Three April Days in the Woods, 2018

THURSDAY

Thursday, April 19.
Enough already.

FRIDAY

Much better.  Getting warmer, 
but still enough snow for skiing in the woods.

Making tracks up the hill across the road from our camp.
This landmark is "Chaz Rock."
At the age of 13, he leapt from the top
into the pile of snow below.
It's higher than it looks.

More tracks.
Someone has been using the trail.

The ski tips indicate another turkey will soon follow.

The feather caught in the crotch of a twig
draws attention as it flutters in the wind.

No turkey, this one.

Same trail, different traveller.  Perhaps a raccoon.

Looking back down the hill,
sidestepping ski tracks show the route.

The north side of the ridge holds its snow longer.
It's great to be in the woods when all the leaves are down
because the lay of the land becomes much more apparent.

Soon to be replaced with a new crop.

But no new leaves until these dripsicles are completely gone.

Looks like a squirrel was here first.

Looking down from the ridgetop to the bend in the stream.

Don't step past the first big rock.
The second one is more than 100 feet below.

A bolder man might wake boulder man,
but I let him slumber.

Could it be that the Olmecs once pushed this far north?

Be careful to pick your line so that you stay on the snow.
Easier said than done.
With a bit of melt atop an icy base,
it was treacherously fast coming downhill.
One hard fall taught respect for the conditions.

Discovered near the house,
the tracks of a rare Boreal Bichon Poo.
How exciting!

OK, can we put this stuff away?

SATURDAY

Better still.
It did not snow!
The sun was actually visible!

Everyone enjoyed the warmer weather.

Including the Wood Ducks.
You'd think the male was a garish painted decoy
if not for his movement.

And the mallards.
Best to observe the mallards in the sun.

The illumination highlights their iridescent green.

And the Mergansers.

The warmth of the sun is wonderful, even if you're having a really bad hair day.

The sun is also great for paddling.
Note Mary's expert technique at hanging cellophane from her paddle,
her compliance with State Law in wearing her life preserver prior to May 1,
and the rock face beyond the pines.
She's looking up at the previous day's vantage for looking down.

This fabulous 3000 sq. ft. custom home, set on 14 private acres at the end of Stewarts Landing Road,
features 3 bedrooms, 3.5 baths, and a 4-car garage with radiant heat.
Yours for only $1,250,000.
Act now. This gem won't last!
Call Howard Hanna.  Send commission this way.

The itinerant geese launched into the air when we approached.

Yet another instance where photography does not do justice
to the experience.
Imagine the fowl mass, honking excitedly,
passing directly overhead.

The locals are unperturbed.

Kane mountain in the distance beyond the ice in the shallows on Lily Lake.

But there's a break, so we can make our way through.

The deep blue water is so inviting.
C'mon in, the water's fine!

Full ice on Canada Lake blocks our path.
Time to turn around.

But before we go, a reward for coming so far.

The eagle peruses the ice edge, searching for fish sunning near the surface.

Was he visible from the Kane Mountain fire tower?

We are treated to another!

How can one be sure this is a different eagle?
In addition to not having fully aged beyond the darker immature coloring,
this one is spreading "fingers" wide on one wing
to compensate for lost feathers.

His name is "Lefty."

Returning back through Lily Lake,
wondering when the loons will make their 2018 debut.

Looking westward, wonder no more!

A good day to fish.

Chilled sushi is hard to beat.

Evan, Randy, and other loons

Evan came to visit us at the camp.  As soon as he arrived, it started raining.  I finished the evening's sausages in the microwave because the grill was drowned.

The next morning we awoke to a dark and gloomy day.  The weather report was less promising than the view over the lake.

"You'd better go paddle now if you're going to do it," said sage Mary.  Smart people take Mary's advice to heart.  We also took her advice.

朝食前 (Chōshoku mae) is what a coworker once told me is the Japanese phrase loosely meaning "very easy."  Literally, it means "before breakfast."  I don't think he was talking about kayaking, but that was our timing.

Evan in the mist.

We paddled through the quiet cloud.  Upon rounding the bend in the channel that opens into Lily Lake, we spied a dark head close to the water.  

Evan on Lily lake.

On days like this, the common saying is "It's great weather for ducks."  I believe it is even better weather for loons.  

Upon closer inspection, it was not one dark head, but two!

Mama and baby.

As we floated downwind, our boats came closer and closer to the loons.  Baby can dive now, so Mom was not terribly concerned.  Or perhaps like the hummingbirds, they've seen me enough to identify me as the innocuous old fool that I am.  Mom saw me, but paid little attention.  The two of them casually swam within a few feet of my boat and on toward deeper water.

"Hey, Mom, look at these two staying on the surface.
Can't they dive?"

Just before we pulled ashore and out of the increasing drizzle, Evan noted Papa in the shallow bay across the channel from neighbor Pete's dock.  Unusual.  I rarely see them in shallow water where they can't disappear into the depths in a flash.  The gloomy conditions must foster confidence in the loons.  

Clearly, it was a great day for loons.  At least Evan and I thought so.

Paddling the Lower Genesee

One fine June morning, Jim and I put the Hornbeck canoe in near the mouth of the Genesee.  The river was running pretty fast, so we actually wore our PFDs.  Yes, I know, one should always wear his Personal Flotation Device.

The Colonel Patrick O'Rourke Lift Bridge.
Paddy was killed at Gettysburg while urging his counterattacking men
down the west slope of Little Round Top.

Jim was attacked by a jumping fish as we took the shore-side route under the bridge.  Have Asian Carp come this far north?  Luckily, the denizen did not manage to clear the gunwale.  But is certainly gave him a scare, and provided me with a good laugh.

Captain Zeke, ready for action.

We passed a multitude of docked boats with creative names.  My favorite?  "Miss Demeanor."

What's that ahead, listing to its side?
No, I don't mean Jim's head.

Why it's the Spirit of Rochester!
This is just sad.  The cruise boat has seen much better days.
A metaphor for the city?

This is the Turning Point.
But we kept on paddling upstream.

The walkway you see at the right extends across the water in the distance.  It connects to the path than now occupies the right-of-way once carrying the tracks for coal trains from Pennsylvania.   Rochester was once one of the leading coal export ports in the country.

By the way, the walkway is the only thing that Mayor Bill Johnson's administration did right.

Here's where the cement ships unload.
They are the ones using the turning point these days.

Ship bumpers in need of repair.

There is a small waterfall behind the angled bench.
Creeks fell into the gorge here and there.
I suppose this should not have surprised me.

The heron watched our progress.

Kings Landing is the site of the first European settlement west of the Genesee.
We have memorialized it with an industrial sewage treatment plant.
Note the appropriately faded Kodak logo on the white tank.

More commonly appreciated as a footbridge, here the storm sewers cross the river.
A fine multi-use solution, don't you think?

The outlets for storm overflow.
I wouldn't want to be paddling here when they are active.
And from the smell, it's not just pure rainwater running out of these sluiceways.

I didn't take this shot until we were too far under
to see the graffiti way up there on the side of bridge, beyond the railing.
Risking one's life for graffiti almost no one sees...
Now that's dedication to your art.

People call this the Veterans Memorial Bridge,
but I've renamed it the "Circle Bridge."

I wonder if those openings at the peak of the arc are to let rainwater escape.
It must be a nice show in a storm.

One impressive structure.
More reasonable graffiti, too.

The bridge also offers a good spot for stretching legs.

Aside from the farm-runoff tainted water,
There are many places on the river where you'd never know
you were surrounded by the city.

This is as far upstream as we got.
I wanted to paddle up the little rapids in the distance, but Jim said, "No."
Actually, here below the falls, the river is shallow and runs fast.
Plus it is full of canoe-eating rocks.

Interesting stratified rock from the Pre-Drivingparkbridge period.

The Genesee conveys an impressive amount of water after a rain.

Heading back, we noted lines of bubbles created by unseen creatures below,
heading upstream.  What could they be?
Jim provided a more pedestrian and reasonable explanation...
something rotting on the bottom produced methane,
and the current dragged the bubbles downstream.

The ugly duckling bid us adieu.

Click on the video below for a better appreciation of the power of the Genesee.

(And why we wimped out at this point.)

I think I'm up for another paddle up the Genesee, come fall.  When the leaves are turning, I'm sure the gorge is gorgeous.  Who wants to go?