Started the day with another amazing breakfast at Trail’s End B&B – today’s menu was Belgian pecan waffles, fruit, cherry scones and turkey bacon savored to the accompaniment of Billie Holiday’s expressive vocals playing over the breakfast room’s state of the art sound system. Fueled with plenty of carbs and a baggie of the freshly baked cookie of the day, snickerdoodles, we donned our boots, shouldered our packs and walked from the inn to the network of trails crossing the nature area across from Keene Valley High School. The early morning sun lit the algae covered pond, mirroring the surrounding hills and trees on its cloudy surface.
Although cloudless to the east, heavy overcast obscured the western horizon, presaging the rain forecast to fall later in the afternoon. Our plan was to hike a 6 mile loop trail to the lookout at Rooster Comb, then an additional mile to the summit of Snow Mountain and back to our inn, no driving required. We set off though the forest, not so dense as to prevent patches of sunlight from filtering through. We passed several large boulders around which ash trees had sprouted, their roots snaking like octopus tentacles over the hard rock surface towards the fertile soil below. The intricacy of the root systems reminded me of the banyan trees we’d seen growing throughout the ruins of Angor Wat in Cambodia.
The trail meandered upwards through the trees at a gradual but consistent 15 degree incline. There were occasional steep sections but overall it was a relatively easy hike. As we neared Rooster Comb, we suddenly lost the trail as it dead ended over a rocky outcrop. This proved to be a great photo stop, a breathtaking panoramic view of the surrounding peaks outlined against the contrasting dark clouds. But this was not the Rooster Comb Lookout.
We retraced our steps looking for the missed trail markers. About 1000 feet back, we noticed a wood staircase built into the side of the hill, blending in with the brown landscape; not marked, but obviously built for the purpose of ascending the side of the hill. We climbed up, found the trail at the top and continued on.
Less than a quarter mile down the trail we scrambled down a small ravine, scaled a large boulder and arrived at the Rooster Comb Lookout, 2900 hundred feet above sea level. We shed our packs on the rocky outcrop and enjoyed a picnic of yesterday’s leftover sandwich, fruit, cheese and, crackers, granola and of course, snickerdoodles! As we snacked, the clouds parted momentarily, unleashing the sun, it’s rays casting shadows from the large cumulus clouds overhead. The wind was brisk and it felt like rain. Hopefully, the weather would hold as we completed our hike.
We began our descent, this time on a part of the trail with a steeper incline. We entered dense forest and coupled with the overcast sky, it grew noticeably darker. An assortment of fungi dotted the drab undergrowth, the most striking being small vibrantly yellow colored umbrella shaped mushrooms. We descended a mile, intending to take the short mile trail up to the summit of Snow Mountain at 2500 feet. But by the time we reached the split to Snow, we could hear thunder echoing in the distance and the occasional raindrop would break through the vegetation above, splatting our heads and arms. A storm was coming. So we picked up our pace, walking purposefully and quickly. The last couple miles of the trail were not as well maintained so we needed to take care not to trip on the branches and roots crisscrossing our path. More and more raindrops splattered and the thunder sounded closer. By the time we leveled out and approached the pond in the nature center near our lodge, the wind was blowing fiercely and lightening was flashing overhead. We sprinted inside not even stopping on the porch to shed our boots. No sooner had we gotten to our room, when the sky opened and a deluge of rain hammered down. We sat on the screened in porch, lowering the plastic tarps on the western side to keep rain from blowing in. Lightening flashed, immediately followed by a sharp crack and reverberation of thunder. Large puddles formed and water roared down the gutters as if from a fire hydrant. Thankful for our perfect timing, we rested our feet, sipped an after hike drink and enjoyed this powerful spectacle of nature. Later that evening we drove to the neighboring town of Keene, about 15 miles from Keene Valley, for dinner. Much to our amazement, we were able to dine on the patio of Tavern 95 – not a drop of rain had fallen in town that afternoon, no wind, no lightening, with only the distant rumblings of thunder. And so nature continues to surprise and delight!
By the time we awoke the next morning, the rain had set in over the greater Adirondack region. We are heading to Vermont today so rather than hike, decided to visit The Wild Center at the Natural History Museum of the Adirondacks at Tupper Lake believing this would be easier to navigate in the rain. So we packed up, enjoyed our last breakfast – broccoli and artichoke quiche, and drove 40 miles west to Tupper Lake. As we entered the parking area, we were greeted by a sign reminding us to Keep Each Otter Healthy!
We knew New York was taking the virus seriously when even our cars where socially distanced!
The Wild Center is a combination theme park and nature center, offering those who don’t want to venture too far from their cars, a dose of the outdoors in a fun and entertaining way. A highlight of the center is the Wild Walk, a large wooden playscape on steroids with mesh bridges, ladders and towers enabling visitors to climb atop the forest canopy. Replete with games and exhibits, albeit educational, it was easy to forget the nature around us and focus on the entertainment.
We joined patiently waiting families for our turn to climb the eagle’s nest, the highest tower on the Wild Walk, for a panoramic view of the surrounding area. As we waited, we watched two masked toddlers bounce and wiggle their way across a large meshed spider’s web!
Descending the Wild Walk, we followed a groomed path downhill through the forest to the river. Canoes and kayaks, leaf covered and sticky with spider webs, remained piled on shore unavailable for rent due to COVID. We waited our turn to walk out on the viewing platform for a look downriver. Angry dark clouds lined the horizon and we decided to head back towards the car in case of a downpour. Good planning on our part – as we neared the parking lot, large rain drops splattered and we dashed to the car just in time to avoid a soaking. We watched as other not so lucky visitors were drenched by torrential rain as they sprinted to shelter.
Twenty minutes later, the rain stopped and the clouds lightened, letting an occasional ray of sun escape. We followed our noses to the river otter exhibit. Eight visitors at a time were escorted behind the main building to a fenced outdoor pen to watch three river otters swim, splash and frolic in their pool. The stench kept people from overstaying their visit, so the line moved quickly. From there, we followed a trail blanketed with black eyed susans and milkweed towards a large marsh.
Although the marsh smelled of decay, having just come from the otters, we hardly noticed; besides, its visual beauty more than made up for the slightly unpleasant odor. The soft sunlight filtering through the thinning cloud cover illuminated and intensified the vibrant green marsh grass in colorful contrast to the reddish purple reflection of the water.
The marsh’s surface was thick with lily pads, several with delicate yellow centered white blooms. Turtles occasionally poked their heads above the surface and insects hovered. This was one of the most beautiful and photogenic marshes we’d seen, well worth the smell.
By the time we left the Wild Center, the sky was clear and the sun was shining. As we drove, we noticed several trees with large web like cocoons blanketing their branches – these were webworm nests. The dark color of the nests meant that the moth larva had already hatched and were busy eating foliage – not necessarily harmful to a healthy tree but something that can definitely weaken, stress and even kill some trees. We’d seen hordes of these larva decimate acres of trees in Michigan so hoped the Adirondack forest would fare better.
Time to leave the webworms behind and turn our sights to the east! We were off to Vermont, or so we thought!
