Twenty-four years ago, twenty-three Boy Scouts, five adult leaders
and ten aluminum canoes embarked on the well-known canoe route on the
Raquette River that would take them from Long Lake to this village.
One important purpose of the trip was to enable the boys of Troop 75
from Delmar, N.Y., to earn 50 miler awards. The BSA 50 miler award is
given to a scout who completes a 50-mile trip by his own locomotion:
on foot, by canoe, etc.
The Long Lake-Raquette River Tupper Canoe route, along with side trips
and one portage, provides ample mileage to fulfill the requirements,
especially if you include an ascent of Kempshall Mountain, located on
the eastern shore of Long Lake about five miles southeast of the village.
What follows are excerpts of that trip as written by scout leader Norbert
J. Kirk, which appeared in the May-June 1976 edition of the Conservationist.
Hopefully, it will be of special interest to readers of this column,
particularly the fine reception Troop 75 received from the friendly people
of our village. . .
Anyone who plans on taking the Long Lake to Tupper Lake canoe trip should
consider camping at least one night at the northeast tip of Long Lake,
just a few hundred feet from the Raquette River entry. There, he will
find an exquisite campsite shaded by tall pines, bottomed by a perfectly
laid pine needle floor, and fronted by a sandy beach. There are also
several good bets for the productive nature walks, including an easterly
trail that goes straightaway along a land finger pointed toward the river.
Gradually, the finger narrows to a peninsula bordered on two sides, respectively,
by Long Lake and river backwater area, with the river itself straight
ahead. It was in the river backwater area that we saw several deer feeding
along the edge just before dusk — and not far away, a heron standing
almost elbow deep in the water. A good score for such a short walk.
The Raquette River is perfect for a beginner to learn canoeing. In the
beginning, its greenish waters move lazily northward, giving ample time
to instruct young scouts on the fine points of various paddle strokes.
Then, after about a mile, all heads perked up at the beginnings of a
stronger current. Instead of the greenish water, we were gliding into
deep black holes or trying to dodge pebbly, sundappled shallows. It wasn’t
whitewater canoeing, but it was active, strategic canoeing — for about
three-quarters of a mile.
Farther down the river, as we approached our next camp, the river banks
began to get higher, the background on both sides began to rise with
hills and small mountains, and the pines began to reappear.
It was at that river campsite that most of us learned about duff fires
for the first time. The dictionary defines duff as a thick flour pudding
boiled in a cloth bag. In the woods, however, duff refers to masses of
pine needles, loose dirt, and tree roots, both living and dead, that
form soft, spongy pine needle floors frequently found along rivers. Since
duff does not hold very much moisture for very long, it presents a fire
hazard.
Our object lesson in duff fires involved one patrol’s cook fire set up
near the river bank where a larger pine leaned out over the river. One
of the scoutmasters called everyone around the fire and pointed to smoke
coming out of the ground in three or four places anywhere from six inches
to a foot from the fire perimeter. He then went on to explain what duff
was, pointing out that a fire can burn downward into the duff as well
as up into the air. Someone asked, “What would happen?” One thing was
that the duff fire could burn and kill the roots of the nearby pine,
eventually sending it crashing into the river. Under very dry conditions,
another possibility was that it could erupt into a surface fire. By the
way, it takes gallons of water to really knock out a duff fire.
The only portage on our trip was around the Raquette Falls area. The
over-land distance was about one and a quarter miles. We had planned
for two hours at the most, especially since we had eaten considerably
into the weight of our gear and were now mostly into dehydrated foods.
The fact is, the portage took an entire afternoon, with everyone making
three trips. In our miscalculation of time and effort, we learned a number
of things, including:
*Aluminum canoes are heavy, and an unladen 15 or 17 footer should be
carried by older boys or younger adults with other other gear.
*Haversacks with community supplies are likely to be too heavy to be
carried by anyone but adults.
*Smaller boys cannot (and should not) carry very much at all, although
they can easily make the same number of trips as everyone else.
The saving factor was that the older scouts were able to motivate the
younger ones to keep pace in good spirits. It was one of many good examples
of peer leadership on the trip.
On the last leg of the river, nine of our canoes got lost in the Oxbow
area, an involuted combination of tiny islands, inlets, cross channels,
and at least one endless circle of wide river — in short, a maze. Our
mistake was to permit canoes to paddle out of sight of each other, especially
since the last canoe had the only map. Those accidentally made the correct
turn and reached the entrance of Simond Pond, the gateway to Tupper Lake,
not knowing whether they were in the right place. The last canoe (with
the map) didn’t know where anybody was. Eventually, everyone got together,
and the adult leaders vowed we would not separate again. The scouts weren’t
worried a bit.
The Oxbow maze presented us with some unexpected rewards. It is a birdwatcher’s
paradise, and probably a fisherman’s paradise, too, although no one sampled
that. Among other things, we saw a heron in flight, a heron wading near
the shore, and numerous smaller waterfowl that we could not identify.
At one point, we had a water snake keeping up with our canoe for a time.
And finally, the blooming water lilies added an ultimate touch of beauty
and serenity.
The mile across Simond Pond was the toughest paddling we encountered.
We had to head directly into a stiff wind and make progress on water
laced with whitecaps. When we reached the highway bridge at the other
end of the pond, the wilderness spell was broken. We suddenly saw cars,
trucks, buses, and even buildings of Tupper Lake Village.
Although we didn’t know what the alternatives were, a few of us walked
the two miles into
Tupper Lake Village. At the suggestion of a resident
we asked permission from the Tupper Lake police to camp in the town park.
They said we could and, as a result, Troop 75 of Delmar had a bash of
a Friday night. First, a short and easy paddle through the shoals of
Raquette Pond to the town beach. Then, a quick swim and setting up a
camp in a designated area of the park. Meanwhile, a small delegation
was sent to the supermarket for fresh meat, fruit, milk, bread, and plenty
of candy and soda. After supper, there was a town softball game to watch,
and there were stores in town where the scouts could spend their water-logged
money on ice cream and more candy. At the time, Tupper Lake Village was
the greatest place on earth.
And so was home when we arrived there the next day.
Note: The Raquette River canoe route continues to grow in popularity.
Phil Johnstone, operations chief of Region Five DEC, Raybrook provided
this column with the following statistics for the year 1998:
Number of people who signed the register — 6,300. Ben Woodward, interior
ranger at the Falls, estimated 5 percent of that number were hikers and
another 5 percent probably represented people who arrived via the horse
trail on horseback. Given a factor of 50 percent for those who didn’t
sign in, the estimated number of canoeists passing through Raquette Falls
carry would be close to 10,000 for the 1998 season!