Mount Van Hoevenberg -- Winter

(Virginia on the summit of Mount Van Hoevenberg)

I had been excited about hiking Mount Van Hoevenberg for days. It felt like forever since the June solo trip I made here while I was recovering from Lyme disease.  (see my blog post http://nooksandvales.blogspot.com/2017/07/lyme-escape-mount-van-hoevenberg.html)  On that day, I told myself that I would return to lead an Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) trip in the winter and now, I couldn't wait.

(Frozen pond with Mt. Van Ho in the background)

I had decided to ask fellow ADK leader and friend, John, to co-lead the trip with me.  I said, "I want to share the responsibility of making decisions about winter driving and trail conditions."  John agreed in seconds.

True to his good leadership, John and his wife scouted out the trail on their own and hiked Mt. Van Ho just days before our scheduled adventure.  "There was some ice and some mud," he reported, "but nothing that would prohibit us from having a good day."

(Our group ascends the mountain)

For two days, my friend, Karen, sent me emails from her north country "spies," people she knew who lived in the mountains and could give "on the ground reports."   Ice in quantity, and treacherous trails, were phrases that repeated from one email to the next.

ADK participants emailed me about joining the trip.  I told them to bring microspikes for the ice.

The day before the outing, I called the High Peaks Information Center.  "There's a few inches of fresh powder," the respondent told me.  His voice had a touch of annoyance.  How many phone calls had he had like mine?  "So microspikes will do?"  I asked.  "As long as there's less than 8 inches of snow," he added.  Department of Environmental Conservation regulation in the Eastern High Peaks area requires snowshoes if there are eight or more inches of snow.

I told our participants to bring snowshoes just in case.

(We have to duck under laden boughs on the trail)

In three cars, our group of ten headed up the Northway.  A heavy wet snow had fallen in much of the state a few days' previous, but the north country had gotten little.  We lamented the dull brown terrain as we passed Lake George, Warrensburg, and North Hudson, on our journey north.  "But it's always beautiful, regardless, right?" Karen said with a hopeful sigh.

(The dark area is where the trail comes out of the forest to an expansive view)

We entered Keene Valley, and continued on into Keene and close to Lake Placid.  Snow began to appear in the woods and fields.  Powdery snow.  Drop-dead gorgeous snow.  We turned into the Adirondak Loj Road and the powder deepened.  We peered out the car windows, enthralled by trees coated in thick white. Who could have imagined this winter wonderland?  When we arrived at the trailhead, John got out, scuffed the snow with his boot, and determined that, yes! snowshoes would be the footwear of the day.

(Filigreed snow decorates summit trees)

John said, "This is a different world from just a few days ago when I was here with my wife."

I don't think I have ever seen ten people so unanimously happy about a serendipitous day.

(Clouds hang on the peaks)

(this June view shows the peaks under high fair-weather clouds)

Just one lingering thought niggled at the back of my mind. I said, "I will be a little disappointed if I get to the summit and we can't see the peaks."  Mount Van Hoevenberg boasts views of at least a dozen high peaks.  Seeing all those snow-covered mountains would be almost as good as being on one of them.

(Karen in a winter wonderland)

I ate my words.  I was not disappointed.  We couldn't see the tops of the high peaks, but it didn't matter.  Instead, we could see an intricate variation of texture in the snow-covered hills and valleys in front of us.  The scene made me wonder how many of the supposed 50 words for snow Arctic people could identify here, in what almost seemed to be a picture etched in black-and-white.

(Snowy textures are fascinating)

We took photos of the views and of each other.  Some people continued on, hoping to find more viewpoints beyond the two we had come upon.  Others listened to John read from pages he had copied describing the geological and historical significance of this mountain.

(John regales the group with interesting information)

Over lunch, sitting in the summit powder, one person said, "If we could see the tops of the snow-covered peaks with a clear sky, it would probably be too windy to sit here."  "That's right," another added.  "We would have to go back into the trees for shelter."  We had a glorious and highly satisfactory view.  I was just one of ten in harmony with the serenity of this early March day.

(Can't beat this lunch location!)

We began to feel a chill -- time to begin our descent.  Our snowshoes glided along the path we had made earlier.  We continued to admire the snowy woods, but when we reached the pond, we decided that the scene had been prettier on the way up before the light had changed in the course of the day.

Sometimes on a hike, I have to remind participants to look around and take in the beauty of the landscape.  Not this group.  Every member had been attuned to the exceptional surroundings and camaraderie on Mount Van Hoevenberg.

Backpacking Women

(Denise, Gretchen, Sue, Martha, and Kendra ready to set out!)

Whenever something changes in my hiking life, I rethink my future in the outdoors.  Last year, when my daughter, Meredith, and I finished hiking the 46 high peaks of the Adirondacks, I thought about what we might do next.  Meredith and I definitely planned to keep hiking, but it would not be the priority that it had been, and so many things make demands on our time.

I knew that I wanted to continue to backpack into the wilderness, if for no other reason than to wake up to a sunrise by a remote pond.  I couldn't think of anyone who would want to do this with me, if Meredith were not available.  Then I remembered what I always remember: clubs exist just for this reason.  As a long-time hiking leader for the Albany Chapter of the Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK), I decided to offer a women's backpacking overnight trip.

(Setting up the campsite)

The trip would be short but beautiful, with just 6/10ths of a mile of backpacking our gear from our cars to Round Pond.  Included would be a hike up nearby Noonmark Mountain from the same trail that we would take to the pond.  I also offered a second-day hike up Baxter Mountain, for those who wanted to fit in a little more before making the trek back home.

I limited the group size to six, including myself, and ended up with the most congenial, interesting, enjoyable, adventurous group of women I could imagine.  Each of them had a reason for choosing to do this trip.  A couple of women had never backpacked before, and wanted to try it out.  One of them was planning to hike the high peaks, and was considering backpacking in to some of them, as Meredith and I had.  Two others had backpacked in the past, and were contemplating getting back into it. They thought that my trip would be the perfect refresher.  Another wanted to sign up for an adventure travel outing in the West, that entailed hiking over mountains with full packs. She hoped to be able to gauge her abilities by joining this trip.

(Round Pond with Noonmark in the distance, upon our arrival at our campsite)

During the weeks preceding the trip, I sent emails with details regarding gear, food, and specifics.  With six people, we would need three two-person tents and three bear canisters (required in the eastern high peaks area). It happened that we broke easily into pairs. What an absolutely no-stress beginning!  And what's more, our couple of days defied the trend of this hot humid summer with a forecast of dry cool air!  Emails circulated expressing excited anticipation.

We were not all coming from the Capital Region, so we met at the trailhead, where we combined our shared gear and finished loading our packs...and then we heaved our packs onto our shoulders.  There is nothing quite so surprising as the heavy-weight feeling of loading a pack onto your back, or the weightless feeling of taking a big pack off.

(Kendra, Virginia, Denise, Sue, Gretchen, and Martha on Noonmark's windy summit)

The trail to Round Pond ascends moderately right away.  A few people made slight adjustments to their pack straps and became comfortable with the change in balance that an additional 25 or more pounds on the back creates.

Round Pond has a few designated wilderness tent spots, and we checked out all of them.  The first one was big enough for our three tents.  Not only that, it was closest to the pond.  Round Pond did not disappoint.  Despite its short distance from the road, it felt very remote and quiet, surrounded by mountains.

(A panoramic view of high peaks from Noonmark)

Setting up camp didn't take much time.  Besides being light, backpacking gear has to be simple!  We had lunch at the pond's edge, and then set off on the trail again.  This time, we carried little, just water and snacks, as we headed up Noonmark.

Noonmark Mountain is a mid-level hike at 6 miles round-trip with 2000 feet of elevation gain.  The trail is a typical Adirondack trail, built in a continuous incline, in order to reach the top in the shortest amount of distance.  There are a few rock scrambles, and we stopped regularly to take a breath.

Perfect weather and a spectacular view allowed us to see far and wide.  A stiff wind blew across the summit, just enough to cool us after our ascent, but not enough to make us take cover.

(Giant Mountain from the summit of Noonmark)

We returned to the campsite in time for dinner.  Now, late August, darkness would come by 7:30, and even earlier when the sun set behind a mountain.

I didn't ask each person what she brought for dinner, although I was a little curious. I had emailed them many non-perishable, energizing, food suggestions, but I know that my choices would not be the choices of others.  Still, I saw very little peanut butter.  I did see some chocolate, however.  Some things are worth a little extra weight!

(Denise and Gretchen share wine at the campsite)

Bears were a chief concern for the group.  I helped each pair determine where the bear canisters should be placed -- a distance away from the tents, but not so far that we wouldn't find them in the morning, and between rocks or logs, where they would be less likely to roll away if a bear pawed them.  The news had reported that bears were marauding more this summer, due to the drought. Being extra careful with our food was necessary.

(Sue passes the time with a little evening Sudoku)

As darkness descended, we watched for stars.  Little had we known that we had an astronomy afficionado among us!  She pointed out the early bright stars and told us where the Milky Way would appear as the evening progressed.  I brought my sleeping pad down to the rocks by the pond and lay on my back, watching the sky.  Others brought something to sit on, and two women chose, instead, to relax in their tent and read by head lamp.

(Gretchen and Kendra filter water)

What a night for stargazing! The day's clear atmosphere extended into the moonless night.  Stars filled our entire range of vision.  Every few minutes the lights of an airplane crossed the sky. We were surprised to see so many.  Where might they be coming from or going to? 

The night was quiet, except for the occasional croak of a bull frog or splash of a fish.  And we had nothing better to do than to be here under a canopy of stars, "away from it all."

(Evening at Round Pond)

In the morning, most of the women professed to having slept fairly well, and to having been fairly comfortable, an accomplishment for sure!

I was really pleased that, even though the trip had been short, each person felt that she had learned something.  Two determined that, yes, they could backpack a few miles and camp on their way to climbing peaks.  Others had definite  new insights into how they would tweak their gear.  Perhaps less clothing, a different piece of clothing, a change in food choice, or whether they would prefer carrying a water filter or purification tablets.  The woman who was contemplating a western backpacking trip decided that her days for such strenuous hikes were behind her, but have no doubt -- this lady is out there and everywhere taking on new adventures!

(Sue and Martha ready to hike out)

We had our breakfast by the pond, as the mist rose, and the sun promised another perfect day.  This time I saw that we all had meals of yogurt, granola, fruit, or a hard boiled egg, a roll....  Heated food was not missed, but coffee was. No one had chosen to bring a stove. By the same token, no one admitted to a strong desire for hot water being one of the things they learned on this trip. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if a couple of people would add a stove to their list, should they decide to backpack again.

(Morning mist on Round Pond)

After breakfast, we packed up, folding tents and sleeping bags. Once again, we shoved and squeezed to fit everything into the small space of our packs.  Then we left the quiet of our pond, and set off for the parking area.

Two of the women headed back to the Capital Region, while the other four of us visited SubAlpine Coffee in Keene Valley.  This cafe just opened in 2015 and what a treat!  We all managed to bypass the delectable pastries in the case, having just had our cold camp breakfast. Coffee was the priority.  So was the comfy furniture.  We would have fallen asleep, if we hadn't left when we did. SubAlpine is a place to keep in mind.

(Gretchen and Kendra have snacks on the summit of Baxter)

In the end, three of us chose to hike Baxter Mountain.  Unlike the previous day's Noonmark Mountain, Baxter is easy and has numerous switchbacks, with just 1.1 miles one-way and 770 feet of elevation gain. We reached the summit in about 40 minutes.  Baxter's many ledges offer an astounding view for the amount of time and effort.  We relaxed on the summit through the mid-morning, bringing our overnight getaway to a pleasing closure.

(Views from Baxter are beautiful)

This outings was certainly one of the highlights of my summer.  Offering an overnight trip in the woods to a group of ADK participants had been a little out of my comfort zone, yet everything had gone wonderfully. I learned that it's not hard to find women who want to backpack, or who at least want to give it a try.  I am already mulling over ideas to offer next year, but, for now, I am very happy with my memories of this year's adventure.

(Mount Marcy and other peaks in the distance from Baxter)

Moxham Mountain in Two Seasons

(a portion of the summertime view from Moxham's summit)

Moxham Mountain only officially opened to the public in 2012.  I was determined to get there and enjoyed a Spring day hiking Moxham in early 2013 with an Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) group.  Shortly after, I talked up the hike to Bill.  "You would love it," I said.  "It's very doable.  There are views all the way up."  I love trails that open to rocky outcroppings throughout the hike. At about 5.5 miles round-trip with 1100 feet elevation gain, Moxham is not overly demanding, but a nice work-out.  Occasional view points are great rewards along the way!




The weather on my first trip had had high clouds, with spectacular vistas across ranges of mountains below.  I wanted another great day to show Bill Moxham's best.  The trailhead, located in Minerva in the Central Adirondacks, is an hour and three-quarters from our home in Albany.  It would not be worth the drive, if it rained.

(Blueberries on the mountain top are a gift!)

In August 2013, Bill and I drove north, as the sky grew brighter and brighter. I am wary of the heat in July and August, but we had comfortable temperatures with a light breeze, always welcome in the summer. Although Bill likes a nice hike, he doesn't want to work too hard. Those views along the way made great stops for snacks, with time to soak up the scenery.

Before long, we reached the summit.The dominant mountain, in the middle of a vista of about 250 degrees, is Gore, popular for alpine skiing. In the valley, an array of ponds and marshes connect, with typical Adirondack names such as Mud Pond, Clear Pond, and Long Pond.

(Bill picks lots of delicious berries)

Bill and I were thrilled to find the summit rocks covered with blueberries!  We picked and ate as many as we could, and then filled a small container that I had brought from home.  Blueberries on a mountain summit, on a gorgeous day, with fabulous views--who could ask for more?

(Bill and Virginia on the summit)

Well, when we got back to the car, I did ask for one more thing...to hike this mountain in the winter, on snowshoes, on a perfectly clear day, without wind.

ADK trips are scheduled months in advance.  In November, I posted a January snowshoe hike up Moxham Mountain.  Snow was not abundant after New Year's this year, but I knew, from seeing other hikers' pictures on Facebook, that Adirondack peaks had an ample supply. The next issue was the weather.  A forecast for clear skies didn't waver.

(My ADK group arrives at one of the first overlooks)

A couple of people signed up, and then a couple more. Interest was not awfully high. I was surprised, given the clear weather forecast and a nice snow cover, so I gave weather.com another look.  Ahh, it was supposed to be very cold.

In the end, seven of us stalwart hikers set off on the trail in -12 degrees.  A few inches of powder lay on top of a crunchy crust under a cloudless sky.  Another perfect day for Moxham!...and the cold?  It takes just minutes to warm up when hiking a mountain.  Nevertheless, I had brought hand and toe warmers for extra comfort, and shared some with others.

(it appears as if two mice traveled side-by-side)

Because the snow was fresh, and not too deep, we had fun seeing where animals had been.  Some of their tracks were easy to identify. Mouse tracks were obvious with the tail line between the tiny footprints.  We were glad that we didn't see evidence of the mice becoming someone's breakfast!

(a clear view of our destination)

Not far from the summit, a final overlook displays this great view of Moxham's cliffs, where we would have lunch. As we stood admiring the view, the sun warmed us. 

I said, "I wonder how warm it's getting.  It has to be at least zero by now."  One of the participants had a tiny thermometer hanging from his backpack.  "Take a look," he said, turning around so I could see it.  The thermometer was very tiny, and my glasses were deep in my pack.  I usually don't need them outdoors where the light is bright. 

"Well," I said, "I don't have my glasses on, but it looks like -5."  Another person took a look.  "Yes," she agreed. "I would say it's -5."  We were terribly impressed with ourselves.  Granted, there was no wind, and the sun was luxurious, but we had to be pretty diesel to be completely comfortable at 5 degrees below zero.

(here the deer tracks are in a cluster)

Deer tracks came and went, sometimes in great strides, indicating the deer had moved quickly.  We did not see predator tracks nearby, and we were the first humans on the trail since the light snowfall.  Maybe the deer had just felt like taking a quick jog.

While I like to rotate through the line of hikers when I lead a trip, now-and-then I stay in front.  When I saw the tracks pictured below going up the trail just as we were, I needed help identifying them.  They were clearly dog prints, but what kind?  The group gathered to offer ideas.  Too big for a fox, these had to be coyote prints.  This guy apparently had a mission, heading straight and steady for the mountain summit.

(Is lunch waiting on the summit for the coyote, too?)

The summit view did not disappoint.  Mountains lay below in waves of blue and purple.  Cold white powder accented every ridge and valley.  We found a few bare rocks to sit on for lunch.

"The sun is amazing," someone said.  "What do you think the temperature is now?"  I looked again at the tiny thermometer.  "It looks like it's still -5.  Wow, it sure doesn't feel like it."  Someone else added, "No wonder we can see so far.  The atmosphere is always really clear when it's that cold."  Again, we gloated for a couple of minutes .

Then the owner of the thermometer said, "Celsius is on there too.  Are you sure you're checking the right side?"  I hadn't seen the two readings.  Someone else stepped forward.  Either she was wearing contacts, or just had great vision, because she said, "It's 20 degrees. It's -5 on the celsius side."  What??  We laughed.  Maybe it's time for some of us to admit that we need glasses to read, even outdoors in bright sunshine....

(no blueberries on this day!)

None of us had trouble seeing the splendor surrounding us, however.  I searched the ponds for moose. Wouldn't it be the ultimate bonus to see a moose below?  It looked like perfect habitat. 

Out of the seven of us, five had not been on this mountain before.  It was fun to share a new adventure with them.  And the other two of us? We just basked in the scene.

(ponds and mountains for miles)

On the way down, we again marveled at all the views along the way. While we often long for loop trails, retracing our steps here took nothing away from our appreciation, every time we came upon an overlook.

ADK folks are a social bunch, and I could hear a variety of conversations along the trail, some between old friends, and others among people who had not known one another before today.  Once in a while, I hang back, or go ahead, to experience the solitude of winter in the forest, but, I, too, love the camaraderie of a cheerful group of hikers.

(the views on the descent feel new)

We still came upon animal tracks.  When someone said, "I see rabbit tracks, with big feet," we knew a snowshoe hare had hopped through.

(Wouldn't it be fun to see a snowshoe hare in his winter white?)

At the trail's end, I heard a two of our participants let loose a couple of joyous hoots.  Even though everyone is fit, there are always one or two people who go on these outings with concern for their physical capability.  They are excited by their accomplishments at the end of the day, and reach the cars all smiles.  "Did you hear us shout?" one of them said.  "Oh yeah, we sure did!" someone answered. "They could hear you all the way down in North Creek!"

We had had to park our cars a quarter of a mile up the road, since part of the road was not plowed in winter.  The sun, now lower in the sky, made long shadows across the snow. 

And I'm three for three--every time I've been on Moxham, the sky has been clear, and the views superb.

Environmental Activism

Who would have guessed that one event, for which I have been working an entire calendar year, and another, that came about in the last couple of months, both of which are really important to me, would fall on the same day?

First, I'll tell you about the one you can be part of.  On Sunday, September 21, many environmental organizations are coming together for a People's Climate March in New York City.  Some of you know that I am very involved with the Sierra Club.  In addition to the usual 30 emails I get a day as a member of our local Sierra Club Executive Committee, and as a member of the statewide Energy Committee, I have tried to do my part in encouraging people to attend the March. Many Sierrans are making phone calls, organizing buses, and tabling, for this effort.

The timing of the People's Climate March is immediately in advance of the UN Climate Summit where leaders will lay the groundwork for a Climate Treaty.  After my experience at the march against the Keystone Pipeline in 2013 in Washington, DC, I would like to be in New York on the 21st and help take a stand for the environment and the most important issues facing the world today. If you can go or would just like more information, go to www.peoplesclimate.org    Being part of this march will be an amazing experience!


I have been working on the Adirondack Mountain Club Fall Outing sponsored by our Albany Chapter for a year, as one member of a five-person committee. I have committed to being at this event.  Hey, even my award winning photo of Lake Durant is featured on the registration page!

People often think of ADK as a "hiking club."  In fact, 70% of members join because they believe in the conservation efforts of the club.  The issues ADK tackles are more local and are easier to understand than the complex world-wide issues of the Sierra Club.  Both are worthy environmental groups.

The Fall Outing, however, will be fun.  It is three days of outings in the Keene area, including a spaghetti dinner at the firehouse and a musical event.  My part in the planning has been to communicate and help organize the 52 hikes and paddle outings for the three days.  I enjoy emailing with the leaders and working with the other members of the event committee, even though it has required many hours of communication and cooperation over the past year. If I could be in two places at once, I would surely attend both the People's Climate March and the ADK Fall Outing.

If you are able to attend the People's Climate March in Manhattan, I hope you will do so.  It will be a momentous event, and will show our world leaders how much we are concerned about the huge environmental issues we all face today.

Santanoni Ski

(Gateway Lodge)

Easily thirty years had passed since I had skied into Camp Santanoni in Newcomb with Bill and my father, and I was itching to go back.  The Adirondack Mountain Club (ADK) listed the trip regularly, but I never could fit it into my schedule.  This year, John Antonio, a leader of many mid-level ADK trips, offered the trip on a day that worked for me. My friend, Karen, and I signed up.

The week had been bitter cold and this mid-February day was no exception.  We arrived at the trailhead for the 4.7 mile ski to the main camp in -5 degrees with fluffy powder snow conditions, the promise of some warmth from the sun, and a clear blue sky. If any sport can beat back a chill, it is cross-country skiing. Not only that, for the first time ever, I had brought hand warmers that would fit comfortably into my mittens!

(The Creamery, part of the largest farm operation ever associated with a family estate in the Adirondacks)

"Start out as soon as you're ready," John said, "It's too cold to stand around."  I snapped my boots into my skis, opened the hand warmer package and inserted them into my mittens. I pushed off with my poles.  Everything was in our favor; deep tracks had been made by previous skiers and the quality of the snow could not have been better. The gradual incline of the first half-mile warmed us up fast.

At The Creamery, we stopped and allowed everyone to catch up, and to take a few minutes to introduce ourselves to those we did not already know. Of the ten participants on this outing, I knew about half of them. A group trip like this is a great opportunity to meet people who enjoy playing outdoors.

 

(Karen and John ski on the carriage trail across a stone bridge.)

.

From the Creamery, we settled into a relaxing pace, our skis making barely a sound in the powder. With two tracks in the snow, side by side, conversation was easy.  I enjoyed moving ahead or behind to visit with different people.  I also liked hanging back to ski alone.  Since I stopped often to take pictures, I was often close to the back of the pack.

One woman and her son brought their canine buddies.  Often, dogs are unpredictable on the trail.  They may run into the woods, or trip up hikers and skiers.  Not these two.  They were trained to stay close to their masters, keeping a quick pace as they bounded through the snow.  And when we stopped, they got lots of attention.

We gathered again at this intersection below, making sure to have a drink of water.  Tucked into an outside pocket of my backpack, my water bottle was frosty, with a few ice chips already forming inside.  I took a few good gulps and felt refreshed.  It is easy to forget to drink water in the winter.

(ten friends, new and old, and two dogs, enjoy a perfect winter outing)

After a slow ascent for most of the trip, we began a gentle downhill glide for the final mile, heading to Newcomb Lake and the main camp.  Through the trees, we had glimpses of the high peaks beyond, cold and snowy in the distance.  I stopped often to capture Santanoni Peak, which Meredith and I had hiked a few summers ago.

The first time I took a picture, the peak was barely visible through the trees.  "You might get a better view farther on," John told me.  Another quarter-mile along, I stopped again and took another picture.  Stop and shoot, stop and shoot.  Every picture showed more of the peak than the last. Then, to my surprise, the view below appeared, clear as day, above Newcomb Lake. 

I remembered the day Meredith and I had been on Santanoni Peak's summit.  It was our second peak of three in the Santanoni range that day, and we had a good coating of Adirondack black mud on our legs.  We found a rocky overlook and took in the wide view across the Adirondacks while we ate our lunch.

Today, we would not have been able to stay on that summit long enough to have lunch. The temperature up there had to be well below zero.  After taking a final picture, I put my mittens back on.  My fingers had begun to chill, but I didn't care; my hand warmers would toast them back up in seconds!

(Santanoni Peak across Newcomb Lake)

We arrived at the camp right at noon.  Taking off our skis, we clomped across the wooden porch floors in our ski boots to a sunny spot and opened our packs.  At a balmy 10 degrees above zero, we could sit around for 20 minutes or so in comfort.  John called to me across the porch, "Virginia, did you get a picture of that last view of Santanoni Peak?  That was the best one!"

(lunch on the porch)

The Santanoni Preserve was established by Robert Pruyn, a prominent Albany banker and businessman. Originally encompassing 13,000 acres, the camp had a total of 45 buildings, included Newcomb Lake, and was considered the grandest of all Adirondack camps when it was completed around 1900.

It stayed in the Pruyn family until 1953, when it was sold to the Melvin family of Syracuse.  In 1971, tragedy struck when the Melvin's eight-year-old grandson became lost on the property.  For days, a search party combed the acreage.  I remember my father going up to Newcomb from our Saratoga home to help with the search.  No trace of the child was ever found, and the family decided to sell the property.

(Newcomb Lake at the Camp)

The Nature Conservancy bought Santanoni Preserve and then transferred to it to the State where it became part of the Forest Preserve.  For years, the buildings deteriorated with the expectation that they would be torn down, a requirement of the Forever Wild clause in the State Constitution. Eventually, in 2000, the buildings and 32 acres were reclassified from Wild Forest to Historic Area by the Adirondack Park Agency. 

(fresh paint and treated log siding are two of the many restored features)

Since 2000, restoration has been continuous.  Now, in the summers, there are tours of the buildings.  Getting to the camp is still a challenge.  Most people bike or hike in in the summer.  A horse-drawn wagon ride is available, but I've heard that it takes so long that there is little time left to enjoy the property.


Skiing to the camp is a great way to go, but no tour guide awaited us.  An unlocked padlock held the door to the great room closed.  John had been told that we were free to remove the padlock and explore the room, as long as we hooked it back over the latch when we left. 

Fifteen hundred spruce trees were used in the camp's construction. Birch bark walls and hand-hewn beams help make Camp Santanoni one of the best examples of rustic Adirondack Architecture.

It was so cold inside that I had difficulty imagining this room full of people.  Adirondack furniture with cozy upholstery and plaid wool blankets, woven carpets, and other appealing decor, seemed elusive. Still, I could appreciate the architecture and Adirondack craftsmanship.

The field stone fireplace looks like something out of a Medieval castle.  With hearths on both sides, it could house a big fire, much more than would have been necessary to ward off a late-summer evening chill.  Like many vacation homes today, a great camp such as this would not have been used in the winter.

(five buildings all connected under one roof resemble a phoenix in flight when seen from above)

Eventually, after having our lunch and exploring the buildings, we began to feel cold. It was time put our skis back on.  That mile-long descent we had had into the main camp area was a welcome uphill on the return, warming us in minutes. And later, heading back to the cars, we had some nice rolling downhills.

We stopped again at The Creamery, as we had when we first began. A thermometer registered 17 degrees, and the February sun made a few icicles drip. We snacked on whatever we had left in our packs, and visited with another skier who was on his way in to the Preserve.

(I loved this little dormer window nearly completely covered in snow)

Maybe I'll see if I can find a friend or two to bicycle in to Camp Santanoni in the summer.  We'll go on the tour and paddle one of the available canoes on the lake.  We might even find a sunny rock to sit on for lunch, under the watch of Santanoni Peak.  But for now, this crisp winter day had been perfect.

(Virginia on one of bridges crossing Newcomb Lake)