Mount Baker On A November Day - Part 1

We had a surprisingly clear, warm, November day and I decided to take the dogs to Mount Baker in Saranac Lake. I located the trail head, parked and began the hike. Daphne immediately found some interesting hollows beneath a couple of White Pines:

The trail was easy walking at first, though it became increasingly rocky as we gained altitude:

Daphne was a very happy Papillon:

The scenery was magnificent and we proceeded along the trail without difficulty. This was billed as one of the easy hikes, so I expected a day of carefree fun in the woods:

The trail continued uphill, but mostly at a very gradual rate:

Given my age and leg braces, however, I confess that I was becoming tired enough to say, when I saw that peak ahead of us, "Gee, I hope that isn't Mount Baker." Of course I don't have to tell you what the answer turned out to be:

But it was scenic and invigorating. Seamus, it appeared, had lost enough weight that he was trucking along like a much younger dog:

And we continued uphill, enjoying the loveliness all around us:

The dogs continued to run and play (notice Fergus in mid-leap):

I kept calling them back to me, insisting that they stay close:

They could still run and play, but they were not allowed to get very far from me:

But then the trail got rockier and steeper. I'll post Part 2 tomorrow:

An Autumn Romp In The North Field

It was a surprisingly warm afternoon for a northern November, but I didn't have the energy for a real hike. As a compromise, I turned off the electric fence and took the dogs for a romp in the north field:

And I do mean romp. You can see them running, leaping and prancing:

The dogs were having a grand time:

Even Seamus worked up the steam to do a bit of running:

And Fergus frolicked to the point that his ears were flopping up and down:

I opened the gate so we could walk along the outside of the fence, the area I have to keep mowed. The old stone wall was on our other side:

There was a lovely vine in autumn finery, a Wild Clematis, also sometimes called Virgin's Bower. It was growing all over the stone wall and hiding the piles of junk from the previous owners:

But this was just a short adventure, so I turned around and began heading back toward the gate:

The dogs continued to investigate every sound and scent:

We took a detour of the scrap wood pile I've been making. This is the accumulation of old, rotten wood left around the farm. I have also filled several dumpsters full of trash which wouldn't rot and had them hauled away:

And then we retraced our steps, back across the field toward the barn and house. The cows ran to the fence to watch every move we made: