Saranacs Paddling Trip Part I: Middle Saranac

Friday-Saturday

When you read about the great expeditions, you hear about the difficulties they encountered - freezing winters, insurmountable mountains, but you never hear about where they parked the car. Lewis and Clark started their expedition in St. Louis with 35 men - where did they leave their cars for two and a half years? Likewise Shackleton: when his lifeboats reached South Georgia Island after harrowing survival in the Antarctic, did he still have his parking stub? Yeah, it's all about the parking. Or at least it seemed so as we headed north for our Adirondack trip.

When I had drafted the itinerary for our Saranac trip, my vision was to park the cars once and travel strictly by water from there for the full week of our trip. The challenge was that I came across vague references to a 24 hour parking limit at the only boat launch on Middle Saranac Lake. So back in July I called the office which administers the campsites on the lakes to ask about parking and got an answer along the lines of "you should be alright". That half-way response never really sat well with me, and when just days before our trip  I found a photo of a sign at the launch site that indeed said there's 24 hour parking limit and that violators would be ticketed and towed, and not wanting to come back from a week of paddling to find the cars gone, I got on the phone again to attempt to get to the root of the matter.

To make a long story short (a number of calls were involved), I eventually spoke with the New York State Park Ranger for the area, Ranger Jeff, who reassured me that "you should be alright". Sigh. On its own that wasn't any better than the answer I'd received back in July, but he did go on to offer further reassurance: he said that there really was only one Department of Environmental Conservation officer who was a stickler about the parking limit, and that officer had recently backed off. Ranger Jeff also said he would issue me a backcountry camping permit (something I hadn't known was needed), which if displayed in our cars would lessen the chances of our getting ticketed. Most importantly, he reassured me that they didn't really tow cars from the lot; our worst risk was a parking ticket.

Ranger Jeff's first attempt to email us the backcountry pass disappeared into the ether, and suffice it to say that after some more texting back and forth while already en route to the Adirondacks I finally received the pass, which I was able to print print at the hotel we stayed at in Coxsackie, NY on the drive up. However last minute, Ranger Jeff came through for us, and we were able to launch with greatly reduced anxiety about the parking situation.

There are two basic routes to the eastern Adirondacks: the ostensibly shorter route up the I95 corridor and the New York State Thruway, or the less direct route up through Binghamton. Rob and I, driving together, chose the former, but a combination of Friday afternoon traffic and flooded highways due to torrential rain greatly slowed us down. In the end our trip wasn't really much faster than Tall Tom's travel up the "longer", western route.

Upstate New York: Even the Best Western parking lot is kind of scenic

We split the drive up across two days (hence the hotel in Coxsackie), and both Tom's and our cars rolled into our meeting place of Lake Placid at around the same time. Rob and I spotted some strange towers as we approached Lake Placid. When we saw the sign for the ski jumping complex we realized that the towers must be the top of the ski jumps. We pulled into the complex, where we found skiers ski jumping. In the summer. On grass. Wild! We sat and watched the jumpers for a while (if you bought a ticket you could go to the top, but we were fine watching from the free observation area at the bottom), and after the first of a surprising number of shopping trips we'd make during the week (this first one was browsing at the ski jump gift shop), we headed into town and met up with Tom.

Snowless ski jumping!

Lunch in Lake Placid

The three of us had a lovely lunch at a restaurant overlooking Mirror Lake, strolled Main Street (more shopping!), went to the supermarket (and, ahem, liquor store) for last minute supplies, then headed to the AirBnB I had booked for us, which was surprisingly nice. We depressed ourselves looking at the weather forecast, which at the time was showing a very wet week, then cheered ourselves up with a nice dinner in town (rainbow trout for me, harking back to long-ago upstate NY meals at Rudi's Big Indian). The restaurant staff was all Balkan exchange students - our waitress was from Montenegro, and the hostess was from Bosnia - interesting.

Local rainbow trout

Sunday

Sunday's forecast called for rain starting mid-morning and increasing in intensity over the course of the day. We momentarily toyed with staying in town for another night and waiting it out, but decided to man up and hit the water. With a goal of getting to a campsite ahead of the heavy rain we ate breakfast "at home" rather than going out to a restaurant, then headed to the launch, where we were pleased to find no rain yet and fairly few cars, only a small subset of which appeared to be equipped to carry boats - a good sign that we'd have solitude out on the lake. But the launch was far from deserted: every time we visited (and we would be there more times than expected, as I will explain), we ran across other folks launching or landing. 

Signing in at the South Creek launch

As we were loading our boats we had our first piece of good luck: some canoe campers returning to the launch told us they had just vacated Site 63, which they described as a sweet camping spot with a lean-to shelter - a shelter is a lovely luxury, particularly in the rainy conditions such as we were expecting. We made a bee-line for that site, along the way crossing the line of participants in the Adirondack Canoe Classic, a three day, 90 mile paddling race across a series of Adirondack lakes. For readers who are not paddlers, 90 miles in three days is a lot. On our longest day we kayaked about 16 miles. These folks paddle about double that, three days in a row. Our Pirates of Georgetown friend Nate was participating in the race - we didn't see him, but every once in a while once at our campsite (which was within site of the line of racers) Tom would yell out "Go Nate!" just in case he was within earshot.

Loading the kayaks

Setting out

Rob and Tom, with Adirondack 90 Miler participants in the background

Our timing worked out well vis a vis the rain.. We got camp set up - tents plus a tarp over the picnic table - in light drizzle before the rain began in earnest. Once the rain started to come down at around 3:30 PM we retreated to the lean-to shelter and relaxed. Fortunately, the weather was fairly warm: cold rain is the worst.

On these trips we take care of our own breakfasts and lunches individually, and we take turns cooking for the group. Rob made dinner the first night, a chicken sausage jambalaya (made with a Zatarain's jambalaya packet), enhanced with lots of onions. 

After dinner I finally changed out of my paddling clothes and when I came back to the lean-to I found the first indication that the lean-to was sentient. Rob had spread out a bunch of his gear on one side of the lean-to, and Tom had spread out a bunch of his on the right. Somehow the lean-to had left enough room only for their two chairs. The few things I had placed in the shelter (my chair, two empty water bottles and a small lantern) had been mysteriously shoved to the back. Seeing that my little bit of stuff had been cast aside triggered in me a rather over-the-top pissy martyr fit, but rather than confront the lean-to and tell it to make room for me I left and mopily read my book at the picnic table until the rain got to be too much (the tarp offers only so much protection in heavy rain) at which point I made my way back into the shelter. 

Our campsite on Middle Saranac Lake

Rob and Tom enjoying shelter while I sat at the picnic table. If you look closely you can spot my chair shoved to the back

Cooking with onions

Chicken sausage jambalaya

Dinnertime!

Speaking of the lean-to, our time at Site 63 included one recurring sitcom-worthy gag. The lean-to had evidently been designed with average height people in mind, but Tall Tom is, well, tall. Rob and I could walk up and into to the lean-to with no issue, but Tom needed to duck to clear the roof. Again and again he would forget and would whack his head on the edge of the lean-to roof. This would trigger a brief half-serious, half-joking obscenity-filled rant about "short people". I felt sorry for the guy, who I imagine puts up with a certain amount of discomfort living in a world designed for people who are not his size, but as he banged his head again and again all it seemed like all we were missing was a studio audience laugh track.

I never sleep well my first night in a tent. Growing up in New York City in the crime-ridden days of the 70's, darkness meant danger, a feeling I have never fully ditched. Long ago I had a friend (who was also from Brooklyn, but somehow less skittish than I) who would tease me about my city kid jumpiness at strange sounds in the woods in the dark by saying I was afraid of the "terrifying night squirrel". After a while of tossing and turning while the rain and the woods made all kinds of sounds around me I got the idea of putting on headphones and listening to something soothing. Unfortunately, our cell coverage was limited (plus while camping you need to be careful with battery consumption) and so I was limited to the playlists I had previously downloaded on my phone, the most soothing of which was a collection of mostly light jazz from Valerie's birthday party. I fell asleep to the sounds of cocktail party jazz, accompanied by the terrifying night squirrel on percussion.

2.2 miles kayaking

Doing dishes on a rainy, foggy evening

Monday

On our first full day of paddling we decided to make a full loop of Middle Saranac Lake, including going up into Weller Pond. To make it a little more interesting (and because we were curious), we decided to paddle past as many of the lake's roughly twenty-five campsites as we could along the way. Middle Saranac Lake is the most isolated of the three Saranac Lakes in that there is direct access via just the one car-top (canoe & kayak) boat launch; to get onto the lake via motorboat you have to launch on Lower Saranac Lake then motor some distance and pass through a lock and a twisty river. Thus, Middle Saranac is pretty quiet. With the 90 miler race done we saw few boats and found just two other campsites occupied. We had our own little paddling paradise almost to ourselves. And we confirmed that our site was, indeed, the sweetest one.

Part of our week's planned itinerary was to explore Upper Saranac Lake on Wednesday. There is no direct water connection between Middle and Upper Saranac Lakes, so this would involve a portage (that means carrying the kayaks across land) of about half a mile in each direction. We had done this in one direction on our previous traversal of the Saranac Lakes, with loaded kayaks no less. We made Bartlett Carry, the portage spot, our lunch break, and walked up the road between the lakes to remind ourselves of what we were in for. The first 50 yards or so is a very hilly, rocky dirt path, and the rest is a still somewhat hilly but less vertical dirt road. On our previous trip we ruined one kayak cart and pretty well exhausted ourselves carrying the kayaks and all our gear. Being somewhat older and realizing we'd have to do the carry twice this time (albeit with empty kayaks), we began considering an alternate plan to access Upper Saranac Lake: to paddle back to the cars and drive the couple of miles to a launch on Lower Saranac Lake. We spent some time musing which was worse: doing the portage or loading and unloading the boats twice, but ultimately this debate turned out to be academic because - spoiler alert - we never made it to Upper Saranac Lake.

Exploring the lake

The good news is that in the course of visiting the campsites we were able to scavenge some firewood left behind by various sites' previous occupants. When we got back to camp Rob and Tom showered using Tom's portable shower unit. I napped, valuing sleep over cleanliness (hey, we were only one day into the trip - we were barely even dirty). It was my turn to prepare dinner, which was a well received Middle Eastern chicken with couscous, dried fruit, and pistachios (and of course, onions).

Keeping an eye on Rob's boat while he explores a campsite

After dinner we built a fire with our scavenged firewood. Once again, the shelter treated my belongings as some sort of invading virus. While we sat in the shelter I kept getting questions like, "Is this your water? Is this your sunscreen?" from the other occupants, as if they were antibodies detecting and trying to eject foreign substances from the cell. 

Middle Eastern chicken - tasted better than it looked

Monday evening was much nicer than Sunday!

Let me add that when backcountry camping, it's generally a good idea to hang your food. This is generally known as a bear hang, but is often more about protecting the food from raccoons and rodents than bears. The primarily coniferous trees at our campsite didn't offer any big limbs suitable for a real bear hang; however, we were all using bear-resistant Ursack storage bags, which supposedly don't need to be hung high. I still followed the precaution of hanging my food in the woods outside our camp; Rob and Tom just hung theirs from a high nail on the lean-to, which was a very effective critter hang but which maybe could have attracted bears into our campsite. No harm done - unlike past trips where raccoons stole a food bag and drank our liquor (really!), we saw no evidence of aggressive critters during this trip. Even the day we forgot to put the trash away before heading out for the day we returned home to find it unmolested. Maybe the critters had a work stoppage in solidarity with the striking Hollywood writers, or something.

I slept better Monday night - with each successive night the terrifying night squirrel becomes progressively less terrifying.

About 13 miles kayaking

Another pretty lake shot

Tuesday

Tuesday was our hiking day. There's a nice hike which is accessible from the water, up Ampersand Mountain. As described on a Saranac Lake website, "Ampersand Mountain's open summit provides breathtaking 360-degree views, but you'll have to work for it. The first half of the trail is fairly easy, but once it starts going up it's relentlessly steep until the top."

Ampersand climb

On our previous trip we had kayaked directly to a beach at the base of the mountain and had hiked up from there. This time, we paddled back to the cars. loaded the kayaks, then drove about a mile to the trail head, where we changed into the hiking clothes we had cleverly staged in the car. This way we didn't have to worry about all our paddling gear and clothing being left unattended on the beach all day, and Rob got a chance to charge his CPAP battery a little (more on this in Wednesday's writeup). 

I will mention that one of the fun things about the Adirondacks is running into kindred spirits who are also out enjoying crazy outdoor stuff. We had launched at 8 AM and when we got to the put-in about 45 minutes later we ran across a self-described "old lady group" of kayakers, about eight women who had converged from various states to paddle the lake. They were happily preparing to get underway up to Weller Pond as a day paddle - our two groups wished each other well as we each headed out to our adventures.

The Ampersand hike is indeed "relentlessly steep". The trail doesn't have any switchbacks; rather, it's 1,775 feet of rocky, muddy, slippery trails and rock scrambles (for comparison, the Empire State Building, even including the spire and antenna/blimp mooring mast, stands a mere 1,450 ft. tall). It's a popular hike, yielding plenty of opportunities to joke about the difficulty with fellow sufferers on the way up. In particular, I felt sorry for one older (than us!) couple. He clearly had dragged her into doing the hike and she Was. Not. Happy. I don't know if I feel more sorry for her for her discomfort on the trail, or for him for the hell he was going to get that evening for having subjected her to the hike.

View of Middle Saranac Lake from the top of Ampersand

At the summit

Trust me - our campsite is in the background

I started out lagging behind a little, which bummed me out as I had remembered being out in front on our previous visit - had I really gotten that out of shape? However, as the group's initial exuberant pace faded with the trail's increasing steepness, I was cheered by the fact that while the others kept wanting breaks, I would have been fine continuing with far fewer stops. I am not good at going fast, but I excel at "slow and steady".

Anyway, the Ampersand hike has a great payoff - a rocky area up top which indeed has 360 degree views. From the 3,373 ft. high summit we could see the lake we had paddled the previous day, the lakes we planned to paddle for the rest of the week, and even our campsite (well, where we knew it was - we couldn't really see our camp). Up top of the mountain everyone is pretty happy - because they've survived the climb but more so because of the amazing views.

Rob was the clear speed champ walking down, which may seem like it would be easy compared with going up but in fact carries its own challenges in terms of muscles worked and finding solid footing. Once at the bottom we drove back to the boat launch, unloaded our boats, changed back into paddling clothes, and kayaked back to our campsite - a successful and very efficient day. I availed myself of a shower.

Backcountry shower

Our tired and hungry group was reinvigorated by Tom's deliciously oniony dinner of Thai chicken and chickpea curry (enhanced pouch meals), with appetizers including red pepper feta dip and salmon on crackers.  It was my turn to do the dishes. Lesson learned: do dishes before dark so you don't accidentally lose silverware in the lake (we found the missing items the next day). Our evening conversation surprisingly focused on comparative religion: Tom had a lot of questions about Judaism, and added some tidbits about how our faith contrasts with Catholicism.

Once again, the lean-to shoved my chair to the back. In the photo I'm sitting where I found it.

Thai chicken curry dinner

I slept well, thanks to a combination of exhaustion, red wine, and benadryl. 

About 4.5 miles kayaking and 6 miles hiking, including 1,775 ft. elevation change each direction.

Wednesday

As forecast, rain moved in overnight and Wednesday dawned grey and rainy. We had agreed that since the weather was bad we would skip our planned excursion to Upper Saranac Lake (the trip with the portage), and instead we had a lazy morning in camp. I stayed in my tent until 8 AM, at which point I got up and made myself breakfast (my typical grits & peanut powder, plus decaf Via Brew coffee); Tom and Rob emerged from their tents 9:30ish, just in time for me to go back to my tent for a mid-morning nap.

Hanging things to dry in the rain 

Cooking/eating area

The lean-to, showing both orchestra and loge seating

Throughout the trip we followed several different weather forecasts, which of course never agreed. When the rain stopped around mid-day in agreement with The Weather Channel's forecast, we decided that their forecast, which showed no further rain, must be the accurate one for the day, and so we decided we could head out on the water. 

Rob brings a travel CPAP on our trips along with a portable power station thingy to recharge it (the amount of stuff Rob fits into his kayak is simply mind-boggling). At this point in the trip all his batteries needed a recharge and so, given the purportedly clearing weather, we decided to paddle back to the put-in again, where Rob could recharge his batteries off the car. And, while we were at it, we could do the very unbackcountry thing of getting lunch in town 😊. The weather didn't quite oblige, in that the rain started up again almost as soon as we launched - but no matter, kayaking is a water sport and we expect to get wet. I will add that despite it being mid-day, mid-week, and rainy, back at the put-in we came across some stalwart people launching onto the lake.

After locking the kayaks up to a fence at the launch (less work than loading them onto the cars) and plugging in all of our gadgets in the car, we drove into town where we were immediately distracted by St. Regis Outfitters, a nice looking outdoors/paddling store. More shopping! I bought a t-shirt and a new coffee mug to supplant the mug I normally use, a well-worn freebie mug from a 2006 Idaho rafting trip.

Unplanned shopping trip!

We ate lunch at Bitters and Bones, which at first glance appeared to be just a neighborhood bar - the kind of place where everyone at the bar turns and stares when unfamiliar faces walk in - but the menu turned out to be a little more upscale than first appearances would lead you to believe. The guys kidded me for flirting with the (admittedly attractive) waitress because I complimented the "fairy hair" tinsel hair extensions she was sporting. In truth, I don't really like the fairy hair look (which is popular among the DC Deadhead crowd), so maybe I was laying it on a little thick. But really, what I was attracted to was a hot restaurant meal, not the waitress. I ordered the Caribbean chicken sandwich, which I devoured. I even ate about a third of the fries which came with it, probably doubling the number of French fries I've eaten in the past six years. And I had an iced tea. With caffeine! I was living large, and loving it.

Lunch at Bitters and Bones (not shown: Rob's batteries, which were plugged into an outlet alongside the table)

After lunch we reversed the process: back to the launch, changed from street clothes back into paddling clothes, unlocked the boats and paddled back to camp. We were too full to need another full meal for dinner. Instead, we all just noshed. Plus, we enjoyed the cold beer we had brought back from town - and talked about religion some more. In anticipation of breaking camp the next morning we began to pack up some non-essentials (shower, tarp, etc.). 

Chatting by the fire

About 4.5 miles kayaking

Continue to Part II of this trip report.