Rock Lake

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. Part two of the final day is a hike along unmarked trails from Sand Lake back to my vehicle at Bear Pond Road.

Section Stats:
Date: July 5, 2011
Length: 4.1 miles (6.8 miles for the day)
Difficulty: Easy

Now with the hiking from Wolf Pond to Sand Lake complete, I decide to take a short break before heading over to Rock Lake on my way back to my car at Bear Pond Road. The eight-day bushwhacking/backpacking trip is drawing to a close and spending a little time at Sand Lake allows me to postpone the inevitable just a little longer.

I walk the short distance from the lean-to to the sandy shoreline to take in what will probably be my last view of Sand Lake for this year. Scattered wisps of clouds move quickly overhead as slight waves roll onto the sandy shoreline. The wind interrupts the hungry wave of mosquitos present just feet off the shore back in the forest; ever ready to attack any warm-blooded creature reckless enough to step off the beach.

A female mallard (or it could have been an American black duck) suddenly flies out of the surrounding vegetation and bee-lines for the opposite shore. After the shock wears off, I perform a cursory search for a nest within the knee-high grasses and sedges. Unfortunately, the search proves fruitless since I cannot even find any evidence of any crushed vegetation from the duck’s presence.

Not wishing to crush any possible eggs, I abandon the nest search and start walking along the water’s edge, contemplating my imminent return to civilization. The sudden movement of a large catfish distracts me from my reverie as it swims into the shallow water. The fish spins around quickly and heads back into deeper water, apparently after detecting my presence.

Further down the shoreline, near a large, downed white pine log, I spot a small white object bobbing in the water. With a long branch, I coax the round object toward shore where I can reach it. As I suspected, it turns out to be a snapping turtle egg.

Was the egg dug up by a predator and left behind because it smelled bad? Or did the female prematurely bury her eggs before forcing a last one out as she headed back into the water?

Although likely to make little difference, I dig a hole in the damp sand back from the water’s edge and bury the egg. Numerous holes are scattered about in the sand, apparently many of the turtle’s eggs were lost to predation. I wonder who the culprit is.

While peering into the lake for more wayward eggs, I spot a spiny fin breaking the surface of the water within a loose cluster of aquatic sedges/grasses located ten feet or so off shore. The fish writhes within the vegetation repeatedly before the fin disappears into the water’s depth never to reemerge.

Sand Lake esker

Turning around, I retrace my steps back toward the lean-to only to see a large pollywog swimming towards shore. Like the catfish before it, the tadpole takes a sudden turn back out into the deeper water. Am I that terrifying looking to these aquatic animals? Based on the size of the tadpole it most likely is a bullfrog.

Before heading off the beach, I observe a vast mob of tadpoles out in the water several feet. These must be of a different species than the larger one, based on their smaller size and near black color. The mob moves together at the sandy bottom just like a school of fish. Apparently, they find me less of a threat, or perhaps their eyesight is not as good, as they show no signs of dismay at my presence on shore.

Returning to the lean-to, I retrieve my Golite Pinnacle backpack for the hike over to Rock Lake and beyond. The trek begins rather unceremoniously by searching behind the shelter for the beginning of the herd path along the esker between Sand and Rock Lakes. The many indistinct and interweaving paths are plentiful evidence that I am not the first backpacker to have such difficulty.

Old oil drum stove

While searching for the beginning of the trail, I spot the remains of a stove made of out of an old oil drum. These archaic relicts orient me in such a way as to make the location of the herd path obvious enough so I can proceed along the herd path toward Rock Lake.

The first portion of the herd path follows along Sand Lake’s northwestern shore; up slope a short distance on the esker from the water’s edge. When the path reaches a small clearing where both lakes are visible, the path favors the edge of Rock Lake instead.

As the esker narrows there are ample views of the Sand Lake outlet through the conifer trees. The ridge is steep here providing some outstanding views of the wide outlet stream. I stop numerous times to take in the views with my Leica compact binoculars as this is probably my last, best chance of seeing a moose. Despite the effort, no moose is materializes.

When the path finally comes to the wet area where I lost my way on the way in, I discover the path actually proceeds over an old beaver dam. Will I remember this the next time I come into the backcountry this way?

Sand Lake outlet

Soon I am at the end of the herd path, where it merges with the trail from the Middle Branch Oswegatchie River. The home-made paddle remains where I left it at Rock Lake’s shore, but the paddling glove has now vanished. Perhaps the people that junked the lean-to took it with them.

The mosquitoes are bad here, so I avoid tarrying too long. After a brief snack, I head off along the trail back toward Grassy Pond. Soon after leaving Rock Lake, I encounter some orange flagging tied on a branch at what appears to be a side trail (point #97). I follow the orange-flagged trail for a short distance until it crests a hill with no end in sight. My sore feet protest at this point so I return to the main trail and proceed back toward my vehicle at a brisk pace.

After hiking along the unmarked trail toward Grassy Pond for a while, I encounter some black bear tracks in a muddy area near one of the places were the trail disappears into a wetland. The tracks are large, with the front track being much wider than, and almost as long as, my comparable tiny foot. The tracks stick to the trail for quite some time; they even remain visible by their indentations within the swampy vegetation where the trail crosses a boggy wetland.

Black bear print

After crossing a series of open areas, the trail merges with the side path toward Alderbed Flow to the north and reenters the forest. Soon after passing the side trail, a female ruffed grouse and her many young take off in a flurry of feather and sound. The female quickly returns to my location, with feathers ruffled and squeaking repeatedly in an attempt to distract me from her young. After several failed attempts to get a photograph of her with my Olympus E-420 digital SLR camera, I return to my hike toward Grassy Pond.

When I reach the unmarked side trail to Grassy Pond, I decide to make the short trip down to take a look. The short trail descends through a mostly hardwood forest before ascending slightly to a campsite under some large white pines. Based on the amount of vegetation obscuring the fire ring, this site has not seen any visitors in many months. I descend the short distance down a side trail to the water’s edge for a few pictures before returning to the main trail and continue my trek back to my vehicle at Bear Pond Road.

Grassy Pond

My sore feet create an image of bloody stumps within my Asolo boots, so I pass on the opportunity to head to Brindle Pond. My recollection is the side trail to the pond is long and the view is minimal. I continue hiking down the main trail for the short remaining distance to the river.

The sound of the rushing water is clearly audible when I reach a “Y” in the trail that I fail to remember from my hike in eight days before. I take the wider path on the right which descends and then ascends before ending at a cliff overlooking the Middle Branch Oswegatchie River.

From this location I can see a corresponding clearing well above the river on the opposite bank. Clearly, a bridge, now long gone, once existed here. At one time I read about a plan to build a bridge near here to avoid fording the river. Unfortunately, it seems the forces that be decided to build the bridge upstream a ways at the beginning of the trail to Upper South Pond. I am thinking about a bushwhacking trip starting at that trail for next year.

I double back to the other choice at the “Y”, which leads directly to the fording site I used on my way hike in eight days before. After removing my Asolo boots, I cross the river and reach the opposite bank. Since I am planning on washing up at my car, I remove my backpack, empty out my pockets and jump into the river with all my clothes on, including my hat.

Middle Branch Oswegatchie River

Oswegatchie River crossing

After getting myself completely refreshed by the cool, dark water, I collect some water in both my filter system’s Big Zip Reservoir and my collapsible packbowl for my wash-up at my car just uphill along Bear Pond Road. When I return to my car at a clearing off of the road, I break out my toiletries and give myself a complete cleaning including sponge bath and shower using my filter reservoir as a shower following my typical backcountry hygiene protocol.

While drying myself off after the shower, I hear an unusual, but familiar bird call. It sounds somewhat like a woodpecker but sharper in tone. With no shirt on and deer flies hovering about, I follow the sound around along the dirt road but fail to catch a glimpse of the bird. When I finally catch a glimpse of the bird, it flies down Bear Pond Road out of sight. I grab my Leica compact binocular and head off after it in shorts, Crocs and my entourage of deer flies.

Bear Pond Road

When I finally locate the elusive bird on a dead spruce, it turns out to be a male black-backed woodpecker. The black-backed woodpecker is an uncommon bird in the northern Adirondacks, typically found in boreal forests due to its affinity for spruce trees. The irony of seeing the most exciting bird species of the entire eight-day bushwhacking trip through the remotest parts of the Fiver Ponds Wilderness at my car is not lost on me.

When I finish my clean-up, I pack up all my equipment and place it in my car for the ride back. Miraculously, the car starts and appears to be no worse for wear after driving the ten miles along the dirt and often rocky Bear Pond Road and sitting in a clearing in the middle of the forest for eight days unattended.

On the hour-long ride out along Bear Pond Road, I pull over to let a truck pass me. The truck appears to be the exact same pick-up that passed me at my parking spot when I came in eight days earlier. The rest of the ride out remains uneventful except for a white-tailed deer staring me down in the middle of the road and hitting a rock hidden in the vegetation just off the road.

And I never did get to see a moose, despite all the vast amounts of droppings encountered. Well, there is always next year.

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