Forever Wild Blog

It’s the start of Mud Season in Cranberry, so we left for warmer weather.  Mud Season is like a pre- teen…the start of all things ugly and awful to endure, before the good stuff emerges.  Everyone that can leave Cranberry during the Mud Season, does so.  Which is why we are in Flagler Beach, Fla. with my mom and step dad, and sister and bro-in law nearby.  Surf, sun, flea markets, farmers markets with tomatoes that actually smell and taste like tomatoes….ahh……

I’ve been doing a lot of  ahhhh-ing down here in the sun.  Each deep breath brings me closer to a state of relaxation.  Mom keeps telling me to get out of the kitchen sink, but decompressing takes time.  ” I run a restaurant”, I tell her,” it’s normal for me to jump from one task to the next….” but, I am slowing down some.  This morning, I read two newspapers out in the sun overlooking the canal, and drank 3 cups of iced coffee.  It took me an hour, and I languished over every page.  Oh how I miss getting the papers and having time to read them.  We only get the Watertown Daily Times in Cranberry….We are too far off the radar for anyone else to take notice.

We are here for 3 glorious weeks.  When we get back to our lives, it will be good to begin the season ahead of us.  Our boat will be in it’s slip on the lake at the Emporium Marina, our new menu will be taking shape,and hopefully the snow piles will all be gone, allowing the green to appear.  It will be good to see our locals, and to welcome back the snow birds as they begin to migrate back to the North Country.  But for right now, it’s enough to just say “Ahhhhhhh……”

The ride back up into the woods takes 4 hours from Saugerties….it takes the whole 4 hours for me to transition back…. It starts with driving out of the village. Running through my mind are all the stops I wanted to make before leaving….I didn’t get to Richards, I didn’t get to Ya Ya’s (Sarah’s favorite store), I wanted to check out the new stores, and meant to get into Mother Earths for some essential oils….Then, it’s turning onto the thruway toll. Something about that ramp and building up the speed to merge- it feels visceral, as if the sheer force of speed needed to tear me apart from my family is happening here. I don’t want to go, I wasn’t ready to say good bye, I don’t want to leave Rachel, and here is where I usually start crying. If John is with me; this where we finish up all our unfinished thoughts of things that came up during this trip. By the time we hit the New Baltimore Rest stop, he’s ready for some talk radio, and so I usually shut down my brain for a while….sometimes by knitting, reading the Daily Freeman or Saugerties Times, or just getting sucked in to the voices on the radio. As long as we are in this traffic, I feel the pull of wanting to turn around. It’s not until we are on the Northway, that I feel I have reached a point of no return. Up until then, it’s like being in the taxi on the way to the airport; you’re not on that plane yet, you can still say “turn around, I’ve changed my mind”, I don’t think I’ve ever done that but, it is always on my mind to just turn around, and go back to my family.

Sometimes I contemplate how could I manage to live both places? I think about seasonal employment in the Hudson Valley whilst living with Rachel and my mom alternatively. Or maybe I could come down and just catch up with friends and family, and help out my mom and Rachel….I’m sure that would keep me busy…Elly and I could maybe find time to learn a new skill together…we’ve done basket weaving and tole painting classes with her mom, we’ve done quilting and knitting classes together…maybe it’s time for something new?! Then, we’re on the toll exchange for the Northway, and it’s thoughts of Saratoga traffic, Crossgate Mall traffic, Glens Falls rush hour traffic…depending on the time of year it is, and the time of day…..This is when I start to think about what’s ahead of me, and begin to let go of what I have left behind. We are approaching the Blue Line. This line is an invisible force field. This line is the thin onion skin; both subtle and life changing. This is the point where I break through the atmosphere, and enter outer space. To me, I immediately see the beginning of changes in my environment, even though I’m still on the Northway. The pines are increasing in numbers, the billboards, decreasing….It is almost a vacuum….there is no sound the further we go.

By the time we reach above Warrensburgh, traffic has thinned out considerably. We are, after all, traveling out towards the end of the universe. We are going in the same direction as the big bang….If we went much further on past Cranberry, I am sure we would hit a wall and bounce back…. Off the Northway at the Pottersville exit. We are halfway home. Still, my thoughts are with Rachel, but they are changing direction. I am beginning to think about what she is doing now, what will she think when she comes home….I play all the words out in my head….” Wow, mom did the dishes for me, yay!” followed by, “ugh, it’s nice to have the place back to ourselves!” ; ) I wonder if she’ll open the spare bedroom door, and miss me. And I wish she would have come in that door this morning, and kissed and hugged me goodbye, in my half asleep-ness, like she used to as a child…I am reminded of a memory I hold of my grandmother, standing on the porch waving goodbye to us as we left her house after a weekend visit. I couldn’t read her thoughts then, I was only a child. I recognized the love and the look of worry, and I knew she was praying for us as we pulled away from her. But now I truly know the depth of her feelings all those goodbyes ago, on that porch… I have the same image of my mother, and of myself, and I have passed that on to my daughter now, by leaving her.

John and I begin playing a game we used to play when we were commuting this drive every week.  As we pass by all the houses we see who has all their wood put up, who has closed up and left, who is still here, what businesses have closed for the season, how many more have closed for good or are for sale…”He’s gone for the season, gates up across the driveway, and there’s only a small wood pile.” That used to be us; we are kindred spirits….Most of the folks on the Pottersville/Olmstead Road are year round. Come through there around 3:30 during the school year, and you’ll stop two dozen times for kids getting off the bus. Moving on towards Minerva, there are a few camps, Newcomb is next, lots of year-round folks, mixed in with seasonal folks. These are my people…I was once a seasonal, am now a full time local. As we pass their homes as we have a thousand times before, they encourage me to come back into the fold, come back to my life….”This is who you are now….this is your wood pile all put up, this is your chimney with smoke, this is your day to day grind, remember?” It’s a comforting thought, it helps me as I get closer to Cranberry. It makes me think less of what I have left behind, and helps me to refocus on what’s ahead of me. On a creepier note, I am reminded of the Twilight Zone episode where the mannequin has to be reminded she is a mannequin…”remember, it was your turn to be out in the world, but you came back late, you have to let the other mannequin go now, and take your place back with us, here, remember? you’re a mannequin, you’re one of us, dear…..”I digress…

Sometimes, between Long Lake and Tupper, we are able to talk about what this move in our lives has brought us. Coming back into the woods makes a person contemplate these things….We know this life is harder to make a living in, but it has brought us opportunities for other areas of growth. We are thankful for those. This is a topic John and I have quite often; we are acutely aware of the changes that we are making in our lives, and the effect it has had on our loved ones. For our children especially, I hope they take away from it the lessons it has brought us. Don’t be afraid of change. Embrace it, open yourself up to it, enjoy it’s rewards…It’s hard, oftentimes painful, but for us,for now, it works. For our children, we will have to help them find out where their own journey lies. As with many ADK families, I fear their journey will be outside the Park. This last hour of the trip, we are able to talk about when we will make the trip down again.

By this time, I can’t wait to get out of the car and move. In my mind, I am already rebuilding the fire in the boiler, putting the dogs out, unpacking my overnight bag, answering phone calls, living my life….. It’s been 4 hours, I didn’t have to drive this time, but nonetheless, I am exhausted.

“And it’s good-bye, again. I’m sorry to be leaving you, good-bye again. As if you didn’t know, it’s good-bye again….”

ADK Life has an article in this Octobers issue about getting lost in the Park.  It talks about the panic that sets in, and the bad choices that hikers and hunters alike make when they are lost.  It talks about one hunter that actually crossed the Northway and kept walking!

The sky was so blue yesterday.  Not the sky blue of the Crayola crayon box, but a deeper royal blue…more beautiful than  any sky ever, if that’s possible.  I noticed it when I was cutting the grass, and John was working on the pop-up.  I thought, “jeez, summer is almost over, and here we are working on a day off instead of playing…”  I’m riding along in my circles, cutting the grass, feeling sorry for myself basically….mulling over the days we have missed when we could have been out on the motorcycle, or on the lake, or hiking back to the waterfalls, or 4 wheeling the clubs, or fishin….

John must have been reading my mind, because when I had finished the lawns, he suggested we take the dogs for a run in the Cranberry Lake Hunting Club.  We are new members of that club; it borders our property.  It is known primarily as a hunting club, has been recently logged pretty heavily; making for good, easy 4-wheeling, and I was up for it.

So, I packed a small cooler with some drinks, slipped on a pair of fishing sneakers, (you know the ones you don’t mind if they get muddy) and a bandanna, grabbed my helmet and we were gone!  As we leashed our Golden Retriever, I yelled to Sarah, “Wait for us, we’ll have dinner together when we get back!”  It was about 4:30p.m.

We don’t know that club well, but John has a good sense of direction, and he has been in there with others a half dozen times before, so he is somewhat familiar.  Our initial goal was to just take the dogs in for a run and a swim in the Grasse River, and maybe turn around by “the airport”. 50 years ago, this area was so heavily logged that it became a completely flat square area reminiscent of an airport.  Planes have never landed there, and trees have grown in since, but the name remains.

Well, the day was just so perfect.  We reached the airport, and John suggested we keep going.  He is trying to find an outlet gate either above or below the gate we had entered.  I was having so much fun, it was such a beautiful day- no humidity, a nice breeze..it felt like a September day.  Off we went, towards the Spruce Mountain Club.  There was a rough trail that I was on with Norm Santimaw when he took me grooming; it connects the two clubs.  If John hadn’t told me, I would have never known it was the same trail.  It looks completely different without the snow!  The dogs loved it; they smelled piles of Coyote scat, Izzy(our Catahoula/boxer mix) flushed out a couple of grouse, there was a hawk over head, big beds of ferns along the trail, some stray blackberries that the bears have missed…..Have I mentioned what a picture perfect day it was?

We found our way to the Spruce Mountain Gate, and met up with a couple that was hanging out there at the gate, on the other side of it.  It’s a nice spot just off the the Tooley Pond Rd, with the Grass River right there at the bridges gate.  If we had access, we would have been on our way home down the Tooley Pond Rd.  But, alas, the gate was locked as it should be, and there is no way around it as it is mounted on the bridge.  Some of the interconnecting gates within the clubs are open, in the spirit of cooperation, to allow members to enjoy the recreation within the clubs.  However, the outer gates are locked.  We had to continue back the way we came, and find another way out.  There was another groomer trail a little further down that John knew about, one that had recently got worked on, with new covert pipes installed.  We headed that way, but after about 15 minutes of careful riding over rocks and logs, the trail suddenly ended.

This is when the panic began to set in.  John said relax, there was a fork a little while back, and that’s probably the way we should have went.  He still knew where we were, and I wasn’t even enjoying the trip anymore…did I even see the grouse that Izzy flushed out?  I was being reprimanded for not trusting him….The thing is, I have a terrible sense of direction… Of course I completely trust him.  If we had to spend the night in the woods, I know he would build a shelter.  I know he could make a fire, and I know the coyotes and bears are not really interested in us…but what about the dogs? Would they stay with us without being on their leashes? What about the bugs?  I was wearing a tank top; hadn’t packed a jacket.Well, not only did he have matches, a lighter,  he had bug spray…In his mind, there was no way we were going to spend the night in the woods; we had 4 wheelers and plenty of gas. In my mind, however, the sun, that was so beautifully perched high in the sky earlier in the day, was now getting lower; along the tree line;  and I was feeling justified for being anxious.

We turned around, found the fork, and headed down the trail.  It did indeed look promising, until we came across a very, very large tree.  It could have come down as early as that morning, as there was a brief intense thunder storm, and lots of wind.  It certainly hadn’t been there long- the leaves were still green.  He said we would have to go back the way we came, unless I wanted to explore some other options….meaning other trials, or other logging roads.  We had about an hour and a half of daylight left.  If we just went back the way we came, we could be out of the woods in 15-20 minutes.

The ADK Life article was buzzing around in my head….I just wanted to get out of the woods.  The beautiful, sacred woods…the woods that greeted us with the bend of the river, the smell of the pines, the soft stroke of a breeze……My friend, my place of refuge and inspiration, my woods! In the fading light of the day, you are transformed into something scary!  I am suddenly child-like in my wonder….I wonder why my heart is racing? hmmmm I don’t see the beauty anymore.  Now, the piles of coyote scat seem a threatening reminder that I am in someone else’s home.  A small bear runs across the road ahead of John.  Wow…get me the hell out of here!  How many of them have we chased out of our dumpster over the years, and now, I’m suddenly afraid?!  The hawk is circling overhead.  Hours ago, what was a scene for a tourism ad is now part of a bad horror flick.  Yeah, it’s all in my mind, we really are fine, but you can’t convince me of that.

We go back the way we came.  It doesn’t look the same to me, but I can see our tire tracts, and John is leading the way, so, I try to relax.  The dogs are exhausted.  Maisie is lying down in the back seat of my 4-wheeler, taking the bumps of the trails in stride.  Izzy is perched on John’s lap, content to be so close to him and not have to run anymore.  Occasionally he sits up and looks over John’s shoulder at me, and I know he understands my angst.  He too, is ready to just go home.

We make it to the gate we entered 4 1/2 hours earlier.  I am so relieved, I get off my wheeler to hug him as he unlocks the gate to let us out.  I thank him for getting us back safely, and he laughs at me.  I tell him,”If you want to go adventuring on unknown trails, bring one of the guys, not your wife.”  We can laugh about it now, we’re home.  Poor Sarah ate dinner without us, and is annoyed that we were gone so long.  When her mood is not so sour, I will tell her all about our “adventure” in the forest. But in this moment of relief, all I want is a cold beer and a cheeseburger!

Note to self; pack a knife, a compass, a jacket, a blanket, some rope, a trowel, some tissues, some Advil, some drier lint, and maybe a gun wouldn’t hurt!  It’s not enough to just bring drinks!

70,000 years ago, the giant glacier crushed it’s way thru,
leaving behind chunks of granite, in-bedded in the forest floor.
the roots of the red pines that stand here today are shallow,
and add to the treachery underfoot.
a barn owl is calling nearby, reminding me that his next meal is also here;
I hope not to step on it!
Above me, a million stars twinkle, but there is no light from the moon this night
There is music in the woods, and I’m plodding onward towards it.
There is laughter ahead of me, and I am prepared to share in it.
There is food, there is drink, there is the promise of kindred spirits…
In the midst of all this goodness, a bonfire calls me in closer.
I’ve made it!
I have conquered the Fosters driveway!

It’s been a tough year. The winter season was down from last year; not a lot of snow, thus, not a lot of snowmobiler’s; our life-blood for the winter season. On top of that, we had a devastating loss within our community, a friend, a neighbor, a leader, a devoted husband and father, and a longtime local businessman. We have lost a few more of our good neighbors since then, and it has been quite a blow to all of us here in this small, tight knit part of the world.
Now spring is here, and I haven’t been thrilled about the season ahead of us. The economy is still so poor. Add to that the fact that we are not a tourist town, we are not on the main highway, and we are not in a populated area, and you can see why running a restaurant here is nearly impossible.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. I am putting in a garden. I have always loved gardening, but I gave it up when I moved up here in the woods. The season is too short, the soil is sand, the deer, the bears, blah, blah, blah…..I found a farmer to sell me aged cow manure, my hubby built me some raised beds, I bought a roll of game fence from a neighbor, and the garden is coming together.
Today I planted fennel, olive tomatoes, yellow cherry tomatoes, bok choy, basil, sage, parsley, cucs, and romaine lettuce.
I was bitten alive by the black flies, my sunglasses fell in the manure pile a few times, I worked up a good sweat, and I am filled with hope!
Let life’s seasons bring what it brings….loss of loved ones, loss of financial gains, disappointments abound…..But the seedlings are coming up out of soil- proof that life goes on. Mother Nature reminds me, “Not all toiling is wasted”
I will remember fondly my friends, I will work my best through this awful downturn in the economy alongside hardworking neighbors, and hopefully, come harvest, I will have bounty to share.

Thursday, March 5th, 2009

Where would we be without the groomers? Today I had a truly unique experience. I spent the morning with Norm Santimaw, local groomer extraordinar’e, in a snow cat, pulling along a drag. This is how we groom our snowmobile trails here in the beautiful north country. First thing that struck me, is, how high up I sat in that thing….and how toasty warm it was. Norm told me it took him the better part of hour to thaw it out; it hadn’t been run in a few days, and was covered with a layer of ice inside. You’d never know it by the time he picked me up. Yes, not only was it warm and dry; I also got door to door service! When you are spending the day with Norm, it’s first class all the way. We started up the Tooley Pond Rd, past The Windfall Bar and Grill, past Bill and Jan Lutz’s new beautiful camp, then Norm began filling me in on the course he laid out for us. We would see Spruce Mountain, get out on the main corridor, stop over at the main junction by the old Troopers shed, come down past George McCormick’s property, down through Cranberry Lake club, then out behind the Community Center. While there, I was able to get my mail as well. Now that’s service…..

He showed me all the places he’s turned over the groomer, and I began to realize it’s not all fun and games out there. I started noticing that he was paying attention to any number of things the whole time…Careful of what’s ahead of him, where the drag is pulling him from behind, how the trail banks from one turn to the other, the deep ravine on either side of the trail, the washout, the rickety old bridge that’s falling apart, the chance he may meet a sledder up ahead….

Yes, it takes a level head, and he’s the man for the job. He says he puts in roughly 300 hours per season. Norm enjoys grooming so much, it’s easy to see why. To hear him talk of it, I didn’t think it sounded like work at all.  While he’s making small talk, making it all look easy, we enjoyed the spectacular views, animal tracks in all shapes and sizes everywhere, the deer eating hemlock up on the bank, the view of Silver Lake, the sight of the Beaver Den, some old camps I’ve never seen before, the beautiful blue sky over us, and the way the shadows play on the snow…..At one point on the trail, he hopped out of the snow cat, (something I was not as graceful at, I can tell you that….)dug in the snow, and reaches in. I’m thinking, what the heck? Up comes his glove with a bag of homemade cookies!!! One of the other groomers has the privilege of having a wife who takes care of her “groomer family” . She does the baking and bagging, and when hubby is out grooming, he buries the goods in strategic locations for the groomers. Oh they were so good….a raspberry jam filled cookie…mmmmmm. The dough was soft and flaky, like a sweet pastry dough almost, with loads of jam and I think some dates inside. I wish my camera’s battery hadn’t died…the look on Norm’s face when he found that bag of homemade cookies!

I think that’s the real incentive for his grooming, to get to that bag of cookies.

The love and dedication these men have to this area, deserves recognition. I can tell you, without these groomers, there would be no sledding season for us. We would be forced to find winter work elsewhere. In the summer months, they are tearing down their machines, cleaning, re greasing, repairing, replacing parts. In the fall, there are trails to clear, bridges to rebuild. They need more hands, and a few young backs. They need our support in any way we can give it…money, time, labor, it’s all a help. If you’re a member of the Cranberry Lake Mountaineers Club, consider spending some time helping out.  I can tell you it’s an eye opener to see it from the other side, and you will be thanking them for the opportunity to give a hand.  The rewards you get are greater than the afternoon of sweat equity you invest.  A day with Norm, those views, those beautiful woods, and the promise of those cookies….who could resist?  I know we will do more to help in the coming season of repairing trials.  I hope to see you out there.

Sunday, January 4th, 2009

1.) 2/3 of all Americans cannot see the milky way from their yards. I can.

2.)  When our storms bring down trees,  there are a handful of neighbors with chainsaws, clearing the road inside of 20 minutes.

3.)  NO billboards, no drive-thru’s, or other sight pollutants.

4.)  I have deer, bear and rabbit in my freezer, and we don’t even hunt.

Sunday, November 30th, 2008

Old man Newton and his son, not young by any means, came in to share in some comradarey with other local hunters.  Old man Newton’s son got a deer today, it came right up on him, an easy shot if there ever was one…  They were telling their deer story, to Jessie, who has been hunting hard for weeks now, putting in long days, driving deer with others, in and out of hunting camp, in deep snow, some rainy days….it’s been work.  Some of the guys in his party have got their deers, but he hasn’t gotten his yet.  He begins to  tell the story about this buck his friend shot today.  Jessie is sure this is the same 7 point that dodged his bullet the other day.  He could tell by it’s color, and the way one side of his rack folded forward, like Bullwinkle, he said….

Now, I’ve been  on and around the bar this whole hunting season, so, I’ve heard this “jiving buck story” many times, as Jessie has told it to many a passing hunter.  But tonight, as I putzed around the bar, it got mystical, and not because of Jessie’s retelling, but because of what followed…

Jessie is telling how they had been tracking this deer for a couple of hours, and they are circling round. They are getting in tighter and tighter.  As he gets in close to enough to shoot, he prepares to take the shot.  His footing is solid, it’s in his sights.  Jessie is a seasoned hunter.  He wants a clean shot only.  He takes the shot, and the deer, guess what he does?  Does he run? jump?  Fall to the ground?  No, the deer side steps….He dodged the shot by stepping to the side.  The older Newtons shake their head…. You can see, these men have heard it all….Oh it’s not that they don’t believe Jessie.  On the contrary, they are sure it’s just as Jessie has said; the deer stepped off to the side, to avoid the shot.  Jessie has a had a few drinks, so tonights telling is filled with his apparent awe and wonder of the smarts the buck possessed.  Exasperated, he asks, ” How do they know this stuff?”  ” Where do they learn this stuff, to side step a shot?!”  ” Who is teaching them?!!!”

Old man Newton, getting alittle stiff on this cold damp night, turns to Jessie.  He speaks in a  wizened, patient voice of a mountain man who has seen a lot of things over the years.  “Now Jessie, do you mean to tell me , you’ve been hunting a lot of years, you haven’t seen things like this before?”  Jessie’s not sure what he means, but, being agreeable, says, “Well, yeah, I’ve seen some things, but not like this buck, never saw a buck step to the side like that….” Old man Newton leans over the bar towards Jessie, he is not satisfied with his answer…This time, alittle more sternly, alittle deeper down from the throat, he say’s, “Now, we don’t talk about it much, but, Jessie, you know there’s things we’ve seen out there, you’ve spent many years now out in those woods….” Hmmmm, you can see the wheels turning, Jessie knows the old man is looking for some specific connection…..Jessie is a smart man, I know that much.  He may be a little fuzzy from a day of celebrating , but, his mind is sharp.

As I fuss around the bar, I get that feeling bartenders get, that it’s time for me to step out of hearing range, like this is not something meant for me to hear, even though I want to.  So, I go over to some nearby pub tables, and begin wiping them down.  Jessie has been thinking on this, and says, “I’m not sure what you mean…” Old man Newton says, “You’ve seen it, you’re out there, you see that buck just as clear as you see me sitting here, and then, you know what happens…..it disappears!”

With reverence and understanding, Jessie answers, “Oh yes, I’ve known of that to happen…”

They continue, stressing in agreement, that they are both talking about the same kind of disappearance.  “I don’t mean it moved, I mean it vanished!”  “Oh yeah, I know what you mean…it was there in your sights, and then POOF! It’s gone! No noise! No nothing! Just gone!”

When I come back around to the bar, the conversation is clearly over.  There will be no more discussion of such things in front of the woman….These are mystical moments, shared by men who know the woods more intimately than I do.   They probably think I would laugh, or scorn them for such tales.  But I wouldn’t….I know there is magic in the woods.

Wednesday, August 20th,

I was originally raised as a farm girl, in the mohawk valley. I was 7 when we moved to Saugerties, which, at that time, was a small town on the Hudson River. It is still a small town in some respects, but not the small town it was in 1969. In 1999, my family moved into the village of Saugerties, becoming what I liked to call “village rats’. it was nice to be able to walk to the bank, the school, the drycleaners, the festivals at the park, to work, to pub crawl, to the bookstore, library, boutiques, delis…..you get the picture.

All that has changed. My gait, as I walk up to the restaurant, is certainly not the same pace as when I lived in the village. I may stop and weed the struggling flower bed, or just walk up enjoying the sounds of the forest, a bird here or there, or just total silence. I never tire at the view of tall red pines along the road, the sound of the creek, or even the sound of a neighbor’s chainsaw, preparing for winter. There are two seasons here for the hardy residents – winter, and preparing for winter. I digress…

Yes I miss my hometown, I miss all the “goodmorning” greetings as I walked down Main St. There is a lot to be said for all the modern conveniences that I have left. I miss my drycleaner, my bookstore, and my occasional pub crawls.

But when I’m walking on Tooley Pond Rd., and come across some turkeys, or a snapping turtle, maybe a grouse, or some deer; or when I’m paddling on the Oswegatchie River, spying an Osprey, an Eagle, a Blue Heron, I know I’m in the right place. It is so calming to be surrounded by such a beautiful place. It’s like going home to your childhood church, after being away so long, and smelling that incense you had forgotten about. The wild sends me a clear, simple mantra….what does it say to you?

And because I have lived on both a farm, and in a village, I am reminded just how fragile the wild places are, and how precious.