“3 mi, flat, easy, XC skiing and Snowshoe, Take Pelon Rd. In Indian Lake village to the end. Park near old landfill site and follow the trail, which continues straight ahead, to the river. The trail goes right along the river, to the falls”
We spent the day after the death march resting and hanging out at the lake house. By the next day we were getting restless and needed to get out and move. I was insisting on something easy We tossed out and discarded several options for easy day hikes. The Blue Ledges, a 5 mile hike to a swimming hole was deemed too much. A hike to Castle Rock was set aside. We found the Pashley Falls hike in an Indian River map/tourist flier in the lake house. It sounded like a nice easy walk in the woods with the dogs and a promise of a pretty waterfall and maybe an opportunity to soak our feet so we headed out.
We followed the directions to a deserted parking area in Indian River at the old landfill it described. There was a woman walking her dog but not another car or sign of other hikers. I noticed the gate to the left and lots of “posted” signs telling us to keep out so we headed to the trail on the right and signed in. I noticed there had been someone there the day before.
Off we went into the woods on a narrow easy path. Shortly Joe let Molly off her leash and since we seemed to have the place to ourselves I released Buster’s leash but left it attached to him in case I needed to grab him quick. Buster is not as good a listener as Molly off leash but he loves to follow a trail anywhere. About a half mile in we came to a spot where we veered right and ran into a dead end. Turned around and went the path to the left noticing the yellow markers going that way. Onward we walked with Buster leading most of the way except when he would stop to investigate something and then come running to catch up after he’d had his fill.
It became very muddy in spots and at one point my leg went into muddy water up to my knee and I screamed. Joe used to this behavior didn’t miss a beat but asked if I was ok. We walked on. The sudden sink into the mud set my imagination working again and I was anxious for the hike to be over.
We came to a cross roads and had a small debate on which way to go or if we should turn back. We ended up carrying on with the yellow ski trail markers. Joe is always confident in his choice of direction but my lack of sense of direction makes me hesitant at every decision point. The trail became very narrow and it was obvious that this was not a big tourist draw like I thought it might be. Not too many people had used this path.
We finally came to a stream and what I would call a rapid in the stream, not a waterfall like we were expecting. Still it was comforting to find water since we were expecting to before then based on the description. Onward.
We hiked and suddenly Joe’s body dropped in front of my eyes about two feet. He had stepped into a crevice that was hidden by the tall grass we were hiking through. I thanked him for the warning. At this point the trail no longer seems like a trail, it was narrow with vegetation brushing our legs the whole way.
We headed into an open area in the woods where the trail was less easy to discern because there was no vegetation growing under the huge trees. We head down a slight hill and suddenly there seems to be no sign of a trail. Straight in front of us is what resembles a mangrove to me. Yes a mangrove in the middle of the Adirondack’s. There was a marshy bit with water about four feet wide that once you crossed you’d be in a bunch of thick vegetation. I’m convinced we missed the trail in the open woods and double back but find a trail marker not 30 feet back. I come back demoralized saying that this is the trail. Joe crosses and disappears into the thick vegetation. I’m having a small panic attack about having to walk through the water that’s up to my knees and filled with I don’t know what. I yell to Joe that I can’t see him. He yells back that he’s right there. I cringe and plow through the water as fast as I can and fight my way through the thick overgrowth. There is no way that hiker that signed in yesterday made it this far.
I still can’t see Joe but keep yelling for him to wait for me and he assures me he is. I emerge from the overgrowth to find Joe standing on the edge of an unwelcome site. A huge beaver pond. The pond stretches to the left and around the trees and we can’t see the end of it. The dogs are gone but we can hear them splashing through the water, swimming around and having an adventure around the unseen side of the pond. Molly swimming because its her thing, Buster is swimming because he is determined to find a trail. Joe is amused. I am panicked. We call the dogs back and they come back excited and linger on the edge of the pond with us. Joe decides to try to cross to see how deep it is. He gets in up to his butt and is still going down and feeling ahead determines its at least up to his chest if not deeper. Neither one of us are excited about swimming across even if it is only about 40 feet.
I say we should turn back and go the way we came. Joe says its 0.4 miles to the car in front of us and 2.6 miles to the car if we turn around. I say 2.6 sounds good to me. He reminds me of the mangroves. While we are debating Buster decides a way across might be a dead tree that extends halfway across the pond and starts walking the tree across as we watch transfixed by this fearless little dog who we thought was afraid of the water. The tree sinks, he rolls off and paddles over to a very large pile of branches in the pond and gets both front legs up on the pile of branches and hangs out there. He looks back at us as if to say, ‘What are we doing? I’m trying here but you guys are just standing there doing nothing. Come on let’s go!!’ I suddenly remember he still has his leash attached and worry about him getting caught on something in the water. We call him back and he paddles back to us and I disconnect the leash.
Joe points to the direction he thinks we might find the beaver dam and I see small evidence of a previously traveled path through the woods. Buster and I head that way and find the dam and we call back to Joe and Molly. We walk across the beaver dam to the other side of the beaver made pond. Phew.
Now I’m back to saying that I don’t believe this is the trail. We are on a ‘trail’ that is filled with water up to our knees. Joe points to the yellow disc on the tree. Yep this IS the trail. I’m sort of jogging and trying to pick my knees up high. All I can think about are leaches. I’m hoping there are no leeches in this water. The water is unbelievably cold for only being a couple feet deep. The dogs are having a great time running through the water and periodically Buster heads to higher ground off trail and pops back out onto the water filled trail. Molly is probably thinking, finally my kind of hike!
We are moving fast because that water is cold and by now we both have leeches on our minds thanks to me. The water trail lasted at least a quarter mile and then gradually the trail became a soupy mess and eventually a normal hiking trail. We emerge from the woods happy to be back to the car and wondering how it is even a simple touristy seeming hike turns into something we probably won’t ever forget. We still both grin when we remind each other about Buster confidently walking the log like he was strolling down the road and then rolling off into the water.
Words of Wanderers 