Be it Resolved...

     Let's get the obvious out of the way:

     I'm probably not going to lose weight in 2018. Doubt if I'll even try.
     Eating better is equally questionable. I've gotten this far without any kale passing my lips. Why take a chance now?
     Yoga or a gym membership aren't going to happen either. Not when there's a big, beautiful world to walk, run, hike, climb, ski, bike, swim and paddle in.

     So where does that leave me for resolutions? How about this one: Read more John Lubbock. Maybe adopt a bit of his outlook. You know Sir John? 1st Baron Avebury, 4th Baronet. Lived from 1834 to 1913. English banker, politician, scientist, and author. Friend to Charles Darwin. Archaeologist and preservationist. Amateur biologist. Endlessly, enjoyably quotable. So much so that a whole cottage industry has grown up around pairing his words with inspiring images. Let me share a few I've come across:

     And here's the cover of one of Lubbock's books:

     There's my New Year's resolution. To immerse in "the beauties of nature and the wonders of the world we live in". Who knows? Maybe I'll come across that stream on the books cover. Maybe she'll be there. 2018 is starting to look like a very good year. As long as there's no kale in it. 

Bigfoot/Beaver/Beech

     No, not that Bigfoot. Not the one who's so ubiquitous around Whitehall that you expect to see him walk into Stewarts for a couple dozen deli dogs and five or six shakes. The Bigfoot of my title isn't particularly elusive, mysterious or scary. It's just little, old me with my snowshoes strapped on. I played Bigfoot for the first time this season on a Sunday hike up Hogtown way. Here's a little of what I saw.

     We've had snow for about a week. Just a few inches down in the lowlands, but I'd heard there was a foot or so in the mountains. Time for a fun date, but "What to wear?" - bare boots, micro-spikes, snowshoes, skis? I have no fashion sense and usually make the wrong choice. My thought for this outing was that there wasn't enough snow for backcountry skiing but too much for a simple walk. Snowshoes got the call.
     Just before the season's first snow Gwenne and I had planned a hike up Pilot Knob from the lake side. Our schedule didn't have us leaving the Buck Mountain parking lot until 1:30 pm. Unfortunately, the Sun has its own schedule this time of year and we walked out of the woods in 5:00 pm darkness. We made it up and over the bald ridge but didn't have time to go to the true summit.

     This time my idea was to try for the top from the east. The approach is a little shorter with less elevation gain. I started up the Inman Pond/Pilot Knob trail about 1:00 pm but right away I could tell the pace would be slower ... the snowshoe handicap effect. I'm many years beyond charging up a mountain so I just settled into a 
'patience and gratitude' shuffle. I was grateful to be out in the woods on this cold, blue day and just needed the patience to see how far I could go.

     I got my answer in a little over an hour. That's how long it took to reach a height of land in an open notch. This is the divide between Butternut Brook, which tumbles down to Lake George, and the headwaters of Bishop Brook whose waters flow thru Hadlock Pond on their circuitous route to Lake Champlain. To the north was a steep ridge (with a good climbing ledge) between me and Crossett Pond. Higher and further was the summit of Buck Mountain. My destination was in the opposite direction, south of the trail. But it would be a trail-less bushwhack of a little over half a mile with 750' of climbing to the top of Pilot Knob. Not far unless you consider that it was mid-afternoon on one of the shortest, coldest days of the year. Here was the equation: .6 miles + 750' of elevation x 10º F. - 2:30 pm ÷ (old + slow+ tired) = turn around and enjoy the hike back to the truck. In daylight. No search and rescue required. I was never good at math but solving this problem was easy.

     Heading down gave me time to explore a connected set of beaver ponds on the upper reaches of the east flowing brook. The hiking trail winds thru a string of pools created by several dams. I saw at least two mounded stick houses rising above the frozen surface. Beavers are large (50 - 60 lbs.) rodents in the order that includes squirrels, woodchucks, rats, mice and porcupines. They are characterized by two upper and two lower incisors which they use to gnaw. This propensity was obvious in the numerous cut-off shrub and tree stumps along the trail. Hidden beneath the snow, they would snag my snowshoes and were sharp enough to impale if you fell on one. A field of pickets to be carefully negotiated.

     Beech seemed to be the preferred menu item for the Pilot Knob beavers. I think of beech as the precious metal of trees. The bark has a silvery sheen while the winter leaves, buds and nuts are shades of bronze, copper and gold. Leaves on young trees tend to hang on late. The open woods here look like they've been sprinkled with glitter - beech leaf glitter. The bristly husks of beechnuts decorated the snow but very few of the edible nuts could be found. They are prized by all types of wildlife and probably helped give this area its name. Back in 1816 (the year without a summer) desperate farmers let their stock forage in these woods. It's been Hogtown ever since.

     Pigs and beavers may be the least of the tree's problems. Beech bark disease starts when a scale insect (Cryptococcus fagisuga) creates an opening that allows fungi to enter the wood. This eventually leads to the plant's death. With climate change and invasive insects and disease our northern forests feel like they are under siege. 

Beech Scale Insects

Fungus Fruiting Bodies

     Hiking both sides of the Pilot Knob ridge within a matter of days was revealing. The west side that faces Lake George is steep and rocky with ledges and views. The east side slopes gradually down to where the next range - the Putnam Mountains - rear up. There's a geological explanation, of course. These are tilt block mountains formed by vertical movement along northeast trending faults. Adirondack rock is very old - in the billion year range - and over the eons it has been subject to both compression and tension as the earth's crustal plates collide and pull apart. These forces crack the rock and then, with further tectonic pressure, movement occurs along the faults to relieve stress. Eastward from Lake George are three distinct ranges: the Pilot Knob ridge, the Putnams and the Fort Ann Mountains. They all show steep, cliffy west faces where blocks of crust have pivoted up along faults.

Goggle Earth screen shot of Lake George, Pilot Knob range, Putnams (center), Welch Hollow and Fort Ann Mountains (left to right)

     But don't take my word for it. The thing to do is get your feet 
(big or otherwise) out on the trail. Feel the geology in your legs and lungs. Maybe you'll run into me. Trying to climb Pilot Knob. Again. 

Pilot Knob summit

***

     After twice backing off a small, easy mountain I was in need of some encouragement. Tom Petty's I won't back down was it. 
I was sad to hear of Tom's passing earlier this year. His was a life that brought joy and inspiration to so many people. Can there be any better way to live? Surely he's up there with the angels Learning to Fly.