Beaverdam Pond’s eastern shore
My fifth day bushwhacking to the waterbodies east of the Red Horse Trail in the Five Ponds Wilderness of the northwestern Adirondack Park starts out just like the previous one: good and wet. The previous day’s soaking, supplemented by near continuous rain overnight (at least every time I woke), makes for a third soggy day in a row.
The brewing despair over another wet day is temporarily delayed however, as sunlight starts emerging from the overcast cloud cover occasionally during the mid-morning hours. Unfortunately, the sunshine always remains short-lived as the clouds eventually overpower the clear breaks.
In the battle for domination of the sky, clearly the clouds have the upper hand, at least, for now.
The temperature remains in the lower to mid-50’s, which keeps me in my dry sleeping bag, safe from the moisture and the cooler air surrounding my tarp. Any urgency to leave my dry shelter is suppressed knowing that my planned bushwhack to Beaverdam Pond is only a couple miles south, which should take a mere four hours, if that.
I am in no hurry to get wet once again, whether it is for a single minute, or several hours; been there, done that on this trip already, TWICE! Is a nice sunny day too much to ask during June in the Adirondacks? For this year, the answer is apparently yes.
Section Stats:
Date: June 29, 2015
Length: 2.4 miles (2.4 total daily miles; 26.5 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Easy
While adding the weird dreams from last night to my notes, raindrops once again start falling. Luckily, the shower is brief, with the drops barely penetrating the lush tree canopy above my tarp. A duck quacks loudly out on Wilder Pond. I have no idea whether that means it approves of the rain or not.
A late breakfast under my tarp helps provide a little motivation to get going, but just a little. I pack up most of my gear underneath the tarp, waiting until the last minute before packing up my shelter and enduring the wet again. However, the drizzle continues to drag on, while mosquitoes come out in biblical numbers whenever the moisture in the air declines just a little.
Not sure which is worst, the wet or the bugs. Probably the bugs, but the wet is close behind.
Eventually, my antsy feelings exceed my aversion to wet, and I exit the tarp and begin packing it up in its current saturated state, the rain still lightly falling. As long as any downpours hold off, creeping toward Beaverdam Pond is my plan for the day. What else am I going to do?
Before leaving, I head out to Wilder Pond for a last look. My campsite is near the pond’s outlet, so that is where I head for my parting visit. The pond is small, with the sky above now dark and threatening; the glimpses of sunshine long gone. Near the middle of the open water is a lone thin snag, a remnant of a much drier time. Down the outlet, a beaver dam is visible, possibly the reason for the standing water here. Nearby is a downed red maple along the northern shore, most likely the handiwork of the resident beaver.
It is already after noon by the time I turn southwest away from Wilder Pond and head into the wet hardwood forest surrounding my campsite. My planned route roughly follows the pond’s outlet, which flows all the way down to Beaverdam Pond.
The temperatures remain in the 50’s but seem much lower with a cool wind and all the moisture in the air. It sounds as if rain is still falling, but if so, it must be light enough that much of it is not reaching me in the understory. It matters little, as my rain gear is still damp from the previous day’s hike; apparently their rain-stopping ability has failed on this trip. Plus, with the understory vegetation completely saturated from the overnight rain, every time I bump some small tree, I endure another downpour.
This bushwhack is going to suck. Bad. Real bad.
The wet conditions force me to take my time and creep along at a snail’s pace (which seems entirely apropos given the surfeit of moisture everywhere). Although I want to get to Beaverdam Pond as fast as possible, so as to get out of the wet, I do not want to slip and fall and get a tree limb embedded into my back, or worse! Luckily, the forest and surrounding terrain remain fairly easily navigable, so there is no slipping or impaling going on.
At least for now.
Soggy Wilder Pond
Before going too far, I notice a reflective surface off into the forest just a short distance off my route. Investigating, I find a Mylar balloon lying on the forest floor, wet and slightly dirty. I pick it up and stick it into my pocket, another stupid balloon removed from the Adirondack Park. I wish people would stop releasing these things, which especially amounts to littering, so I can stop picking them up in these wilderness areas.
Ban the balloons, indeed.
The rain appears to taper off some again, but it is hard to determine with any certainty, given the breezy conditions are continuously knocking any drops from the tree canopy overhead. However, as I find my raincoat getting drier, it either has stopped raining or it is again so faint that it is no longer reaching the ground. Either way, less wet is good as far as I am concerned.
Within thirty minutes, I notice my route is taking me too far up a nearby small hill, so I change my bearing from southwest to 230 degrees. This leads to my making good time, traveling through mostly hardwood forests (with some evergreens mixed in occasionally) along with only some small ups and downs, but without any serious changes in elevation. Many large boulders force me to weave my way through the landscape, but not so frequently that it slows my progress much.
Wilder Pond outlet
An opening through the trees yields a beaver dam in the middle of the forest. This is not some ancient structure however, as the chewed branches in the dam appear fresh. Perhaps all the recent rain this spring has led to pop-up dams (flash dams?) in places where they normally would not be practical. Or perhaps affordable housing for beavers is just in short supply.
A northern waterthrush sings its disdain near the beaver pond. Or, maybe it is just happy it stopped raining.
My decision to avoid the flooded area by sticking to its north shore turns out to be a bad one, forcing me to backtrack somewhat and cross it up stream. This costs me some precious time, especially important on a wet and cool day like today. Because of this, I reevaluate my current bearing, which now appears inadequate. Instead, I head on a new bearing of 255 degrees, which should take me to the eastern end of Beaverdam Pond, while going south far enough to avoid another little pond in the area.
In just under an hour, the eastern end of Beaverdam Pond is within sight within the trees. A great blue heron takes off from near the shoreline as I approach, apparently not approving of my visit. A steep bank provides a perfect vantage point to observe the pond along the southeast corner of the pond, which is quite large, appearing more lake-like than anything else.
Beaverdam Pond
Blue flag irises are common in the shallow waters along Beaverdam Pond’s eastern end. They grow in the apparently shallow water, along with other semi-aquatic plants such as grasses and sedges. On the many semi-submerged logs scattered about shore are numerous sundews, making the area dangerous for small insect life. Snags and stumps are scattered about on this end of the pond too.
Perfect moose habitat, but apparently, they do not feel the same way, as there is not a single to one to see.
The near-constant cloud cover occasionally breaks overhead, revealing beautiful patches of blue sky. Unfortunately, the chance of completely clearing anytime soon is unlikely, as many threatening clouds still lurk about. The clouds move across the sky quickly, as it remains breezy and quite cool for late June.
Not ideal bushwhacking weather by anyone’s criteria.
From my vantage point, I can spot two beaver lodges, one along the northern shore and another way off in the northwestern corner. In the southwest corner, a clearing can be seen, with large ferns dominating the area. Is this where the old camp I read about online was located? Seems likely.
Now only a single mission remain before I can hang up my bushwhacking boots for the day – suspected old camp site, here I come.
Beaverdam Pond
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