Diana Pond
Now with the hike up Raven Lake Road over, the easiest portion of my first day is behind me. Unfortunately, that leaves just the increasingly rugged road extension into the interior of the southern Five Ponds Wilderness to go. Once an old logging road, nature has slowly begun to reclaim its own, leaving the way forward unpredictable in its appearance. During my last visit, the old road alternated between a foot path through dense new growth and a grassy lane, often switching from one to the other at the drop of a hiking pole.
Navigating through the young trees and boulders that mark the end of Raven Lake Road, a foot trail greets me, a ribbon of dirt winding its way up a steep hill within an open corridor that long ago resembled a road. Not wanting to waste any more time, I shift into low gear, picking up speed despite the heavy load on my back, until the top of the ridge is within sight before me.
As I crest the ridge, the old road suddenly fills in with young saplings, mostly maples, as the road shifts from heading east to northeast. The once spacious old road has vanished, leaving behind just a narrow path in which to navigate forward. The claustrophobic nature of the path adds to my trepidation, at least for a short period. The path widens somewhat after a short distance, once again giving off an old road vibe and alleviating any apprehension. Although the terrain undulates somewhat, it never loses the hard won elevation from my climb up the ridge earlier.
Section Stats:
Date: June 25, 2015
Length: 4.0 miles (6.3 total daily miles; 6.3 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Moderate (wet&long)
Staring at the ground, I notice what appears to be a bicycle track in the mud winding through the old road. At first, the thought of an illegal bicycle ride comes to mind, but after some thought I come up with a substitute explanation. Instead, the tract could have been made by a single tire canoe cart from an enterprising adventurer that would rather pull a cart rather than paddle up the series of waterbodies to the west.
Nah, most likely an illegal bicyclist.
The old road fluctuates between an open road, mostly covered in herbaceous plants or moss in the wetter areas, and foot trail surrounded by new tree growth. Numerous evidence of its past use are scattered about, including old metal culverts, rusted and bent-up into tortured shapes, as well as fire rings, now barely visible, swallowed up my moss and other vegetation. Side trails appear on both sides of the road, some seemingly dead-end a short distance, while others continuing for parts unknown.
After about a half hour of hiking at a good clip, a well-worn trail appears on the right. Unlike the other trails prior, all of which lacked evidence of use, this one contains a well-trodden brown ribbon, indicating even more use than the main road forward. Also marking this new trail is a contorted small pine, maybe a Scotch pine, standing in the middle of the road.
From my previous visits to this area, I know this side trail leads down a hill to Slim Pond and other points to the southeast. This is where I intend on meeting the old road upon my return route in eight or so days, forest gods willing. The plan includes hiking through the Ginger Ponds area, much like I did the year before after rescuing my lost stake from Cropsey Pond.
Past the Slim Pond side-trail, the old road climbs for a short time through hardwood saplings before entering a grassy lane with an unmistakably old road feel. Sometimes the old road is dry, other times, a swampy mess. One thing lacking now is the well-worn dirt trail. Obviously, most of the foot traffic goes toward Slim Pond rather than heading northward, which suits me fine. Solitude is what I am looking for on this trip, and my chance of seeing anyone, except along the Red Horse Trail two days hence, is unlikely at best.
The road passes an old beaver meadow to the east then climbs steeply for a time before descending and passing a couple more beaver meadows. The surrounding forest retains its second growth look for the most parts, although it slowly takes on an older, more mature look as I continue northward.
When the old road seemingly ends at a clearing, I stop and survey the surroundings. If memory serves me correctly, an old pile of logs blocks the path forward, hidden in the forest along the opposite side of the clearing. After searching for a few short moments, I locate and quickly climb over the rotting log pile. The old road beyond has a much rougher feel now, and the forest takes on a more mature nature.
Old Logging Road
As the miles of old road fly by now with a more abandoned nature, I start to notice large prints in the muddier road surface. The prints are clearly from a black bear, and a big one at that. From the regularity, it appears the bruin is using the relative easy road to make excellent time, just like me. Let’s just hope it does not decide to sleep where I am camping tonight.
When I stop for a water break, a weird mewing noise interrupts the still quiet of the forest. At first, the identity of the source eludes me, despite the sense of familiarity. After hearing it again, its source becomes clear to me; it is a female ruffed grouse. Usually, this kind of call is used by a mother feigning injury to lure would-be predators away from young chicks, but I never catch sight of the young or their mother. Before my water break ends, the mewing stops, without ever seeing a single grouse, mother or chicks.
Along what remains of the old road, evidence of run off is frequent, some being significant enough to indicate past torrential downpours. As Bear Pond draws close, the potential for more water-induced damage appears even more likely as a light rain begins to fall.
With the threat of substantial rain present, I quickly descend down to the slice of land between Bear and Diana Ponds, with my focus now solely on finding a campsite and getting about my chores when it is still light and relatively dry. The short canoe carry trail between Bear and Diana Ponds is nearly invisible due to its rare use; I easily cross it almost without noticing.
The short stream running from Diana to Bear Pond is flowing steadily; usually it has been nothing more than a trickle over bare rock on all past occasions. Luckily for me, it is still a fairly narrow stream and although it remains too wide to jump over now, it takes but a single footfall in the water for me to continue on the other side.
Old Fire Ring
Old Culverts
Although a fire ring is near the stream on the sliver of land, I decide to set up camp inland a little more under a large white pine tree near the site of an old camp that once stood nearby, closer to Diana than Bear Pond. The site is relatively level, somewhat sheltered by the large pine, while near enough to an old cast iron stove door placed on a cluster of boulders, an ideal staging area to make a late dinner.
However, campsite chores are still left to do before it is playtime. Setting up my tarp, hanging the food line, filtering water and preparing dinner are the priority now, as I accomplish one after the other. During the entire time, rumbling interrupts the serene quiet of my surroundings. At first, thunder seems the likely explanation, but when I listen closely, I decide artillery fire from Fort Drum is more likely, that or aliens.
After the chores are over, it is time to do a little exploring of the area. Just a short hike along the Diana shoreline is what remains of a camp, including much of the original roof, complete with shingles. Just a little ways farther, there is an old junk pile, with numerous cans, bottles and other refuse scattered about, protruding from the forest leaf litter that accumulated over the years.
Stream Between Bear & Diana Ponds
On the other side of the channel that constitutes Diana’s outlet, several green bottles lie on the top of a rock protruding from the surrounding water. One bottle lies on the rock unbroken, but at least one is shattered, with shards lying about on and around the boulder, apparently a victim of gunfire. Why do people do this? Do they not realize that wildlife can get cut on broken glass, not to mention how unsightly it looks?
Disgusted and with no way to clean the mess up, I turn my attention toward the natural world. Following the herd path back to the shore of Bear Pond, I scan the water for anything of interest. A common loon floats near the surface of the water way out on the pond. Using my binoculars, it appears there may be a baby riding on the adult’s back, but they are too far away to be absolutely sure. It does not help that fish regularly leap out of the water, distracting me continually. The two camps along the northern shore are the only things shattering the illusion of remoteness.
Moving back to the shore of Diana, I notice a female common goldeneye far out on the water. While scanning the shoreline, a chimney swift flies overhead, calling constantly. Unfortunately, with the evening winding down and the moisture in the air, the no-see-ums come out in full force. Their burning bites force me to retreat to my tarp for the evening, with it only about eight-thirty. With tomorrow’s nice weather forecast, I want to get an early start as there is much ground to cover to make up for the late start today.
Plus, I want to enjoy one of the few of the nine days I am out when the forecast is for dry conditions. There will plenty of days’ hikes truncated due to rain to deal with soon enough.
Broken glass
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