Cabin Life – #3

There’s two bird feeders right outside my window.  Unfortunately, I have yet to see any birds eating from them.  One is a cheap plastic and wood deal, with a roof that lifts up so you can dump seed in.  The other one is a bell feeder, where the seeds are pretty much glued together into a bell shape.  I hope they don’t use actual glue.  That would be a weird thing to feed to a bird.

I love watching birds, but I absolutely suck at identifying them.  Sure, robins, blue jays, bald eagles, great blue herons, I know what they look like, but the smaller birds that call the Northern Adirondacks home are a mystery to me.

The feeders should have been put out earlier.  But I was afraid of attracting bears to the cabin.  There is at least one bear living out here, though I have not seen any sign of it.  A friend who stayed here over the summer went outside one night, and a bear was walking right up to the cabin.  Luckily for Rico, the bear was just as scared of him as he was of it.  They let out the same little girlish scream and ran their respective ways.

One day in early November, when it was still kind of warm out, I was laying on the bed reading.  I heard a “pop” and figured that it came from the direction of the big picture window.  It didn’t sound like a noise the cats would be able to make, and Pico was lying at my feet.  I went outside to see if a bird had crashed into the window.  And sure enough, there was a blue jay sitting on the ground below the glass.  He was alive, and I was hoping that he didn’t have a broken neck.  I left him in the grass, and pet him a little bit.  He was blinking his eyes like he was really stunned, and I’m sure he was.

I went inside and got a Ritz cracker, then wandered out after a few minutes to see if he was still there.  He hadn’t moved, and I was afraid he was dying a slow death.  I thought about killing him then, just to put him out his misery, but decided to wait a while first.  I crumbled up about half the cracker and left it for him to eat.  I sat back in the morning sun and waited to see what would happen.

A few minutes later, the little bird took a few bites of the Ritz and looked at me.  He wasn’t as loopy as before and seemed to be wondering just what I was.  Then he shook himself off, walked a few steps, and took off flying.  So apparently, Ritz crackers can cure a broken neck.  Or maybe he just needed a few minutes to get his shit together, I don’t know.

I feel bad about the bird feeders at the window.  I hope another bird doesn’t come cruising up and slam himself into the window.  But I do hope they discover the food source soon.  One of the reasons I live out here is because I like having wildlife around, and having it literally right outside of your window makes it even cooler.  I’d like to get to know some of the smaller birds around here and be able to distinguish between a nut hatch and a chickadee.

And I know I’d like the new neighbors, even if they are noisy in the morning.

Cabin Life – #1

There’s a pretty good storm blowing outside, not as bad as it sounded in the forecasts though.  I realized yesterday, before the storm, that I was pretty much stockpiled to the point of being okay for a few days if things really went to hell.  The forecast was for rain, sleet, and snow with ice accumulations.

Everyone started talking about the Ice Storm of 1998.  More than 4 inches of ice built up on trees, power lines, and everywhere else.  The North Country was paralyzed, and there were numerous deaths from the storm.  A lot of people also died when they ran their generators inside their houses, and succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning.

Sunrise over Whiteface

I don’t have to worry about any of that because I don’t have power at all.  Ever.  The cool way of saying this is that I live “off the grid.”  It’s not so much a choice as an adventure though.  Carving a living out in the North Country is not easy, but I lucked into one of the best friends I’ve ever had.  And just when I desperately needed a cheep place to stay, Amy came through with an offer of no rent in a one room, 400 square foot cabin with no electricity and no running water.  The trade off is that I do a lot of work on the property, and she doesn’t have to worry about someone breaking in to the place again.  Plus, now I live close enough to chicken-sit when she’s out of town.

The cabin sits on an amazing piece of property in Vermontville, NY.  Fifty-two acres is just about the right amount of room for Pico to run around on.  There’s trails and open woods that are just begging to be skied and snowshoed.  The place is a simple affair, brown with white trim, a sagging porch, and attached woodshed.  In the fall when it rained, the leaky porch roof afforded no protection from the rain.

After being here for a few months, I’ve gotten to know the property and get into a pretty good routine.  Paul Smiths isn’t far from here, and the gym provides a much needed daily dose of Sports Center, as well as wi-fi and plenty of good books at the library.  Pico and I go for a walk or ski pretty much every day, and the deer prints of the fall have been replaced by rabbit tracks.  The rabbits seem to be particularly fond of the area around the outhouse.  I’d prefer not to know why, exactly, that is.

Having no electricity means that your life suddenly revolves around the creation and maintenance of artificial light.  I am frequently seen out at a nice restaurant in town wearing a small Petzl headlamp around my neck.  There’s also the big Mag Lite with the LED bulb that is so bright it freaks me out like being hit in the eye with one of those laser pointers.  I sat down today and fixed three more oil lamps.  It’s really nice out here at night now, especially since the nights are so long.  At least we’re getting a little more light each day.

Before the snow came, that Mag Lite would illuminate three does that were in the yard every night.  I knocked down some rotten apples that were still clinging to the trees and put out some old corn that I had found in the shed.  There was also the gray fox by the wood pile, and the blue jay that flew into the window and was stunned, but still ate some Ritz crackers and then took off.  The sound of wildlife and absence of other sounds is wonderful.

Sure, it sucks to have to go outside to wiz when it’s -5, but the stars that can be seen on those nights almost makes me forget the bone chilling temperatures.  If only people in cities could see what I see, a lot fewer people would be afraid of the dark.

Cross Country Skiing

Well, it’s the beginning of a new year, and the snow is finally starting to fall.  There’s about six inches on the ground in Vermontville, NY and it’s coming down pretty good!  After five years in Florida, I really looked forward to how nice it is to witness the first part of winter when everything is fresh and clean, and the road sides don’t yet have that brown nastiness that they’re soon to take on.

And today was a big transition day for me, because I pulled out my trekking poles (or Geek Sticks as non-users call them) and switched the rubber tips for snow baskets!  I’ve always been a downhill skier and snowshoer but, a couple of years before I left for Florida, I bought a used pair of cross-country skis.  They were cheap and beat up and it was an impulse purchase, but, why not?  Forty bucks lighter I walked out of the store with my first set of cross country skis and boots (that’s a deal, right!?).

After contemplating what to do today to stave off cabin fever, I strapped on the skis and headed out the door.  I was never good at cross-country skiing, it was just a way to get outside and have another winter activity at my disposal (and I used to be a much worse gear hound, and just kind of wanted that stuff lying around).  I used to roll my ankles constantly and the only part I was actually good at was going down steep inclines.  So today was a test run, if you will.

The best thing about living in the woods is that when you want to head outdoors, all you do is go outside.  There is no need for a long (or even a short) drive to the trailhead.  The property I live on has several trails, and it’s bordered by state land, so if I want to keep going I can.  But today is a short one, more a way to check my gear and give Pico some exercise than a way for me to get a good workout in (Plus, I’d been sick all week and really needed to get out of the cabin).

Leaving the cabin in the dust and with Pico galloping ahead, I start gliding from the front door up the trail.  I was apprehensive and made sure that my phone and keys were safely secured in zippered pockets so I didn’t lose them in my inevitable first fall.  I was also waiting for the sharp but not serious pain that comes when I roll my ankle.  But after a few minutes, I’m still upright and Pico is desperately trying to figure out what the hell I’m sliding around on.  I forgot that this was his first time seeing anything like this.

The first little incline I hit posed no problem at all.  I always used to have to duck walk (legs splayed, toes pointing in opposite directions and heels together so that the skis

make a herringbone pattern in the snow) to get up any sort of hill.  But for some reason, I shortened my stride, leaned forward and didn’t have to slow down at all.  Those quick little kicks and pushes with the poles make it so much easier to ascend.  Holy crap, when, where and how I picked up this technique is beyond me, but I like it!

After reaching a good point to turn around and head back, I realized that I was having a lot of fun, and hadn’t fallen or rolled my ankle once.  It was overcast but warm, the snow is deep enough that I didn’t hit any rocks, and the quiet, quick swish on the skis was kind of entrancing.  In fact, it’s downright enjoyable.

I know that cross-country skis will never fully replace snowshoes for me, but I have to tell you, it’s not nearly as dorky or boring as I used to think.  I like the quiet movement that the skis afford, and there is a bit of excitement to be had coming down the steeper hills, especially if there is a turn or two along the way (or if your not-too-bright dog sits down right in front of you).  I’ll keep doing this all winter.  And the best part?  No $80 lift ticket!

Lyon Mountain

First stream crossing

Earlier this year, I hiked Lyon Mountain for the second time.  It was a warm-up for the next week when I hiked Cascade and Porter.  Lyon Mountain is not one of the High Peaks, but it’s close at 3830 feet in elevation.  The nice thing about Lyon is that it sits all by itself on the Northeast edge of the Adirondack Park.  From the summit on a clear day you can see Vermont, the High Peaks and the skyline of Montreal.

The mountain also has a long history and even some intrigue about it.  For a long time, Lyon Mountain was one of the biggest iron ore operations around.  It has hosted a ski area, fire tower, caretaker’s cabin, and possibly even some nuclear missile silos.

The trail up Lyon Mountain was recently redone and now includes more switchbacks and a few new bridges.  The trailhead (N 44.72386, W073.84167) is at the end of a dirt road off of the Chazy Lake Road at the site of the former Lowenburg Ski Area (Lowenburg… Huh, wonder if they were Jewish?).  It actually showed up as Lowenburg Road on my GPS.  From Route 3 in the town of Saranac, turn onto the Chazy Lake Road.  Continue straight through the first Stop sign.  Be sure to wave to everyone you see, and then bear left at 0.5 miles.  Turn right at 2.3 miles at the Four-Way Stop.  Get your first view of the summit and fire tower at 3.5 miles.  Turn left onto the dirt road at 7.9 miles.  There is a brown wooden sign hanger at the road, but no sign.  Coming up the road, park on the right and the trailhead is in the far left corner of the clearing.

Red trillium on the Lyon Mtn. trail

For the first ten minutes or so, the trail is nice and wide.  (If you’re a backcountry skier, then follow the trail straight here to the top of the old ski trails and have a great time on your way down!).  The trail is well marked with red plastic discs.  Bear left onto the single track and make the first stream crossing on one of the new bridges.  The forest makes a nice change here to an understory of witchhobble and trillium with a maple canopy.

Make the second stream crossing after a nice rolling stroll and then about a half mile later, get a view of Chazy Lake to your left.  The summit push is pretty steep, but I only had to use my hands to scramble once or twice.  I did run into a large sheet of ice on the trail that I had to avoid, because I wasn’t prepared for ice, you know, because it was May 20th.  Reaching the fire tower, find the highest rock you can, and that’s the summit!

The summit is open with an almost 360 degree view.  Try to stay on the rocks and off the soil while hopping around.  And if you make it up more than three flights of the fire tower, you’re more brave than I am.

Fire Tower on Summit of Lyon Mtn. summit

Looking to the North from the summit, you can see the Altona wind mill area, and Montreal on a clear day.  To the southwest, you can see the High Peaks and to the East lies Vermont and the Green Mountains.  The trail up Lyon is not an easy one, but it’s not a killer either.

As I said before, this was the second time I climbed Lyon.  The first time was in 2008 in preparation for climbing a couple of High Peaks, the same reason I did it this time.  But soon I will have to climb it just for it’s own sake, because it’s a great hike.