FEATURED POST

Having grown up just a few hours from the Adirondacks, they hold a very special place in my heart. My first backpacking trip in eighth grade and countless visits to a friend’s camp on Lake Placid – where we would boat to the back side of Whiteface mountain to climb – are a large part of my foundation and passion for human powered adventure. So, having the opportunity to return to the “daks” for the International Adirondack Mountain Fest sounded fun – until I realized that the journey to get there and home would equal, if not surpass, the adventure of the Fest.

The old Mainer expression goes “ya can’t get they-ah from hee-ah”. This applied in more ways than one to my journey across New England. There isn’t a direct route anywhere in the northeast, but particularly not from anywhere on the New Hampshire seacoast going inland. Indirect highways that go north to go south and dirt roads labeled as state highways are what we crusty New Englanders use to get around. The other part of my traveling adventure was that the only major bridge crossing the Lake Champlain Region from VT to NY has been out of commission. I was left with no other choice but to take the road, or should I say ferry, less traveled and to be delivered not only across the water but to another state via boat. Having seen the boat symbol in the list of directions I was more than dubious. Generally speaking these ferries don’t run through the winter, but because of the amount of people needing to travel through this region, the ferries were running from Charlotte, VT to Essex, NY and for free because of the bridge’s demise.

Packing demo gear, banners, and other Outdoor Research paraphernalia into my trusty Subaru (another north east staple), I headed northwest. After hours of driving, I entered the Burlington area and headed south (remember the “go north to go south” thing) toward Charlotte.  After a few side roads – where pavement turns to dirt – and passing through a town center that consisted of a country store and a few houses, I got my first view of the lake out past a wooden shack with the Charlotte Sailing club logo painted on it.  A few hundred feet down the road, the ferry dock with a one-person ticket window gated the way to a short, four lane queue where a few locals waited to board our vessel. A short wait and our chariot arrived, bumping into the rapidly decaying and rickety pylons several times before coming to a halt. The boat, aptly named Adirondack was dated 1913!

I was first to be flagged onto the ferry by a grisly man and to the front of the boat with a first class view for the crossing. The thought crossed my mind to take a nap after my long hour drive, but I was too curious about my new surroundings to close my eyes. A quick twenty minute ride across one of the narrower sections of the lake and I arrived in Essex, NY. I was pleasantly surprised to find a beautiful, historic town founded in 1765 that contains one of the most intact, pre-Civil War collections of architecture in the country. While I was impressed by these facts, I was even more so by my surroundings. As the hamlet came into view, I could tell that it was in a little world all its own.

As I headed south on Route 22, I couldn’t help but feel I had been taken back in time to when things were simpler, sturdier, and in their own way, more refined. From here it was a series of “state highway routes” (more like muddy, snowy, narrow dirt roads) and finally back onto pavement as I entered the Adirondack Park.

Most people don’t realize this, but the Park is the largest publicly protected area in the country. It encompasses approximately 6 million acres and is larger than Yellowstone, the Everglades, Glacier, and Grand Canyon National Park, combined.

Although I was very happy to be back in my old stomping grounds, I couldn’t wait for my journey back to the seacoast and the ferry again. There isn’t any substitute for being humbled by familiar surroundings that turn up an unexpected adventure.