Ambling the Adirondacks

 

Amos on the Northville Placid Trail

We set off for the Adirondacks one week ago today. I knew little of this region. Scott, Amos and I had explored it for a few days on the Northville Placid Trail some years back. If fact, I do believe that was Amos' first backpacking venture. Scott and I had also walked up to the edge of the Adirondacks when we completed our thru hike on the Long Path. But aside from these glimpses, I'd never taken the time to really get to know this region. Armed with a packet of National Geographic maps and plenty of supplies, Amos and I drove northward. 

Several hours later we had reached Route 28, which would carry us through numerous quintessential Adirondack towns, among them Thendara, Old Forge, Eagle Bay, and Inlet. As darkness fell, we passed lake after lake, the silhouettes of evergreens towered. We parked it just outside of Inlet at Eighth Lake Campground. As soon as I stepped from the car, I noticed the air smelled different here - like fragrant balsam and damp soil. We had no sooner settled into the tent when I heard the loons calling. I hadn't heard loons since I was on the Finger Lakes Trail, before that the Appalachian Trail. It's amazing how nature has the ability to connect us instantly with far away moments in our lives. Then a screech owl. Later that night, a pack of coyotes yipping and crying and howling. We had certainly entered another realm.

Queer Lake in the early morning

I had studied my maps thoroughly before leaving and had highlighted some trails that I thought would be fun to explore. We started in the Pigeon Lakes Wilderness, with a lollipop loop from Cascade Lake trailhead up to Queer Lake. An easy 4.5 miles. The trail began wide, once a dirt road long ago, and then we turned onto single-track. We rolled along, up and down small hills, sometimes navigating a minor blowdown, other times squishing and squelching through mud. I am learning that mud comes with the territory here. Boardwalks and puncheons and cut-log paths had been laid in an effort to reduce the mud factor, but alas they were rotting in the mud too, so they presented their own obstacle. Still, it was nothing we couldn't handle, and the enormous trees, moss-covered logs, and micro-forests that perched on top of boulders made it all worth it. My pictures that I have to share are limited given my service, but when we reached the lean-to, my goodness! The lean-to sat facing enormous Queer Lake. I was delighted to find the water perfectly clear and the lake with a sandy bottom. I set up our tent just beside it and later that night, after a song from the loons and later, a barred owl, the woods fell completely and utterly silent. Not a breeze, not a cricket, not a crack of a twig. I would come to learn that this, too, seems to be typical in these Adirondack woods.

In the morning, I spotted a beaver out for a swim, and later the loons cackled hilariously at me as I struggled to pack up all of our gear. On our way back, we did a loop around Chain Ponds. Along the way I was struck by all the hobblebush in the understory. It's heart-shaped leaves are turning deep burgundy, and some shrubs are sporting red (ripening to black) berries. Amos also spotted a black bear. We both remained perfectly silent, as he meandered through the forest and then scampered up an embankment. Before we knew it, we were back on the path we had started at, completing 11 miles for this jaunt.

Hobblebush in fruit

That afternoon, we explored the charming town of Inlet. I very much appreciated the open-air coffee house. An iced coffee after a trek, now this I could get used to (and did, two days in a row). Arrowhead Park was a fabulous place to gather info at Town Hall, make use of the Wi-Fi, and clean up a bit in the bathroom. This seems to be the town park, and wow, what a park it is, set right on the shore of Fourth Lake.

View of Fourth Lake from Arrowhead Park

 Later that evening, we headed for Moose River Plains, which hosts over 100 free roadside campsites. No amenities aside from some with firepits, privies, and picnic tables, but it sure is nice to have an easy, no-cost, legal camping spot. Finding a spot did require rolling very slowly down a bumpy gravel road for what felt like an eternity, but about 35 minutes later, we had chosen our site, set on a wooded knoll. That night it poured rain and the site was pretty much dirt. So as the raindrops hit hard, they splattered, right up underneath the rainfly and into the tent, casting black grit and grime all over the outside of the tent, and inside too. So be it, we were at least dry. And, hey when car camping, circumstances such as these, never seem too bad. 

Road sign in Moose River Plains - these remote roads stretch for miles, one leads from Inlet 27 miles to Indian Lake (although due to windfall, this route was closed about halfway through)

The next day we drove farther into Moose River Plains, where the gravel roads eventually turned to sand. I learned from a ranger that a very old moose named Harold, was said to frequent the ponds here. I kept a keen eye out but never did spot him. I'm still holding out hope on this trip! That afternoon, Amos and I took it easy, with a wander through Cathedral Pines - a pocket of old growth pines - and later explored Ferd's Bog. The bog was a wonder. Here we followed a slippery dirt path, down, down, down, and then walked a heavy-duty plastic boardwalk out into the heart of the bog. Leatherleaf lined our path, sphagnum moss was blood red, and carnivorous pitchers plants sat filled to the brim with rainwater waiting for a snack. Amos desperately wanted to keep going beyond the boardwalk, but when he stepped out onto the moss and started sinking, he decided that maybe wasn't such a good idea. 

Moss Lake and the island

Camp at Moss Lake

Late in the afternoon, we discovered beautiful Moss Lake. Amos was all about this place, running up the shoreline, where we spied a wooded island at its heart. The shoreline was a botanical wonderland. I marveled at northern wild raisin, mountain ash, and winterberry - all in fruit. The bottle-brush purple flowers of narrow-leaved gentian, a wholly new plant to me, clustered amidst these shrubs. I could have spent the day here, and perhaps we will, but evening was quick to come. There are eight campsites that surround Moss Lake on a 2.5-mile loop trail. So, back at the car, I packed a backpack, and we headed in for the night, finding a lovely spot in a cove of evergreens.

Winterberry - a deciduous holly

The next day began our first big trek. After much sorting and organizing, and a long drive into the West Canada Lakes Wilderness, Amos and I hit the 22-mile French Louie loop. I was excited for this route given the abundance of lean-tos and lakes. Also, we would be walking a portion of both the Northville Placid Trail and the North Country Trail. After another long drive down a gravel road that I hoped my sedan could traverse, we embarked on our three-night, four-day hike at nearly 5:00 in the evening. 

Amos loves a good puncheon

Trail markers for the 4,200-mile North Country Trail and the 140-mile Northville Placid Trail. The North Country Trail also utilizes the Finger Lakes Trail through New York state, therefore thanks to my time on the FLT, I have already walked about 500 miles of the NCT. Here's to slowly chipping away!

I will sum up this loop as a true walk in the wilderness. These woods were dense, so dense that if the sun were shining while we walked, I was barely aware of it. Trees - predominantly beech, spruce, balsam fir, red maple, and paper birch - densely clustered. Between trees, moss-covered logs and rocks and roots. A thick understory of hobblebush. The precious leaves of native wildflowers we rarely see back at home were abundant, among them blue-bead lily, bunchberry, jack-in-the pulpit, and abundant patches of common wood sorrel (which is not all that common in northeast Pa.) An unparalleled quiet. Zero cell signal for most of the loop. Loons, a fisher cat, belted king fishers and northern flickers, three hikers and two golden retrievers. 

View of Cedar Lake with morning mist

Nearly every night we slept with a view of an enormous glittering blue bowl of water framed with green hills splotched with red. It was easy to plot out our mileage with nine lean-tos to choose from. My favorite was South Lake lean-to, given the amazing campsite right beside the water. 

Our camp at South Lake

The trail was typically a thread weaving us through the forest. Sometimes that thread was literally cut through a carpet of moss, cleanly edged on both sides, giving the effect of a garden stroll. Other times, we slopped about, sinking ankle-deep in muck - Amos is happy to take me right through the heart of it, even if we could have likely side-stepped it with some finesse. We walked mossy boardwalks and impressive bridges and even a land bridge through the edge of South Lake. Finishing up, we walked what once a road, evidenced by rusting car frame that sat plunked in the woods. With rain coming in, our last night we picked a random spot in the woods to put us closer to the car for our last day. 

22 miles under our belts (and paws) at the trailhead for the French Louie Loop. This trailhead is located off Old Military Road, near Pillsbury Mountain. 

It felt pretty good to reach that now familiar signage this morning. Today we've been taking it easy, getting some chores done and sitting out the rain from yet another roadside campsite. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, we'll see where our feet and paws take us.

Adirondacks, Here We Come!

  

Adirondacks, here we come!

The season has been gloriously full. Herbal programs and plant walks. The continual tending to the meadows, clearing of trails, and herbs, flowers, and veggies in the garden. Plus, there's that book I've been working on for the last five years. The care we devote to one another on this ranch, human and animal alike, certainly the most important work we do (believe me I'm on the receiving end, too). But now, it's time, high time, to take a break, to take a good, long, woods walk.

Several years ago, Scott and Amos and I did a three-night backpacking trip on the Northville Placid Trail. It was magical. The conical evergreens, the big blue ponds and even bigger lakes, the carnivorous plants and glowing moss and lichen-draped craggy limbs, the quiet, it stuck with me. This year, when I got to thinking about where Amos and I could go, this special place surfaced. The terrain was rolling, the paths not so rocky, mountains were all around but we didn't have to climb them, for the swamps and ponds and lakes were vista enough. Amos has spent the season hiking and running, building his strength and endurance. and has been cleared by the vet for another adventure. Doc's words, "his legs will be stronger than the ones he was born with." 

The Adirondack Park is comprised of 6 million acres, making it the largest publicly protected area in the lower 48 states. It's three times the size of Yellowstone. Yep, right here in the densely populated northeast. However, the Adirondacks are a little different from other federally designated lands. It is neither a national park nor a state park. In fact, only about half of those 6 million acres are owned by the state of New York, the rest is owned privately. There are homes and businesses and farms within the Adirondack Park, which I think makes good sense. Nature and humans together, rather than separation. 

There are said to be over 2,000 miles of trails within the Adirondack Park, so we'll have plenty to explore. Good thing, we've got about four weeks. This is as much Amos' adventure as it is mine - he's calling the shots. But, some places on our very loose agenda: Moose River Plains, Five Ponds Wilderness, Pigeon Lakes Wilderness, Ha-De-Ron-Dah Wilderness, West Canada Lake, and the Black River. I'm hoping we can have some fun on the Cranberry 50 - a fifty-mile loop around Cranberry Lake. Two long-distance trails travel the Adirondacks - the 140-mile Northville Placid Trail and the 4,000+ mile North Country Trail - surely we'll drop in for a few miles on these. The lean-to's are plentiful, as is water. And the temps look ideal, high sixties during the day and high forties at night. The car is packed with food, water, gear, and a small library. Surrendering to the unknown. Seizing joy. Seeking beauty. Here, we go!

Herb School for your Wild Heart

 

Wake Robin Trillium (Trillium erectum), a precious spring ephemeral

Within you is a remembrance of being participant in the natural world. This part of you remembers walking barefoot, the damp soil beneath your feet, the cool creek dancing over your toes and lapping at your calves. This quiet memory recalls sitting beneath the luxurious canopy of a towering oak on a warm summer's day and appreciating the company. This instinctual memory enlivens, as you nimbly pluck pungent leaves from bee balm and yarrow and dig the aromatic roots of sassafras and sarsaparilla. Perhaps you personally recall such memories, perhaps you can't recall them at all. Either way, I believe, as living beings in this wild world, such memories exist in our bones, in our DNA; they are inherent in the ancestral knowledge we carry with us. Even if today our lives feel domesticated, our hearts remain wild. They still pound when we step to the edge of a cliff, swell at the sight of a beautiful vista, or warm in the presence of a doe and her fawn.

Processing Yarrow to make tincture

We need the wild for health, happiness, wholeness. More than ever, we are discontent, anxious, and lonely. Heart disease, depression, and obesity are on the rise. There are myriad factors that contribute to this decline in human health. I believe a driving force is our separation from the natural world. For most of human history, we lived in close relation with the natural world. Not only did we spend more time outside, but we gathered or grew our own food and medicine, and harvested plants for cordage, fiber, and building materials. When we needed to go somewhere, we walked. We interacted with other species - perhaps birdsong was our backdrop, or we tracked and learned the habits of an animal we hunted, maybe we tended livestock. We paid attention because reading the land provided insight (and there was no GPS). This sort of lifestyle also required community. We learned skills from each other, we relied on each other, we shared stories and played together.

Barefoot walking with guest teacher Barefoot Ken

Make no mistake, our lives remain intertwined with the natural world. Our food is still cultivated someplace by someone, we sleep at night and are wakeful at day, and weather still impacts our lives. However, we spend a lot of time sitting in front of screens, communicating via screens, feeding on-screen life. For many of us, direct participation with the natural world is not necessary for survival. Although it is essential to our vitality, our happiness, our love for life.

Rejoicing in homegrown medicinal herbs

This is why each and every one of us could benefit from herb school. Sure, I've got a vested interest - but hear me out. An in-person herbal medicine program that's rooted in place will get you OUTSIDE. With the plants. With people. In the company of critters. It will teach you how to grow your own food and medicine. You'll come to know place. You will become part of place, and place will become part of you. You'll know what plants you can turn to as allies to support your health, your family's health, and the health of your community. You don't have to want a career in herbalism, nor wish to live in a hobbit hole deep in the woods. If you want health, well-being, wholeness, then herb school is for you!

Spending time with the plants, getting to know them in the place in which they live - and you live too - is medicine in and of itself. Herbal medicine is stitched to the whole of the wild world, and in learning it and practicing it, you, too, will be stitched to the whole of the wild world. Herbalism will feed your wild heart.  

This is why I offer the Plant and Place Immersion, a four-month in-person bioregional herbal medicine program. Not just to teach herbal medicine, but to foster kinship with the natural world. This kinship is imperative for our health, our communities, and our planet.

The Plant and Place Immersion starts soon! Learn more about this journey with the plants below! 

 Plant and Place Immersion 2026

Meet the plants.

Through plant-sits, we'll slow down, examine what makes each plant morphologically unique, how the leaves feel when crushed, what scent they emanate, how they taste. This is what we call organoleptic knowledge, aka sensory knowledge. Included in our sensory knowledge is the imaginal, those sensations, feelings, thoughts, and memories that arise -it's like swapping stories with a plant. Sensory knowledge is how people came to know plants' properties before we had labs to identify constituents. To work with the plants, one had to know them as individuals, one had to create relationship. This is our foundation. 

Learn how to confidently identify plants and gain knowledge of place.

Learn basic botany and how to use a key to identify plants. Plants do not grow in isolation. Once you begin looking closely, subtleties become apparent. Individuals stand out in the green landscape. You'll notice when plants bloom, in what habitats they grow, and in the company of what other plants. Plants are not a microcosm. They root in the earth, absorb nutrients and water, and transform sunshine into food. Insects and animals visit them for food and shelter and, surely, you'll meet them too in your sit spot. This leads to the next point! 

Cultivate relationship to place.

Every participant is encouraged to find a sit spot, a place in nature to sit, turn on the senses, and notice. Through this slowing down and observation, you'll come to know place as our ancestors did. We can have all the facts in the world about the place in which we live, but we must spend time in place and allow space for communion, communication, to create relationship. This is way easier than it sounds. Just sit and be present.

Ethically and safely harvest plants for food and medicine.

You'll learn how to harvest plants through practices that benefit both you and the plants. We do not take the plants for our own use. Rather we ask that we may work with them, harvest only what we need, and give thanks. We can give thanks in a variety of ways - plant nearby seeds, sprinkle water, clear competing invasive plants, or just say thank you! The plants give and we give back. This is practicing reciprocity.

Prepare plants as food and herbal medicine.

Participants learn how to incorporate wild harvested and homegrown plants into delicious meals and easy healthy snacks. You'll learn hands-on how to prepare herbal tinctures, infusions and decoctions, infused oils and salves, herbal vinegars and more. By preparing plants as food and medicine, we create relationship with them and the place in which they grew. As we consume them, they nourish us and contribute to our physiology. We quite literally become inseparable. 

Discover how herbs benefit the human body.

I'll share the ways in we can work with plants to balance various imbalances within the human body. We'll monograph the herbs that we meet, by creating detailed medicinal profiles. These profiles will contain both scientific knowledge and traditional ways of knowing. Every participant will finish the program with a materia medica - a collection of plant monographs - to reference for a lifetime. Participants will have the skills to expand their materia medicas as they meet new plants.

Methods for connecting with plants and place.

Forest bathing, barefoot walking, journaling, and gardening will further inspire your path to connection with the natural world and her green inhabitants. Guest teachers will provide a variety of insights from their paths. The ways in which we find connection are varied and personal. Through the Immersion, you are sure to find those ways which most resonate with you!

Enjoy a community of like-minded earth-centered folks.

With your fellow participants you'll revel in the natural world and make connections in unexpected ways. Intentionally built into the curriculum is time to share stories and insights. We have much to learn from one another!

This season, get outside, meet the plants, commune with place, and nourish your wild heart! The Plant and Place Immersion takes place at the School of Plant and Place Connection in Milford, Pa. The program runs May through August. Enjoy 10 in-person full-day sessions and 8 virtual classes. Two bonus seasonal plant walks bookend the experience - the first one is in April! Join us for the Plant and Place Immersion by visiting: Immersion

Our classroom at the School of Plant and Place Connection