Fall in the Adirondacks - Blue Skies and Brookies, Part 2

NYS Gazetteer Pages 78 & 79

Alice &  Brother Eddie in Speculator            "The Floe"

 NYS Gazetteer pages 78 & 79

A note from the writer...I began writing this a few weeks ago; daily news steps in and takes priority.   I finished writing this and the next installment by candlelight on Friday night  as my most-loved trees were shattering and ice bombarded our home.    We’ve all been through a whole lot the past couple of weeks, and it’s long from being “over”.  Recalling this adventure has helped me a lot...I hope it provides you  a temporary escape too. 

Memories are funny things; once in a while they’re triggered out of the blue by something you smell, taste, or touch.  Last night I was munching away on some chips heavily loaded with Heluva Good’s Bodacious Onion Dip and...presto!  I was back in the truck, winding through the muted orange, green, and yellow foliage framing the narrow road that traverses the Adirondack’s Moose River Plains, serving up chips and dip to Ethan as we explored new territory.  I don’t think I ever had a better tasting snack, then or now.  But I’m getting ahead of myself...

I believe I left our last story as we met up with my brother Eddie at the Piseco Lake Lodge.  The Lodge was exactly what we were looking for: unpretentious,  comfortable, and reasonably priced.   Adjacent to the restaurant there’s a small building that has three rooms, each suitable for 2-4 people.  It’s surrounded by a long, lush lawn bordered by the Piseco Lake Outlet, a small stream that widens and runs into a very paddle-able shallow bay before making its way back into Spy Lake and beyond. We settled into our vacation routine, which is pretty much just doing what we feel like doing whenever we feel like doing it.  No schedules, no commitments, no problem. Early morning walks are a favorite; there’s a lot to be said for quiet solitude.   We shared the narrow road with some scrambling squirrels as birds grouped overhead preparing for migration, and tried to identify the multitude of hardwoods and conifers in the surrounding forest.   With not a breath of breeze, low hanging clouds created a surreal vision across the lake as we hiked, and the scene changed with each minute as the sun began to work its magic through the mist. 

Brother Eddie went on his bear hunting excursions early in the day, and we decided to take advantage of a particularly sunny day to take in the beauty of Piseco Lake from the wee boat for one last time.  Finding an open launch wasn’t as easy as it had been in years past.  There are three NY State Parks Department campgrounds that are typically open late into the fall.  Point Comfort Campground and Little Sand Point campground greeted us with locked steel gates.  OK, further on down the road.  Last one...Poplar Point Campground...success!  The gate was open. The launch has a gentle grade and a sizeable dock where you can launch a pretty decent size boat when the water level is high.  There’s also a lovely sandy beach where you can picnic.  Wading in the warm shallow water in late September brought a special kind of joy to our day.  

The late morning wind became our usual nemesis as we made our way across the lake in the wee boat toward a favorite fishing spot.  Gusts gained power as they funneled west to east down the length of the lake, and the waves began to build.  We ducked behind the point at Higgins Bay, but decided that discretion is indeed the better part of valor, and crossed back to the launch before the waves became even more ominous. 

Back at the Lodge, Eddie reported that he had a grand hike in the woods and didn’t spot even a bear track.  No matter...it was happy hour at the Lodge, and time to enjoy Eddie’s companionship and meet some of his Adirondack friends:  he also has the gift of making friends wherever he goes.  This afternoon, we had the good fortune to meet Ron Brightenback.  Ron and his wife Linda are residents of Mountain Home Road in Hoffmeister, and as we talked it began to register in my brain....he lives exactly on the body of water that we haven’t been able to find public access to over the past many years.  It’s called “The Floe”, where the South Branch of Canada Creek widens into a quiet water area before joining with West Canada Creek as it continues tumbling over the rocks westward.  Ron was like an instant old friend: comfortable, friendly, and hospitable.  When I explained our frustration with the inability to access the exquisite body of water buried back into the mountains, Ron replied, “Well, that’s an easy one.  Come on over to my house and you can wheel your canoe down the yard right to our launch area.  Spend all the time you want.   You’re gonna love the fishing...we have Brookies.”  Done deal.  The next day before we departed the area for our next destination in Speculator, we doubled back to Mountain Home
Road and found paradise on earth at Ron and Linda’s home.  Ron was working outdoors and warmly greeted us.  “I probably won’t be around when you’re ready to go, but stay as long as you want.  The dogs are locked up.”  Ah yes....the dogs.  Ron and Linda breed prize-winning Dobermans; these are REAL Dobermans, not the down-size version that you find so often these days.    Zeus, Comet, et al are loving, loyal pets...along with being capable of a pre-emptive strike that would take care of any miscreant with bad intentions toward their people. 

The Floe was the little jewel I had imagined.  It resembled a small pond, tucked into a pocket in the mountains surrounded by wilderness.  We paddled the perimeter; most of it was only a couple of feet deep, with clusters of thick lily pads carpeting the surface.  Sudden gusts of wind and a surprise downpour sent us back to shore, but within a couple of minutes the sun was back out.  Lots of tiny perch took great interest in the flies we presented as we fished from shore, but the catch of the day was my perfect, shimmering pink and brown brookie.  I had never seen one in the wild, and he was even more beautiful than I could have imagined.    I nearly had him to shore when he decided it was time to get spit out the hook and resume his day’s activities.  It was a most appropriate christening of my fly rod; the sparkling day and that perfect little fish will always have a special place in my heart.

Next time...adventures in Speculator, Northville, and The Moose River Plains!