook In June, Part 2

I was hiking the wild and beautiful Quebec Brook Trail with my four younger dogs early on a Monday morning before the deer flies became too active. And it was indeed spectacular, pretty darn close to a wilderness experience:

Seamus had a brush with heat stroke two weeks earlier on another hike and I wanted to be extra careful. This hike was level, shaded and next to water at all times. Seamus was a very happy boy, and getting good exercise to help with his diet:

A very wet but happy Daphne smiled at me as I snapped a photo of her standing among the Bunchberry flowers:

This single piece of old trash was probably a leftover from the former railroad days, a remnant of the early 1900s when this path through the northern wilderness was built to facilitate hauling timber and minerals to market. At this point it was almost covered over by mosses and slowing disappearing into the landscape:

Starflower bloomed happily in beds of emerald moss:

We walked the peaceful trail on soft carpets of moss with the heavy, sweet scent of Balsam filling the air:

This trail was not marked, and so little used that in places it was difficult to find. But at several spots there were canoe portages for canoeists on Quebec Brook. These portages had markings and this one even had a sort of log bridge over a boggy spot:

We walked down to the grassy shore of Quebec Brook to explore:

A beginning beaver dam had been constructed but was not yet holding back any water:

Walking along this shoreline was tricky as the tall grass hid the holes and rocks and other surprises to one's footing. But that, of course, was part of the fun:

By this time all the dogs were plenty wet, not just Seamus:

Clover is so little and delicate that it amazes me to watch her exploring the wild country with her big buddy, Seamus. She is no shrinking violet. The day was heating up and the deer flies were beginning to buzz around us at this point. But I'll post more tomorrow: