Camping in the Adirondacks

ID: SIA RU007375

Creator: Account of a canoe trip through the Adirondacks : my first travelogue

Form/Genre: Fieldbook record

Date: 1948

Citation: Ellsworth Paine Killip Papers, 1914-1950

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Abstract

Typed travelog of a canoe trip through the Adirondack Mountains taken in 1914 by Killip, Milton E. Woodams, and others. Photographs of localities and botanical specimens observed during the trip are pasted in throughout the travelog. Although the main focus of the narrative is Killip's travels, many descriptions of surrounding flora and fauna are included. A three page list of scientific names of “some of the flowers seen (exclusive of ferns and grasses)” at the end of the travelog. Specific localities include but are not limited to Bubs Lake, Mountain Pond, Black Bear, Outlit [sic] [recte Outlet] Bay, Raquette Lake , most of which are in Hamilton County, New York. The travelog is accompanied by an illustrated version of The Euclead. These items were accessioned as part of the Smithsonian Institution Archives collection of Waldo Schmitt's papers, but was removed from that collection and added to Killip's papers.

Date Range

1948

Start Date

Jul 12, 1948

End Date

Jul 12, 1948

Access Information

Many of SIA's holdings are located off-site, and advance notice is recommended to consult a collection. Please email the SIA Reference Team at osiaref@si.edu.

Topic

  • Plants
  • Botany

Place

  • New York
  • United States
  • Black Bear Mountain
  • Raquette Lake
  • Adirondack Mountains
  • Mountain Pond

Form/Genre

  • Fieldbook record
  • Field notes
  • Black-and-white photographs

Accession #

SIA RU007375

Collection name

Ellsworth Paine Killip Papers, 1914-1950

Physical Description

1 field book

Physical Location

Smithsonian Institution Archives

Sublocation

Box 2 Folder 10

Account of a canoe trip through the Adirondacks. My first travelogue [[Covered by sticker?]] SCHOOL
SCRANTOM, WETMORE & CO.'S Loose Leaf Note Books FOR SCHOOL USE. Style A, for English. Style B, for History Chemistry, Physics. Style C, for Biology. SPECIAL STYLES TO ORDER. MANUFACTURED BY SCRANTOM, WETMORE & CO., ROCHESTER, N.Y.
[[ photograph of lake with hills in distance]]
CAMPING IN THE ADIRONDACKS by Ellsworth P. Killip.
An account of a trip taken in August, 1914 by Ellsworth P. Killip and Milton E. Woodams.
[[photograph of river with rocks and trees ]] The Raquette River (near the Forked Lake Carry)
Saturday, Aug. 8. This is the proper date on which to commence this narrative. For altho I had gone to the Adirondacks three or four days previous, those days were spent at a boarding-camp and form no part of "Camping in the Adirondacks." This Saturday was a beautiful day, unusually warm for the mountains. I took the noon boat from Cohasset - the place at which I had been staying and which was situated about a third of the way up Fourth Lake - and went to the village of Old Forge. This town is located at the south-western extremity of the Fulton Chain of Lakes and is connected by a short railroad with the village of Fulton Chain, the junction-point and the main Adirondack railroad for these lakes. Having purchased provisions to last for the four days we were to spend in the neighborhood of Fourth Lake and having done a little shopping for the campers in the vicinity of Cohasset, I awaited the arrival of the four o'clock train. The operations of a diver, cleaning off the bottom of one of the vessels made the time pass quickly and soon the train which was to bring my friend from the busy civilized world to the wilds of the Adirondacks arrived. We boarded the boat, a good-sized double-decker and wended our [[image - a black-and-white photograph glued to the lower left corner of the page with a caption]] First and Second Lakes
2. way through the Forge Channell out to the broad expanse of First Lake. This is a fairly large lake with a great bay projecting to the southward. Rounding a point we soon were in Second Lake and on our left came into view the long hogsback summit of Bald Mountain. The peculiar shape of this mountain became more distinct as we entered Third Lake - a small, almost circular body of water, the shores dotted with several camps the great Bald Mountain House being by far the most prominent. A stranger would think that we had reached the end of our journey in this large boat for no outlet appears as you swing into the lake. However the boat, seemingly headed for a sandy beach, nosese its way into a narrow winding channel, the great forest reaching to the water's edge on both sides. A final turn is made and you enter the largest and best known of these lakes - Fourth Lake. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a body of water, presumably a lake, with a boat with four persons in the middle; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Fourth Lake [[/underlined]] By this time a dense pall of smoke had settled down, blotting out the sun, the mountains, the forest, and even the very water at the side of the ship. Somewhere to the north the great woods were burning and a change in the wind was blowing vast clouds of smoke down upon us. Crawling slowly along we made our way up the south shore of the lake, stopping every now and then to discharge passengers, men
3. women and children making their annual pilgrimage from the rush and tear of this Twentieth Century life to the cool retreat of the Adirondacks. At length we reached Cohasset - just in time for supper. There are several kinds of camps - or hotels, we would call them in the outside world - on Fourth Lake, varying from each other in size, character of people, and kind of pleasure indulged in. There are the large luxurious places where to enjoy yourself you must appear in flannels each morning with spotlessly clean canvass shoes, all equipped for tennis. In the afternoon you laze around, play Auction or possibly more tennis, ride about in motor-boats, dress for dinner, and dance in the evening - a fashionable country-club transported without thought of harmony to jar with the great wilderness that nature has created. Then there are other camps - camps crowded to about double their capacity with hordes of noisy people whose sole idea seems to be that they must be on the go every minute. A third class consists in smaller camps - holding from thirty to fifty people - where the motto is that everyone can do just as he pleases - above all, dress as he pleases. Excursions are made by small groups to nearby lakes and mountains. Occasionally a dance is held to which each boarded may invite friends from other camps on the lake. It is at these places that you find the nearest approach to typical Adirondack camping-life with the exception of course of private homes. Cohasset, the place to which we were headed, belongs to this latter class. Here I had made my headquarters for the past few days and here we were to amke our final arrangements preparatory
4. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake, glued to the upper left corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Mountain Pond [[/underlined]] to leaving for our tent. This I had pitched the preceding day at Mountain Pond. Mountain Pond is a small lake about 500 feet above the level of Fourth Lake and a mile north of it. This lake I had selected for its beauty and its wildness. Situated high up on a plateau, visited seldom by mankind, its swampy and woody shores filled with rare flowers for the botanist and with frogs and mushrooms for the hungry tramped, a lake with clear cold water which the deer come down to drink every morning and evening, it is an ideal spot. and we had planned to make it our home for a few days before starting on our northernttrip. We left Cohasset about eight that evening, our canoe laden with a large sized travelling-bag, two suit cases and two baskets with the provisions purchased that day. The smoke, still hanging over the lake and obliterating the opposite shore, made it somewhat difficult to strike the exactvspot at which we wished to la land. Rock Fern Lodge was our destination. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a middle-aged woman, standing near a canoe with a lake behind her, her hand touching her chin; glued to the bottom right corner of the page, with caption]] Mrs. Eckler
5. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake and a building with a small dock on the shore; glued to the upper left corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Rock Fern Lodge [[/underlined]] This is a beautiful little camp owned by Mr. and Mrs. D. B. Eckler of Pittsford, N. Y. From it a path leads up to the Raquette Lake Railroad from which the trail to Mountain Pond commences. The Eckler camp was to be our connecting link between Mountain Pond and Fourth Lake, Mr. and Mrs. Eckler very kindly allowing us to leave our canoe on their dock and our superfluous luggage in their camp. By the aid of a lantern we picked our way up to the Railroad. This is a single track road connecting Raquette Lake with the main Adirondack line. A railroad is a blot upon the Adirondack landscape; the whistle of the engine is a discordants note midst the singing of birds and the chirping of squirrels; the smell of the burning oil is a hostile odor in the balsam-scented atmosphere. But, invisible until breaking through the trees you come upon it and with but three or four trains a day, it is endurable. The trail leading to Mountain Pond is a most obscure one. In broad daylight it is often very difficult to detect the narrow break in the woods at the side of the railroad. Now in the blackness of the night it was still [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a grey-haired man clothed in light shirt, dark pants and suspenders, standing in front of a building's porch, with his right hand on the wooden railing; glued to the bottom left corner of the page, with caption]] Mr. Eckler
6. harder ^ to locate the six inches broad path. At length having found it, we commenced our ascent, now climbing over fallen trees, now crawling under lowered boughs, now scrambling over rocks, now treading through black mud. Rounding a bend at the end of a half hour's walk, we came upon the lake. How dark and lonely it looked! The smoke had now risen but no moon was visible to lighten up the sombreness of this forest-surrounded body of water. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a tent on the ground among trees; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Tent at Mountain Pond [[/underlined]] Silently we followed the shore to the left and there out of the darkness appeared the white sides of our tent. It was but the work of a minute to unfasten the flaps, jump inside, roll ourselves up in our blankets, and settle ourselves down in our beds of balsam. Then, away from everyone, perfectly contented, we looked at each other and said, "This is the life." [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake; glued to the bottom of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] At Mountain Pond [[/underlined]]
7. Sunday, August 9. An encouraging mass of fog hung over the lake when we awoke early the next morning. The invariable rule in the mountains is that the heavier the fog, the brighter the sun will shine, once the fog has lifted. This day proved to be no exception and by the time breakfast was over the sun was shing brightly and the trees bordering the lake were being vividly reflected in the clear quiet water. We made our way down to Fourth Lake and paddled a couple of miles to Becker's Camp. On the way we passed the little Episcopal Church, hidden among the trees and to which already several boats were headed. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of the lake, with people in the distance standing on the ground and in boats near the shore; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] The Church This church was built up through the energy and devotion of Rev. Dr. Cook of Ilion and is warmly supported by all campers on the lake. It might be called the melting-pot of Fourth Lake for there once a week you meet old friends. To those who come in year after year, each year adding new acquaintances, it is most pleasant to have a common meeting-place. Throughout the month of August the church is crowded, people sitting on the steps outside and on tree-stumps. At Beckers we took the trail across a gap in the mountains to Bubs Lake. This name is said to have been given the lake by its owner - an Adirondack guide of former years - in honor of his son,
8. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake; glued to the upper left corner of the page, with caption]] Moss Lake calling the lake to the west of it Sis Lake. This latter lake is better known now by the name of West Pond. Bubs Lake is considerably larger than Mountain Pond but not as wild being frequently visited by campers from Fourth Lake. We followed the shore to the east around to the outlet, carefully examining the flora as we went along. For one our chief objects was to make a collection of Adirondack plants. This necessitated being continually on the lookout, poking into any swamps that looked attractive to the botanist, inspecting the shores of all lakes and streams, always in search of something new. This is a hobby and I venture the statement that there is not a tramp of any kind be it but a mile or two from a city along a country road, a walk through a neighboring woods, or a trip to distant parts of the country [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake, apparently taken through trees; glued to the bottom right corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] West Pond [[/underlined]] (a deer is swimming in background)
9. that is not a thousand times enhanced by possessing this hobby. How much more interesting it is to walk along a road and to be able to identify the different mustards growing along its sides, or later on in the year to distinguish the many species of golden-rods and asters. Or how much more enjoyable it is to stroll through cool woods and try to find how many varieties of violets you can discover - whether you will find three or four or whether you will stretch it to nine or ten. And then when you have become more or less accuntomed to the flora of your part of the country, how eager you are, when striking some new corner of the world, to go right out and look around. Consider how much more an Easterner with a hobby like this gets out of a trip to a southern or a western city than does an ordinary man who is not of this kind. The latter finds no great contrast to appeal to him: the general atmosphere is much like that of his home town; the theater is the same, the movies are the same, the cabaret is not materially different, southern and western booze will not exhilerate any more than that of the East, the buildings and city pavements are more or less similar, the people are not radically altered. Scenery lone may be much different but one good view and you have taken it all in. Not so with the naturalist. He need only wander into a vacant lot in a distant city and come forth with a dozen species of plants brand-new to him. A stay of five or six weeks will easily net him 500 new plants. And then to identify them - an interesting work in itself. To one who has no hobby the thrill of a collector means nothing.
10. You ask yourself with a certain inquisitiveness, "What am I going to find in this swamp?" and the result of your search is the answer to your question. By no means do I wish to assert that the only way to obtain the added interest in new lands is through an acquaintance with the science of botany. There are other hobbies fullybas good if not possibly better.T The bird-lover, wandering through strange fields, his glasses fixed on unknown birds, his ears attentive to unfamiliar notes; the entymologist, brushing his net over bushes and looking at the unusual insects gathered in or capturing gorgeously winged butterflies; the geologist, looking at the mounds and ridges of a country landscape, evidences of the great ice sheet, or collecting strange fossils from the beds of rock; the conchologist, gathering curiously shaped shells on new beaches; or he who wanders through fields, picking up mushrooms of every description and identifying them and then tasting their edibility; all these experience that peculiar thrill of the collector and find the maximum of enjoyment in visiting new climes. My advice therefore to all those who are seeking to get the most out of life is "Have a hobby." Find out what thing you are most interested in and learn all you can about it. The deeper you get into a subject, the more interested you become. For instance, buy a book on how to know the wild flowers, take a walk and gather as many different flowers as you can find, look them up in your book, press them, mount them on cardboard and label them, and then watch your collection grow. Soon you will have gathered all the commoner flowers in you vicinity and then you will search out peat bogs and sphagnum swamps filled with rare plants. And you will be surprised how rapidly the field unfolds itself before you. Last year within
11. a radius of twenty miles of Rochester I found twenty-one different species of orchids, many of them far handsomer than anything the horticulturalist has yet produced. And don't be ashamed of having a hobby. A hobby is a sign of intelligence and you can well afford to ignore those ignoramuses who display their lack of brains by sneering at your hobby. T. Horace MacFarland has written an article in the Outlook (1905) entitled "One of Our Kind." It deals with that great fraternity, unorganized yet closely bound together - the Naturalists. On our trip to Bubs Lake we therefore paid careful attention to the flora. In the woods about Bubs, as well as around Mountain Pond, the flora was more or less generally characteristic of the whole of the great North Woods. The soil underlying this forest is mainly a mass of decayed vegetation extending downwards at varying depths to the bed-rock.T These woods were carpeted with the trailing Dalibarda repens with its delicate white flowers, the partridge-berry, the twin-flowered and twin-leaved Linnaea borealis pepissiwa, several species of Pyrola, the white oxalis, the mountain form of rattlesnake plantain, Cornus canadensis, sometimes in bloom and sometimes with its masses of red berries, the blue fruit of theClintonia borealis, painted trilliums in fruit which, by the way, is the most common species of trillium in these woods, ground pine and other species of Lycopodium, and many ferns and mosses. Nearer the lake we found many clumps of Labrador Tea, sheep-laurel, and Andromeda. The eastern end of the lake near the Outlet is very swampy and here we found Pogonia, Calopogon, Habenaria clavellata, the two Droseras rotundifolia and longifolia and Aster nemoralis. We spent a couple of hours in the vicinity
12. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of what appears to be a lake shore with a man on the left of the picture with his back to the camera; glued to the upper right corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Frogging at Bubs [[/underlined]] of this Outlet and speared a fine mess of frogs. Froglegs make the most delicious meat in the world. A mile's walk brought us to Moss Lake, a wild body of water due north of Bubs. As at Bubs we here skirted the eastern shore and then, crossing the Inlet, a quiet, narrow stream with banks lined with Sweet Gale, went due east until we struck the Big Moose road. This is a broad state road, very good for the Adirondacks although somewhat sandy. A walk of about six miles along this road and the connecting road running parallel to Fourth Lake brought us back to Beckers whence we paddled to the Ecklers and climbed to our home on Mountain Pond. A big supper of frogslegs and mushrooms wound up the day. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake; glued to the right side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Moss Lake Inlet [[/underlined]] [[underlined]] Moss Lake [[/underlined]]
13. Monday, August 10. Threatening clouds rather than fog greeted us on our second morning as we started on the day's program. We paddled across to Cohasset and walked back to Big Rock, a massive piece of granite about twenty feet high covered on the top with rock-fern. Just beyond this rock was a large hawk's nest crowning the top of a decayed tree-trunk. Cohasset is situated on a point of land covered with a growth of spruce and birch trees. From one of the camps to the west - Camp Agate - leads forth one of the most beautiful trails in the whole woods, passing now through a soft mossy swamp, now among the Dalibarda abd Oxalis, now past a spring of clear cold water, and finally ending in a choice sphagnum swamp. And what a swamp! The portion you first encounter abounds in tamarack and here and there, poking their white heads up above the soft sphagnum, you see the most beautiful of all Adirondack orchids - the white-fringed orchid, Habenaria blephariglottis. These grow in clumps of five or six, great heads of delicately cut flowers. These plants are so plentiful in this swamp that campers in the vicinity [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a plant; glued to the bottom left corner of the page, with caption]] Habenaria blephariglottis
14. have vases filled with them. However I have never discovered this species in any other swamps. Pitcher-plants with their cup-shaped leaves are found abundantl y along with the Marsh St. John's wort. In the wetter portions are quantities of Sparganium simplex and eurycarpum, pickerel-weed, and various species of Sagittaria. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Quiver Pond [[/underlined]] Well rewarded on this short trip we walked back to Cohasset and paddled west along the shore to the trail leading to Quiver Pond. This is a lake slightly smaller than Bubs lying at the end of a four minutes' walk from Fourth Lake. At the inlet to this pond was a swamp in which we found Epilobium molle and adenaucolon H. Clavellata, Pogonias and Calopogons. Vast quantities of Lysimachia were here, continually deceiving us into thinking that we had at last found Habenaria ciliaris. Returning to Fourth Lake we made a brief call on an old friend of mine, Professor Wood of Hamilton College. As in previous years Professor Wood had as guests members of my college fraternity and we had a very enjoyable reunion. We found that they were planning a trip to Blue Mountain Lake and we tried to arrange a meeting-place later on but unsettled plans prevented us from carrying this out.
15. While chatting with the professor, the rain which had been falling in small quantities for some time, now came in full force. A careful look at the sky showed that we were in for a good long rain and so, wishing to cover as much ground as possible, we bid our host farewell. Now we were paddling along the lake in a blinding rainstorm. The quiet surface of the lake was now broken by the beating of countless drops of rain, little riplets rolling away from the point of contact only to be in turn broken by other drops of water. What a pleasant sensation it is! - to hear the rain splashing upon the water, to feel it beating upon your face or dripping off an old hat, and perchance to see flashes of lightning brighten up the darkened clouds and listen to the thunder reechoing back and forth from mountain to mountain. What matters it if you do get soaking wet? You can only get just so wet and then you become impervious to the water. And why mind water, why mind getting wet? Water is only water and wet is only wet. Why object more to rain beating on your face than snow? and we all enjoy a good snowstorm. Nor are wet clothes uncomfortable to a person walking or paddling. Of course if you stand still and shiver and think how wretchedly you feel, you make yourself miserable. But take it philosophically.a Shrug your shoulders and say, "I should worry" and ignore the rain absolutely. Similarly, be completely indifferent to things of a like nature. Think no more of walking through a swamp than of walking on dry land; of wading through a creek than of scrambling over rocks; of jumping over a stream and missing the other bank than of vaulting a fence and landing on dry ground. After a very short paddle in the rain, we entered the bay in
[[newspaper image pasted]] SCENES AND THE GLORIOUS ADIRONDA SUMMER VACATIONISTS WILL In Fourth Lake, Fulton Chain Adirondacks
[[ newspaper article pasted, two columns]] Special to The Knickerbocker Press. PITTSFIELD, June 6. -- As Berkshire county contains acre upon acre of woods which the hand of man has never violated, or, at least, has not disturbed for years and years, it has seemed perfectly feasible to the youngest and without doubt the most original of the sportsmen's organizations in the county, to announce a contest which for daring and hardiness is unique. The recently organized Sportsmen's club at Lenox Dale, the little village on the line of the Berkshire street railway and the New Haven railroad between Lenox station and Lee, whose name was changed by the New Haven to Niagara but which remains Lenox Dale still, has conceived and fostered a plan to awaken an interest in the "back to nature" movement that bids fair to outrival anything before tried by an organization. In brief the club announces a contest among its members, or those who wish to become bona fide members in the next few weeks, which shall consist in a call for volunteers to enter the forests and subsist by the use of their muscles and wits for a period of from one to two months, the winners to be those who shall remain the longest away from civilization and return the best equipped. The last week in July has been selected for the rounding up of candidates and either that week or the first week in August the neophytes who have responded and have passed a rigid physical examination, will be taken into the woods by a selected committee of men of central Berkshire, unclothed, deprived of every article which has anything to do with the life of civilized man, and sent into the forests. To Become Primitive Men. The plan of the club is to send out three or more pairs of men, starting them out in different directions, one pair north, another south, another west, and if there are more than three pairs, perhaps to turn the surplus ones loose in the wilds north of the state line, in Vermont. The contest is to determine whether or not it is possible for a man to live in primitive surroundings, clad only in his assurance and strength, for several weeks, and come out of the primitive into civilization wearing clothing which shall not only cover his nakedness but provide him with warmth and comfort. Those familiar with the touted exploits of the Boston artist who was sent into the Maine woods with much acclaim, stripped of clothing and utensils and left to make his own way bare-handed and bareheaded, will realize at once what this project means. To make assuranc of no faking the contestants will not be allowed to go out alone but will be paired off and those making up each pair will be set and expected to watch and report on his companion. Rivalry will render it easy for [[the?]] contestants to strive honestly and [[?]] [[end column]] [[start column]] [[cut off photograph showing figure clothed in coat, vest and trousers]] name because, he said, he feared [[she?]] might, in modesty, refuse to enter [[the?]] contest. He believes she is of a [[naturally?]] modest disposition, but has spirit of daring and bravery which [[has?]] led her to wish to enter the "[[primitive?]] life contest." He said she described herself [[as?]]twenty years old, five feet seven [[inches?]] in height, weighing 134 pounds, modest good-looking, and with an [[exceptional?]] knowledge of woodcraft. Her mother who passed her life with her father in the Maine woods, was killed by a savage bull moose, when she was in a canoe with her husband on a far northern Maine lake. The guide and his wife, with their daughter, then a child were paddling across the lake when [[the?]] moose entered the water. The [[guide?]] shot and wounded him and he charged the canoe, upsetting it and impaling her mother on his antlers. The guide managed to escape with his daughter and they passed years in that vicinity, camping and mourning the death of her mother. The life in the woods has fitted her for any ordeal, she believes, and she is anxious to try. Ever since she heard of the exploits of Joseph Knowles and the subsequent doubt with which his story was received, she has been anxious to prove that a woman is able to do the very same things that this man was said to have done. Seeks for Companion. "The Sage" has accepted her offer for the club and is corresponding with her in regard to the details of the contest. He will accept with pleasure an offer from any other young woman who would like to become the companion of the Maine girl in the "primitive life contest." Mr. Tyer says this contest is in no way to be considered a freak affair inasmuch as it is directly in line with the whole spirit and tenor of the Lenox Dale Sportsmen's club. The Lenox Dale club has, for its rules, features which are unique as well as concomitant with the very purpose of all organizations which believe, a contradiction to the ideas and No banquet halls for the Lenox Dale Sportsmen's club! Such things are, they believe, a contradiction to the ideals and ideals of the club itself. Theirs the [[open?]] air, the towering trees, the blue [[sky?]] sun, the wind [[the?]] [[end page]]
[[start page]] 16. which is located the famous water-[[witch?]]. Years ago a large tree was struck by lightening, leaving [[inserted on left of page a photograph of a lake with a rotting tree trunk standing in the middle]] [[Caption for the photograph is [[underline]] The Water-Witch [[underline]] ]] a carred stump shaped exactly like a witch. The proverbial pointed cap, the hang-dog nose, the uplifted threatening finger, and even the snakes crawling about her feet - all are there. Standing guard at the entrance to this bay, she seems to threaten all who dare to venture within. A mile's paddle into Third Lake Channell brought us to a short-cut trail to the Bald Mountain House. It not being our intention to make a stop at this fashionable hostelry in our present bedraggled appearance, we hastily skirted the house and took the road back to the trail leading up the mountain. As we walked along, we heard a giant of the forest come crashing down, struck by lightening and we could see the flashes playing along the telegraph wires on the roadside. Bald Mountain is usually a very popular climb but the rain had fortunately come and had prevented all others from venturing the ascent. This was more than satisfactory to us as a crowd of people always spoils a mountain climb. Quantities of Aster macrophyllus with its broad, hairy leaves and the smaller Aster acuminatus lined the trail. Solidagos were everwhe where, at the summit and on the way up. Among the species seen were [[end page]]
17. gramnifolia, rugosa, ulmifolia, arguta, hispida and sqarrosa. Growing out of the moss on the rocky ledges were many plants of Corydalis sempervirens with its delicate pink and yellow flowers. Aralia hispida, Diervilla trufida, Lonicera caerulea were found along the summitt with vast quantitiesofof [[image - black-and-white photograph with 2 women in white shirts & dark ribbons & a man laying in between them atop what appears to be a large boulder, glued to the right side of the page, with caption]] [[Underline]] Summit of Bald Mountain [[/underline]] blueberries. The woods were filled with various species of mushrooms. Bald Mountain is not a mountain peak but rather a ridge running for the distance of about a mile slightly to the north of Second and Third Lakes. Both of its sides are steep and rocky and its is very properly termed "The Hog's Back". At the highest point of this ridge flies the American flag. Recently a fire-warden has been stationed at the summit to watch for forest fires. We should like to have accepted his invitation to visit him awhile bit it was getting late and we were yet some distance from our camp. A short distance from the summit is the noted "Balancing Rock" - a large rock about eight feet in diameter which seems to be balancing on the bed-rock at an angle of about 35 degrees. This condition is probably a freak of erosion. The rain which was still falling and the heavy mist prevented us from having the splendid view that is given from this mountain. We therefore did not tarry long at the summit but began our descent. It
[[ start page]] [[right corner page # 18.]] might be well to state here that to successfully climb rocky mountains such as this, it is essential to wear rubber-soled canvass shoes or sneakers. These prevent your feet from slipping and are beside flexible, allowing your feet to curl around ledges and points of rock. [[image- photo inserted on page, black and white photo of rock formation and trees overlooking mountains. caption under photo " Balancing Rock" underlined]] The rain was at its height as we paddled back to the Eckler camp. Here we took out some dry clothes from our suit-cases and carried them up to Mountain Pond. Unfortunately, after getting into dry clothes, my friend slipped into the lake while getting a drink of water from a log. This was a mere trifle and we soon were asleep for the night. [[image- photo inserted on page, black and white White man bent down over lake taking a drink, lake surrounded by trees. caption under photo "Drinking out of the Lake" underlined]] [[end page]]
[[start page]] [[top right corner page number 19.]] [[top right corner date - Tuesday, August 11.]] This was to be a day of comparative rest. The recent trips had furnished us with several flowers to be identified, those pressing [[ word- stricken]] required certain attention, and moreover we had not as yet explored the swamps and woods in the immediate neighborhood of the Mountain Pond. [[ Image - on left side between paragraphs, black and white photo of campsite in woods, white lean-to sheet tent style with man bent over tending camp fire pot cooking. Caption reads "Camp at Mountain Pond" underlined]] In the water at the southern end of the pond were growing Eriocaulon Articulatum, giving the appearance of a nail witha a globular head sticking in the water; the water-shield (Brassenia Schreberi) with its floating leaves and submerged red flowers and stem covered with a filmy coating; pickerel-weed with its spikes of brilliant blue flowers; and white and yellow water-lilies. Several plants of Lobelia Dortmanna could be seen but here they were all out of bloom. At the northern end of the lake however four splendid were blooming at such a distance from the shore that I had to wade out almost up to my neck to secure them. On the sides of the pond the trees come right down to the water's edge but at the ends there are mossy swamps with a kind of muck between them and the water itself. Here we found both kinds of Drosera, the small northern St. John's-wort ( Hypericum boreale), the yellow-eyed grass (Xyyis montana), Habenaria clavellata, Pogoria ophioglassoides, [[end page]]
20. [[image - black and white photograph of trees and beyond a lake]] [[underline]] Mountain Pond [[underline]] Gentiana Andrewsii and linearis, a couple of species of Sisyrinchium and various marsh ferns. The flora of the Mountain Pond woods is that generally characteristic of the Adirondack forests. These are essentially evergreen woods, varying from tall trees towering like spires up into the air, to low shrubs. The red spruce, balsam, hemlock, red and white cedar, and red and white pine are generally common. In cold swamps are tamarack and black spruce. Oaks and maples are also abundant. The vicinity of Mountain Pond is a paradise for mushrooms and the meal when we did not have a quantity of these was an exception. To pick up a few mushrooms, remove the heads, and put them in a frying-pan was but the work of a moment. But no person should attempt to eat mushrooms unless he knows what species are poisonous and what edible and can distinguish between them. More lives are lost every year and more severe illnesses caused by the wrong knowledge of mushrooms than by a total lack of knowledge. No general rules for determining the edibility of mushrooms can be established. A few of the [[underline]] worthless [[underline]] rules which [[image - black and white photograph of a man in front of a tent in a wooded area]] [[underline]] Cooking at Mountain Pond [[underline]]
21. one frequently hears are:- Mushrooms that peal are edible. Those pink underneath are edible. Those with gills underneath are edible. Those growing out of cups are poisonous. Those with rings around the stem are poisonous. Those with "warts" on the top of the cap are poisonous. If a mushroom turns a silver spoon black, it is poisonous. All of these rules have common exceptions to them - exceptions which may well mean the death of him who swears by them. There are two mushrooms, one with a yellow stem [[note inserted]] + gills [[/note]] and the other with a white stem [[note inserted]]+ gills[[/note]] but alike in every other particular. The one is considered one of our most delicious mushrooms while the other will kill you in two hours. A poisonous mushroom moreover smells and tastes as good as an edible one. However, every [[?]] poisonous species is always poisonous and every edible species is always edible so if you become acquainted with a few of the common edible varieties and shun those which you know are poisonous, and above all those about which you are doubtful, you can feel perfectly safe in enjoying a delicious dish. Do not mix poisonous and edible mushrooms in one basket and then separate them for the former will contaminate the latter with dire results. Further, when once you have become acquainted with the poisonous varieties, it is your duty to the rest of mankind to stamp down every such variety you come upon. In the afternoon we descended the trail as far as Minnow Brook, a small creek emptying into Fourth Lake near the camp to which is has given its name. Between the railroad and the state road the trail crosses a somewhat dry swamp which at this time of the year
22. is not particularly interesting but in which in the early part of July I have found great masses of the large purple-fringed orchid (Habenaria fimbriata), the smaller one (H. psycodes), H. hyperborea, H. lacera and H. Leucophaea. This wa s all within the radius of a few yards. The banks of Minnow Brook are lined with the three common species of Eupatorium and with Spiraea tomentosa and salicifolia. We followed the course of this stream up to Cary Pond of which it is the outlet, spearing frogs along the way. There is no more delicious dish than a mess of frogs' legs and as these amphibia are more or less plentiful on every Adirondack stream, we were never in danger of starvation. The four dozen frogs which we speared this day made a most tasteful supper. We had planned to pay a last visit to civilization that night by going with a friend - who was to come over to Limekiln Lake - to the Bald Mountain House. As he did not show up, we spent the evening with Mr. and Mrs. Eckler, reading the latest war news, climbing up the mountain to bed by the dim rays of the lantern.
23. Wednesday, August 12. We boarded the "Clearwater" about nine o'clock in the morning to take a trip up to the head of the lake. Although but three miles it is a long and tedious journey, the morning boat making stops at almost every dock to unload the day's provisions. Two or three stops are made on one side of the lake, then the boat crosses, goes backwards a short distance, and makes two or three stops on the other side. It took us about two hours to reach Rocky Point at the very head. We walked back to the state road and took the trail leading due east to Black Bear Mountain. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of rocky terrain with several persons in the background; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Summit of Black Bear [[/underlined]] The trail is fairly level for a distance of about three miles as it winds around a mountain between Black Bear and the lake. Nothing unusual from a botanical viewpoint was found in these woods. At length we arrived at the rocky sides of the mountain itself. A sudden break in the trees shows you these rocks rising almost perpendicularly straight before you. It is great fun to climb up these [[image - a black-and-white photograph showing a view from above; glued to the bottom right corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] West from Black Bear [[/underlined]] [[on?]]
24. rocks, now crawling under fallen trees, now running up the steep rocky surfaces, your rubber soled sneakers clinging like glue to the rough granite with all the time a vista of rolling forests, with here and there small bodies of water, unfolding itself behind you. [[image - a black-and-white photograph showing a lake in the distance; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Fourth Lake from Black Bear [[/underlined]] At length we reached the summit, a circular expanse of rock resembling a round table top, and took a view of the glorious panoramathat was now visible to us on all sides. To the west lay Fourth Lake, a point of land projecting into the lake giving it the appear[[* - symbol above the hyphen]]ance of being divided into two two parts; pivoting to the left, next appeared Sixth Lake followed by Seventh; to the east in the immediate foreground small ponds covered with green slime; to the north-east was Raquette Lake. The entire sky-line at the horizon was a continuous succession of mountain^[[|]]peaks. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of what appears to be rocky ground with some shrubs; glued to the right side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] North-east from Black Bear [[/underlined]] Starting in toward the west and turning
25. counter-clockwise to the left, the more prominent peaks to be seen were the triplet mountains along the north shore of Fourth Lake, Becker, Onondaga and Fulton; Mt. Fernow; Higley; Seventh Lake Mountain; Indian Mt.; Mt. Panther; Beaver Mt., Blue Mt., and way to the north-east dimly could be seen the peaks of Haystack, Mc Intyre, Santononi, Baker and Ampersand with Marcy towering above all. Viewed from Black Bear the most impressive of all these mountains is Blue Mt., most appropriately named. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a man in a peaked cap sitting on a giant boulder; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] On Black Bear [[/underlined]] Rising up to about 3800 feet from country of a comparatively low altitude, it appears by far the largest mountain in view. Our plans for the future did not permit us to make a trip to this mountain but it is certainly worth taking. Excursions are made twice a week from Fourth Lake. A steamer picks up the passengers early in the morning and carries them to Eagle Bay where they board a train for Raquette Lake Landing. Here a boat takes them across Raquette Lake and up, the beautiful, winding Marion River, through Utowana and Eagle Lakes to Blue Mountain Lake. Sufficient time is given to climb the mountain. It is well for excursionists to take their luncheon with them if they expect to ascend to the summit as there is hardly time to dine at the hotel. The mountain is a long continuous ascent, not very steep at any one time and with no rocks as in the case of Black Bear and Bald. At the summit a tower of rough logs has been constructed
26. [[image - men climbing wooden tower surrounded by trees]] [[underline]] Tower on Blue Mountain [[/underline]] [[image - river with mountains in distance]] [[underline]] Looking toward Marcy from Blue Mountain [[/underline]]
27. "& [[image - a black-and-white photograph of dense forest in the foreground and several bodies of water in the distance; glued to the upper left corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] West from Blue Mountain [[/underlined]] so that the visitor has a clear view over the tree tops. To the west you can see the lakes you have already passed through and to the east are countless small bodies of water. Marcy and the great Sentinel Range of mountains are more clearly visible here than from Black Bear. The descent down the mountain can be made in a very short time and after a beautiful evening's boat ride, you reach Fourth Lake about 9 P. M. On the top of Black Bear we found large patches of that rare cinque-foil, found only on the summits of the very highest mountains in the eastern United States, the Potentilla tridentata with its shining three-toothed leaves. In the moss on the northern portion of the summit were many golden-rods and Hieraciums, the Solidago Randii with its smaller variety monticola, and Hieracium Pilosella with its long white hairs being the most interesting. Blueberries were everywhere and added greatly to our luncheon. The descent from Black Bear was accomplished in much less time than the ascent and soon wecwere walking along the roads skirting the end of the lake to the Inlet. A bright blue wild lettuce (Lactuca pulchella) we found growing along the roadside. In all clearings, on all burnt-over ground and along all roads in the Adirondacks the commonest flower is the fireweed (Epilobium
28. angustifolium). This flower is really quite handsome with its large blue flowers and its white pistils but its preval[[strikethrough - by hand]]i[[/strikethrough]]ence somewhat detracts from its beauty. Everyone attempting the climb of Black Bear should carry water with them. There are two or three springs along the trail but in August these are apt to run dry. It was so on this day and all the way from Rocky Point up the mountain, eating luncheon, and back along the three mile dusty road we had not a drop. How glad we were eventually to strike Inlet! Inlet is the postal names of a small collection of stores and houses situated at the inlet from Fourth to Fifth Lakes. The "Woods", a large and beautiful hotel, is located here and this was also the site of the famous "Arrowhead", a hotel which had burned down some two years previous to our trip. Near the "Woods" is situated Camp Ernestine where sweet-grass baskets are made by French- Canadian Indians. The women and children weave while the men travel around the lake selling the products at the various camps. As this is the only kind of present you can buy in the Adirondacks and as birthdays are being continually celebrated, a big business is done. In former years this camp was located back of Minnowbrook and I became very well acquainted with the occupants. French is the only language spoken among them and I have spent many an interesting evening with them playing the mandolin for them to dance by, a dance which was a cross between a Parisian tango and an Indian war dance. After spending some little time at the Inlet, seeing the sights, we took a boat for Rock Fern Lodge. Fourth Lake is so civilized that transportation is easy. There are three large sized steamers
29. on the lake besides several gasoline launches. Then there is the mail boat, a low speedy steam-boat which delivers main twice a day going up the lake and gaters it coming down. [[image - a black-and-white photograph showing several people, mostly women, standing on the dock near a steam-boat on the left, one of them giving something to the man on the boat; glued to the right side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Getting the Mail [[/underlined]] No stops are made at any dock except to take on and discharge the few passengers it can carry. T The mail is thrown off on the dock and campers hand the out-going mail to the postman as the boat sweeps by. Most campers who come in year after year and most hotels have their own motor boats and there are some very speedy craft in these waters. There is great rivalry among the owners to carry off the cup at the annual regatta. At Rock Fern Lodge we made final arrangements for our trip which was to start on the morrow and retired to our camp at an early hour. [[image - a black-and-white photograph showing a motor boat with two people inside, one of them in a white captain hat behind the wheel, with boats and a crowded shore and several buildings in the background; glued to the bottom left corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Dr. Barton in the Winner, "Oidono" [[/underlined]]
30. Thursday, August 13. [[image - a black-and-white photograph showing a wooden building among trees with a small dock and a canoe with two men with hats near it; glued to the upper left corner of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Leaving the Eckler Dock [[/underlined]] Early in the morning we broke camp and bid farewell to Mountain Pond, our home for four days. Professor Wood and his guests came over to the Eckler dock to see us off. We left at 10 o'clock, made a brief stop at Cohasset and reached the Inlet about half past eleven. Here an hour's stop was necessary to purchase provisions and kodak supplies. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake with a small building in the distance; glued to the right side of the page, with caption]] [[/underlined]] Fifth Lake [[/underlined]] The day was one of the finest we had yet encountered and we were in splendid spirits as we started. Our course first led through the windings of the inlet channel to Fifth Lake, the smallest of the Fulton Lakes, merely a round pond. Here it was necessary to carry about three-quarters of a mile to the foot of Sixth Lake. This lake is about a mile long withbtwo large islands at either end. Passing under a bridge, we entered Seventh Lake, the second largest of these lakes. Several camps
31. [[image - a black-and-white photograph]] [[underlined]] Sixth Lake [[/underlined]] (With Black Bear in the background) [[image - a black-and-white photograph]] [[underlined]] Sixth Lake [[/underlined]] [[image - a black-and-white photograph]] [[underlined]] Seventh Lake Mountain [[/underlined]]
32. are along the north shore, the most prominent of which is the Seventh Lake House. To the south of the lake rises the Seventh Lake Mountain with its long sloping sides, A paddle of two and a half miles brought us to the treacherous Seventh Lake Inlet, a channel filled with partially submerged tree stumps. To have run on one of these would have meant a tip-over. The channel is however fairly well marked by white crosses. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a body of water, with part of the wooden dock visible and a couple canoes with people near it on the left of the picture; glued to the right side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Seventh Lake Channel [[/underlined]] Next came the mile's carry to Eighth Lake. About half way across this the t trail crosses whichbruns to Camp Kilkare, the famous home of Timothy L. Woodruff. By a strange coincident I met an old acquaintance of mine from Utica at the end of the carry while at the same moment my friend met a girl from Rochester. It is often so: you may live in the same city with a person and not see him for months at a time and then suddenly come across him in a little wild, out-of-the-way place. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake, partially covered by what appears to be a fingernail; glued to the left side of the page, with caption]] [[underlined]] Eighth Lake from Foot [[/underlined]] These two encounteres must have strangely upset us for after pad-ldling a mile and a half to the upper end, we found we had left a hatchet at the other end. This meant an additional three miles[[?]]
33. paddle in search of it and was one of those unexpected delays which one frequently meets with on a trip. Finnaly, after a good long carry, we reached Brown's Tract Inlet. A man on Eighth Lake had told us of a trail leading off from the carry just before reacing the inlet to a good camping ground with a fine spring nearby. We found this place and spent a most comfortable night. [[image - a black-and-white photograph of a lake, with caption]] [[underlined]] Eighth Lake from Head [[/underlined]]
[[start page]] [[right side - page number 34. and date below Friday, August 14.]] [[image- photo on left side, black and white photo of edge of pond with tree fallen in water, reflection of tree line. Caption underneath photo (Brown's Tract Inlet, underlined)]] It was but a short walk from our camping place to Brown's Tract Inlet, a slow, winding stream running from Brown's Tract Ponds to Raquette Lake. This with the Marion River, emptying into Raquette from the east, are said to be the two crookedest streams in the world. This Inlet is about five miles long by paddling although the direct distance from the carry to the lake is less than two miles. [[ image- photo on right side, text on left side. Black and white photo of pond with white man standing on the waters edge with canoe. Pond has two logs floating along with vegetation floating on back part of pond, reflections of woodlands on top of water. Caption underneath photo ( Brown's Tract Inlet) underlined]] The flora of this stream consists mainly in Andromeda glaucophylla, Lysimachias, Typha, water lilies and water plants of the Umbelliferae Family. We left the carry about 7:15 and were at Raquette Lake Landing, a small settlement at the end of the railroad, in about an hour. While here a terrific rainstorm came up but we pushed on after it had let up a little. Raquette lake has a very irregular outline, great bays reaching into the shores making a shore-line of 96 miles although the lake from north tomsouth is only four miles and from east to west at [[end page]]
[[start page]] [[top right corner - page number 35.]] its widest point about three. South Bay extends to the south-east; Beaver and Suckerbrook Bays to the west; Boulder Bay to the east; the Outlet to the north-east; and North Bay to the north. The total distance which we had to paddle from the south-west corner to the north-east end of the outlet was about eight miles. [[image - photo on left side between paragraphs , black and white photo, looking into a forest area, one large tree in middle of photo, surrounded by woodland foliage. caption reads ( Habenaria orbiculata) underlined beneath photo.]] We stopped for luncheon a couple of miles up Outlet Bay and found the place so attractive that we stayed two hours. In a little hollow we found two plants of Habenaria orbiculata (or possibly H. Macrophylla) - one an immense one, three feet high, with large oval leaves over a foot in diameter. The spike of greenish flowers was over a foot high. The storm had now entirely passed and a short paddle brought us to the carry to Forked Lake. This is a very level easy carry, less than a mile long, quite a contrast with the one from Eighth Lake and others which we were yet to encounter. These carries form a very interesting part of a canoe trip. It is a pleasant relief after several hours of paddling to meet one of these, even though the canoe may prove somewhat heavy and awkward.. Carries occur either between two bodies of water where there is no connecting stream that is navigable or they occur around falls [[image- on right side of page. Black and white photo of forest floor, with large trees standing around woodland foliage. caption reads ( Habenaria orbiculata) underlined beneath photo.]] [[end page]]
[[ start page]] [[top right side page number 36.]] or rapids in a river that are too strong to shoot over. In Canada they are called "portages", the French pronunciation being given. In some parts of the country they are known as "portages" with the English pronunciation. In the Adirondacks they are never spoken of except as "carries." [[ image- photo in left side of page in between paragraphs. Black and white photo of white man carrying canoe balanced overhead. Down by waters edge, to the right behind man is a pavilion with sign on roof, words not legible. Underneath photo (M.E.W with the Canoe) underlined.]] You are paddling along a lake and you head for a point in the opposite shore where you think the carry commences judging from your map. As the shore becomes more and more distinct, you will see a bare spot close to the water's edge with often a slight break in the trees just behind it. You make for this, land, and prepare for the boat.[[ image- photo on right side of page between paragraphs. Black and white photo of a white man carrying a white tent over right shoulder wearing a knapsack, dressed in dark long sleeved and pants wearing a hat. Underneath photo cation reads M.E.W with pack.]]carry. The tent, knapsack and cameras are thrwon out of the boat; the paddles are strapped inside; the canoe is swung up on its stern, one man holding the bow up high while the other crawls to the middle of the boat and lets the yoke settle down on his shoulders. He then straightens up, steadies the canoe with [[end page]]
[[start page]] 37. his hands, and walks onward. The other person meanwhile puts the knapsack on his shoulders, slings the tent over it, straps on the cameras, axes, etc., and follows on. It is frequently necessary to rest on the way and this is easily done by placing one end of the canoe against a tree trunk and letting the other rest on the ground some eight feet away from the tree. You can then crawl out from under the canoe and stretch yourself. It is vastly important that the yoke be firmly attached to the boat as the strain is very great. But few of the canoes which are rented in the Adirondacks have the yokes already fitted in and it is well worth while spending considerable time before starting on the trip to satisfactorily adjust the yoke. Forked Lake resembles the Greek letter Psi, the three prongs extending to the west. There are no camps on the lake except on the eastern end where the E.P.K. with Canoe [[Caption with photo]] E.P.K. with Pack [[Caption with photo]] [[end page]]
[[start page]] 38. next carry begins.q On these wilder lakes there is plainly visible the deer-line, a dark band encircling the lake at the water's edge where the deer, swimming in the water, have eaten off the bottom leaves of the trees. This dark band is of uniform height throughout its length. A three miles' paddle due east on Forked Lake brought us to its outlet, the Raquette River. Here we had to start right in with a carry of two miles around rapids and shallows in the river. When at length we put the canoe in the water, we found exciting work ahead of us in shooting the rapids. One man now had to kneel down in the very bow of the canoe, keeping a sharp lookout for rocks, while the other was steering the boat keeping it always in the channel and away from rocks. Then the rapids pass,away, the stream flows quietly along and you relax your vigilance. Suddenly your boat shoots up on the sloping side of a rock which is invisible above the surface of the water. The only thing to indicate the existence of such a rock is a slight ripple on the water just above the rock and it is for that ripple that one must be constantly on the lookout. [[image-photograph in upper right column -- Caption reads [[underline]] Forked Lake [[\underline]] ]] [[image-photograph on lower left column -- Caption reads [[underline]] Rapids of the Raquette [[\underline]] ]] [[end page]]
[[start page]] 40. Fortunately thaere were no tip-overs although we had some narrow escapes. The roar of pounding water soon warned us that we were approaching a falls and we commenced to scan the river banks in search of a carry around it. When we found this spot, we decided to camp there for the night as it was late and we had accomplished more than we had planned that day. Frogs were very plentiful along this river and we soon were eating a fine mess. of their legs along with a most appetising supper. Later in the evening when we had gone to bed, our tent was lighted up with bright flashes. We went outside and looking toward the north down through the valley, we could see the Aurora borealis giving off a wonderful display, great streamers of light darting up above the trees. What a sight it was! the whole northern heavens afire and the massive forest about us lightening up for a second and then sinking back into blackness. Add to this the roar of the nearby falls and you have an impressive picture. [[photograph with caption]] Buttermilk Falls [[end page]]
41. Saturday, August 15. There are three carries in this portion of the Raquette River, the long one at the commencement, a short one of a quarter mile around Buttermilk Falls, and one of about a halfa mile farther on. By 8;30 we had made these two latter carries and were at the entrance to Long Lake. Long Lake is, as its name indicates, a long,narrow lake about 16 miles in length and never more than half a mile in breadth, running from south-west to north-east. Five miles down the lake on the east side is the village of Long Lake Landing. A good road, coming from Blue Mountain Lake and running along the east shore, makes this portion of Long Lake fairly well populated. At the settlement however the road turns due east leading to Newcomb and the Champlain country so that the remaining eleven miles of the lake is more or less wild. [[image with underlined caption (Long Lake)]] Many persons climb Marcy by this route and in fact we had at first intended to do so. You reach Long Lake Landing wither as we had done or by the Blue Mountain Lake road, take a wagon over to Tahawas, about eight miles beyond Newcomb, ascend the Hudson at this point, and then follow the Opalescent River up to Marcy. A friend of mine described to me a walking trip from Rochester to the top of Marcy partly via this route.
42. We made a stop of nearly two hours at the Landing purchasing provisions and mailing the films which had already been taken. Whenever possible it is always well to parcel post the films home or to some photographer as a roll of them, lying in the knapsack or in one's pocket, is apt to get wet and be completely spoiled. We paddled steadily until five o'clock, stopping only to cook luncheon and once or twice to gather specimens. The outlet at the northern end of the lake into which we passed was still the Raquette River. Long Lake might even be called simply a broadening of the Raquette River. But whereas the upper Raquette is comparatively straight with numerous falls and rapids, the lower portion of the river is smooth and winding for the most part. although with a fairly swift current. [[image with underlined caption (Third Carry of Upper Raquette)]] A peculiar sensation comes over one on a river of the type of this lower Raquette. As you look ahead of you, the shore lines seem to be dipping downward at an amazingly large angle. You get the impression of coasting down a sheet of ice, tilted at an angle of about twenty degrees. But yet the water is smooth and does not appear to be moving swiftly. Your great wonder is that there are not rapids all about you, and as you glance at the swiftly passing trees, you realize that your paddling is being augmented by a very Strong current. A
43. strong current. As we swung around a bend and saw the river straight ahead of us, I figured that a horizontal line drawn from the surface of the water where the canoe was would strike the trees at the next bend, some few rods distant, about 25 feet above the water's edge at that point. I am reminded of a similar impression which Thoreau describes in his "Maine Woods". "The river, though still very swift, was almost perfectly smooth here, and showed a very visible declivity, a regularly inclined plane, for several miles, like a mirror set a little aslant, on which we coasted down. This very obvious regular descent, particularly plain when I regardede the water-line against the shores, made a singular impression upon me, which the swiftness of our motion probably enhanced, so that we seemed to be gliding down a much steeper declivity than we were, and thatvwe could not save ourselves from falls and rapids if we should suddenly come upon them. My companion did not perceive this slope, but I have a surveyor's eyes, and I satisfied myself that it was no ocular illusion."... I observed the angle at which a level line would strike the surface and calculated the amount of fall in a rod which did not need to be remarkably great to produce this effect." * While my friend also perceived this feature, I do not think it made such an impression upon him as it did upon me. The banks of both the latter portion of the upper Raquette and the lower Raquette were lined with flaming Cardinal flowers. We can truthfully say that we paddled through fifteen miles of these brilliant plants. Interspersed with them would be yellow golden- * Thoreau; "The Maine Woods" ; page 278.
[[start page]] 44. rods, blue and white asters, and pink Eupatorium. In the swamp soil at the water's edge we found the same Eriocaulon, Hypericum borealis and Xyris montana while here along the Raquette there were added masses of the delicate creeping buttercup (Ranunculus Flammula var. reptans). Seven miles of paddling along this river brought us to the only falls in this portion of the stream - Raquette Falls. Here we decided to spend the night, camping on the left shore, opposite the carry. While eating supper a party of four fellows appeared at the carry and prepared to camp for thenight. This was the only time we had neighbors as fellow-campers other than the deer and the various animals of the forest. While we were each cooking our suppers, one of the strangers whistled the "Campus Song" of the University of Rochester and I repeated it. However, after mutually stating that we were from the same city, we had no further words. I fear the love of solitude in the Adirondacks makes one a little hostile to all strangers who infringe on the wildness. [[end page]]
45. Sunday, August 16. A heavy rain had fallen during the night and it was still drizzling as we broke camp in the morning. We decided to portpone breakfast until reaching Raquette Falls House, a little camp situated at the far end of the carry. If one desires to stay at a camp, I can think of but few finer places. An intense wilderness is all about you; it is the heart of the deer country, multitudes coming to drink in the river every morning and evening. During the open season, it is a very popular retreat for hunters while at other times a few people, who know how to appreciate the Adirondacks, stop there. Many rare species of stuffed birds adorn the walls. How good that breakfast tasted! On a camping trip your menu must necessarily lack variety unless you wish to have such a load that you must go two or three times over each carry. We therefore permitted ourselves this once to have a treat of fruit, cereal, beafsteak, eggs, and griddle-cakes. The price of meals is somewhat high at this place but it is easily understood when you consider that the owner must go ten miles or more down the river to Tupper Lake, the nearest settlement, to purchase provisions. We had planned to paddle about eight miles to Axton, a point -nothing more- on the Raquette where the three mile trail to Saranac commences. The proprietor however told us of another route which I most warmly recommend to any taking this trip. Paddle about seven miles down the Raquette to a spot where, near a big bend, a small stream goes off to the right. There are several such streams and to identify the correct one, you have to stand in your canoe and try to discover a red bridge spanning the creek at a considerable distance from the mouth. We reached this stream
46. We reached this stream - Stony Creek - about two o'clock and, a SHort distance from its mouth, camped for luncheon. There were a large number of interesting plants there, not very common outside the Adirondacks but none that we had not before met with. Farther along the creek we came upon a large mass of bluets (Houstonia caerulea). Stony Creek somewhat resembles Brown's Tract Inlet although not as deep and less winding. Several species of pond-weed we found in this creek of which we identified Potamogeton natans, alpinus, amplifolius, and pectinatus. [[Image with underlined caption (Spectacle Lake)]] Stony Creek is the outlet of the Spectacle Lakes - two small bodies of water connected by a very shallow strait over which it was necessary to drag the canoe. At the farthest end of the last lake is Hiawatha Lodge, a large camp, or rather a hotel, situated at the beginning of the Saranac carry. A mile's walk over this carry took us to the most famous of the Adirondack lakes - Upper Saranac. I had expected to see the shores of the lake destitute of trees and lined with hotels and camps of every description, but I was agreeably disappointed. At the lower end of the lake whatever camps there were were carefully hidden away.
47. As we put our canoe in the waters of Saranac, we saw a plant, new to us, entirely submerged. Apparently it was leafless with a small, pale yellowish-green head, somewhat resembling that of a hawk-weed. The head was near the surface and we gathered several specimens but most unfortunately lost all of them On the right-hand bank we found a splendid place to camp in a birch grove. By this time we had the whole process of camp-making so systematized that each knew just what he was to do and in a brief time everything would be ready. Feeling it was about supper time, we would find a good landing-place, go back in the woods in search of a good location for the camp, and draw up the canoe and turn it over. One would go in search of fire-wood and get the fire going; the other would clear the ground for the tent, removing fallen logs or stumps, sling the tent between a couple of trees about nine feet apart, cut about ten stakes and fasten the sides of the tent securely down, chop up some balsam and throw it in the tent and then spread out the blankets. Meanwhile his companion would have built the fire, set up two Y-shaped stakes with a cross-bar between them to hold the kettle over the fire, and would soon have the water boiling. Together we would cook and eat the supper which consisted in bacon, fried mushrooms, Indian meal pudding with sugar and cream (condensed milk), coffee and bread and butter. This Sunday night as we lay in our tent, the quietness was suddenly broken by the notes of a hymn floating to us over the waters. Three of four followed, sung in a beautiful baritone, and then there was silence. It is difficult to describe the sensations which came over us, lying in the tent, with the airs of "Nearer My God To Thee", "Rock of Ages", and "Abide With Me" being wafted over the waters.
48. [Image Saranac Lake from our Birch Grove Camp] Monday, August 17. A beautiful day greeted us as we arose somewhat later than usual, due, no doubt, to the fact that out surroundings had been most condusive to sleep. Indeed the weather was so fine that it made us apprehensive as to the balance of the day. A couple of hour's paddle took us over the eight miles to Saranac Inn at the head of the lake. Two courses had been open to us - either to take the channel leading off to the east near our camping-place to Middle and Lower Saranac Lakesand then the train to Placid, or to go to the head of Upper Saranac and there take the train. We decided on this latter route as we desirous of seeing more of this, the most beautiful of the three Saranacs. As you go up the lake, the great Sentinel range of mountains looms up towards the east with Mount Baker and Ampersand in the foreground. AAparticularly high mountain appears in the south-east whose name I did not ascertain. About midway up the lake the [Image Saranac Lake (southeast to Ampersan d)]
49. shores come almost together, nearly dividing it into two lakes. Numerous motorboats were darting about the lake. One boat I well remember, the Panther, which encircled us time after time, seemingly bent on creating big enough swells to swamp our little canoe. In almost the middle of the lake there juts out of the water XXX [cross-out] a sharp rock, almost wholly invisible until you come right upon it. I predict that some day one of these little motorboats is going to run full speed on this rock unless the wealthy camp owners see fit to spend a few dollars to blast it away. [Image of Saranac Lake (north through the narrows)] Saranac Inn is one of the most pretentious establishments in the Adirondacks. Contrary to a prevalent opinion, Saranac is not synonymous with consumption. Saranac Inn and many other places refure to accomodate anyone affected with tuberculosis. The hotel itself is a large roomy building with several smaller places connected with it. The view looking up the lake is perfect although I should much prefer to have this view from some wild spot than from a hotel veranda. We drew our canoe up on the bank near the steam-boat landing, planning to leave it there for three or four days. Honesty in the key-note in the Adirondacks. The ozone in the air, the beautiful scenery or something seems to make everyone hate to do a small
50. thing. So there, in plain sight, we left our canoe with maps and some luggage in it. The Inn is situated some two miles from the railroad station by that name on the main Adirondack railroad. At the next station to the north, Lake Clear, you change cars for Placid. Rain was falling in torrents when we reached the station at Placid at 3:30. Leaving our tent and knapsack in the station, we proceeded to walk up to the village in search of something to eat. A mile up the hill we found a lunch car and there had a most welcome meal. The "business" portion of the village is situated on Mirror Lake, just to the south of Lake Placid proper. Along both of these lakes are most luxurious homes and club houses. At the northern end of Placid towers up Whiteface Mountain, the second highest peak in the Adirondacks. We did not have time to ascend this mountain nor even to see all that we wished of Placid. The government maps which we had did not cover this particular section so it was necessary to inquire our way from here on. We found the owner of a drug store most obliging and his directions most explicit. The storm had now passed away and we took the road south. Outside of the village a magnificent view unfolded itself. There to the south were great high masses of mountains capped by the triangular-shaped peak of Marcy. A somewhat lower range of mountains extended all the way aroud to the east, ending in Whiteface. About four miles out from the town, on a direct line with the two highest mountains, Whiteface and Marcy, and a few rods from the spot where "John Brown's Body Lies A'mouldering in the Grave", we camped for the night. A good camping ground was difficult to find but we at last
51. located ourselves in a spot where cow-paths, encircling a hill, broadened out, making a sort of a ledge on the hillside. [[image - lake with trees and hills]] [[underline]] Lake Placid [[/underline]] (Whiteface Mountain in Background)
[[start page]] 52. Tuesday, August 18. At the foot of the hill on which we spent the night was a swamp in which the sunlight revealed great coarse plants some five feet high, At first glance we took them to be orchids but a more careful inspection showed them to be a member of the Lily Family, Veratrum viride. Because of their great size, we decided not to gather any specimens until our return. Our uncomfortable position on the hillside resulted in an early start. Our course now lay along a road for about a mile to North Elba, a small collection of houses and a post-office, and then slightly to the south-west for eight miles to South Meadows. At North Elba we left our tent with a farmer, planning to spend the coming nights at lumber camps or at self-made shacks. Shortly after leaving the village, we were fortunate enough to get a ride for about three to the Woods Farm - the last outpost of ^the civilization which has been built up in the environs of Lake Placid. While we were riding in the wagon, a heavy rainstorm broke. This, it seems, is nothing in this part of the country, the tall mountains piercing the clouds so that almost every little cloud leaks. We decided to stay in Mr. Woods' barn until the storm should let up a little and accordingly put in about half an hour lazing around in the hay. We wound up our visit to the Woods Farm by eating all the doughnuts and drinking all the milk we could stand. In a light drizzle we continued on our way. Our luggage consisting only in a knapsack, blankets, and cameras, we were able to make good time and soon reached the sign-post, four miles from the farm. Here we hesitated. The government maps which we had were [[end page]]
[[start page]] 53. were made in 1902 and since then a considerable transformation in the trails had occurred due to the extensive liumbering done in this region. The sign-post informed us that it was one mile south to Adirondack Lodge and the same distance to South Meadows. Our maps showed a good trail running to Marcy from the Lodge while none appeared leading from the Meadows. Our drug store friend at Placid had, however, told us that the South Meadows'trail was the better. Nevertheless we decided on the other, chiefly becaise we wished to see the beautiful Hart Lake on the way. Adirondack Lodge burnt down some four or five years ago so there is nothing to mar the picturesqueness of the lake on which it was situated. Arising directly from the west shore of Hart Lake (or Clear Lake, as some maps call it) is Mt. Jo, a bare mountain of medium height. Near its base is a large open camp, an unusually fine one. These open camps are characteristic of the Adirondacks and seem indispensible to the owners of boarding-camps and private camps alike Their dimensions vary with the needs of their owners. An average sized camp would be about five feet high in front, six to seven feet deep, and eight feet broad. It is built up on three sides with logs about eight inches in diameter, the crevices filled in with mud and moss. The fourth side is left open and in front of it a fireplace is built. A big log runs the whole width of the shack in front, serving partly as a seat for those enjoying the fire and partly to keep the balsam, with which the camp is filled, in place. The open part faces away from the direction of the wind. to prevent the smoke from blowing into [[end page]]
[[start page]] [[image-tree stump in front of a partially built log cabin]] [[end page]]
[[start page]] 54. the camp and to keep the driving rains out. The roof is shingled and slopes to the rear to allow the water to run off. It is quite the custom on the civilized lakes to invite your friends to an "open camp fire". A congenial crowd of some ten or fifteen people gather together, pop-corn is made, marshmallows are toasted, stories told, mandolins are touched up, and songs are sung. A great roaring fire is burning meanwhile. Many people sleep in their open camps, it being a much nearer approach to the regular Adirondack life than ordinary houses. [[image-Hart lake - Caption reads [[underline]] Hart Lake [[/underline]] This camp at Clear Lake was one of the best I have ever seen. I presume it was once a part of the hotel and being across the lake, was not visited bybthe disastrous fire. We cooked luncheon at the fireplace and were strongly tempted to laze there during the the afternoon and spend the night. The view across the lake was one of the finest we saw on the whole trip, those from mountain tops alone excepted. There is a continuous line of high mountains, far enough away so that the detail of the trees does not stand forth but yet near enough to black and massive rather than blue and dim. The accompanying photograph looking toward Sentinel Range and Little McIntyre I consider gievs the most accurate portrayal of Adirondack scenery of any I took. [[end page]]
[[start page]] 55. One can understand how high the mountains looked to us when one considers relative altitudes. Clear Lake is about 1400 feet above sea level while the mountains rise to nearly 5000 feet. The level of Fourth Lake is 1700 feet while Black Bear Mt., the highest to be seen from that lake, is only 2450. Yet the mountains about Fourth Lake make a decided impression upon one. As yet we had not met with the flora of the high altitudes, the flowers for the most part being characteristic of the Adirondack woods and clearings in general. Along the road from North Elba we had found Spiranthes cernua and Romansoffiana, Lobelia spicata, Coralhoriza maculata, Lycopodium annotinum and several species of Silene. While endeavoring to strike the Marcy trail from Hart Lake we came across the delicate plants of Spiranthes gracilis. Finding that the trails around the lake varied greatly from those given on the map and recalling the prediction of our friend at Placid that we would have considerable difficulty in reaching Marcy from Clear Lake, we walked back to the sign-post and went over to South Meadows. This is a broad level strip of land, evidently the bottom of a glacial lake, surrounded by hills and containing the homes of a few lumbermen. We had planned to find some place to spend the night here as a storm was now threatening but as none appeared, we kept on after getting directions. A three miles' walk brought us at five o'clock to a deserted lumber camp. Deserted, desolate, forlorn - these are the words to describe such a camp, especially when you come upon it in a rainstorm. There were perhaps ten log cabins into each of which we peered, trying to find one acceptable as a sleeping place. Each one [[end page]]
[[start page]] 56. appeared more loathsome than than the last. The largest camp was evidently the sleeping quarters, low bunks in tiers of three lining the sides - dirty hovels now, and probably at the time of occupation - filled with ants, flies, and animals of a lower order. The eating building was even worse. Here masses of dried-up meat were decaying - covered with flies - and massive bones were strewn all over the floor - or rather all over the damp, musty ground. You could picture ravenous men sitting on their haunches in this cabin, gnawing away on the bones of the cattle, brought there on the hoof and slaughtered on the spot, their carcasses left to moulder amoung the cabins. A flock of vultures picking on theb bones of a dead man was all that was lacking to make the picture complete, nor would we have been greatly surprised to have had this picture added. After a considerable search we fin[[strikethrough]]n[[\strikethrough]]ally selected a small cabin, about seven feet square with the roof two-thirds off. It was this latter feature that led us to choose this as our sleeping place, the Adirondack air, having had sufficient opportunity to permeate the cabin, had driven away the foul stenches that filled the other places. This building had evidently been the quarters of some animals-possibly pigs. There was a wooden box that had probably [[image-photograph of an old log cabin -- Caption reads [[underline]] Our Sleeping-Place [[\underline]] ]] [[end page]]
[[start page]] 57. once contained fodder, and a place to lie down on. After thoroly cleaning out the camp, we put in quantities of goldenrod and strong-scented mint - wet though it was - in order to neutralize what odor there was. It took considerable adjustment of the tar paper on the roof that remained to keep the water from percolating through the holes. In spite of the rain continually coming in upon us, we slept fairly well, being disturbed once by the mournful neighing of an old horse, left at the deserted lumber camp to die - a mass of bones with some skin stretched over them. [[end page]]
58. Wednesday, August 19. Uncertain weather greeted us as we left the camp about 7:30. Our spirits were high however as the camp had had one good feature-no matter how wet the firewood was outside, there was always a quantity of old boxes in the cabins which made excellent kindling wood and allowed us to have a hearty breakfast. [Image Ausable River] A mile farther on we came to a lumber camp that occupied. The men were all out in the forest, one woman alone remaining to direct us to the trail up Marcy. This commences just to the left of the lumber camp. For a distance the trail is quite a good one, having been recentlybimproved by the lumbermen. It follows the course of the Ausable River, this upper portion being often called Marcy Brook. We made our first stop at a cabin that had evidently been part of a lumber camp but which was in a much better state of preservation than the one at which we had [Image Lumber Camp on Marcy Trail] (Mt. McIntyre in distance)
[[Image of a Mountain with trees in foreground]]
59. passed the previous night. Here we cooked dinner and had raspberries for desert, these growing in great abundance. Looking back over the Ausable valley which we had followed up, we had a fine view of Mt. McIntyre. Just before reacing this camp, we saw a partridge standing on a stump. We tried to approach close enough to get a picture but just missed out. The trail now became more difficult, becoming steeper, and now crossing a swamp, now following straight up a stream. For two hours we splashed upward through mud and water. Whether the trail is actually located in the bed of a stream or whether the recent rains had caused the waters to flow from the heights down the trail, I am unable to say. Although this was the Marcy trail, we had not yet properly commenced the ascent of Mt. Marcy. The trail leads up to about the top of Mt. Colden - to the west of Marcy - and then circles around to the north and east at about a constant level until you strike Marcy itself about 1500 feet from the summit. We had had a distant view of Marcy from the lumber camp the preceding night and then had not seen it again until, after ascending Mt. Colden, a break in the trees revealed it only a short distance away, its bare top continually surrounded by clouds. We passed two other [Image Mt. Marcy]
60. deserted camps on the way up, either of which would have made a good camping place for the night. The trail was bordered with rare golden-rods and asters, one striking Solidago having brilliant orange flowers with a purple stem. There was also a quantity of the twisted-stalk (Streptopus amplexifolius}. One of the most intersesting flowers of the whole trip we found on the wayb up. It was clearly a member of the Orchid Family, resembling in some ways a Habenaria and in others a Spiranthes. It grew about two and a half feet high with a spike of white flowers about six inches high. The whole plants was covered with a frost-like coating. We carried this specimen all the way up Marcy and gathered more on the way back only to carelessly neglect to take it with us the next morning. As you ascend Marcy proper, the trees gradually become lower and lower and soon you have merely low, straggling shrubs. The upper part of the mountain is far above the timber-line. A very small Prenanthes (Prenanthes lana), dwarf Solidagos, Potentilla tridentata, and the alpine willow (Salix uva-ursi) were on the summit. Particularly noticeable were the quantities of light pink clusters of the delicate Arenaria groenlandica, found only on the tops of the highest mountains. When about 500 feet from the summit, the clouds, which had been threatening all day long, lowered over us and it began to rain. This was most discouraging. No view was to be had, there were no trees for shelter, and the enveloping clouds prevented us from seeing event the trail. All we could do was to lie down on the wet moss and let it rain and sqeeze for the storm to disappear.
61. While waiting thus, the storm broke as suddenly as it had arisen and the resulting view made us most thankful that we had happened to strike Marcy on a stormy day rather than on a clear one. First the clouds parted at the apex of the mountain and seemed to roll down the sides. Soon they had rolled beneath our stopping place and the sun was shining brightly upon us. We were gazing upon a sea of clouds, the sun playing upon their rolling masses as it does upon the ocean's waves. Soon in the distance appeared land, jutting forth above the clouds - the [[image - photo of mountain range]] [[caption]]A Sea of Clouds peak of Mt. McIntyre, a little island in a vast sea; next Mt. Colden, Mt. Jo., Little McIntyre, The Haystack and countless other peaks thrust their crests through the sea of clouds - the Thousand Islands lifted up to the Adirondacks. Ere long more and more of the mountains became visible and the clouds were confined more and more to the bottoms of the valleys, soon disappearing altogether. We quickly overcame the intervening distance at the top and
62. [Image M. E. W. on the Summit of Marcy] stood there on the summit, the crest of New York State, one of the highest spots in eastern America. The rock on which we now stood is supposed to be the oldest in the world. When the world was completely innundated, one little island of Achaean rock was put forth above the water - Mt. Marcy in the Adirondacks. Other islands appeared and then the grean V-shaped continent in Central Canada in the angle of which is situated Hudson Bay. A mass of sensations come over you as you sit down upon the rock at the summit. You feel a sense of exultation that you have accomplished something; you experience a thrill as you look over the broad panorama with its countless mountain peaks and stretches of water, you yourself towering above them all; you are filled with a peculiar feeling of pity for the miliions of peoplo in the great state [Image E. P. K. on the Summit of Marcy]
63. [[Image - photograph overlooking mountains, glued in the upper left corner of the page, with caption]] [[underline]] North from Mt. Marcy [[/underline>]] below you; pity for those grinding out their existence in the slums of the great cities, ever toiling but never getting anywhere; pity for those whom the world rates as fortunate but who know not how to get the most out of life, who frantically seek pleasure in the world below, trying now this, now that, and who never experience the thrill and exultation of standing high up near the heavens and looking down upon the fighting, quarrelling, sneering, struggling mass of humanity which inhabits the globe below you. In olden days the Greeks maintained that the gods lived on Mount Olympus, the highest point of land of which they had knowledge. Savage man to-day cloaks the summits of the highest mountains with a sacrednes upon which he never dares to intrude. Civilized man [[Image - photograph of a mountain, with the slope of another mountain visible in the foreground, glued in the lower right corner of the page, with caption]] [[underline]] Mt. Colden from Marcy [[/underline]]
64. alone venturs to to climb to the tops of the tallest peaks and even he, when he has attained his goal, [[cross-out]] must pause as his inmost nature is stirred with the unusual sensations rushing through him. Our future course now came up for discussion. It had been our plan roughly to map out a route and then be guided by our desires at the moment of execution. Three courses lay before us. We could descend the mountain on the south-east side, visit Lake Tear of the Clouds, a short distance from the summit, the highest body of water in the state and the source of the Hudson River, see Avalanche Lake, beautiful with its steep, rocky cliffs on each side, and finally go north through the pass to Adirondack Lodge. Or we could spend the night on the summit and see the sunrise in the morning. Or, finally we could retrace our steps, stopping at some one of the many abandoned lumber camps we had passed on the way up. The first course was the most attractive but we were not acquainted with the trails and our maps had proven inaccurate. Moreover, our provisions had become so nearly exhausted that we did not dare risk having to spend extra hours in searching out our route should we get off the trail. However, I have often wished that we had taken this course as we would have seen inter-sesting country and would have gathered rare plants at Lake Tear. We should have spent the night on Marcy had the weather been more promising. Off to the west great thunder-clouds were arising and the air "felt" as though we were in for an all night's storm. As the meteorological conditions seemed to preclude our having any great view of the starry heavens or of the sunset and sunrise, we did not think it worth while to stay on the mountain. Had it
[[image -- black and white photo of river running through landscape, some trees, electrical poles, mountains in distance]]
65. [[image - black and white photo of man with hands on hips in hat standing in front of large body of water]] [[caption]] On the Descent]] been a day later, I think we should have risked it as an eclipse of the sun was scheduled for that morning and it would have been worth taking a chance on the weather to have viewed it from so advantageous a spot. We therefore began the descent of Marcy along the ro route we had come up, leaving the summit about 3:30. Naturally it was much easier going down than coming up. As the weather continued fair and we were in good spirits, we passed the first, second, and third camps without stopping as, now that we had started, we wished to get as far as possible. At 5:15 we reached Swartz' Camp, as we later found out the deserted camp at which we had spent the preceding night, was called. It had therefore taken us less than two hours to make the descent whereas it has required almost seven to ascend. A slight drizzle was falling as we reached the camp but dry kindling wood permitted us soon to have a roaring fire burning and to eat a good supper.
66. Thursday, August 20. The return trip was now under way and we experienced that peculiar psychological feeling that comes to the front on a return trip. Once you have attained your goal and the anticlimax sets in, you are only too anxious to reach home. You are eager to get back to your friends and tell them of your adventures. Even though you return by a different route, the sights by the wayside have less interest for you. It It had taken us from Thursday noon to Wednesday afternoon to go from Fourth Lake to the summit of Marcy and I honestly think we got every bit out of the trip that we could. We lazed along, stopped and explored where we would, and in general, took our time. On the way back it became a point of pride to see how speedily we could make the trip. We had the hours of arrival and departure at and from the various places on our trip up detailed in our journal, and we tried to beat them on our way back. The rain had continued intermittently during the night but a search of the different cabins brought forth good firewood with which to cook our remaining provisions. In one camp was a box filled with several sticks of what we took to be wood. Loading up our arms we went outside, intending to throw them on the fire. As we came into the daylight, we saw that we were each carrying about half a dozen sticks of dynamite. We gingerly pr[[r overtyped p]]eplaced them in the cabin and took extra precautions about our fire spreading. It was while preparing to leave this camp that I neglected to put in our press the orchid we had found on the way up Marcy of which I have spoken. I have every intention of climbing Marcy again, if only to get this plant. We left the camp at 6:45 and reached the Woods Farm about 9:30.
67. Mr. Woods was just hitching up for a drive to Placid and said he would take us along. It was a great help to have this eight mile ride as it would enable us to reach Placid in time for the 11:30 train. We stayed long enough at the farm to read a three-day old paper. A glance at the dates in this account will explain our interest in the papers. Probably the world has seen no more exciting month in its history than August, 1914. While I was at Cohasset, a little motorboat had passed up the lake bringing New York papers, the words, "England declares war", ringing out over the waters. We had thereafter occasionally seen a paper, generally three or four days old, on our trip. To-day at the Woods Farm the papers told of the fall of Liege and the German drive on Paris. This very day as we were in the peaceful Adirondacks, the Germans had driven the Belgian army off towards Antwerp, had [[b/w image in center of page: upright broken dead tree trunks with forest foliage and mountains in the background]][[caption underlined: Whiteface Mountain from the Woods Farm]] occupied Brussels, and were ready to sweep on into France. Placid was reached just in time to get the train. On the drive
68. With Mr. Woods we passed by the swamp near which we had spent the first night out from Placid and in which we had seen the Veratrum viride. We did not wish to bother Mr. Woods to stop that we might pick specimens of it and so reconciled ourselves to its loss, not having seen any specimens of it on our way up. We reached the Saranac Inn station in the pouring rain. Indeed this day will chiefly be remembered because of the incessant rain. The two miles' walk to the Inn so thoroly drenched us that thereafter we were absolutely impervious to the rain and plodded right along as though in bright sunlight. At the Inn we stopped long enough to purchase provisions and get our mail. The canoe with the maps and paddles we found just as we had left them, fully justifying the confidence which we had in the honesty on the inhabitants of Saranac. We reached our former pleasant camping place near the foot of Saranac about four o'clock. The rain, which had been pouring in torrents and made us and everytning that we had soaking wet, instead of depressing us, had made us reckless and determined to keep on going until weariness would let us go no further. We therefore carried over to Hiawatha Lodge, went through the Spectacle Lakes, and paddled down Stony Creek. We reached the red bridge near the mouth of the creek about 5:30. Feeling that we were now wet enough to satisfy ourselves and that the narrow strip of sand under the bridge was as good a place as possible to camp for the night, we strung up our tent on the girders and lay in the sand. How wet everything was! The thoroly saturated tent was no longer
69. able to keep out the water which poured upon us, as if running from a faucet, through great holes in the flooring of the bridge. In fact we received the entire drainage of the bridge in addition to the water which drove in from the sides. Too tired to bother to chop into the hearts of trees to get dry wood, we [[deleted word]] ate the remnants of a box of crackers, rolled ourselves up in our wet blankets, and went to sleep wet and hungry – for even the fact that both feet, a hip, an arm, and a shoulder were wholly under water and our heads resting on soaked felt hats, could not keep us from sleeping. A trip such as ours is never monotonous. Contrasts are everywhere. No two days, no two nights are [[deleted word]] identical. Every stream, every lake, every island, every mountain; everyting is different. At one moment you may be quietly paddling down Brown's Tract Inlet, the most winding stream on the American continent; at another, you may be shooting the rapids of the Raquette River, dodging the rocks jutting forth on every hand. One hour you may be gliding along the still surface of Forked Lake; at another, your little canoe may be being tossed about by the white-capped waves of Long Lake, its nose ducking into them and coming out streaming with water, on the verge of tipping over any moment. One evening you may be making camp on the eastern shore of a lake, watchingb a glorious sunset with piled up cumulus clouds painted by the sun's rays, a fire burning near you and cooking an apetising supper; another evening you may be going to bed after a day's paddle in the rain with everything wet and with nothing to eat but the last of a box of crackers. One night you may be resting peacefully on balsam boughs, the stars shining bright-
[[image - black and white photograph of a two-story house with a narrow dirt road running in front of it]]
[[handwritten]] 817
70. ly outside; another night you maybbe sleeping half under water and getting wetter and wetter. You must learn to take whatever comes with a shrug of the shoulders and bid the elements do their worst.
71. Friday, August 21. Our uncomfortable night made us only too glad to get started as early as 4:30 in the morning. Rain was still falling and we did not wait for breakfast. This was the morning of the eclipse but the leaden sky prevented us from seeing the sun at all. The seven miles of winding paddling of the Raquette were very tiresome to us, not having had anything to eat for twenty-four hours with the exception of a sandwich at Placid and a few crackers. What a welcome sight the Raquette Falls House was and how eaherly did we eat the splendid breakfast, especially the countless extra griddle-cakes which we bribed the cook to make for us! And then with our spirits revived, even though the drizzle continued, we made the carry around Raquette Falls and started on our steady paddle to Long Lake. I have already remarked upon the sensation of going downhill experienced in this portion of the river. On going back you have a similar sensation, although possibly not quite as marked, of going uphill. We wound around tourn after turn, expecting every moment that Long Lake would come into view. At length we struck some rapids when we found it necessary to get out and drag the canoe. As the sun had been out for some time and we were now more or less dry, we this time took off our shoes and stockings, rolled up our trousers and waded in- very lady-like. As rapids after rapids appeared and we had to get out time after time, we became so thoroly disgusted that we plunged right into the water without taking anything off, often slipping off slimy rocks waist deep into the water. We would slop back into the canoe, carrying quantities of water with us and soon
72. had tent, blankets and everything wet again. [image - black and white photo of man, facing away, standing up in a canoe. Canoe positioned in river with trees in background] [caption] [[underline]]Carrying the Canoe over the Rapids [[/underline]] The first two or three rapids had not made any particular impression upon us, thinking that we had probably been able to shoot them unnoticed in coming downstream. But as they became more and more numerous, we began to wonder if we were not off our course. At length along the shore we saw a plant of the Veratrum viride. This convinced me that we were going to the east and getting back to the Marcy country where this plant abounds. On the other hand, finding this plant made us thank Providence for having steered our boat off this wasy. We now determined to find out just where we were before going any further and so landed, taking a narrow trail running through burnt-over country. We followed this along up the river, the country becoming more ana more wild and desolate. I think this was the wildest part we saw on our whole trip. At length we saw a small tent whose owner was fishing in a nearby brook. He told us that we were five mils up the Cold River, a branch of the Raquette. How we had gotten off our track, we could not guess. He gave us directions and retraced our steps, splashing with the canoe through rapids after rapids. Once the river branched into streams of equal size. We started to take one but found the water becoming so swift and hearing the roar of a falls ahead, we went back to the other branch. Another time we took a turn, only to
73. find the banks suddenly approach each other somthat there was hardly room in which to turn the canoe. The sensations which came over us as we looked at each other, our eyes saying, "This is certainly not the Raquette", we shall never forget. I had no maps whatever of this particular region and we had not clearly understood our fried's directions. He had said that the Raquette would be the third stream after passing a stream which flowed into the Cold River under a tree-stump. It was easy for us to pick out a stream under a tree-stump and into the third stream thereafter the Cold River seemed to empty. We were dumbfounded therefore to find this this stream narrow up and turned back and went the other way. Finally we passed a stream which was obviously that meant by our friend and soon after swung into the Raquette. It was very easy to see how we had gone astray. It is the same old story as on trails in the woods. You go along a narrow trail which leads into a broader one at an angle. In returning you keep to the broad one, neglecting to turn off at the narrower trail. In such cases you should put a leaf or a branch in the broad trail at the juncture point. The Raquette from Long Lake to the Cold River is fairly narrow. With the influx of this latter river, the Raquette becomes broader. We did not notice this on our first trip and coming back, kept to the broader turn and went up the Cold River. A rough sketch will serve to show our movements: [[image - drawing of river with multiple inlets labeled "Cold River," "Raquette River," "Wrong Stream with Tree," "Stream which narrowed" "Stream with Tree," Arrow points left labeled "Current"]]
74. I It was with a great feeling of relief that we paddled the remaining mile or so on the Raquette to Long Lake. Rounding the corner of the outlet, we found the lake in the throes of a heavy wind-storm. Our boat was soon being tossed about by the white-crested waves. We had hoped to make Long Lake Landing that night, spend the evening in the village, possibly dry out our blankets, and camp outside the town for the night. The high wind made much progress impossible and seeing and inviting place on the beach, we decided to land, have supper, and wait for the wind to go down. We ate everything we had, including a jar of Beech-nut bacon which was especially alluring. The clouds which had overcasti the sky all the day long were now breaking and great detached masses of cumulus clouds were hovering over the western horizon. The sun was setting directly opposite us, the clouds being lighted up with all varieties of color. No matter how accurate a picture an artist might paint of that Adirondack sunset, critics, who had never viewed it, would instantly accuse him of gross exaggeration. Just as the view from a mountain top is grander as the storm breaks [[image - photograph of a lake at sunset, glued to the bottom right corner of the page, with caption]] [[underline]] Sunset on Long Lake [[/underline]]
75. than that on a clear day, so a sunset, with the sky filled with painted clouds, is far more gorgeous than one in which a red ball of fire sinks below the blue hills from a clear sky. The wind having died down, we started on up the lake. The fine supper had set our psirits on high once more and we treated the natives to a whistling concert all the way up. Night falls quickly in the mountains and soon we were paddling in pitch darkness. Mile after mile we reeled off this way, the night growing blacker and blacker and the lights of the settlement not appearing. Soon we could dimly see the spot where the two shores came quite near together. Here we knew there were dangerous rocks and we hesitated what to do - whether to camp there for the night or to go on to the Landing. Seeing the light of a camp on the nearby shore, we decided to make for it and find out just how far we were from the village. In the blackness I stumbled up to a camp and there met the owner who told me that our destination was still somewhat distant. However he said we should not think of going but should spend the night with him. We remonstrated, not wishing to trouble him at such a late hour. But he insisted and led us to a large open camp in which there were two iron beds[[4 chars deleted]], the first we had seen in two weeks. We were happy in thinking we would not have to roll up in soaking blankets that night under a wet tent. We had a splendid sleep with pleasantest thoughts for our unknown host.
76. Saturday, August 22. For the first time since Sunday we awoke to find a pleasant day ahead of us. The light revealed three other camps near our open camp which we later found to be the sleeping, dining, and "sitting-room" camps of our hosts, Dr. and Mrs. Allis of New York City. We had breakfast all together on the porch of the dining camp, relating our experiences and exchanging the latest war news. Just consider what hospitality we were meeting with! Here were two strangers dressed in the roughest of clothes, torn in countless places, reaching the dock at ten at night, being given a fine place to sleep in and a splendid breakfast and the whole family coming to the dock to see the strangers off. Hospitality and friendliness to strangers and visitors are the most striking characteristics of the people of the Adirondacks. Nor do I think this is because faces are rare in the wilderness. It is partly because most people who live in the great out-doors have a generous and kind nature, and partly because no person can live in this peaceful land of trees, lakes, and mountains without soon throwing off the suspicion and crabbedness which our Twentieth Century life has created for us, and taking on the friendliness and cordiality which nature intended we should have. When we first started on our trip, we found that fellows in passing canoes always seemed to say, "Hello!", "Fine day!", or something of that nature before we did. Soon we tried to see how often we could get it off before they did. It's like trying to say"Merry Christmas" before the other person does. One instance will serve to show how this feeling works upon one.
77. We had been camping nearer to civilization than usual and a chicken from a neighboring camp strolled over our way. Our first impulse was to kill it and have fried chicken for supper. But the newer ideals which had come to us through contact with the people of the mountains forbade us from taking the chicken. Chickens are scarce in the Adirondacks, our neighbors had undoubtedly raised this one for their own use, and we felt that we should always hate ourselves, did we break the unwritten Adirondack law of honesty. We therefore did not have a chicken dinner. I have already touched on this Adirondack characteristic in speaking of the Ecklers. In addition to Mr. and Mrs. Eckler and Dr. and Mrs. Allis, there stand out particularly in my mind as possessing this quality Mr. and Mrs. Woods, Mrs. Woods' mother, the drug store proprietor at Placid, the man who gave us a ride along the North Elba road, the boat keeper at Saranac Inn, the Captain of the "Clearwater", Mr. and Mrs. "Si" Wood of Cohasset, the Griffiths at Minnowbrook, and two girls whom we met on Seventh about whom there will be more later. Of course we met one or two crabs, people who were so busy grubbing in the dirt at their feet for the Almighty Dollar that they had not a chance to become infected with the [[image - B&W photo of man standing on hill next to canvas]] [[caption]] [[underline]]Drying the Tent at Buttermilk Falls[[/underline]]
78. true Adirondack spirit. Nothing particularly noteworthy happened this day. The weather was perfect and our spirits were high as we ate up lakes, rivers, and carries just as we would walk along so many blocks of a city's walks. A short wait at the Landing for provisions, and a stop at Buttermilk Falls for lunch were our only delays. Forked Lake and Raquette Lake with the intervening carries, all passed in rapid succession. [[image - B&W photo of lake]] [[caption]][[underline]]Raquette Lake[[/underline]] At six o'clock we reached Huntley Island in the southern part of Raquette Lake near Brown's Tract Inlet. Here we passed our last night with ideal weather and feeling fine. [[image-- B&W photo of two men canoe-ing in river]] [[handwritten caption]] RAQUETTE LAKE FROM THE INLET BRIDGE. DISINGER ADAMS
79. Sunday, August 23. After breakfast we threw away much of our equipment, believing that this was to be our last meal out. By nine o'clock we had traversed Brown's Tract Inlet and Eighth Lake and thw two carries and were just rounding into Seventh. Here we encountered such a terrif[[strikethrough 'f']]ic storm blowing down the lake from the west, that we decided to make for the shore and wait for it to abate. Shortly after reaching land, two girls came up and invited us to go to their camp where we might be more comfortable. Indeed, so comfortable did they make us that we did the very impolite act of going to sleep. It must have been due to our early start and the brisk wind that we were so sleepy as we had slept splendidly the night before. At any rate, when they awoke us, it was about 12:30 and we had slept nearly three hours. Dinner was all ready for us and they insisted on our staying. [[image: b/w photo of tents in a wood with two women and small girl]][[caption]]Wind-bound on Seventh Lake[[/underlined]] As the wind did not let up any, we spent the afternoon midst these delightful surroundings, playing cards part of the time. By 3:30 the wind had quieted down and we were able to continue on our way. At the head of Sixth Lake I met my friends, the French-Canadian basket-makers, and had a pleasant conversation in French with them. At 6:28 - to be exact - we reached our starting point, the camp of Mr. and Mrs. Eckler.
80. Mrs. Eckler with her usual hospitality soon had a fine supper before us and insisted that we should spend the night at her camp. A file of newspapers had accumulated during my absence and we eagerly poured over these during the evening, getting a connected account of the progress of the war and learning of the events in our own country. With this the narrative of our trip in the Adirondacks properly closes. The next day, before taking the noon boat back to civilization, we rearranged our pressed specimens and named certain ones not hitherto identified. On the way back we had not gathered any new specimens except the Veratrum and a Streptopus at Seventh Lake. However, we frequently took better specimens of plants thatv had not pressed well. All our specimens were later exhibited at the Botanical Section of the Rochester Academy of Science and an account given of our trip.
81. [[underline]]Itinerary of the Trip in Brief[[/underline]] Aug. 13. Arrive Leave Approx. Distance Ecklers 10:10 AM Cohasset 10:25 Cohasset 10:40 Inlet 11:35 Inlet 12:40 3 miles Head of 8th. 4:40 5:50 8 " Brown's Inlet 6:30 1 3/4 " Aug. 14 Brown's Inlet 7:12 Rac. Lake Land. 8:10 9:00 5 " " Outlet 11:30 1:40 6 1/2 " " Carry 2:00 1 1/2 Forked Lake 2:15 2:30 1 " " foot 3:30 4 End of Carry 4:20 2 Buttermilk Falls 5:30 1 1/2 Aug. 15 Buttermilk Falls 7:30 Long Lake Land. 9:10 10:10 6 Raquette Falls 5:10 19 Aug. 16 Raquette Falls 8:20 Raq. Falls House 9:40 11:05 2 Stony Creek camp 2:10 3:15 8 Hiawatha Lodge 4:05 4:15 3 1/2 Saranac Camp 4:55 2 Aug. 17 Saranac Camp 10:30 Saranac Inn 12:30 1:20 7 Lake Placid 3:30 5:30 2 (rest by train) Camp for night 6:10 3
82. Arrive Leave Approx. Distance Aug. 18 Camp 6:30 Adiron. Lodge 11:30 4:15 13 miles South Meadows 4:45 2 Swartz Camp 5:55 3 Aug. 19 Swartz Camp 7:30 Summit of Marcy 2:15 3:30 8 Swartz Camp 5:15 8 Aug. 20 Swartz Camp 6:45 Woods Farm 9:30 10:00 10 Lake Placid 10:30 11:30 8 Saranac Inn 1:15 2:10 2 (rest by tr) Foot of Saranac 4:09 8 Hiawatha Lodge 4:34 1 Stony Greek Camp5:30 3 1/2 Aug. 21 Stony Cr. Camp 4:30 Raq. Falls House 7:15 9:00 8 Raquette Falls 9:55 2 Long Lake foot 5:45 6:45 17 Allis' Camp 9:30 10 Aug. 22 Allis' Camp 8:30 Long Lake Land. 9:00 9:40 2 Buttermilk Falls12:00 1:40 6 Forked Lake head 2:44 7 1/2 Raquette Lake 3:00 1 Huntley Island 6:00 7 1/2 Aug. 23 Huntley Is. 6:30 Meade Camp 9:30 3:40 8 1/2 Ecklers 6:28 8 1/4
83. [[underline]] Some of the Flowers Seen. [[/underline]] (exclusive of ferns and grasses) Typha angustifolia latifolia Sparganium eurycarpon simplex Potamogeton alpinus amplifolius natans pectinatus Alisma Plantago-aquatilis Sagittaria heterophylla latifolia Calla palustris Eriocaulon articulatum Xyris montana Pontedaria cordata Clintonia borealis Maianthemum canadense Polygonatum biflorum Smilax hispida Smilacina racemosa Streptopus amplexifolius roseus Trillium grandiflorum erectum undulatum Uvularia perfoliata Veratrum viride Iris versicolor Sisyrinchium angustifolium Calopogon pulchellus Pogonia ophioglossoides Corallorrhiza maculata Epeipactis repens var ophiodes Habenaria blephariglottis clavellata Hookeri hyperborea orbiculata Spiranthes cernua gracilis Romanszoffiana Myrica Gale Alnus incana Arenaria groenlandica Salix uva-ursi Silene dichotoma noctiflora Castalia odorata tuberosa Nymphaea advena Clematis virginiana Actaea alba
[[start page]] [[image-newspaper clipping]] BLACK TRADE MARK REG. U.S PAT. OFFICE NUACE MOUNTING CORNERS PRICE PATENTED 10c. Dec. 23, '19 Oct. 12, '20 IN CANADA 15c. READY OTHER PATS. PENDING FOR HOLDING PHOTO PRINTS GREETING and POST CARDS IN ALBUMS and on MOUNTING CARDS [[image - drawing of a lake]] NUACE IS THE BEST IN THE WORLD This package contains approximately 100 corners DIRECTIONS Place a NuAce Mounting Corner on each corner of print. Moisten backs and place on album page. To hold prints more securely turn up points marked A and B bringing glue into contact with print. Made in U.S.A., by ACE ART CO., Reading, Mass. [[end page]]
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Ranunculus Flammula var (reptans sceleratus Corydalis sempervirens Brassenia Scheberi Sarracenia purpurea Drosera longifolia rotundifolia Dalibarda repens Potentilla tridentata Spiraea salicifolia tomentosa Trifolium agarium Oxalis Acetosella Rhus glabra typhina Hypericum boreale virginicum Epilobium angustifolium coloratum molle Oenothera fruticosa Aralia hispida Cornus canadensis Andromeda glaucophylla Chamaedaphne calyculata Chimaphila umbellata Kalmia angustifolia Ledum groenlandicum Monotropa uniflora Pyrola chlorantha Trientalis americana Gentiana Andrewsii linearis Chelone glabra Melampyrum lineare Utricularia vulgaris Houstonia caerulea Diervilla Lonicera Linnaea borealis var americana Lonicera caerulea Valeriana uliginosa Lobelia cardinalis Dortmanna siphilitica spicata Aster acuminatus ericoides junceus macrophyllus nemoralis paniculatus umbellatus Galinsoga parviflora Lactuca pulchella Prenanthes nana
85. Hieracium aurantiacum Pilosella Senecio aureus [[end column]] [[next column]] Solidago gramnifolia Randii Randii var montivola [[image - black and white photograph of a plant, glued to the center of the page, with caption]] Habenaria blephariglottis
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