Mile Marker 1425

Ahhh - what splendidly perfect weather we've had for the past few days. A true Indian summer.

Last week my friend Evelyn contacted me about joining her and some others for a hike to see some fantastic boulders south of Indian Lake. Plans were tentatively on for Friday, so I made a trip to the city Thursday, only to find out that they decided to go that afternoon as the weather cleared. There was no way I could make it in time, so I had to pass. Luckily for me, Evelyn gave me good directions, and Saturday morning, as the sun shone brilliantly in a completely cloudless blue sky, I slipped the leash on the dog and drove south.

It took a little over an hour to reach the marker that indicated the start of the trail (actually, it indicates the miles along route 30, but the trail conveniently starts right at this marker).

The path is partially covered with leaves (and logs), but a good dog is always able to find the way.


A few glacial erratics started to appear in the woods. These are large boulders left behind by the glaciers. Their point of origin is "somewhere else," which is what makes them "erratics" - they are not from around here. [Update: these may not actually be glacial erratics. My friend Evelyn suggests these boulders broke off from the cliff that is further back in the woods. Sounds like I need to take another trip. Maybe I can tag along with Jackie and Laurie, the geologist, when they go!]

We had to cross a couple small streams. This little foot bridge had a hole punched through the rotting particle board, so Toby opted to wade through the water.

By now the footpath was starting to get rocky. We must be getting close.

The walk in is pretty easy: about a half mile and with a little elevational gain - Evelyn estimates about 100'.

We reached a point where we weren't sure if the trail went left or right. Toby was all for going left, but I saw a jumble of boulders to the right, so we went that way instead. And sure enough, we were there.

It is difficult to get an idea of size without some familiar point of reference. Because I didn't have a human companion along to stand in front of this rock for size, you will have to take my word for it that it is large. In fact, I'd say the highest point reaches higher than the peak of the roof on my house.


There was this hole and trough at the base. It seems that water flows from the top, through some sort of channel in the rock, and exits here. How cool is that?


Time is flaking off a slab from the side:

...and here it is from the other side:

Around the back side we found a small cave.


A person could easily shelter here. He may not be too comfortable, but it would help get him out of the elements in an emergency.

Here's another boulder undergoing a personality split. This is actually two photos "stitched" together - the rock is very tall.


This site is popular with boulder climbers. These are rock-climbing folks who tackle something smaller than a mountain, but no less challenging. Evidence of their visits is apparent in the white chalk they leave behind. I have to wonder if the round holes they use for climbing are natural or man-made for just this purpose.


Some thoughtful soul(s) left a ladder on the back side of another boulder, so those who were not versed in rock-climbing techniques could also enjoy the view from the top.

I only went up far enough to peek at the top. In my old and rickety age I'm not so keen on taking risks when there are no other people around to render aid should I fall. So, here's the top of the rock - a regular patch of forest all on its own.


Toby waited patiently below.


The colors were glorious this day, especially against that brilliant blue sky.

We wandered around a while longer, looking at many more erratics. I LOVE this one - it looks like the head of a snapping turtle, complete with open mouth. Do you see the eye?

The opening (mouth) is quite large.

Inside there are all sorts of holes and rounded bits of rock. I presume these resulted from eons of weathering. At one point in time water must've worked away at what is now the interior. Round holes like those seen here are often associated with rocks spinning in place (in water), wearing away the larger rock. Or, it could be that water alone wore away the softer rock. I'm not a geologist, so I couldn't say for sure which forces were at work here.

Whatever the cause(s), the result it stunning. Here we are looking at the outer "wall" of the cave, photo taken with flash so you can see the formations.

And here it is without the flash, a better idea of what it looked like. The rock is actually more brown - not so much yellow. The light coming in through the holes was interesting.


Here's another boulder I really liked. Look at that lovely row of potholes - they just beg to be planted with something!

And so nature did! A lovely fern was growing quite happily in one of the "pots."

Here we have another boulder with a round hole in the top. I wonder if water flows from it when it rains. If so, how does the water get inside? I guess one would have to climb on top to find out.



This Indian cucumber root was still hanging on to a berry.


Ah, now this set of holes totally fascinated me.

Don't they look like they could be used for an oven? Say for baking bread, or perhaps a pizza?


Finally Toby decided it was time to go home. To him the rocks were just not all that exciting. Give him a trail full of good smells and he is content.

So we bounded back down the trail (I didn't recall it being that steep when we went in) and drove back home, enjoying all the best an Adirondack Indian Summer has to offer.

Book Report

It is always good to be humbled. I've been listening to Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything, and it is such a good book that I am thinking of getting my own copy, so I can read it again and take notes. I may even give it out for Christmas presents this year.

There isn't (so far) much in this book that is new to me, but what makes it so great is that it is written for the layperson. So far, I have listened to the history of the universe and our planet (including dinosaurs), a good bit of physics (quantum physics, the Big Bang, and all that), and am currently in the throes of learning about the Caldera that is Yellowstone National Park (the stuff of nightmares).

I truly believe that if more people read more books like this, there'd be a lot less strife in the world. We'd all know just how special we (all life on Earth) are. The circumstances that brought around life on this hunk of rock turning in space are mind-blowing. And then to consider just how varied that life is...millions and millions of species over millions and millions of years. And for all we know, we are the only place, ever, anywhere, where life exists. How precious that makes this planet.

The variety of circumstances that had to come together to make it possible for life to occur here are staggering. Just the right balance of gravity, atmosphere, water, geothermal activity, rotational spin, ocean salinity...the components are numerous and still so little understood.

We may laugh at the example from chaos theory where a butterfly flapping its wings affects the weather on the other side of the planet, but its these little things that we take for granted that, if knocked out of balance, can result in catastrophic changes (like decreasing the salinity of the oceans, which affects the thermal movement of the ocean waters, which affects not only the life living in those waters, but also our global climate patterns).

If more people knew all this, then they might spend a little more time taking care of Earth. To threaten to blow up the world over something as small and petty as religious or political differences is the ultimate selfish behavior.

If you haven't read (or listened to) this book yet, put it on your to-do list. You won't be sorry.

Famous Family Members

My family has been "into" geneology for years. It's always nice to know where one comes from.

Lately, my uncle has been sending my dad information on their aunt (my great-aunt), Josephine Rathbone Karpovich. Aunie Jo, as we called her, was this wonderful, rather eccentric woman when I knew her. Not wildly eccentric, but she didn't fit the "norm" for a woman of her years.

I knew Auntie Jo as this beautiful woman who travelled the world. I knew she spent a lot of time in India, where she learned relaxation techniques, which she taught here. I remember her taking a cousin on a trip to Peru when I was, oh, ten or twelve years old maybe. This was the inspiration for my trip to Peru in 2000.

I know she loved brussel sprouts - would eat them raw from the garden - but she allowed as how they didn't love her.

I remember visiting her and Uncle Peter at their home in Massachusettes, feeding the ducks that dabbled in the stream behind their house, and inheriting all their "Sing Along with Mitch" albums.

She wrote an autobiography and gave copies to my sister and me. I read it with fascination (I was maybe in 9th or 10th grade at this time). Couldn't tell you now where it is.

Today my Dad sent me the following YouTube piece about our Auntie Jo - who it seems was a lot more famous than we thought. I thought I'd share a little of this wonderful woman's history with you here, even if it isn't Women's History Month.

The Data are Finally In

How much rain did we get? These data are just in from Charlotte over at the Ecological Center:

From 9/28 until 10/2 we got 4.57".

The big hit was between Thursday and Friday mornings, when we got 3.3".

So, it certainly doesn't rate compared to the amount my friend Tom registered downstate (over 17" in a week), or Swampy down there in the Carolinas with over 19" that week.

Still, for us, it was a lot of rain.

Update on the River

Last night I took the dog and the camera down to the river. WOW! I've never seen the water so high.

At the Pump House:

All but the top four steps were underwater, and that rock just above the railing in the photo - that rock is taller than I! Only a foot to a foot-and-a-half remained above the water. The blue pipe is from the pump house - usually 4-5' above the water; last night the water was lapping the bottom of the pipe.

Amazing!

Looking upstream, the river was incredibly wide. Remember the rapids I photographed last month (see here)? There is so much water now that they are silent - completely submerged beneath the flow of the river.

Late evening light against storm clouds.

This morning I returned to the river en route to work. I wanted to see if the river had come up or gone down over night. First stop, the pump house.


Back at the Pump House:

The water has gone down a couple inches, based on the blue pipe and the rock.

This goshawk was just sitting on the side of the road this AM. I drove by, did a double take, braked, and reversed. Two more cars passed by, and the bird stayed put. I backed up some more to get a closer shot, and the bird finally decided that was too much; it flew off. I suspect it was warming itself up in this patch of sunlight. It was in the mid-30s this AM - brrr.

Up the Campsite Road:

To the left, behind these trees, is more water. Must be a wetland back there - or at least there is a wetland there now! I've never seen water back in there before, but now it is rather extensive.

This was a jumble of boulders earlier in the week.

Those banks on the sides were 4-5' high the last time I was here.

Down at the Route 28N Bridge:

Half the island is gone.

Last night, the water was not as high as the shrubbery on the left. I was so unimpressed last night that I didn't take any photos. Wow - it really came up here in the last 12 hours!

Here's another view of the outfitter's. Ruth told me that she has seen the water up past that little green shed, but only once.

So there you have it. The Hudson River Headwaters, all swollen from our last storm. Mighty impressive.

End of the Day

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

Right. This was taken two days ago, and we've had nothing but rain, rain, rain since. I don't know too many sailors who prefer to sail in torrential downpours.

Still, it was a lovely sunset. Dare I say spectacular?

The Water is Wide

This Welsh folksong (The Water is Wide) has been going through my head for two days now, thanks to all the rain we have had. How much rain? No idea, but I'd say three inches wouldn't be an unfair guess. All of the Northeast has been deluged these last couple of days, thanks to the remanants of the latest tropical storm.

When I left the house, I glanced at the camera. Knowing I'd regret it if I left it behind, I nonetheless did not take it with me. Afterall, it was still rainy, and my destination was the library, where I was going to work on job applications and write a piece for the Adirondack Almanack. I wasn't going to be out looking for photographic subjects.

But, when I drove over the Hudson River just outside North Creek, I regretted not having the camera. The water is waaaay up, and rushing along its course. Normally, there is a rocky shoal just downstream from the bridge. This morning it was easily three or four feet below the water. It might even be five feet below it.

Then there was the little mouse that was dashing across the library's lobby.

With my luck, I'll see a moose on my way home.

Well, no. With my luck, I won't.

Still, not to leave you with a Photoless Phriday, I'm attaching a photo of the quilt I just finished (people keep asking me to post pics of my quilts). This was a UFO I've had sitting around for about, oh, six years? It was mostly done, but not quite. I was on a mission this summer to complete all the not-quite-done quilts on my guest bed. Now all that remain are the commission I'm working on and one that I will probably never complete - a wagon wheel pattern that just isn't working out for me.