Robinson River

The following is a description of an eight-day bushwhacking adventure into some of the most remote areas within the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. The trip includes traversing areas of intense blowdown along the oddly-shaped Oven Lake, exploring a cluster of wilderness ponds and following the wild Robinson River. The first part of day seven is a bushwhack over a shoulder of Greenfield Mountain down to the Robinson River.

Section Stats:
Date: July 4, 2011
Length: 0.5 miles (0.5 miles for the day)
Difficulty: Moderate

A very active morning bird chorus greets me when I wake on my last full day in the backcountry of the Five Ponds Wilderness in the northwestern Adirondacks. The birds are not the only vocal wildlife though, as a boisterous frog chorus is still going on from the previous night. Apparently the frogs never took a break as they were making quite the ruckus during the middle of the night when I got up to relieve myself.

Hear the late night frog chorus. Can you name every species calling? Hear the early morning bird chorus here and here. Can you name all of the bird species?

With a full day before me, I do not dawdle long in my sleeping bag. Instead, I am up and dressed fairly rapidly, going about my morning chores with an urgency usually reserved for the final day of a trip.

My plan for the day involves hiking over the shoulder of Greenfield Mountain to the Robinson River, bushwhacking west along the river for at least a mile before heading into unbroken forest for another mile to the Five Ponds Trail. The day’s concludes with a hike down the trail to the intersection with the Cage Lake Trail, which eventually takes me to the Wolf Pond lean-to for the night.

After eating breakfast and dismantling my campsite, I journey down to West Pond’s shoreline rocks for the final time. The frogs are largely quiet as I survey the water. Either my presence finally scares the frogs into ceasing their infernal racket or they are finally exhausted from their marathon session over the previous night.

The only avian activity is two common goldeneyes swimming around the shark’s fin rock out in the eastern end of the pond. With my binoculars I notice a third duck sitting on top of the rock preening itself. Where are the other two adults and the three youngsters I saw yesterday?

A dark cloud floats over the water, displaying some weird topography on its underside. Beyond the weird cloud in all directions is clear blue early morning sky. Hopefully this threatening cloud is an anomaly that will soon blow over. A long wet trek through the heart of the Five Ponds Wilderness in the rain is definitely not the way I want to spend the longest day of my trip.

Upon returning to my campsite and retrieving my Pinnacle backpack, I set my compass bearing to 330 degrees and began my day’s journey by heading over the western shoulder of Greenfield Mountain. At 1920 feet in elevation, this mountain is by no means impressive, especially given the many higher unnamed peaks in the surrounding area.

West Pond at morning

My bearing is based on where the river crosses a series of closely adjoining contour lines. At this point the river should be swiftest and hopefully narrower in width. If a beaver dam is located anywhere along the northern portion of the Robinson River it would probably be at this location. I cross my fingers metaphorically since if I fail to find a crossing there I may just get trapped on the eastern side of the river all the way back toward Toad Pond. This could require me to navigate around Sliding Falls, which I knew was heavily impacted by the 1995 Microburst.

The climbing only lasts a short time before I gradually start to descend down to the Robinson River flood plain. The forest is mostly hardwood, with an occasional spruce or hemlock mixed in. Some of the trees are very large, particularly the hemlocks. The moderately thick knee-high hobblebush makes the going more difficult than anticipated, while the sporadic blow downs and wet areas require several short detours.

Weird cloud formation above West Pond

While descending through one such wet blow down (map point #74), I am startled by the sudden movement off to my right. I spot a snowshoe hare bounding away from me with a rapid but short burst of energy. The hare stops almost immediately when I do, and if for not my keen eyesight would have nearly vanished into the background. Its brown coat perfectly blended with the surrounding leaf litter much as I imagine its white coat would during the winter months.

I step over several piles of moose scat during the descent to the river. The scat continued to mock me as it had since almost the beginning of this trip. My chances of actually seeing a living, breathing moose were quickly dwindling with only a little over a day left on this trip. I remain hopeful I will see one along the Robinson River this morning.

Within forty-five minutes, the sunshine from the open floodplain starts to penetrate the forest before me. And surprisingly, I appear to be only a little west of where the river drops a few contours (map point #75). The floodplain narrows here as it enters the forest as it enters the forest on its way east to the Oswegatchie River. There are numerous blowdown spruces along the water’s edge and many more dead spruces lining the floodplain.

Forest between West Pond and Robinson River

But more importantly is the reason for the dying spruces. As I suspected (and hoped) there was one very long beaver dam stretching across the wide river. This dam has caused the river to pool and perhaps kill some of the spruces at the edge of the floodplain.

The dam’s presence is fortuitous as it provides me with an ideal way to get to the northern shore. Without it, it would be necessary to head west along the southern shore and hope for another dam before the river makes a sudden turn to the south. Being on the northern shore allows me to head west to the trail system after the river makes its journey south.

The dam is just above the stygian water level in places, but looks sturdy enough to act as a bridge. There is no beaver to be seen in the area, but with the bright morning sun already clearing the canopy they are probably engaged in some serious nap-time.

First view of Robinson River

As par for the course on this trip, the mosquitoes are horrendous. It requires a good deal of my concentration to make it over the dam while the swarm of blood suckers hovers around my head. (I am itching my neck and head just thinking about it while writing this.)

As I cross the dam I have an excellent view of the river’s floodplain. It appears to remain wide and wet as it unfolds to the west, which confirms what the aerial photographs indicate.

The edge of the floodplain is lined with many dead spruces and/or firs. These trees appear recently dead since their fine twigs remain intact on the dead limbs. Perhaps the combination of high water levels due to heavy spring precipitation and this recent beaver dam did them in.

The flood plain has a significant amount of herbaceous vegetation (i.e. grasses and/or sedges) but close to the dam it is mostly open water. The dam is very shabbily constructed with many sticks and twigs sticking out of it. The crossing is rather difficult and I walk carefully to avoid getting my foot caught in the intertwined material.

Beaver dam across Robinson River

As I cross, a duck flies over quacking loudly. It is moving so quickly, I am unable to retrieve my compact binoculars fast enough to get a good look at it. I suspect it is probably an American black duck. A few minutes after re-securing my binoculars on my hipbelt, a broad-winged hawk flies right over head and into the forest behind me, whistling the entire time.

With the crossing of the Robinson River behind me, I can relax a little and prepare myself for the journey west along the river’s northern shore. Keep checking the Bushwhacking Fool for the remainder of my journey along the river, which should be coming soon.

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