Adirondacks, New York, October 2021

When I think of wilderness, I picture life. I see the wind in the trees. I hear the chorus of birdsong, and the scampering of countless squirrels and rabbits. I spy deer in the valley, a bear in the brush; coyotes and cougars lurking in the shadows. But rarely do we get to experience the true sign of wilderness — Silence. Stillness. Emptiness.

I’ve only ever experienced this maybe a couple times, most memorably on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. It only happens when wildlife is left free to roam and spread out over vast woodland, rocky coasts or impenetrable mountain ranges. And more often than not, it’s found in the cold, isolated north. The only sound for miles at a time might be the drum of your own heartbeat or the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. And just when you become used to the silence, you hear the deep croaking of a raven or the lonely call of a distant loon. Passing through it can be unnerving — but that feeling in itself is exhilarating.

In the modern world, a silent wilderness has never been easy to find, and these days, it’s a wonder it’s ever found at all. But after living through the pandemic in crowded London, Patrick and I were ready to search for it. It was a feeling perfectly expressed by the naturalist, John Muir.

The mountains are calling, and I must go.

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In late October 2021, this calling unexpectedly took us to upstate New York. Patrick’s brother Chris and my new sister-in-law, Lisa were celebrating their Covid elopement with a glamorous wedding reception in New York City. After a full week of dancing, drinking and exploring more of NYC than we thought possible, we planned to meet my family in the thick forests of the Adirondack mountains.

Emily and Dylan met up with us in NYC, and after a night in Soho, we scrambled into our rental car and began the long, 6-hour drive up to the Adirondacks — a true American road trip.

Autumn in the Adirondacks

The Adirondack Mountains are quintessential Americana. As the shared hunting grounds of both the Iroquois and Algonquin peoples, they have witnessed the arrival of Europeans, the French and Indian War and the birth of America.

While the Mohawks never lived in the mountains, they left their mark on the land. The name Adirondack comes from the Mohawk word, ha-de-ron-dah or ‘Eater of trees’. It’s said that the French explorers at the time heard it as Rontaks and recorded it as such. They also found that ‘Eater of trees’, referred to their Algonquin neighbours who sometimes ate tree bark to survive the harsh northern winters.

I like to think it actually referred to an ancient creature who once wandered the land and kept mankind out of its forests — much like the giant, man-eating Wendigo from Algonquian folklore.

It was a large creature, as tall as a tree, with a lipless mouth and jagged teeth. Its breath was a strange hiss, its footprints full of blood, and it ate any man, woman, or child who ventured into its territory.

Ojibwe description of a Wendigo

When you walk in these quiet, mysterious mountains, that idea doesn’t seem too far-fetched.

Getting loose at Big Moose Lake

Choosing a place to stay in this vast mountain landscape was difficult. Larger than Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons and the Grand Canyon combined, the Adirondacks offer countless cabin retreats, ski resorts and cozy mountain towns to stay in. We ended up choosing a cabin on Big Moose Lake, in the hamlet of Eagle Bay — right in the heart of the Adirondacks.

The weather was grey and wet when we arrived, and the nights were bone-chilling cold. But with the wind and rain came that wonderfully moody autumn feeling and we couldn’t wait to explore the area. We walked down to the lake and stood along the water.

As we were so far north, the trees had already begun to shed their leaves, save the silver birch trees with their bright yellow leaves — but even a few of the deep orange and red maples remained. The mist was heavy on their branches, reminding me of the Smoky Mountains back home in the south. As we watched, the mist crept down to the shores of the lake. It was an eerie, almost spooky scene that perfectly captured the spirit of October in America.

There was another reason why I found the lake a bit spooky. This was the site of the infamous murder of Grace Brown in 1906.

Brown drowned in Big Moose Lake after her boyfriend at the time, Chester Gillette, bludgeoned her with his tennis racket and let her fall out of their canoe, knowing she couldn’t swim. He had taken her to the Adirondacks under the guise of a surprise romantic getaway to Glenmore Hotel. Brown had recently told him that she was pregnant with his child.

Her tragic death launched a manhunt and sensational murder trial that captivated the nation. Today, the ghost of Grace Brown is said to haunt the shores of Big Moose Lake, with many locals reporting to see her peeking in windows and standing by the lake.

Luckily our cabin was so cozy, it kept out both the cold and the ghosts. Along with three bedrooms, we had a huge deck, a heated garage complete with games and a pingpong table, two canoes and two kayaks to use on the lake, and a bonfire pit facing the woods behind.

That night we had a fantastic little family reunion around the dinner table. My parents had driven a whopping 16 hours from Georgia with our little dog, Chip and I was so happy to see them. We spent the evening feasting on New York pizza and local whiskey while catching up after a long year apart.

Exploring Eagle Bay

The next day was still quite cold and wet, but we made the most of it. Patrick, Emily, and my mom and I all decided to check out Old Forge, the closest town. We stopped at ‘Bear in a Tub’ laundry service to freshen up our clothes after a long week in New York City, then drove to the centre of Old Forge to check out the local bars and antique shops. Funny enough, most cafes and bars were closed for the season — but we still had a good time walking around the place.

On the search for Moose

The next day, the weather had improved, and we took the opportunity to begin searching for the wildlife of the Adirondacks. Moose, bobcat, black bear and loon were all on our list of must-see animals. We set off for Moss Lake Trail, an easy but long hike through thick woodland.

It was here where we first met the silence of Adirondack wilderness. Sadly, we didn’t see a single creature during our walk — not even a squirrel — but the beautiful landscape made up for it. The only sound for hours was the low tones of our hushed conversations. Even the wind failed to penetrate this place. Like a prey animal, our senses were heightened and we became all too aware of every rustle in the bushes, every falling leaf.

Then as we walked deeper into the woods, a raven croaked overhead. He seemed to be following us — or announcing our arrival — because we could only ever hear him, not see him. I thought back to an article I had read recently, about the symbiotic relationship between ravens and predators. I wondered who it was calling to come find us, and who might be watching us now in the surrounding trees.

Despite the lack of wildlife, I enjoyed capturing the landscapes and miniature scenes of beauty — the variety of trees and mushrooms was amazing.

Every time our trail led us to the edge of Moss Lake, we quietly scanned the surrounding trees for any sign of moose or bear. While we didn’t see one, we did come across a couple beaver lodges, which was really cool to see in the wild.

Tempting fate at Death Falls

In the evening, we drove to a little trail that took us to the base of a waterfall. Why it was called Death Falls was left to our imaginations — but it was a beautiful spot nonetheless, especially in the fading sunlight.

While we didn’t see any wildlife on our hikes, we did spot two beautiful deer just off the road on the way to Old Forge. We pulled over and watched the lovely doe and her fawn graze at the edge of the woods. Like the trees around them, they were silent and still as they watched us.

After a long day of hiking in the cold, we were ready to head home. We ate a few hot dogs (always have to have them when I’m in America), drank too much whiskey and settled down around the bonfire. We also had a great time hanging out in the garage, playing ping pong and ring toss (new favourite game). Watching my mom destroy Patrick in ping pong was a highlight of the trip!

Heave, Ho!

On Wednesday, we woke up to a perfectly crisp autumn day. The sky was clear and blue and we knew it was time to take the canoes and kayaks out on the lake. We got all bundled up and dragged the big canoe, the small canoe and the solo kayak down to the lake. A couple of nice locals in big pick-up trucks stopped to offer to help us take them down to the lake, but we were determined to do it ourselves (with lots of help from Patch and Dylan of course). My mom walked down with little Chip to see us off.

Our dock stood just yards away from the Glenmore Hotel, and once again I was reminded of Grace Brown’s terrible fate on the lake. It must have been on all of our minds, for my dad soon ran down to the dock and reminded us to untie our heavy boots, in case we fell in. Not wanting to even risk drowning, Dylan decided to play it safe and go out on the water barefoot.

Emily and I took the big canoe, with Patrick in the small canoe and Dylan in the solo kayak. At first, Emily and I struggled but we soon found our rhythm. Emily was in the front steering, and I brought the muscle in the back. Patrick, however, quickly regretted his choice of canoe — turns out that paddling a one-man canoe is nearly impossible, especially when the wind blows you every which way!

I remember being struck by the colour of the lake. At first it appeared deep blue, then black as ink, until the sun revealed its true deep amber hue. The water was crystal clear and we could see all the way down into the depths below us, at the little minnows swimming on by. Reeds tapped against our canoe as we glided past impressive cabins and beautiful trees.

About an hour into our adventure, we were debating whether to continue on to the other island ahead. But looking behind us, we realised it would be a real mission to get back home. We were already spent by the time we turned around, and Emily and I ended up right in the middle of the lake. The wind was doing its best to tip us over and we found ourselves rowing in circles. Taking a breath, we agreed to start chanting to find our rhythm again. ‘Heave! Ho!’ we shouted as we frantically paddled to get us back to the calmer waters near the edge of the lake. The challenge was exhilarating, but by the time we all made it back, we were completely exhausted.

Afterwards, it was tempting to relax inside, but the day was still young and beautiful. While the others rested, my mom told us about a waterfall she had discovered earlier just down the street. We walked down with her and Chip, past some old-fashioned log cabins.

Just before a dead end, we could the roar of cascading water became deafening. Then, there it was — easily one of the prettiest waterfalls I’d ever seen. The sun bounced off the falling water and shone through the golden leaves and amber water in the creek below.

Up and up to the high tower

Energised by this little trip to the waterfall, Patrick and I decided to make the most of the sun, and hike up to the Rondaxe Fire Tower. The mountain looked small and as our trail began with a pleasant hike through the woods, we thought the hike would be relatively easy… we were wrong. Suddenly, the trail opened up to a steep mountain face. The only way up was to cling to the many tree roots and vines that snaked along the trail. The rock was wet and slippery but we managed to reach the top without breaking our necks.

Along the way, there were three incredible viewpoints, each one better than the last. With the surrounding mountains and fading fall foliage below, I was reminded of Chingachgook in the Last of the Mohicans, admiring his ancestral land.

By the time we got to the tower, the day was quickly fading to night. We planned to quickly climb up the tower and then make our way down the treacherous mountain trail before dark.

But just as we got there, an old woman stopped to talk to us, asking how far the tower was. ‘What the hell is this, my god, where is this damn tower?! No one’s gonna believe I made it up here, I’ll tell you that! Here you take a picture of me’, she yelled as she thrust her camera into Patrick’s hands. Then without warning, she ripped off her shirt! Standing there in her bra and bare belly in the cold, she flashed the peace sign and smiled. It took all of whatever energy we had left to not burst out laughing. Clearly she was a bit mad, but it was a hilarious moment. We scrambled up the tower as quick as we could.

The view was stunning and we could see for miles. What struck me most though, was the power of the cold northern wind at that elevation. With my hair blowing every which way, we took some photos, then hurried back down. I’m surprised the tower is still standing!

After a very long day, we met back up with my family at Tony Harper’s Pizza and Clam Shack in Old Forge. This was the just the type of American bar and restaurant I had been missing — cozy seating, big screen TVs with the football on, and of course, fantastic New York pizza. My dad had been stuck in the cabin working remotely for most of the week, and it was great to see him out exploring Old Forge.

We had another great night of drinking and talking around the table in our cabin. Exhausted, we called it an early night to prepare for our last two days in the north.

The call of the wild

After a few great days of hanging out with family and exploring Eagle Bay, we still hadn’t seen any large wildlife. Determined to at least see a moose before we left, Patrick, Emily and I jumped in the car and drove off into the deep, dark woods of the Adirondacks (Dylan and my dad had to stay behind to work, and my mom decided to stay back with them).

Our first stop was Limekiln Lake to see if we could spot a loon. I have always wanted to see this iconic symbol of the wilderness. At first, the only birds on the lake that we could see were mallard ducks. But, as we stood watching them, we suddenly heard the long, melancholy call of a loon. Somewhere far off on the lake I knew it sat watching us, alone and lonely, calling into the wilderness for a long-lost mate.

Hearing the loon was honestly soul-stirring. Inspired to hear or see more wildlife, we jumped back in the car and drove into the heart of the Little Moose Mountain Wilderness.

Our dirt and gravel road was small and narrow, and scarred with potholes. We had to creep at 15 mph to avoid damaging the rental car, but this also let us scan the trees for any sign of life. At times, the woods opened up to swampland, or what we called ‘Prime Moose Territory’.

We spotted a trailhead, and got out to explore. We walked silently through a thick pine forest. Bright green moss blanketed the ground before us and I couldn’t help but feel like Hansel and Gretel on their way to meet their doom. We all must have felt the eyes of the woods upon us, for we walked as quietly as we could. I pictured a bear stalking us from behind every tree.

While we did not see any bears or moose, there were signs of life. Many trees had their bark stripped or branches chewed upon. Either deer were preparing for a harsh winter, or something else was leaving its mark.

Our trail led us to a pristine lake surrounded by purple hills and golden trees. We quietly scanned the edges for moose with our binoculars but all we saw was a beaver lodge. The reflections of the trees on the still water painted such a pretty autumn scene, it was hard to look away.

We were gone longer than we had planned, and we had to stop at a little gas station for supplies to bring back for the night. The owner was very friendly and when we told him about our failed moose hunt, he told us that someone had seen a moose a few hours ago, just up the road! Although it was extremely tempting to keep looking, it was time to head back home.

That night was particularly special because we were planning a surprise celebration for Dylan’s birthday. He had been ill for a couple days of the trip with the flu, and we hoped some cake would cheer him up. My mom bought not one, but two cakes, and we sang happy birthday around the bonfire.

It was also our second-to-last night together, and I wanted to make sure we made the most of it. After the bonfire, we all hung out in the garage (heated, thank god) and played ping pong while drinking. I had some of the best discussions with my parents that night, catching up on all things from politics to life goals. As much as I loved exploring the land, it was these moments with family that made the trip for me.

Last journey into the wild

On Friday, we realised we had one last chance to see a moose or a bear. Emily, Dylan, Patrick and I decided to spend the grey, rainy day on another trip through miles of untouched woodland.

Our first stop was Loon Lake, a protected reserve for the shy and elusive loons. Just as we walked up to the boat dock, a black and white-spotted head poked out of the water, not more than a few feet away! The beautiful loon checked us out for a quick minute before diving back into the icy waves. I couldn’t believe our luck!

I was so excited and wanted to get closer for a better picture, but Patrick reminded me of the warning we had seen on a sign nearby. Any sudden movement can scare these birds away from the lake — and many never return. To protect them, it was best to admire them from afar.

We then stopped for lunch at a lonely lakeside lodge called Stillwater Restaurant. At first, the place looked closed for the season but we soon found ourselves in a room full of elderly woodsmen laughing heartily. Dressed like hunters or loggers in flannel and big boots, they eyed us as outsiders, but were very welcoming. Despite our meal of microwaved chicken fingers, we had a great time chatting with them and learning about the area. Once again we learned that moose often frequented the lake — but no sightings were made that day, of course.

After lunch, we drove through a nearby trail. The woods again opened up into that lovely misty swampland, or ‘prime moose territory’ as we called it. We desperately looked for a moose or bear, but the land was as silent and still as ever.

Funny enough, the only wildlife we did see on the trail was a rafter of wild turkeys! Perhaps they sensed that Thanksgiving was approaching, for they seemed to be on the run.

Our last stop was a picturesque lake surrounded by a thick forest. Knowing that we were leaving the next morning made the scene all the more special. I tried to take it all in, recording the calming tranquility of the place to memory. In exploring the Adirondacks, I felt I had reconnected with the cold, wild nature of the northern states — and strengthened my bond with my family.