When the daylight hours begin to overtake those of darkness and spring enters its middle-age, it is once again time for my annual birding/bushwhacking ritual, the Birdathon.  This contest requires searching for as many bird species as possible within a 24-hour period on the third Saturday in May.  This year, as it has for the last five of six years, my plan requires exploring a rarely-visited portion of the Adirondack Park known as the Pepperbox Wilderness Area.  The area is a rather odd destination, as it is a virtual bird diversity desert, at least compared to other parts of the state, so my choice is more of an excuse to do some bushwhacking rather than accumulating any large number of bird species.

This year I am changing things up a little, as unlike last year where I started in the western Five Ponds Wilderness and worked my way west and south into the Pepperbox Wilderness, my entire route would remain within the eastern Pepperbox instead.  Keeping with my new tradition of starting north and heading south to Cropsey Pond, which I started last year, requires deciding where to begin my morning, and thus the location of my campsite the night before.  Since the large boggy wetland near the Pepperbox’s eastern border, which I christened Big Bad Leroy Bog years ago, was the highlight of last year’s trip, the small pond to its south felt like a decent place to start my avian quest this year.

The small pond is nameless on the official topographic map of the area, so coming up with a name for it, rather than just referring to it as “small pond”, seems necessary.  Since it is the first in a series of four small ponds feeding Big Bad Leroy Bog, I came up with the creative name of First of Four Ponds, with the next one to the south being Second of Four Ponds and so on.  My knack for snappy names continues.

Now I just need to get there before the big day.

I leave the Syracuse area just shy of ten in the morning, arriving at the parking area trailhead at the end of Necessary Dam Road, a short distance from the hamlet of Stillwater Reservoir, around twelve-thirty in the afternoon.  A pileated woodpecker flies through the parking lot as I drive in, perhaps acting as a harbinger of good things to come tomorrow.  After a little reorganization of my backpack, I leave my car at around one, dodging the few black flies lingering about.

Hiking up Raven Lake Road

It is partly cloudy, with a slight breeze as I start out.  Crossing the bridge over the Beaver River helps to scatter the black flies, though they regroup once I obtain the opposite shore.  The hike up Raven Lake Road, a dirt road open for private access to an inholding camp on Raven Lake, makes the going easy enough, despite the occasional steep hill to climb.  As I go, the skies get clearer, with it becoming sunny and hot, leading to profuse sweating, and consequently, more biting insects.

By about one-thirty, I pass an old hunters’ path just before the dirt road comes along the eastern end of a large beaver meadow.  This path has either given me access, or provided me an exit for places north many times in the past, but not on this trip.  It must wait until a future adventure to provide that service to me again.

In another twenty minutes of walking alternating within mixed and hardwood forests, Kettlehole Canoe Carry trail appears on my right.  It leads downhill through mature forest to Kettlehole Bay on Stillwater Reservoir, passing a few small waterfalls on the way.  After a mile jaunt up the road, the canoe carry continues at the Shallow Pond Canoe Carry, which is also where I plan to start the bushwhacking portion of my trip. 

Unfortunately, it is nearly uphill the entire way, but at least I am not carrying a canoe.

When finally arriving at the Shallow Pond Canoe Carry, I enjoy a brief rest and snack before starting the bushwhacking portion of my day’s travels.  While drinking down some water, I notice the Shallow Pond outlet stream appears at moderate levels for mid-spring.  Although this might irritate the resident beavers of the area, it bodes well for my stream crossings tomorrow.  Unfortunately, the black fly situation is not as advantageous for the big day tomorrow, as they are not already out, but biting ferociously too.

Not willing to give up too much blood, I pack up quickly so that I can be on my way again. Once everything is put away, I turn on my trusty Garmin GPS and fire up my video camera, now securely attached to my chest via a harness that I put on during my break.  With all my gadgets on and ready to go, it is time to enter the trailless backcountry for the remainder of my first day of hiking. 

Bushwhacking, here I come, ready or not.

Bushwhacking to a view

The climbing starts almost immediately the instant I step off the road.  It is not a gradual climb either; the slope itself appears intent on stymying my progress, or at least punishing me for it.  At least the open hardwood forest provides easy enough going, despite the steep climb.  In an attempt to avoid the steepest part of the climb, I head due west for a short while, before turning north toward an open view overlooking Shallow Pond.  At least, that is what I read in a book in my personal library.

Within fifteen minutes of climbing, an open area appears within the dense forest and I immediately head towards it like a moth to a flame.  It proves to be the right move, as instead of being burnt, I am subjected to a rather stunning, if somewhat tree-obscured view of the surrounding area to the east.

A slice of Stillwater Reservoir’s Kettlehole Bay is visible to the southeast; a tiny island stands out with a few conifer trees growing on it, the trees sticking out like hairs on a pimple.  The northeast provides a slight glimpse of Raven Lake, the surrounding forest obscuring the inholding’s camp in the lake’s southeastern corner.  Jackson Pond (or perhaps it is Shallow Pond) is partially visible, while most of it remains hidden behind the trees below.

Trees and water are not the only visible features, however.  On the forested hillside to the east, a fissure in the tree cover winds its way straight up the steep slope.  This is the continuation of Raven Lake Road, originally used to log the area but now closed to all automobile traffic and permanently protected as part of the Five Ponds Wilderness Area.  This old road leads all the way northeast to Bear and Diana Ponds, but is little used except by hunters, forest denizens, and intrepid explorers like myself.

The forest floor at the lookout is nearly non-existent, the ground composed mostly of moss, ancient lichen and a few small flowering plants, with patches of bare rock exposed throughout.  I carefully tiptoe my way across the bare rock trying to gain a better view, making sure not to crush any of the fragile lichen.  From the looks of the lichen in some places, it does not appear everyone was quite so considerate in the past.

The sounds of the falls along the outlet of Shallow Pond remain audible above the din of the black flies buzzing around my ears, although just barely.  Deterring the little buggers is not easy, especially if you are a person that prefers to avoid DEET like myself, but luckily I come prepared with some new repellents courtesy of my current girlfriend.

Unfortunately, the repellent goes on thickly, giving the sensation as if bathed in petroleum jelly.  This uncomfortable feeling gives little relief however, as the flies return in a short time – angrier than ever.  The flies easily stick to the goo on my neck and face, as do my own hands when I attempt to brush them off, leaving me to wonder whether the repellant is more or less annoying than the biting flies themselves.

Heading to Fourth of Four Ponds

Leaving the viewpoint behind, I head northwest toward Fourth of Four Ponds, the southernmost pond in the series of small beaver ponds.  Immediately, the going is downhill through mixed forest, which gets me cursing on losing the elevation that I worked so hard to get just a short time ago.

In a short distance, the terrain levels off as I reach a small wet area.  Rather than cross it, I hug the perimeter until I clear enough to restart heading northwest again.  Now much to my chagrin, the climbing starts anew, leaving me more than a little annoyed that I once again have to climb up what I had just lost.

When the height of land is finally obtained, I declare it time for another rest.  A short rest is all I can afford, as the black flies are relentless, attacking from all direction with a ferocity seldom seen except for in springtime in the Adirondacks.  Oh wait, I guess this is just normal after all.  How easily I forget their attacks since last year, it is almost as if I never learn, for which I imagine they are quite thankful.

With the new bug repellent acting more as a me repellent rather than affecting the flies, I renew my bushwhack toward Fourth of Four Ponds.  After remaining fairly level for a while, the terrain suddenly plummets down to the pond below.  The trees are mostly hardwood now and young, probably indicating the activity of beavers in the recent past.  The slope is so steep that I imagine the most svelte beavers in all the Adirondacks must thrive here.

Finally, I see bright light streaming through the dense young forest.  I am about to discover Fourth of Four Ponds for the first time and from there it should be an easy stream follow down to First of Four Ponds.

Or so I am hoping.

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