-1 Every story has to start somewhere. This one started with the April 1998 issue of Outdoor Life. There was a special section that described three camping trips which included canoeing and fishing. One trip takes you to the St. Regis Canoe Area in the Aderondacks. Since it was just up the road a piece from where I used to camp, I thought we would check it out. Two trips were described, an easy one and a hard one. Of course being the tough out doors and out of shape type I chose the hard one. Right away I got on the phone and asked my brother if he wanted to go fishing. "Sure do" he said, "I'll start packing". Of course five minutes before you leave isn't much packing time. My bags were packed and ready to go two weeks in advance. I even had my fishing license. Halfway through the week Dwight thought it might be nice to have one in case the Ranger dropped by. On the way up, we stayed at a quaint little motel called Stone Manor. At their restaurant, a road kill menu was hanging on the wall which said :you kill it, we grill it". It went on to list several entrees such as Hunk of Skink and Rack of Coon. Another sign read "Manager Special, Buy one Burger at the Regular Price and Get the Second at the Same Price". As you might guess, we were quite careful as to what we ordered. At breakfast the next morning, the owner was setting at the counter telling one of his customers how much he hated snakes and how much of a reward there was for catching an Arctic Snow Snake. An hour later and still giggling, we pulled into the parking lot at Little Clear Pond. From here we would depart from all signs of civilization for the next week. The weather was perfect. No humidity, low seventy's with a light breeze heavy withthe seeet smell of pine. Even the Loones were their to greet us. Crossing the pong, we found our first canoe carry which took us over to St. Regis Pond. It was a wide heavily used trail with the usual roots, rocks, logs and an occasional mud hole to make it interesting. It's also where we found out how heavy our equipment was. Of course we had to make two trips to get everything. The people we met coming out were making two trips also, so this wasn't uncommon. - At the second carry between St. Regis and Ocre Pond, the trail had an unseen treat. It started out with a board walk which ended with a mud hole with rocks down ,the middle. My advice is to stay on the rocks. Dwight niissed one and instantly found himself knee deep in black gooey mud. Couldn't help but roar with laughter. After carrying our equipment over to Ocre Pond, we found that the river was passable. That saved us from having to carry the canoe across. Now, the next carry, between Ocre and Mud Pond, gave new meaning to the word nasty, rough, long, hard and up up up and down. The trail was beautiful though and the stream half way provided a refreshing break. Mud Pond was fairly small compared to the rest and well named. I stuck a paddle into the mud and it didn't seem to have any bottom. Not a good place to go swimniing. From Mud Pond to Fish Pond was just a short hop. Well, maybe two hops and a jump, but what a difference in the bottom. It was all sand and quite shallow for some distance. By now it was 5:30 and we needed to find one of the lean-tos that the ranger had told me about. Making our way slowly along the south side of the pond, we finally caught a glimpse of what was to be our home for the next week. A-fter unloading our gear, we set out in search of our water supply. Straight across the pond was another camp site and behind that was a spring fed stream which came down between two mountains. There's nothing better than cold crisp mountain water. It was great being back out in the wilderness sitting around the camp fire, eating whatever that was that we cooked up for supper, taking deep breaths of fresh mountain air light . ,.; scented with the sweet smell of pine, and then sitting by the shore overlooking a glassy pond as the sun set in a blaze of glory to the call of the loons. Monday was the 'cats pajamas'. Since we didn't have anything pressing to do, we thought we'd sleep in, but as fate would have it, someone's stomach was making so much noise that we were forced out of bed at the crack of dawn, just in time to wake the birds up for breakfast. After the dishes were done and the days firewood was stacked, we went in search of the trout that the region was famous for. I don't think that three inch sunfish really count. Since nothing was fitting, we went sight seeing around the pond to see what was to be seen. On the opposite side of the pond, we found the number one lean-to which was tucked neatly back in the trees. Unlike ours. It had a wooden floor and a small stream close by. At the north west end, sheer rock wall rose 500 ft. or so to give the mountain a good head start at going up hill. Opposite that was the trail to Little Fish Pond along with a stream that babbled as it ran along. Above the trail was a blueberry filled, knoll with a camp-site that overlooked some of the prettiest country around. By evening we had enough blueberries for biscuits for the next three days. The dead silence of the night was broken only by the giggling from the couple who moved into the lean-to across the pond that afternoon. It was so quiet in fact, that I had to crank up our home entertainment center, which consisted of a tape deck and an outdoor speaker. The music could be heard for quite some distance out over the water. I'm sure that my wife would have loved that misty moonlight cruise on a glassy pond, it was so romantic. On Tuesday we explored the ridge from Fish Pond back to the other end of Mud Pond. It was a narrow ridge with Mud Pond on one side and a shallow shrubby river on the other side. Lining the ridge were huge virgin pines some of which had been struck with lightning. We also hit the mother load of BLUFBERRIES. Wintergreen was another treat that was scattered about. That afternoon we canoed across Little Fish, portaged across a steep ridge, and down across Little Long Pond. This is a land-locked pond which made the water so clear you could almost seen the fish laugh at you as a tasteless lure fluttered by. As I was cooking supper that evening, Dwight (my brother) would ask, "What's next"? At this rate we'll run out of food and have to go home early. NO, I'll eat pine needles first! k e-l- As I'm writing this, I'm sitting next to the pond under a large pine, rain drops are steadily rippling the surface to the west. I'm blinded by the most brilliant sunset to the North West. Smoke is slowly drifting out over the pond from our closest neighbors along with the sweet aroma of fresh baked brownies. Don't you wish? We did however have fresh baked biscuits with an abundance of fresh picked blueberries. The loons were noisy last night and I did a lot of turning over in an attempt to get some beauty sleep. I figure around twelve RPM. Instead of a rainy day as I expected, it turned out gorgeous. How else could it turn out. I should have known better. Of course this meant that we had to go exploring again. Poor babies! For our morning excursion, we chose the trail between Fish Pond and Kit Fox Pond. The first thing we found was some Bear droppings on the west ridge, and later some track by the access road. For kicks and giggles we went across the pond, where the bear couldn't get us, and following the creek up between the two mountains to where an old boundary road crosses. We followed that west to where a huge tree had been blown over - what a view! On the way down we collected some birch bark to make a canoe for one of my wife's dollies. Maybe we can try it out on the Niagara River. Warm summer evenings are among my favorite times, especially on a clear night with a full moon. A moon light cruise on a still pond with a light mist over the water remains high on my list, right under supper time. Later we popped some relaxing music into our home entertainment center, and kicked back to watch blue and orange flames lick at the logs like you and I would at a rapidly melting ice cream cone. By the time the tape was done, we are ready to go to sleep. Thursday it was cloudy and it started to sprinkle, so we put up the tarp ftom the lean-to and extended it out over the fire. When it cleared off, we threw a few things together and hit the trail. Clamshell Pond was our destination and what peace and serenity we found. The water was like a mirror surrounded by fragrant pines. The trail was thick in spots and some of the old trail markers had grown into the trees. Back at Fish Pond, we headed back to camp trolling -a fish lure behind just for fun when all of a sudden the fish pole almost went flying out of the boat. I grabed it just in time thinking that I had hooked a snag, but snags don't jerk. In all the pole bending excitement the canoe almost flipped. Up until this time we hadn't had a bite and I wasn't about to loose this one. After an hour of furious fighting and three or four swipes with the net I landed a nice sixteen inch brook trout, just in time for lunch. We had to cut it in three pieces just to get it in the pan. Fried it up in some olive oil with a little lemon. Was that ever good. Later we tried for another one in the rain which had set in but had no luck. Just about supper time, a couple pulled in across the pond in a big blue touring kyack and I went over to see if they wanted to use our camp fire, but they had just eaten and were all set. Nice young couple too - they left the kids home ~ What a treat we had last night. The rain came down in buckets. This is when the tarp we put up really came in handy. It not only keeps our fire wood and fire dry but it acts like a water catcher so we don't half to carry so much water. Since we were both awake, I went out and poked the fire a couple of times to keep it going then spent some time in locating all the leaks in the roof. Being dripped on is not one of my favorite pastimes, besides, I didn't want to accidentally drown. It's been kind of a lazy kick back and do nothing morning. I've been laying here in a semi reclining position watching the smoke from the fire curl up through the trees. The low over hanging clouds that were in the valley across the pond have lifted giving the day some promise. Conversation has ranged from steam locomotives to what to do when you- run out of toilet paper. There are no com cobs out here so if you require something softer than a pine cone, jut grab yourself a chipmunk, the tail does tickle a little though. Four canoes full of girls came cruising by heading east, just singing away like they were having fun. I noticed that they speeded up a bit when they caught a whiff of my socks wafting out over the pond. Everyone that passes by or stays overnight seems to do so on the other side of the pond. While we were eating lunch, Mr. Chipmunk stopped by for his noon snack. It's amazing how much they can pack into their cheeks. We got his to take a banana chip out of my fingers but had to promise him that I wouldn't make him go any where near the outhouse. After the noon dishes were done, the rain had let up so we tried some more fishing. No luck. "le we were out, we did some exploring on the north west end of the pond. Here we have a jagged rock cliff that rises straight up about five hundred feet. At the base were numerous boulders that had broken away over the years. At one spot they formed a cozy cave big enough for three or four people. Any BEAR would be happy to call it home a probably does. For some reason Dwight didn't want to explore it. We then made our way around the side of the cliff and up the hill. Half way up was a water hole formed by water cascading from above. With a few buckets of hot water you could have a nice bath. At the top it was flat enough were you could set up a nice camp but carrying supplies up there could be a bit rough. Out on the edge you can look straight down (not recommended) or you can stand back and enjoy the view of the whole pond. Around five o'clock, we went over to the east point and picked a whole pot of Blueberries for desert. Yum-Yum. Two hours later, our neighbor from across the pond spotted a bear in the same berry patch. We quickly ran over in that direction to see if we could catch it but it got away. Since it's so quiet this evening, every little sound will probably spook us tonight. Sure enough, right on que, mother nature must have known it was our last night, so she threw every noise in the book at us. Loons crooned, bear grunted, cyotes howled and for a . finnally, a sharp crack followed by a tremedous crash of an old rotten tree falling. I guess that answers the old question "If a tree falls in the forest, does any one hear it". The ~ answer is yes. On a still night it makes enough noise to make your eyes pop open a quarter mile away. As the sun rose, so also did we. It was a struggle to fight off the temptation to stay an extra week or two. We polished off the last of the oatmeal, then started packing. Mr. Chipmunk stopped in to see if he could bum any last minute handouts. Previously, he hadn't appeared before noon. As we were leaving Fish Pond, the Loon came by to see us off. Picking himself out of the water he flapped his wings as if to say "good bye, come see us again". "Next year Loon" I said "and tell the fish to be ready to". ~
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