Lake Lila
Where: Lake Lila, Adirondacks
When: 7/26-7/28, 1997
With: Bill, Tom
Bill just bought a canoe of his own and we were all in need of some Ritz Brother camping, so we started to make arrangements. We settled on a date and Bill came up with some ideas for destinations. I suggested we try communal dinners for a change. Tom agreed to come along.
To get an early start, I packed up the car the night before with my gear and my kayak and left it out in the driveway. Saturday morning at 5:15, I slipped out the back door and headed to Delmar, arriving around 7:45. Bill drove up a few minutes later and we discussed food and destinations. For the food, we each described what we'd brought and found we had more than enough provisions for the weekend ahead. For a destination, we considered and rejected Bill's original proposal, a ten-mile upstream paddle on the Bog River and a campsite on Grass Pond. It sounded like an interesting trip, but a bit ambitious. We figured we'd be spending most of the trip paddling to or from the site. Instead, we decided to return to Lake Lila.
For the ride up, Tom rode with me since Bill was concerned about his car's ability to haul both his canoe and his brother. It was a pleasant, straightforward 3-hour drive to the lake and we arrived to find the parking lot only partially full. Learning from last time, we carried the boats to the water first and then returned for our gear. We packed up the boats fairly quickly and then shoved off from shore.
It was a beautiful summer day as we paddled up the lake. Sunny and calm. Since we'd arrived fairly early in the day, we figured we had a good chance of finding a couple of campsites to choose from. Part way up the shore however we met up with the ranger for the area and he said that many of the sites were already taken. He gave us some tips on places to check out, along with a little speech on "carry in/carry out" and fire safety, and sent us on our way.
The first spot he'd mentioned was Spruce Island, where we'd camped last time, so we headed for that. We could see no boats at the shore, but as we got close we saw tents in the woods, so we turned toward the next possibility. That spot was around the back of Buck Island, a bit further up the lake. When we rounded the tip of the island though, we spotted boats there also, so our search continued. Heading up the shoreline, we saw a couple sitting on a small rocky point. We approached and asked if they knew of any sites and they directed us back the way we came, along the shore. We paddled back and finally found a vacant site.
Though it was a perfectly usable site, it wasn't all that great. Rather dark and with limited access to the water. We agreed that it would do, but wondered if there might be someplace better. One possibility was Canada Island. The ranger had said that though it was occupied in the morning, the resident was leaving and planned to be out around noon. We could see the island from the site we were at, but it was clear across the lake so we couldn't really see if it was still occupied. I volunteered to paddle across and check it out, leaving Bill & Tom behind in case we needed to keep the site we'd found. We agreed on a signal (I'd wave my lifejacket if the site were clear) and I started out.
There was a bit of drama to the journey, since I was likely racing other folks for the same site. I settled into a nice, steady paddling cadence and kept an eye out for other boats. The couple we'd spoken to earlier were on the water, but they crossed my path and kept going. The only other boat I saw was the ranger, continuing his circuit of the lake. He turned toward me and I hoped to speak with him to ask if the island was now empty, but he turned away and paddled off, probably deciding he'd already talked with me once.
Finally, after about twenty minutes of Zen paddling, I surfed my boat up on to the beach at Canada Island, pleased so far to find no sign of other people. I ran up the path to the campsite and found it empty. Whoopee! I ran back to the beach, waved my lifejacket, and then fished out my binoculars. Once I confirmed that Bill & Tom were on their way, I grabbed my water and walked out to a rocky point to rest a bit while they paddled over.
It was a beautiful site. The island was quite small, giving it an intimate feel, but it had a lot of nice features. The trail to the campsite started on a small white sand beach and there were plenty of rocky points jutting out into the water for sitting, star gazing, or fishing. The island itself was fairly close to the shore, and under the shadow of a nice little mountain with some interesting-looking cliffs. I recalled that there was a trail up to those cliffs from the old lodge site, which was also close by. The camping area was a large open place a short ways in from the water, criss-crossed by massive tree trunks toppled in the freak wind storm of a few years back but still with a number of possible tent sites. A large fire ring built of rocks dominated the center of the area.
I was hauling my gear into the site when I heard Bill & Tom arrive. They were equally pleased with the site. After a bit of relaxing and some munching (we'd paddled through lunch), we set up camp.
The wildlife at the campsite is worth a mention. While we were having our late lunch, we noticed some chipmunks scurrying about the site. I guessed they were probably pretty used to humans and soon had one eating peanuts out of my hand. They were cute at first, but then they started to get rather aggressive about getting food from us. We quickly realized that we'd have to hang our food to avoid having the chipmunks get to it. We had some success at first, but the chipmunks still found ways to get to our supplies so we were constantly upgrading our setups. And when we finally got them right, the red squirrels moved in with their ability to climb trees and leap long distances. For the rest of our stay we fought a running battle with the local rodents over our food. For the most part we managed to stymie them, but Tom's food sack was chewed up a bit.
Once things were set up, Bill and I wound up taking short naps while Tom did some exploring and fishing. The naps helped and soon Bill & I were up and about again. We each went for a swim, which really revived us, and we joined Tom for some fishing and exploration. I caught the first fish of the trip, a 5-inch small mouth, so it was officially a fishing trip
The rest of the afternoon was spent in much the same way, relaxing, exploring, and fishing. I paddled around the island at one point and Bill paddled out to a small shoal just offshore, where we'd seen a number of canoes fishing earlier. I was just sitting on the rocks, checking out the lake with my binoculars while Tom fished from the rocks nearby when I heard a whoop from Bill. I focused in on him and could see his rod was bent. "Got one?" I called. "Number four," he replied. He held it up and asked if we wanted it for dinner. I told him to keep it. He paddled back to the island and then fished his way around the backside before returning to the beach. The fish was still alive when he arrived and we decided to let it go after all. It took awhile, but it revived sufficiently to swim away.
While we puttered around the shore, we had a couple of encounters with other folks. The first was a young couple in an inflatable, double-hulled kayak. A petite woman wearing a bikini sat in the front while a big bare-chested man with a long ponytail sat on a high seat in back and paddled with a double-bladed paddle. They both seemed to be enjoying the arrangement and we had to smile as they made their way across the lake, eventually joining up with a number of other folks occupying B island. The other couple was probably the same age, but not nearly as funky. They came paddling up in a canoe while Bill and I sat on the beach. They got fairly close before finally calling and asking if we were camping on the island. "Sure 'nuf," we replied. We mentioned a couple of other possible spots we'd seen earlier, but it was getting rather late and there was a good chance the sites had been claimed. After a bit, they headed toward the Lodge site, intending to grab one of the shore sites. I checked in on them occasionally through my binoculars and saw them pull out their canoe by the lean-to.
By now it was fairly late, so we went back to the campsite and got dinner going. I was in charge of the first night's meal. On the menu: Italian vegetable soup with herb/garlic Foccacia bread followed by cheese tortellini in pesto sauce with grated cheese. A nice bottle of slightly chilled Chianti wine rounded out the offerings. Everything came out just right and the meal was a success (despite the lack of a corkscrew for the wine). Desert was S'Mores cooked over a blazing fire, accompanied by several hours of conversation. We made a couple of trips down to the water to look for stars, gaze at the other campfires along the lake, and listen to the night. The folks at Buck Island were pretty noisy at first, but they quieted down eventually. It was almost midnight before we decided to call it a day and headed for our tents. Rain seemed unlikely, so Bill & I both left our rain flies off our tents for the night.
After a wonderful night's sleep (I didn't wake up once), we all got up about the same time and got moving. I took a quick swim to start my engine and then headed back for breakfast. While we ate, we planned the day. We decided to paddle over to the shore by the lean-to (near the lodge site) and try to find a path up the mountain, noted as Smith Mountain on Bill's map. It was a quick paddle to the shore and we got up on to the road which connected the parking area and the lodge site (and also served as a hiking trail). Bill's map (left back at camp) had shown a trail leading from the lodge site around the back of Smith Mountain. We figured we'd find a trail up the mountain from that trail so we headed toward the lodge.
Just past the lean-to we found the trail we'd seen on the map, with a sign saying Mt. Frederica, 1.5 miles. Bill recalled a Mt. Frederick in the area, sort of in the indicated direction, so we started up the trail assuming we'd find a cutoff trail. A short ways in we crossed the old rail line, now used as a trail for hikers and snowmobiles. It seemed to head toward the mountain so we followed it, figuring we either find a crossing trail or a bushwhacking route. After a few minutes we met up with two women wearing head nets, walking the tracks. We asked if they'd seen a trail up the mountain and they said they hadn't. We continued on a bit anyway until we came to a streambed. The trestle was long gone but the tracks still remained, two rusted ribbons of steel swaying over the small, sunny stream meadow. Looking up we could see the cliffs and we decided we had to go back. A bushwhack would be straight up the rocks and that didn't seem promising.
So back we went to the trail to continue on. The trail (really a fairly well-maintained dirt road) climbed and curved around the back of the mountain until we came to a sign pointing to a side trail which said Mt. Frederica 0.5 miles. I began to suspect that either Bill's map or the trail signs were wrong and sure enough, the trail brought us right to the cliffs we'd sought. It turns out that Smith Mountain had been renamed. Whatever the name, the views were spectacular, though hazy. A sweeping view of the entire lake and the lands all around. We descended to a lower ledge overlooking our island and spent some time enjoying the sights before heading back down.
The return walk went quickly and soon we were back at the boats. Since it was still early in the day, we decided to check out the Beaver River, which drained Lake Lila. We found the outlet easily and paddled in. There was very little current evident and a slight headwind, so the paddling was easy. We followed the waterway as it curved its way into the forest, looking for places to cast our lures and checking out the sites. At one point, while Bill & Tom fished, I spotted a possible trail on the shore and went to check it out. I hauled my boat to shore, got out, and found it was indeed a trail. I trotted up the path, figuring I'd find a campsite beneath the trees. A small bluff seemed a likely spot and as I rounded it I looked up hoping to see some sign of a site. Instead I saw a female whitetail deer, standing and staring at me. I froze, expecting it to bolt, but she just stared at me. When the wind shifted behind me I was certain she'd run after catching my scent (none too pleasant!), but still she didn't move. I called to Bill & Tom and let them know what was up and then waited for them. When they didn't appear for a while, I decided to see if I could get closer. I moved through the brush and found myself in a small campsite with a picnic table and signs of a butchering operation (a bar to hang a deer from and a cutting table). The deer watched me as I moved around her and still didn't move. I got as close as I dared, maybe 30 feet away, and finally stopped. She watched me a bit and then lay down, completely unconcerned with my presence. I returned to the river and got Bill & Tom. Soon we were all there and we got even closer, perhaps 20 feet. She never moved. We took pictures and said our good-byes before returning to the boats.
Back on the river, we continued downstream, casting into the occasional pool without success and enjoying the scenery. Finally, rounding a curve, we heard water rushing. A rapid, I thought, but I was wrong. It was a small drop to be sure, but man-made, created by a barrier at an old railroad crossing festooned with Private Property and No Trespassing signs. We'd come to the border of the Lake Nehasane property and could go no further. A controversial barrier to be sure, since it blocks a public waterway. We got out and looked around a bit before starting our return journey.
We had more luck fishing on the way back, as I caught a couple of small fish, but nothing worth keeping. Just before reentering the lake we had another encounter with a deer. This one was browsing in a marsh, eating water plants and checking us out. We watched it a bit and then ventured out onto the lake for the paddle back to the island, once again passing the young couple in the inflatable kayak as they headed toward the river mouth.
Back at camp again, we ate lunch and made some preparations for the possibility of rain (the skies had been threatening some action). A rain fly went up and gear was stored in the tents. We got a few brief showers but nothing substantial so we went back to the water. Tom did some more fishing, while Bill and I went swimming. I pulled out my skin diving gear and gave it a try. The murky water spooked me though and I wound up handing the mask and snorkel off to Bill. He had a great time checking out the underwater scene. One thing we both noticed was the abundance of fresh water mussels on the lake bottom. Next time we might want to consider having steamed mussels for a meal.
After we finished swimming, it was time for more fishing. I took my kayak and headed to the shoal nearby. Bill & Tom took the canoe and went around the island. The wind was blowing pretty hard and the skies were threatening, but it wasn't raining when we set out. I got out to the shoal and managed to catch one small fish, though it was hard working in the wind. Then I heard a sound I remembered from my days at summer camp...rain in trees. I looked across the lake and could see the rain line advancing down the mountain toward the lake. I stowed my rod and started paddling toward shore as fast as I could. The rain line hit the water while I was still a good ways out and the worst of it hit me just before I got in. I ran the boat up on shore, flipped it over, and ran to the campsite. My first order of business was to dump the pool of water that had collected in the rain fly. Then I ran around the site, zipping up rain flies and gathering gear to bring under the fly. At last all was protected and I waited out the shower under the fly, occasionally emptying collected water.
After a bit, the rain eased up and I decided to go back out. I hung up the food from the chipmunks, made some improvements to the rain fly and then went back out to the shoal. This time I caught nothing, though I did get a few strikes. I saw Bill & Tom come back so I headed in to see how they'd faired. They'd managed to avoid the storm by getting under some overhangs, and Tom had finally broken his fishing jinx. After taking the tail off his lure (turning it into a leach), he started to catch fish, including one big enough to keep. Fish for dinner!
It was now around 6PM, so we started dinner preparations. While Tom cleaned the fish, Bill set up the evening's meal, a cheese fondue with bread, zucchini, and portabella mushrooms to dip in. A simple meal to prepare - heat the cheese, cut up the bread and zucchini, sauté the mushrooms - and eating just involved standing around the pot with forks, dipping the various items in. Tom fried up the fish and we all had a taste. Delicious!
After we'd all had our fill, we set off for even more fishing. Tom took the kayak out to the shoal (his first experience in the Keowee) while Bill & I fished from the rocks. I tried my luck from a spot near the beach but got nothing and decided to pack it in. Bill starting hauling in small fish as fast as he could cast however, from a rock further around, so I joined him there. I still caught nothing, but it was fun anyway. Tom returned as we were finishing up and said he'd hooked two fish out by the shoal.
Finally fished out, and tired of being bitten by the evening bugs, we decided it was campfire time. Another fine fire was built, S'Mores were made & consumed, and we talked away the night. Some clearing in the skies permitted a bit of stargazing, but we never did get a really good, clear view. The quiet down by the water was amazing though. Unlike the previous night, when campfires dotted the darkness from the other campsites and the sounds of revelry echoed across the lake, only a single light shone from a distant shore near the lodge site and there was no sound. No wind, so waves, no birds, no bugs...nothing. Absolute dead quiet. My head almost hurt from straining to detect some sound in the night. Very neat.
We went to bed a bit earlier this evening, though Tom stayed up a while, and we all had our rain flies on the tents. I slept soundly again, though waking a bit earlier than I would've liked. I dozed for a while longer, but finally admitted that the time for sleep was past and emerged from my tent. Bill was still asleep and Tom was gone as I made my way down to the lake for a swim. As I stepped on to the beach, Tom was returning along the shore with the biggest fish of the trip. Easily 10-11 inches of small-mouth bass. He had him on a makeshift stringer so we could all see him. I was just finishing my swim when Bill joined us at the beach and admired Tom's fish.
After releasing the fish, we went back to camp for breakfast. Oatmeal again, and cinnamon rolls baked over a fire. The rolls were moderately successful, though the technique still needs refinement. We cleaned up and then began packing up for the trip out. The sky was overcast and a bit of windswept rain was blowing over the lake as we packed up the boats and pushed off. Fortunately the wind was behind us so we had an easy paddle back down the lake, with gentle swells and a steady breeze pushing us along. The rain never amounted to much, so it was a nice little run. We stayed close to the shore and checked out the campsites along the way, logging them for future reference.
Almost back to shore, we passed a crew of 5 in three canoes paddling in the opposite direction. We didn't envy them their job battling both the wind and the waves on their way up the lake. They asked about the availability of some nearby sites and then paddled on as we completed our journey. We pulled the boats to shore and began to unload them.
Tom & I were first back to the cars and I did a quick check for damage. All looked well until I got up to my car and noticed that the left front tire was nearly flat. Bummer! Tom pointed out that it wasn't down to the rim, so perhaps it could be re-inflated. I pulled out my pump and started working on it, but seemed to be getting nowhere. Checking the tire, I noticed foamy bubbles coming from the tread. That indicated to me that the air was coming out as fast as it was going in, so I decided to put on the spare. Bill & Tom returned for the canoe while I got the spare from the trunk and jacked up the car.
Once the tire was off the car, I decided to give it one more try with the pump. This time, no bubbles and the tire held the air nicely. I got it up to a good pressure and was putting it back on just as Bill & Tom returned. At worst I figured I'd have to stop a couple of times to refill it on the way home. Tom put away the rest of my tools while I went to the lake to retrieve my kayak. The tire still looked good when I returned and in a short while we were packed up and on our way. I had Tom's gear in my car this time, so we bid Bill goodbye at the parking lot. We followed him out and stayed behind him all the way to the Northway, where we passed him and headed to Delmar on our own. We were back in Delmar at 3 and after a short visit I was on the road again toward home. I pulled into the driveway at 6.
When: 7/26-7/28, 1997
With: Bill, Tom
Bill just bought a canoe of his own and we were all in need of some Ritz Brother camping, so we started to make arrangements. We settled on a date and Bill came up with some ideas for destinations. I suggested we try communal dinners for a change. Tom agreed to come along.
To get an early start, I packed up the car the night before with my gear and my kayak and left it out in the driveway. Saturday morning at 5:15, I slipped out the back door and headed to Delmar, arriving around 7:45. Bill drove up a few minutes later and we discussed food and destinations. For the food, we each described what we'd brought and found we had more than enough provisions for the weekend ahead. For a destination, we considered and rejected Bill's original proposal, a ten-mile upstream paddle on the Bog River and a campsite on Grass Pond. It sounded like an interesting trip, but a bit ambitious. We figured we'd be spending most of the trip paddling to or from the site. Instead, we decided to return to Lake Lila.
For the ride up, Tom rode with me since Bill was concerned about his car's ability to haul both his canoe and his brother. It was a pleasant, straightforward 3-hour drive to the lake and we arrived to find the parking lot only partially full. Learning from last time, we carried the boats to the water first and then returned for our gear. We packed up the boats fairly quickly and then shoved off from shore.
It was a beautiful summer day as we paddled up the lake. Sunny and calm. Since we'd arrived fairly early in the day, we figured we had a good chance of finding a couple of campsites to choose from. Part way up the shore however we met up with the ranger for the area and he said that many of the sites were already taken. He gave us some tips on places to check out, along with a little speech on "carry in/carry out" and fire safety, and sent us on our way.
The first spot he'd mentioned was Spruce Island, where we'd camped last time, so we headed for that. We could see no boats at the shore, but as we got close we saw tents in the woods, so we turned toward the next possibility. That spot was around the back of Buck Island, a bit further up the lake. When we rounded the tip of the island though, we spotted boats there also, so our search continued. Heading up the shoreline, we saw a couple sitting on a small rocky point. We approached and asked if they knew of any sites and they directed us back the way we came, along the shore. We paddled back and finally found a vacant site.
Though it was a perfectly usable site, it wasn't all that great. Rather dark and with limited access to the water. We agreed that it would do, but wondered if there might be someplace better. One possibility was Canada Island. The ranger had said that though it was occupied in the morning, the resident was leaving and planned to be out around noon. We could see the island from the site we were at, but it was clear across the lake so we couldn't really see if it was still occupied. I volunteered to paddle across and check it out, leaving Bill & Tom behind in case we needed to keep the site we'd found. We agreed on a signal (I'd wave my lifejacket if the site were clear) and I started out.
There was a bit of drama to the journey, since I was likely racing other folks for the same site. I settled into a nice, steady paddling cadence and kept an eye out for other boats. The couple we'd spoken to earlier were on the water, but they crossed my path and kept going. The only other boat I saw was the ranger, continuing his circuit of the lake. He turned toward me and I hoped to speak with him to ask if the island was now empty, but he turned away and paddled off, probably deciding he'd already talked with me once.
Finally, after about twenty minutes of Zen paddling, I surfed my boat up on to the beach at Canada Island, pleased so far to find no sign of other people. I ran up the path to the campsite and found it empty. Whoopee! I ran back to the beach, waved my lifejacket, and then fished out my binoculars. Once I confirmed that Bill & Tom were on their way, I grabbed my water and walked out to a rocky point to rest a bit while they paddled over.
It was a beautiful site. The island was quite small, giving it an intimate feel, but it had a lot of nice features. The trail to the campsite started on a small white sand beach and there were plenty of rocky points jutting out into the water for sitting, star gazing, or fishing. The island itself was fairly close to the shore, and under the shadow of a nice little mountain with some interesting-looking cliffs. I recalled that there was a trail up to those cliffs from the old lodge site, which was also close by. The camping area was a large open place a short ways in from the water, criss-crossed by massive tree trunks toppled in the freak wind storm of a few years back but still with a number of possible tent sites. A large fire ring built of rocks dominated the center of the area.
I was hauling my gear into the site when I heard Bill & Tom arrive. They were equally pleased with the site. After a bit of relaxing and some munching (we'd paddled through lunch), we set up camp.
The wildlife at the campsite is worth a mention. While we were having our late lunch, we noticed some chipmunks scurrying about the site. I guessed they were probably pretty used to humans and soon had one eating peanuts out of my hand. They were cute at first, but then they started to get rather aggressive about getting food from us. We quickly realized that we'd have to hang our food to avoid having the chipmunks get to it. We had some success at first, but the chipmunks still found ways to get to our supplies so we were constantly upgrading our setups. And when we finally got them right, the red squirrels moved in with their ability to climb trees and leap long distances. For the rest of our stay we fought a running battle with the local rodents over our food. For the most part we managed to stymie them, but Tom's food sack was chewed up a bit.
Once things were set up, Bill and I wound up taking short naps while Tom did some exploring and fishing. The naps helped and soon Bill & I were up and about again. We each went for a swim, which really revived us, and we joined Tom for some fishing and exploration. I caught the first fish of the trip, a 5-inch small mouth, so it was officially a fishing trip
The rest of the afternoon was spent in much the same way, relaxing, exploring, and fishing. I paddled around the island at one point and Bill paddled out to a small shoal just offshore, where we'd seen a number of canoes fishing earlier. I was just sitting on the rocks, checking out the lake with my binoculars while Tom fished from the rocks nearby when I heard a whoop from Bill. I focused in on him and could see his rod was bent. "Got one?" I called. "Number four," he replied. He held it up and asked if we wanted it for dinner. I told him to keep it. He paddled back to the island and then fished his way around the backside before returning to the beach. The fish was still alive when he arrived and we decided to let it go after all. It took awhile, but it revived sufficiently to swim away.
While we puttered around the shore, we had a couple of encounters with other folks. The first was a young couple in an inflatable, double-hulled kayak. A petite woman wearing a bikini sat in the front while a big bare-chested man with a long ponytail sat on a high seat in back and paddled with a double-bladed paddle. They both seemed to be enjoying the arrangement and we had to smile as they made their way across the lake, eventually joining up with a number of other folks occupying B island. The other couple was probably the same age, but not nearly as funky. They came paddling up in a canoe while Bill and I sat on the beach. They got fairly close before finally calling and asking if we were camping on the island. "Sure 'nuf," we replied. We mentioned a couple of other possible spots we'd seen earlier, but it was getting rather late and there was a good chance the sites had been claimed. After a bit, they headed toward the Lodge site, intending to grab one of the shore sites. I checked in on them occasionally through my binoculars and saw them pull out their canoe by the lean-to.
By now it was fairly late, so we went back to the campsite and got dinner going. I was in charge of the first night's meal. On the menu: Italian vegetable soup with herb/garlic Foccacia bread followed by cheese tortellini in pesto sauce with grated cheese. A nice bottle of slightly chilled Chianti wine rounded out the offerings. Everything came out just right and the meal was a success (despite the lack of a corkscrew for the wine). Desert was S'Mores cooked over a blazing fire, accompanied by several hours of conversation. We made a couple of trips down to the water to look for stars, gaze at the other campfires along the lake, and listen to the night. The folks at Buck Island were pretty noisy at first, but they quieted down eventually. It was almost midnight before we decided to call it a day and headed for our tents. Rain seemed unlikely, so Bill & I both left our rain flies off our tents for the night.
After a wonderful night's sleep (I didn't wake up once), we all got up about the same time and got moving. I took a quick swim to start my engine and then headed back for breakfast. While we ate, we planned the day. We decided to paddle over to the shore by the lean-to (near the lodge site) and try to find a path up the mountain, noted as Smith Mountain on Bill's map. It was a quick paddle to the shore and we got up on to the road which connected the parking area and the lodge site (and also served as a hiking trail). Bill's map (left back at camp) had shown a trail leading from the lodge site around the back of Smith Mountain. We figured we'd find a trail up the mountain from that trail so we headed toward the lodge.
Just past the lean-to we found the trail we'd seen on the map, with a sign saying Mt. Frederica, 1.5 miles. Bill recalled a Mt. Frederick in the area, sort of in the indicated direction, so we started up the trail assuming we'd find a cutoff trail. A short ways in we crossed the old rail line, now used as a trail for hikers and snowmobiles. It seemed to head toward the mountain so we followed it, figuring we either find a crossing trail or a bushwhacking route. After a few minutes we met up with two women wearing head nets, walking the tracks. We asked if they'd seen a trail up the mountain and they said they hadn't. We continued on a bit anyway until we came to a streambed. The trestle was long gone but the tracks still remained, two rusted ribbons of steel swaying over the small, sunny stream meadow. Looking up we could see the cliffs and we decided we had to go back. A bushwhack would be straight up the rocks and that didn't seem promising.
So back we went to the trail to continue on. The trail (really a fairly well-maintained dirt road) climbed and curved around the back of the mountain until we came to a sign pointing to a side trail which said Mt. Frederica 0.5 miles. I began to suspect that either Bill's map or the trail signs were wrong and sure enough, the trail brought us right to the cliffs we'd sought. It turns out that Smith Mountain had been renamed. Whatever the name, the views were spectacular, though hazy. A sweeping view of the entire lake and the lands all around. We descended to a lower ledge overlooking our island and spent some time enjoying the sights before heading back down.
The return walk went quickly and soon we were back at the boats. Since it was still early in the day, we decided to check out the Beaver River, which drained Lake Lila. We found the outlet easily and paddled in. There was very little current evident and a slight headwind, so the paddling was easy. We followed the waterway as it curved its way into the forest, looking for places to cast our lures and checking out the sites. At one point, while Bill & Tom fished, I spotted a possible trail on the shore and went to check it out. I hauled my boat to shore, got out, and found it was indeed a trail. I trotted up the path, figuring I'd find a campsite beneath the trees. A small bluff seemed a likely spot and as I rounded it I looked up hoping to see some sign of a site. Instead I saw a female whitetail deer, standing and staring at me. I froze, expecting it to bolt, but she just stared at me. When the wind shifted behind me I was certain she'd run after catching my scent (none too pleasant!), but still she didn't move. I called to Bill & Tom and let them know what was up and then waited for them. When they didn't appear for a while, I decided to see if I could get closer. I moved through the brush and found myself in a small campsite with a picnic table and signs of a butchering operation (a bar to hang a deer from and a cutting table). The deer watched me as I moved around her and still didn't move. I got as close as I dared, maybe 30 feet away, and finally stopped. She watched me a bit and then lay down, completely unconcerned with my presence. I returned to the river and got Bill & Tom. Soon we were all there and we got even closer, perhaps 20 feet. She never moved. We took pictures and said our good-byes before returning to the boats.
Back on the river, we continued downstream, casting into the occasional pool without success and enjoying the scenery. Finally, rounding a curve, we heard water rushing. A rapid, I thought, but I was wrong. It was a small drop to be sure, but man-made, created by a barrier at an old railroad crossing festooned with Private Property and No Trespassing signs. We'd come to the border of the Lake Nehasane property and could go no further. A controversial barrier to be sure, since it blocks a public waterway. We got out and looked around a bit before starting our return journey.
We had more luck fishing on the way back, as I caught a couple of small fish, but nothing worth keeping. Just before reentering the lake we had another encounter with a deer. This one was browsing in a marsh, eating water plants and checking us out. We watched it a bit and then ventured out onto the lake for the paddle back to the island, once again passing the young couple in the inflatable kayak as they headed toward the river mouth.
Back at camp again, we ate lunch and made some preparations for the possibility of rain (the skies had been threatening some action). A rain fly went up and gear was stored in the tents. We got a few brief showers but nothing substantial so we went back to the water. Tom did some more fishing, while Bill and I went swimming. I pulled out my skin diving gear and gave it a try. The murky water spooked me though and I wound up handing the mask and snorkel off to Bill. He had a great time checking out the underwater scene. One thing we both noticed was the abundance of fresh water mussels on the lake bottom. Next time we might want to consider having steamed mussels for a meal.
After we finished swimming, it was time for more fishing. I took my kayak and headed to the shoal nearby. Bill & Tom took the canoe and went around the island. The wind was blowing pretty hard and the skies were threatening, but it wasn't raining when we set out. I got out to the shoal and managed to catch one small fish, though it was hard working in the wind. Then I heard a sound I remembered from my days at summer camp...rain in trees. I looked across the lake and could see the rain line advancing down the mountain toward the lake. I stowed my rod and started paddling toward shore as fast as I could. The rain line hit the water while I was still a good ways out and the worst of it hit me just before I got in. I ran the boat up on shore, flipped it over, and ran to the campsite. My first order of business was to dump the pool of water that had collected in the rain fly. Then I ran around the site, zipping up rain flies and gathering gear to bring under the fly. At last all was protected and I waited out the shower under the fly, occasionally emptying collected water.
After a bit, the rain eased up and I decided to go back out. I hung up the food from the chipmunks, made some improvements to the rain fly and then went back out to the shoal. This time I caught nothing, though I did get a few strikes. I saw Bill & Tom come back so I headed in to see how they'd faired. They'd managed to avoid the storm by getting under some overhangs, and Tom had finally broken his fishing jinx. After taking the tail off his lure (turning it into a leach), he started to catch fish, including one big enough to keep. Fish for dinner!
It was now around 6PM, so we started dinner preparations. While Tom cleaned the fish, Bill set up the evening's meal, a cheese fondue with bread, zucchini, and portabella mushrooms to dip in. A simple meal to prepare - heat the cheese, cut up the bread and zucchini, sauté the mushrooms - and eating just involved standing around the pot with forks, dipping the various items in. Tom fried up the fish and we all had a taste. Delicious!
After we'd all had our fill, we set off for even more fishing. Tom took the kayak out to the shoal (his first experience in the Keowee) while Bill & I fished from the rocks. I tried my luck from a spot near the beach but got nothing and decided to pack it in. Bill starting hauling in small fish as fast as he could cast however, from a rock further around, so I joined him there. I still caught nothing, but it was fun anyway. Tom returned as we were finishing up and said he'd hooked two fish out by the shoal.
Finally fished out, and tired of being bitten by the evening bugs, we decided it was campfire time. Another fine fire was built, S'Mores were made & consumed, and we talked away the night. Some clearing in the skies permitted a bit of stargazing, but we never did get a really good, clear view. The quiet down by the water was amazing though. Unlike the previous night, when campfires dotted the darkness from the other campsites and the sounds of revelry echoed across the lake, only a single light shone from a distant shore near the lodge site and there was no sound. No wind, so waves, no birds, no bugs...nothing. Absolute dead quiet. My head almost hurt from straining to detect some sound in the night. Very neat.
We went to bed a bit earlier this evening, though Tom stayed up a while, and we all had our rain flies on the tents. I slept soundly again, though waking a bit earlier than I would've liked. I dozed for a while longer, but finally admitted that the time for sleep was past and emerged from my tent. Bill was still asleep and Tom was gone as I made my way down to the lake for a swim. As I stepped on to the beach, Tom was returning along the shore with the biggest fish of the trip. Easily 10-11 inches of small-mouth bass. He had him on a makeshift stringer so we could all see him. I was just finishing my swim when Bill joined us at the beach and admired Tom's fish.
After releasing the fish, we went back to camp for breakfast. Oatmeal again, and cinnamon rolls baked over a fire. The rolls were moderately successful, though the technique still needs refinement. We cleaned up and then began packing up for the trip out. The sky was overcast and a bit of windswept rain was blowing over the lake as we packed up the boats and pushed off. Fortunately the wind was behind us so we had an easy paddle back down the lake, with gentle swells and a steady breeze pushing us along. The rain never amounted to much, so it was a nice little run. We stayed close to the shore and checked out the campsites along the way, logging them for future reference.
Almost back to shore, we passed a crew of 5 in three canoes paddling in the opposite direction. We didn't envy them their job battling both the wind and the waves on their way up the lake. They asked about the availability of some nearby sites and then paddled on as we completed our journey. We pulled the boats to shore and began to unload them.
Tom & I were first back to the cars and I did a quick check for damage. All looked well until I got up to my car and noticed that the left front tire was nearly flat. Bummer! Tom pointed out that it wasn't down to the rim, so perhaps it could be re-inflated. I pulled out my pump and started working on it, but seemed to be getting nowhere. Checking the tire, I noticed foamy bubbles coming from the tread. That indicated to me that the air was coming out as fast as it was going in, so I decided to put on the spare. Bill & Tom returned for the canoe while I got the spare from the trunk and jacked up the car.
Once the tire was off the car, I decided to give it one more try with the pump. This time, no bubbles and the tire held the air nicely. I got it up to a good pressure and was putting it back on just as Bill & Tom returned. At worst I figured I'd have to stop a couple of times to refill it on the way home. Tom put away the rest of my tools while I went to the lake to retrieve my kayak. The tire still looked good when I returned and in a short while we were packed up and on our way. I had Tom's gear in my car this time, so we bid Bill goodbye at the parking lot. We followed him out and stayed behind him all the way to the Northway, where we passed him and headed to Delmar on our own. We were back in Delmar at 3 and after a short visit I was on the road again toward home. I pulled into the driveway at 6.
