Confronted with Beauty

 

View of the South Branch of the Moose River near Remsen Falls

Our last week in the Adirondacks was a stimulation of the senses. Time slowed. The air felt crisper, the scents of balsam fir sweeter and the old wood of a lean-to earthier, my views clarified by the contrast of bright sun and rolling clouds. The temperatures fluctuated dramatically. It dipped below freezing on a couple of nights and I bundled us up in extra blankets. In contrast, there were two mornings we basked in the morning sun, sweat beading on my skin and Amos sprawled out on the sun-drenched floor of a lean-to. Alas, autumn had fully arrived in the Adirondacks. I watched the leaves reach their zenith of color and then drop so plentifully that the trail was carpeted and limbs bare overhead. Last I wrote, we sat in our screenhouse at West Canada Creek Farm. Now I write to you from the comforts of home. I am thankful that I can share my story here with you, for in doing so, I will be whisked back into the moment, to these last days on the trail.

Near Moss Lake in the early evening after a rainy day

When we left the farm, I knew we'd spend our last week playfully. We'd accomplished the Cranberry 50, the longest trail on our list. I wanted to give Amos a day off. The rain helped with that. We returned to Inlet and spent the better part of the afternoon in Arrowhead Park, then scooted up to Moss Lake. There, we finally had the chance to walk the 2.5-mile loop around the lake. Amos had been itching to do this when we'd last camped here but there hadn't been time. The trail was rolling and wide, carrying us through a compressed version of the landscapes we'd walked over the last few weeks - dense moss-blanketed forest, bright and spacious woods filled with golden light, through a grassy beaver meadow (by bridge), and of course, alongside the blue bowl of Moss Lake. That night, I was grateful that we found a campsite there. It was Friday night during peak leaf season and the tiny village of Inlet was bursting at the seams with visitors.

Woodhull Lake

Given the influx of visitors, I thought it would likely be wise that we find a quieter corner of the region. So, the next day, back to Black River Wild Forest we went! I had been curious about Woodhull Lake. It looked like there were a number of different loops that I could create centered around it. The map showed a lean-to near to the trail, too, and Joe at the Indian River General Store (aka the Beer Church) had confirmed that it was indeed right on the lake, but still accessible from the trail. Be sure to stop in his place and say hello! He's been running his store, which is indeed stocked with beer and maple syrup which he processes himself, in a historic church, for 29 years. I stopped in on a whim and we chatted. When it came to the trails, Joe knew his stuff. It was evident he'd been exploring these woods for many years.

The Indian River General Store 

I parked a couple of miles in on Bear Creek Road. From here we had an easy walk on a wide old road blanketed in leaves and framed by forest. This, and other portions of our loop, would follow the route of the North Country Trail. I had considered heading to the Sand Lake Falls lean-to first for a night. However, we first got detoured by a tricky intersection near some private property. Note to anyone else that may be headed that way: take the trail that looks less traveled near the hunt camp, not the one that looks wide and inviting! I realized my error in short order, but about a mile in on the Sand Lake trail, Amos had made it clear this wasn't a trail that he had interest in walking today. It was wide and leafy and winding, seemed fine enough to me, but he had a hunch on something I didn't. So, after about a mile we turned 'round and headed for Woodhull instead. It's his journey as much as mine, so be it. The trail to Woodhull was a lovely walk, too, as we followed a wide old forest road to start, then narrower trail that wound us beside a beaver pond and through blonde ferns. The day was coming to a close when we reached the side trail for Woodhull Lake and lean-to, and admittedly we both were getting tired. Still, Amos led the way with gusto. And, my goodness, what a reward when we reached it!

A maple a-flame at Woodhull Lake

View from the Woodhull Lake lean-to

Woodhull Lake at sunset

The double-wide lean-to at Woodhull Lake

This lake, I do believe, was one of the most beautiful lakes I have experienced on this journey. It was stunning in the late day light, a glory to behold in the morning, and that night I was awakened by the full moon casting light across the lake like a spotlight. A wide sky of stars spread above the water, the brightest reflected in the water's surface like a mirror too. I was enchanted. The shoreline was sand and flat rock. Just above, a spread of soil and grass, from which yellow birches and red maples stretched their trunks horizontally to reach the light of the open lake. Add to this beauty, a spacious lean-to all to ourselves and a camp chair that someone had so kindly left behind. I felt I was in the lap of luxury, and so did Amos it seemed.

Amos enjoying Woodhull Lake

The next day we looped around to Bear Lake, hopping back onto the North Country Trail. Bear Lake was a big, beautiful bowl of blue. An old rowboat on the shore was inviting, but I declined. Amos has never been in a boat, and perhaps one day he will, but not without floatation devices on a lonely lake in the backcountry. We bopped over to the Bear Lake lean-to, which was a gem. It was clearly constructed not all that long ago, freshly stained with a large picnic table and fire ring nearby. Someone had even left a six-pack of Rolling Rock in case of a thirsty hiker.

Bear Lake on the North Country Trail

Given we had an extra night worth of supplies from not visiting Sand Lake, when we looped back to the parking lot where we'd started, we just kept on walking to Gull Lake. There we enjoyed a restful night in the lean-to and awoke to delightfully warm and sunny skies the next morning.

Amos stirs early from his sleeping bag on sunny mornings 

After our two nights out, our next destination was a daytrip to Remsen Falls, also in Black River Wild Forest. The warm morning quickly gave way to a blustery afternoon, so chilly a puffy jacket and gloves were required. Amos suggested we work smarter and not harder. So, we took an easy 2-mile walk along gravel, but leaf-covered, Wolf Landing Road, looping onto an old grassy forest road, then hopped back in the car and drove within .75 miles of Remsen Falls following Wolf Landing Road once more. We passed numerous roadside campsites, several of them occupied by I presume hunters, with expedition-style tents and cords of firewood stacked outside. We'd later take advantage of an empty site for two nights. Although, note that I later read that these sites require a permit, but there was no signage suggesting this nor did anyone seem to mind our presence.

To reach Remsen Falls, we walked a picturesque forest road, every step crunching with leaves underfoot. The canopy was golden and deep green spruces sat like pillars in the forest. It was like walking in a storybook, but when we reached Remsen Falls, we were transported. We stood before the wide South Branch of the Moose River, autumn color lining the banks. A dark older lean-to sat on the opposite shore on a grassy embankment. I could have been standing on the banks of a wide creek out west, this landscape so expansive and remote. Gray clouds rolled across the sky, and the cold, strong wind persisted. Not a raindrop fell, but this show only added to the powerful presence of this place. Following a slender, somewhat overgrown trail along the river, through sweet-scented balsam fir and past campsites consumed by moss and vegetation, brought us to a view of the rapids (these are the "falls") and a spot where we could walk into the very center of the river on large flat rocks. 

Remsen Falls - perhaps more accurately classified as "rapids" rather than "falls" at least in the drier autumn, however still stunning in their own right.

The following day, we returned to Moose River Plains. I had camped in this vast wilderness area in our first week but hadn't taken the time to explore some of the trails there. Plus, I really wanted to see a moose. This was said to be a hotspot. A ranger told me although folks had tried reintroducing moose over a century ago, given the devastation of the forest, they never took. However by the 1980's, the forest had matured and the ecosystem improved, and moose began to migrate into the region from neighboring Canada, Vermont, and Massachusetts. There are now estimated to be around 800 moose in the Adirondack Park. However, that's still a very small number relative to the six-million acres that make up the park. While on the Appalachian Trail in Maine, moose had wandered through camp. I'd spied them swimming across ponds from atop ridges. One, I encountered in Vermont, crashing through the woods. However, I had never seen one in New York. 

The remote roads of Moose River Plains

I drove deep into the Plains, slowly creeping past swampy spreads. I told Amos to keep alert, we were hunting moose! He rode the console and kept a keen eye out, gazing this way and that out the windows as I did. We explored three trails that afternoon. Our first two were easy paths, less than half a mile in length, and easily accessible. One led to Icehouse Pond, the other to Helldiver Pond. This same ranger told me about a moose named Harold that was said to hang here. He preferred Helldiver of the two. Last he knew Harold was estimated to be 17 years old. It's thought that Harold has probably gone to the pond by-and-by, but surely Harold has progeny. I scanned the quiet shoreline, and remained there, very still, for a good while, but saw no handsome beast staring back at me, aside from Amos of course. But, a deep track in the mud left me hopeful.

Icehouse Pond

Deeper into Moose River Plains we went, reaching the trailhead for Lost Pond. This trail was unlike any other I had walked. We started off on sandy path framed by spruces. Tufts of ghostly deer lichen dotted the edge of the path, intermingling with starry moss. Crisp scarlet maple leaves clung to its coral-like branches. I associate evergreens with boreal zones and sand and deer lichen with southerly regions. It felt as if though I walked through some strange land where the boreal and coastal plains blurred. The air was heavily scented with spruce and decaying plant matter. We carried on, weaving through woods until we found Lost Pond. It was a long, slender pond with a steep stone embankment on one side and a slippery earthen one on the other. Lily pads floated on the still surface. Moss was everywhere. This place dripped with moose vibes. Amos got on a scent, carrying us off the trail and deeper into the woods. Alas we never saw a moose. 

On the trail to Lost Pond

Deer lichen

Moose or no moose, our journey was coming to a close. There was one more place I'd longed to go: Middle Settlement Lake. Before I'd left home, I'd studied maps and chosen some places, knowing next to nothing about them, to explore. Middle Settlement Lake had been one of them. I wasn't particularly committed to visiting every one of these places, knowing the journey would evolve organically as we went. But, on our first night in the backcountry at Queer Lake, someone had left an Adirondack themed magazine behind. There was an article asking folks who stewarded this land what special places they'd recommend folks visit. A young woman had suggested Middle Settlement Lake. That was all the confirmation I'd needed - it stuck. Plus, visiting this lake would give us a chance to explore one more part of the Adirondacks: the Ha-De-Ron-Dah Wilderness Area. Joe back at Indian River was the only person I heard pronounce its name correctly. 

Map to Middle Settlement Lake at the start of the trail

Ha-De-Ron-Dah is said to be a more phonetically correct pronunciation of the Mohawk word "Adirondack," which means "bark-eater." It was a derogatory term for Algonquins who sided with the French and were said to resort to eating tree bark to survive the winter. The trailhead was a less-than-ideal spot, located along busy Route 28, which also required dashing across this road, but once in the woods, the sounds of traffic faded. Our path began with a steep, but short climb on stone steps beside enormous boulders.

Amos approaching the stone stairway the start of the trail

This trail harkened, at times, of woods back home. It was rife with golden ferns. Maples and birches and beech were plentiful. Lycopodium carpeted the forest floor peeking evergreen spires above the leaf litter. However, we took a trail that was far-lesser-traveled to reach the lake and its accompanying lean-to. This became readily apparent the farther we went. Blowdowns crisscrossed our path and more than once I had to resort to GPS to find our trail. Once, at the crossing of a beaver meadow, and another when we were within just a few tenths of the lean-to. In both places the trail disappeared in a landscape surely carved by ever-branching waterways, thanks to the resident beaver, and overgrown by vegetation. However, we never got off course long, and Amos was a good leader. 

One such beaver meadow, albeit a beautiful one

When we reached Middle Settlement Lake, we were well rewarded for our efforts. The lake spread far and wide. The edges were shallow, revealing spreads of flat, sun-warmed stone and skeletal stumps. Coyote scat, fresh and old, marked this place as a water hole. A beaver lodge sat at a far end in a grassy expanse. 

The edge of Middle Settlement Lake

Centered on the edge of one side of the lake, atop a rise of boulders sat the lean-to. It afforded us a grand view. That evening as the sun sank low, the trees on the opposite shore glowed. I knew, then, that this moment, this place, would never leave my memory. 

Middle Settlement Lake Lean-to

Middle Settlement Lake in the late-day light

That night a thunderstorm rolled in, complete with thunder and lightning and rain that sounded like tiny pebbles falling on glass. It was a show and felt like one more gift bestowed upon us, especially since we were well sheltered. It was a short one and afterwards, we slept like babes. I was glad for the warmer temps. The last two nights had dropped below freezing. We awoke bathed in sunlight. And so, a lazy morning was in order. Amos sunbathed on the floor of the lean-to, and I sat on its edge, sipping coffee, feeling so much gratitude for this moment and so many moments that came before. 

Amos taking a lazy morning

We headed back to the car late morning, following the much easier well-traveled path. It led us through a jumble of boulders and on gently rolling trail, finally returning us to our stone stairway. Amos was full speed ahead, but here I halted us. I knelt down, putting one hand on the damp soil, the other on Amos. I gave thanks to this land for safe passage. I gave thanks for her beauty at every turn. I gave thanks for the imprint that this place surely will leave on my being. When we return, we will know each other. I did my best to give my energy in this moment, and throughout our journey, my devotion to this place. 

I whooped and hollered and praised Amos as we ran across the road and back to the car. He rolled and tumbled in the backseat excitedly. Then, we began the long ride home, but I was glad. We had been confronted with beauty. There was no escaping it, it had seeped in my psyche and into our bodies. We were lighter, more agile, flexible. And we were driving home to our place. To Scott, who had been away in Europe and recently returned. To my mother who had lovingly read my journals and was always just a phone call away. To our Pennsylvania woods in autumn, surely just beginning their color-show. 

Once home, we blissfully reunited with our people. Then, Amos and I took one more day on the trail. In Delaware State Forest, we returned to the Thunder Swamp Trail. There, I greeted our forests and completed this 30-mile trail. But that is for another post. 

Amos on the Thunder Swamp Trail, crossing Little Bushkill Creek

For now, I give thanks to our people - Scott and Mom - who were always near in spirit. To the welcoming folks of the Adirondacks, locals and visitors alike. I was blown away by your kindness. To the special folks who offered their land for camping. To the countless people who steward this land in both formal and informal ways - trail maintainers, DEC, landowners, and land lovers. To this place, it was a gift to get to know you, I look forward to getting to knowing you better. And to Amos, for always being my loyal companion.

And thank YOU for joining us in our Adirondack Amble!

Happy at the close of our journey!

Full Circle at Cranberry Lake

 

With Amos at the finish line

We did it! We completed the Cranberry 50, a 50-mile trail around Cranberry Lake. In fact, we hiked closer to 60 miles given that we did the trail to Janack's Landing that cut the loop in two. In between our loops, we took two nights at a peaceful Hipcamp in Hermon, NY, one hour from the Canadian border. 

Colorful path along the Oswegatchie River

We began our loop once more in Wanakena and headed counterclockwise, beginning on the CL50. Our path was level for the first nine miles, given that we followed an old tote road. Tote roads such as this were created by the logging industry for horse-drawn sleds and wagons. We walked first along Slate Creek, then strode into thick woods where the air was sweetly scented with balsam fir and damp soil. After some miles, we came across the short side trail to High Rock, which I had been told was worth taking.

Looking at the Oswegatchie River from High Rock

High Rock is a massive boulder, carpeted in rusty needles and topped with evergreens, that sits on the edge of the Oswegatchie River. Here, I was able to see the meandering nature of this slim waterway. It wound like a snake, slithering this way and that through the grassy expanse below. I was told that some folks paddle this river. Seems it would be a pleasant paddle, however I do wonder how you get past the beaver dams. Speaking of beaver dams, back on the main trail, our easy path then delivered us directly to the beaver dams.

Amos wondering just what I've gotten us into this time

The inhabitants responsible for this enchanting, and mucky, landscape

I had known this was coming, but I hadn't expected it on our first day. I mistakenly had thought that crossing these dams came on day two of our loop in the Plains section of the trail. Oh sure, we'd cross them again there. But these were the most challenging of them. The trail basically utilizes these dams to cross sprawling beaver ponds. This first dam was the messiest of them. Good thing I've got plenty of experience swamp-walkin' thanks to the Florida Trail. I took one step onto the muddy surface and could tell right quick, I was going in. I changed into my crocs, hung my sneakers securely on the back on my pack and told Amos, "I'll lead, you follow."

On the other side

I thought at first it might be easier to embrace the murky water and wade right in rather than walk through shoe-sucking mud on the edge. We started, but I soon found that the water was reaching mid-calf. I looked back at Amos to see it approaching his belly. He looked questioningly at me. Nope, not happening. So back onto the mud we went. Where we squished and sank and splattered mud all over each other with our every step. Once on the other side, I just kept the crocs on. I knew we weren't done yet.

Crossing another dam, this one a little more solid

The beauty of the beaver dams

The other dams were a muddy, wet mess as well. But in places on these we were able to cross on dry logs, each one chewed to a point and not so orderly stacked. Still, they did provide a sort of bridge. And despite the challenge of these dams, they were some of the most enchanting scenery I encountered on this whole trail. The pallet of colors - red and deep green and gold - against gray sky and reflected in still water was captivating. The dead standing trees, their branches tufted with lichen. With our feet and paws in mud, I stopped and stared, knowing I had to relish this moment. How often do you find yourself standing in the middle of a beaver pond? 

The Oswegatchie River framed in color

Throughout the first and second day, the trail continued to weave us near to the Oswegatchie River. The colors have grown so vibrant in the last week. I felt as if I walked in a painting of the Adirondacks in autumn. Lucky us. We camped alongside the river on our first night with 7 other people. I hadn't expected on a foggy weekday to encounter so many others, and the site was small, but we made it work!

High Falls

Above High Falls

The second day we were graced with High Falls. This special spot also required a short walk off trail, about a half mile, but it was worth every step! I could hear the falls as we drew near. We came into a clearing and then chose one of several side trails to explore. In short order, we stood before picturesque falls, where water crashed over boulders into a deep pool. Around the edges were large flat boulders perfect for sitting. Amos and I waded, I filled our water bottles, and we basked in the sun on a warm rock for a good while. The High Falls trail also bore relics from the past, such as this contraption, now hosting green moss and adorned in autumn leaves.

A relic along the High Falls trail

We crossed the Plains, where indeed we encountered a couple more beaver dams, one of which required a little more wading. But, by now we were pros. The grassy landscape of the Plains was enchanting as well, especially with the tamarack trees beginning to turn gold. The space, too, that this stretch afforded, with a wide gray sky overhead, felt good after being in dense woods so much of our time.

Tamarack trees turning gold - Tamaracks aka larches are deciduous evergreens

Our last night on the trail, we had camp all to ourselves at Janack's Landing on Dead Creek Flow. Ironically, here there was ample space for campers, and a lean-to to boot. I chose a spot near to the water's edge so we could enjoy the view from the tent. This night proved to be the warmest yet. Loons called and cackled, barred owls hooted, and I do believe an eagle was crashing into the water periodically to retrieve a tasty bite.

Camp at Janack's Landing

Our last day, we walked an easy, breezy four miles on familiar trail. Given his speed, I think Amos knew the end of the trail was near. Four miles in less than 90 minutes. Perhaps he knew the hamburger that awaited him at the gas station up in Star Lake. What a joy it was to complete this 50-mile trail around Cranberry Lake with him. Makes my heart sing. He gets all the hamburgers he wants.

Woods that seemed to sing in their golden color

I'll close up this post by featuring Lazy River Cabins in Hermon, NY. This was the Hipcamp where we rested and waited out a couple days of rain. What a cool place! Sarah and Doug are the hosts. The property goes back to Doug's great grandfather who first opened his land to the community through a swimming hole, then a dance hall, then a skating rink. Relics of this history still stand here, some still in operation. Sarah and Doug host community skate nights in the ol' time skating rink. Oh, and there's hand-constructed miniature golf, too, that folks can enjoy. The 4 cabins that can be rented on Hipcamp, were also surely constructed some time ago. They are in excellent condition and lovingly decorated. 

Amos on the porch of the Hemlock Cabin

Skating rink

You can even rent skates! I was told by Lizzie who first greeted me that I could enjoy the rink while I was there, however I opted out. It would be my luck to injure myself rolling around on skates while on my Adirondack Amble.

But what made Lazy River Cabins really special was meeting Sarah and learning that she is a certified Forest Therapy Guide, like myself. There aren't too many of us offering this work to others. Sarah offers a variety of programs and retreats at Lazy River centered around forest therapy. Amos and I thoroughly enjoyed walking her Certified Forest Bathing Trail while we were there as well. The property is 200-acres and hosts towering trees, a rocky creek, grassy fields and borders the Grasse River. We felt right at home. Check them out at Lazy River Playground and Retreat Center | Website.

And, thank you again to Chris and Heather of West Canada Creek Farm! We have just finished up a restful stay and a very peaceful morning at our screenhouse. Amos was thrilled to return and enjoyed running the fields as soon as he got here. Be sure to check them out here: West Canada Creek Farm - Hipcamp in Barneveld, New York. I purchased a few darling little pumpkins to place in the back window of the sedan. Now, we'll head back towards Inlet and into the surrounding wild forests. We've got about a week left of our journey, we're going to savor it.

 

A Long Walk Around Cranberry Lake

 

Amos crossing the Oswegatchie River on the Wanakena footbridge

I have spent the last 10 days wonderstruck, immersed the forests and tiny towns of this region. We've done some driving from here to there, but mostly we've been walking. Despite this slow means of travel, and the fact that my attention is almost always here and now, I am still very aware of how little I know this place. We are just dipping our toes in its plentiful lakes, deep woods, and unique culture. 

To bring you up to speed, after completing the 22-mile French Louie loop, which incorporates small pieces of the Northville Placid and North Country Trails, we cruised over to the Black River Wild Forest. There we did an overnight, hiking from the Bear Creek trailhead to Chub Pond, looping over to Gull Pond the next day and back to the car. We stayed at Chub Pond lean-to #2, which provided an epic view of the very large pond (ponds are the size of lakes out here and lakes, well, they are really big). But the real magic was happening on shore. I had the opportunity to watch a clutch of snapping turtle hatchlings take their first steps. Furtively, peeking out of a hole, one by one, where surely they had just left their eggs, walk, waddle, and tumble down to the water, where each one, glided in. I wished them a good life, all seven that I got to witness.

View from Chub Pond lean-to #2

a baby snapping turtle taking their first swim

That evening, rain was predicted so I procured us a Hipcamp in Barneveld, NY at West Canada Creek Farm. Wow, this place was a gem! We rented a little screenhouse for the night, nestled on the edge of expansive hayfields and the wide creek. I set up our tent inside to ensure that Amos felt at home, and he took to it immediately. I learned many hikes ago, to avoid renting motel rooms at all costs. Amos is happy if the surroundings are quiet and resembles sleeping on the trail as much as possible. This screenhouse fit the bill. We liked it so much, we stayed a second night. Plus, Chris and Heather the owners knew the region's trails well, having hiked many of them. It was lots of fun talking trail and they had really helpful insights to share about our upcoming adventure.

Amos at the screenhouse at West Canada Creek Farm

And what an adventure it has been! And still is. We are in progress, taking a rain day at another sweet Hipcamp. I'll be sure to share that one in the next post. So far, we have completed 40 miles of the Cranberry 50 trail. The Cranberry 50 (CL50) is as, you guessed it, a 50-mile trail, that encircles Cranberry Lake. Cranberry Lake is the third largest lake in the Adirondacks and is shaped kind of like an octopus, with a wide center and many arms. These arms are called "flows," which are basically shallow, marshy sections of the lake. Cranberry Lake was once a smaller lake surrounded by cranberry bogs. In the mid-1800's, a dam was built on the Oswegatchie River (to benefit the logging industry), that expanded the lake, essentially creating these flows. Oswegatchie is pronounced Osh-we-gosh-ee (gathered that knowledge at the farm too). The trail travels loosely around the perimeter, at times venturing miles from the shore, but frequently returning the hiker to a flow for camp. 

The tiny village of Wanakena is the hub for the Cranberry 50

We began our trek in the tiny, incredibly charming, village of Wanakena. There's not much here by way of businesses, but my goodness, this li'l place sure welcomes the hiker. I was delighted to come into town and find Otto's Abode. It was sadly closed for renovations, but I could tell that Otto's was one cool place. It shared a historic building with the post office. Out front, a human-sized moose character greeted us, inviting us onto a porch with comfy chairs for sitting and a library of books to "borrow and return". Across the street from Otto's was a park, which had a pavilion (with outlets), a fire ring with Adirondack chairs, firewood, a spigot, croquet, and the most delightful bathroom I have experienced the whole trail. Mind you, I have used a lot of outhouses, but this was really a well-cared-for bathroom. A large round sign shaped like a trail marker announced a trailhead for the Cranberry 50. 

In the center of "downtown" Wanakena

Greeted by the only moose I've seen yet!

However, we did not start here. Instead, we crossed the Oswegatchie River by car and parked near the trailhead for the Janack's Landing trail. By hiking this trail into the loop, we effectively portioned the Cranberry 50 into a 40-mile section and a 15-mile section. So, when we're done, we will have hiked 55 miles! We reached the CL50-proper in a couple hours and spent our first night at Glasby Pond. Unfortunately, I am again limited on photos to share on the blog, given that my phone requires syncing with the internet to download photos to the cloud. Ah, tech. Therefore, rather than take you through each day via text alone, I'll share the highlights. 

One of the many bridges on the Cranberry 50

The path itself has been a joy to walk. We have been traveling counterclockwise and essentially started with the more challenging portion of the loop. However, even this more "rugged" section was gently rolling. Fern-capped boulders sat sentinel in the woods. Yellow birch and eastern hemlock towered. Beech was ever-present. Scarlet swamp maple leaves sometimes carpeted the soil underfoot, by the end of our week, golden sugar maple and coppery beech leaves did too. They were a couple of tricky creek crossings with Amos given precarious boulders, but most creeks were bridged, and mud was, given what I've seen on other trails, minimal. With the exception of some blowdowns along the Otter Creek Trail (one of the many shorter trails that the CL50 uses), maintenance was excellent. Even there, had I not been navigating them with Amos, they wouldn't have been so troublesome. 

Campsite by Brandy Flow

Given our humble daily mileage, we didn't always hit the primo campsites, but there were plenty to be had along the trail. Our favorite was one along Brandy flow. We had this spacious site all to ourselves. In fact, we had every camp all to ourselves! It was high and dry and sunny. Loons called late in the afternoon and in the morning we were greeted by a woodpecker knock-knocking away at the tree over our tent. Amos enjoyed taking a dip whenever he pleased and I enjoyed sunning on a large boulder in the water. Come to think of it, Amos enjoyed taking a dip in a lot of places along this trail.

Amos wild and free in East Inlet

The sunsets and early mornings (I don't get up early enough for sunrise) were spectacular. The quiet of this trail, too, was remarkable. Although, unlike the French Louie, there were nights I heard crickets and barred owls and screech owls too. 

Sunset on Cranberry Lake

With the exception of Friday, which was exceptionally lovely with 70-degree temps, and we were within miles of the town of Cranberry Lake, we only saw six hikers the whole time, three and two were in groups, and four out of six were women! Oh, and whatever you do, don't ask Amos about the town of Cranberry Lake. 

The General Store in Cranberry Lake

Aside from Wanakena, the only other town the CL50 goes through in Cranberry Lake. Cranberry Lake is also a pretty quiet place. However, the cars move fast on Route 3, and there are many residences that line the road (even if most seemed uninhabited this time of year). I stopped at the one general store in town to procure a cold soda and to fill our water reserves. Amos was in a panic, eager to get back to the trail as fast as possible, which put me in a panic too. But, we made it through with a quick 15-minute stop. One and a half miles later we were back in the woods. Whew!

Yesterday afternoon, we walked the suspension bridge into Wanakena. What a feeling! We'd done it - the biggest trek of our amble. We'd spent nearly a full week in the woods hiking those 40 miles. 24 of them we'd completed over the last 3 days. We'd gained speed and confidence, but most importantly, we let the beauty of these woods seep into our bones. I was grateful for a primitive campsite right in the town of Wanakena that night. Doesn't get easier than that. We celebrated with a 10-minute drive up to Star Lake where I procured cheap gas station pizza and a hamburger for Amos. Well-deserved rewards. 

In the coming days, we'll take on the remaining miles of the Cranberry 50! Thanks for letting us share our story with you!

Feeling pretty swell about completing the Cranberry 40