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Pond Hopping from Happy Camp
Written by Paul Conklin
May 5th-8th , 2015
Paul Conklin (Hemlock Kestrel)
I try to have at least three adventures in the Adirondacks every year, the first of the season, is by far the one I look forward to the most. It could be reasoned that a long winter makes one anxious to return, but for me, there is no better time to be in the woods than shortly after ice-out and before the first hatch of black flies. Water is plentiful for paddling and the trees are free of foliage. A bushwhacking trek through trail less terrain is so much more enjoyable when you can see the topography of the landscape, the ability to see through the hobblebush for safe footing is also comforting. This years Cinco de Mayo Day journey into the Five Ponds Wilderness would be up the Red Horse Trail with the goal of conquering more of it's, yet, unvisited ponds.
With an early start, I can leave my home and be at the Stillwater boat launch at first light. I was paddling a Hemlock Kestrel with clear gel-coat sides. Paddling east, the sun silhouetted the rippling texture of the water through the translucent hull. I had to be vigilant of running aground, as the reservoir was curiously below its normal springtime elevation. It took two hours to reach the trailhead, a half hour carry and I was making a slow journey north, along Salmon Lake's eastern shore. There are ponds east of Salmon I needed to visit, camp was established and the remainder of the afternoon was spent exploring them. The first was less than a mile due east, I chose to make the visit sans the canoe as it was a difficult walk and satellite imagery did not guarantee a sufficient paddling reward. It was a good call, as this pond's surface area was less than a third the size it was when my map was made. The second pond entailed a journey up Salmon's inlet and a short carry east. The Kestrel made this trip and was rewarded with a pleasurable circumnavigation around a beautiful, though unnamed, Adirondack pond. I returned to camp, made supper and retired early.
The objective for Wednesday was to travel northeast through Witchhopple and Beaverdam ponds and make a two mile bushwhack to tiny Wilder Pond. In route through Witchhopple, I encountered another paddler. His name was Bob and he was camped on the lake. We were both from western New York and shared a similar passion for the Five Ponds region. We ended up having coffee at his camp where we shared stories of our travels and experiences. Bob was a wealth of knowledge on the area and explained that my camp on Salmon was known as the Happy Camp. I was aware that my site had history but knowing it went by the name "Happy" somehow heightened my fertile imagination of the good times had by those before me. Before I left, Bob suggested we meet at Beaverdam, where he could show me the site of the old Rap-Shaw Club House. Again, I was aware of an old camp on Beaverdam but had never explored enough to find it. Bob made the overland walk in the same time it took me to paddle up the channel.
The Rap-Shaw is a hunting and fishing club that is still in existence today, although in a different location. I have a feeling that the early Rap-Shaw of the 1920's may have been more about the social gathering of businessmen than it was with sportsmen. It was a time of prohibition and I do have a fertile imagination. I wish I could have made out the titles on a stack of 78rpm Victrola Phonograph records. After giving the site, a thorough search Bob and I parted ways and I was off to find Wilder Pond.
I would follow Wilder's outlet from the east end of Beaverdam. The route would take me through two large beaver meadows and an endless chain of smaller woodland beaver ponds before emerging at Wilder's western tip. I found a comfortable rock on Wilder's shore to sit and take in its beauty. I snacked on trail-mix and dehydrated bananas to build the energy and ambition for the long trek back. On the way through Witchhopple, I stopped to give a report of the second half of my day to Bob before my eventual arrival at Happy Camp at 6:30 pm. There was just enough time for supper and the evening chores before retiring to the hammock.
On Thursday I again paddled north to Witchhopple, the Kestrel was stashed in the bush near the Red Horse intersect with the Higby Twins outlet. I planned on carrying the canoe to both of the Higbys, but first I would venture to Clear, and then find my way to a tiny unnamed pond south of Clear and west of the Red Horse. I again used an outlet stream as a corridor of travel. It took me through some very dense growth of young Beech trees. The unnamed pond had an active beaver dam and it appeared the rodent engineers were working hard to expand the pond's acreage.
I sat and studied a map, thus far, navigation in the woods was quite easy, it was only 10:30 and I chose to extend my venture to Walker Lake, a fallen log across Walker's outlet allowed me to continue west to the northern tip of Willys Lake. At this point, it was a no-brainer that I should continue a counterclockwise loop back to Witchhopple, via Walker and the Higbys. This track would not achieve the desired paddle on the Higbys but it would afford a good opportunity to scout the best bushwhack for a return trip.
I stopped briefly for lunch on the south side of Walker and then made a short climb to an unnamed puddle between it and the Higbys. The puddle's outlet was an exciting avenue to Upper Higby. Beavers had built a dam on a steep slope that defied the laws of hydrodynamics to my non-rodent brain. The Higbys will both be interesting paddles when I return. There wasn't a problem locating the canoe, the golden glow of sunlight shinning through Kevlar quickly reveled my hiding spot. I once again paddled into Witchhopple to report the day's adventure to my new friend Bob before returning to Happy Camp.
I started my day early on Friday, nature called at 3:00 am, clear skies and a near full moon would not allow me to crawl back into the hammock. I readied the canoe for a crepuscular paddle around Salmon. I frequently parked the Kestrel to sit, listen and observe. Drumming woodpeckers, the calls of Barred Owls and Loons, the break of dawn is my favorite time of day. Coffee in hand, afloat on a wilderness lake, it doesn't get any better.
After breakfast, I was ready for more adventure. I decided to follow the stream from Happy Camp up the hillside west of Salmon. The small stream had numerous interesting falls and cascades. I reached a slim, unnamed pond at its source and decided it was deep enough and significant enough to be added to my list of Ponds of the Five Ponds. From here, I could see it was an easy walk to Hawk. From Hawk, I made my way to Willys, then southwest to the Bear Pond Club property line and then back to Hawk, retracing my steps to Happy Camp. It was 2:00 pm upon my return.
I decided to return to the reservoir that afternoon. If conditions were favorable, I would paddle back to Stillwater Village. They were and I did, I slept in my own bed that night.
As I drove past the Stillwater Restaurant my new friend Bob was just emerging from the door holding his belly with a look of content. I asked if he had a good supper. "I did," he said, telling me he had ordered the fish fry. "It was good but I've had better dinners of trout up in those hills," pointing his finger north to the Five Ponds.
I don't know how the slim pond west of Salmon had gotten by my satellite scrutiny. My list of ponds is made from all of the named or otherwise significant bodies of water that lie within the 107,000 acres of the Five Ponds Wilderness. Significance is arbitrary and determined solely by me. With the addition of this pond there are now 112 bodies of water on my list, only 17 do not have names. So far, I have visited 101 of the ponds on my list.
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MODEL :
Length :
Hull Width - at gunwales :
Hull Width - maximum :
Hull Width - at 4" WL :
Hull Depth - bow :
Hull Depth - center :
Hull Depth - stern :
Avg WT - Kevlar/Hybrid hull :
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Kestrel
14' 9"
25.5"
27.5"
25.5"
16.0"
11.5"
14.0"
32 lbs.
29 lbs.
26 lbs.
300 lbs.
125 - 250 lbs.
$2595.00
$2895.00
$3195.00
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Peregrine
15' 9"
26.5"
28.5"
26.5"
17.0"
12.0"
14.5"
35 lbs.
32 lbs.
29 lbs.
350 lbs.
150 - 300 lbs.
$2695.00
$2995.00
$3295.00
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Twenty-seven years ago, George Marble mentioned that he would like to paddle across Lake Ontario in a canoe. His son Gary was a young teenager at the time. George's dream was never fulfilled but his son never forgot his father's wish.
In the spring of 2010, Gary, now 42 years old began to make inquiries on the feasibility of accomplishing this dad's desire. He talked with Dave Curtis who believed that a small group with the right canoes, favorable weather and an accompanying powerboat could safely make such an attempt. There is no question that Mr. Curtis (the owner of Hemlock Canoe) saw an opportunity to promote his business by sponsoring Gary's endeavor. However, anyone who has come to know Dave and Carol Curtis would know that helping people is their first goal.
Ideas were now gathering in an eddy of Gary's stream of thoughts. A business manager himself he linked his paddling desires with an effort to raise dollars for a cancer support organization to which he has personal gratitude. It became a win-win for everyone involved.
One of the most accomplished paddlers on the planet, canoe designer and all around nice guy, Harold Deal was invited to participate. He clearly saw the good in the endeavor and was of great assistance in preparing for the adventure. I'm sure he also saw it as an opportunity to check off yet another accomplishment on his long list of paddling achievements.
I was invited because I owned an SRT. The cancer cause is noble and I hope that my participation somehow helped generate donations but I will freely admit that I selfishly wanted the chance to learn from Harold and to begin my own list of paddling achievements.
I can only speak for myself but preparing for this event has pretty much dominated my paddling activities for the 2010 season. I logged over 300 miles in the SRT in practice and conditioning, favoring it over my other canoes. Night, marathon or windy lake paddles, always challenging myself, especially in adverse conditions.
I have learned much from Harold about how the SRT can be manipulated for advantage. Detractors will criticize its features as flaws attempting to pigeonhole its usage to a specific task. The SRT is a versatile canoe highly capable in a variety of conditions. Paddler comfort, safety and gear capacity are three of its major features.
Because of participant availability, lunar illumination and the sage advice of a few fishermen the last week in July was targeted for this undertaking. We began to study the websites of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration along with the Meteorological Services of Canada, looking for an acceptable weather window. The longest periods of calm would usually start in the evening and carry through to the next morning. We were looking for a minimum of fifteen hours with one-foot waves or less and wind speeds that did not exceeding 10 knots, preferably out of the SW. Predictions for the 27th & 28th were looking good so countdown procedures were initiated.
The departure was from Sodus Point. With pre-launch preparations, the paddle itself and then the return ferry home we were anticipating thirty plus hours without sleep. Harold had a six-hour drive so he arrived a day early to allow a proper rest period. The rest of us gathered on the Point at 2pm on the 27th. We were ready to depart an hour later and set out at 3:10 pm. This was two hours earlier than originally planned but the weather was acceptable and predicted to improve.
Ontario's surface area is the smallest of the five Great Lakes, it holds a little over 7% of the entire system's water. Despite its relative small size to the likes of Superior and Michigan its 7500 sq. miles of vastness is frightening from the seat of a 15-foot canoe. This was the first time I had ever been on one of the Great Lakes in any kind of a boat, and there I was attempting to paddle across forty miles of open water.
I have to admit that entering into this endeavor; I had a few apprehensions, first with my abilities and another with safety. Several marathon paddles on
the Finger Lakes settled the ability question. The safety concerns were alleviated with the knowledge that a large powerboat would be accompanying
us. We also had the technology of satellite weather information as well as communication and navigation devices only recently available to the small time adventurer.
I have already mentioned the fear of gazing into the vast nothingness that was before us. I should also point out the breathtaking beauty of the calm water and cloudless sky. The only geometry to be detected was from the water's rippled surface and it's intersect with the horizon. If it is true that the color blue can ease tension and calm the riled emotions within us, we were surely in a mellow state of mind. The setting sun reflected only two very soothing hues of this color.
Our escort would allow us to paddle past them, and then, before we were out of sight, motor ahead. This leapfrogging technique worked well and gave us a greater sense of being alone on the lake. That said, the rumbling roar of its inboard engine powering pass every forty minutes or so was a welcome sound, especially in the darkness of the night.
The timing of this journey was scheduled to take advantage of a full moon. Only moments after the illumination of the sun was lost, the glowing red orb of our lunar satellite was peeking over the southeastern horizon. By 10:00pm, it was high enough and bright enough to cast a shimmering silver stripe on the water behind us. It gave us reason to pause and look over our right shoulder from time to time.
A simultaneous sunset and moonrise coincided with the border crossing, which, we imagined to be at the halfway point or 20 miles into our journey. Soon thereafter, at about 10:30 the first glimpse of what we thought to be Canada occurred. It was a flashing red light in perfect alignment to our GPS heading. We were certain it was our destination at Pt. Petre. Reaching the halfway point and having something on the horizon was a tremendous psychological lift.
By midnight, our calm seas were becoming a bit more textured. Conditions slowly deteriorated as the wind shifted from the south to the west. At 2am, waves were guessed to be in the one to two foot range, still very much within our comfort range.
Our single flashing red beacon was now a cluster of red lights. My first impression was that the lights followed the outline of a large ship but as we neared, it was evident that they were indeed on land. We had arrived but were still several miles out. It won't become official until some part of the canoe touches Canada.
Harold spotted a singular flashing white light lower than all the red ones. It was in line with his GPS coordinates so he surmised that it must be the Pt. Petre light station and we paddled directly for it. In the moonlight, its red and white Cat-In-The Hat hat appearance became clear.
We each approached the shore at different points. I was hoping to land the canoe and actually step out to plant the flag but wave action against an uncertain shoreline in the darkness precluded that idea. I felt my paddle blade tick something below the surface and accepted that as reasonable contact with the country. My paddle blade tick came at approximately 4:30am or 13.5 hours after leaving Sodus Point. My GPS odometer read 41.3 miles.
The ferry home took longer than expected due to the deteriorating conditions. By the time the canoes were loaded waves were in the 3 to 4 foot range and they did not diminish. We averaged less than 10 MPH on the trip back.
This adventure is amongst the most exciting of my life. so far. Not for its difficulty but from the "YOU DID WHAT ?" reaction I get at the barbershop. I am glad I got over my apprehensions and stuck to the plan. I know that Gary and I both feel that it's done and it won't have to happen again. Harold on the other hand is probably already planning an east west Hamilton to Henderson adventure.
In the spring of 2010, Gary, now 42 years old began to make inquiries on the feasibility of accomplishing this dad's desire. He talked with Dave Curtis who believed that a small group with the right canoes, favorable weather and an accompanying powerboat could safely make such an attempt. There is no question that Mr. Curtis (the owner of Hemlock Canoe) saw an opportunity to promote his business by sponsoring Gary's endeavor. However, anyone who has come to know Dave and Carol Curtis would know that helping people is their first goal.
Ideas were now gathering in an eddy of Gary's stream of thoughts. A business manager himself he linked his paddling desires with an effort to raise dollars for a cancer support organization to which he has personal gratitude. It became a win-win for everyone involved.
One of the most accomplished paddlers on the planet, canoe designer and all around nice guy, Harold Deal was invited to participate. He clearly saw the good in the endeavor and was of great assistance in preparing for the adventure. I'm sure he also saw it as an opportunity to check off yet another accomplishment on his long list of paddling achievements.
I was invited because I owned an SRT. The cancer cause is noble and I hope that my participation somehow helped generate donations but I will freely admit that I selfishly wanted the chance to learn from Harold and to begin my own list of paddling achievements.
I can only speak for myself but preparing for this event has pretty much dominated my paddling activities for the 2010 season. I logged over 300 miles in the SRT in practice and conditioning, favoring it over my other canoes. Night, marathon or windy lake paddles, always challenging myself, especially in adverse conditions.
I have learned much from Harold about how the SRT can be manipulated for advantage. Detractors will criticize its features as flaws attempting to pigeonhole its usage to a specific task. The SRT is a versatile canoe highly capable in a variety of conditions. Paddler comfort, safety and gear capacity are three of its major features.
Because of participant availability, lunar illumination and the sage advice of a few fishermen the last week in July was targeted for this undertaking. We began to study the websites of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration along with the Meteorological Services of Canada, looking for an acceptable weather window. The longest periods of calm would usually start in the evening and carry through to the next morning. We were looking for a minimum of fifteen hours with one-foot waves or less and wind speeds that did not exceeding 10 knots, preferably out of the SW. Predictions for the 27th & 28th were looking good so countdown procedures were initiated.
The departure was from Sodus Point. With pre-launch preparations, the paddle itself and then the return ferry home we were anticipating thirty plus hours without sleep. Harold had a six-hour drive so he arrived a day early to allow a proper rest period. The rest of us gathered on the Point at 2pm on the 27th. We were ready to depart an hour later and set out at 3:10 pm. This was two hours earlier than originally planned but the weather was acceptable and predicted to improve.
Ontario's surface area is the smallest of the five Great Lakes, it holds a little over 7% of the entire system's water. Despite its relative small size to the likes of Superior and Michigan its 7500 sq. miles of vastness is frightening from the seat of a 15-foot canoe. This was the first time I had ever been on one of the Great Lakes in any kind of a boat, and there I was attempting to paddle across forty miles of open water.
I have to admit that entering into this endeavor; I had a few apprehensions, first with my abilities and another with safety. Several marathon paddles on
the Finger Lakes settled the ability question. The safety concerns were alleviated with the knowledge that a large powerboat would be accompanying
us. We also had the technology of satellite weather information as well as communication and navigation devices only recently available to the small time adventurer.
I have already mentioned the fear of gazing into the vast nothingness that was before us. I should also point out the breathtaking beauty of the calm water and cloudless sky. The only geometry to be detected was from the water's rippled surface and it's intersect with the horizon. If it is true that the color blue can ease tension and calm the riled emotions within us, we were surely in a mellow state of mind. The setting sun reflected only two very soothing hues of this color.
Our escort would allow us to paddle past them, and then, before we were out of sight, motor ahead. This leapfrogging technique worked well and gave us a greater sense of being alone on the lake. That said, the rumbling roar of its inboard engine powering pass every forty minutes or so was a welcome sound, especially in the darkness of the night.
The timing of this journey was scheduled to take advantage of a full moon. Only moments after the illumination of the sun was lost, the glowing red orb of our lunar satellite was peeking over the southeastern horizon. By 10:00pm, it was high enough and bright enough to cast a shimmering silver stripe on the water behind us. It gave us reason to pause and look over our right shoulder from time to time.
A simultaneous sunset and moonrise coincided with the border crossing, which, we imagined to be at the halfway point or 20 miles into our journey. Soon thereafter, at about 10:30 the first glimpse of what we thought to be Canada occurred. It was a flashing red light in perfect alignment to our GPS heading. We were certain it was our destination at Pt. Petre. Reaching the halfway point and having something on the horizon was a tremendous psychological lift.
By midnight, our calm seas were becoming a bit more textured. Conditions slowly deteriorated as the wind shifted from the south to the west. At 2am, waves were guessed to be in the one to two foot range, still very much within our comfort range.
Our single flashing red beacon was now a cluster of red lights. My first impression was that the lights followed the outline of a large ship but as we neared, it was evident that they were indeed on land. We had arrived but were still several miles out. It won't become official until some part of the canoe touches Canada.
Harold spotted a singular flashing white light lower than all the red ones. It was in line with his GPS coordinates so he surmised that it must be the Pt. Petre light station and we paddled directly for it. In the moonlight, its red and white Cat-In-The Hat hat appearance became clear.
We each approached the shore at different points. I was hoping to land the canoe and actually step out to plant the flag but wave action against an uncertain shoreline in the darkness precluded that idea. I felt my paddle blade tick something below the surface and accepted that as reasonable contact with the country. My paddle blade tick came at approximately 4:30am or 13.5 hours after leaving Sodus Point. My GPS odometer read 41.3 miles.
The ferry home took longer than expected due to the deteriorating conditions. By the time the canoes were loaded waves were in the 3 to 4 foot range and they did not diminish. We averaged less than 10 MPH on the trip back.
This adventure is amongst the most exciting of my life. so far. Not for its difficulty but from the "YOU DID WHAT ?" reaction I get at the barbershop. I am glad I got over my apprehensions and stuck to the plan. I know that Gary and I both feel that it's done and it won't have to happen again. Harold on the other hand is probably already planning an east west Hamilton to Henderson adventure.
