The Magazine of the Mountains since 1969
The Moose River makes its schizophrenic reach for the Black River from three headwaters. The North Branch sulks out of Big Moose Lake, perhaps mourning still the Grace Brown tragedy. Chaining through Darts and Rondaxe lakes, this lazy stream makes its way with so little effort it often forgets to go forward and retreats upon itself.
In 1949, before Marilyn Monroe cooed and shimmied her way to becoming a screen goddess, she was just another shapely blonde starlet trying to get noticed. Which is why, one hot June day, she appeared in the little Adirondack town of Warrensburg, a few miles north of Lake George, to stand on the lawn of a brand-new prefabricated house.
Ever since Adirondackers began keeping track, they’ve recorded hamlet-swallowing blizzards that socked folks behind snowdrift-jammed doors, downpours that ravaged river valleys, and hurricanes with jet-speed winds that uprooted chunks of forest.
Malfunction Junction, Dysfunction Junction, Spaghetti Junction, Crazy Corners—or, often for first-timers, What the Hell. Those are a few of the epithets for the intersection of Routes 9 and 73, in New Russia, a head-scratching tangle of road plopped into the middle of...
She rushed from her campsite at Marcy Dam to Lake Colden after being summoned in the deep of a September night. A man splitting wood for his party’s campfire had sliced his ankle to the bone with an ax.
A mother accompanied her child to the school bus with a rifle slung over her shoulder. Guns were loaded and propped near doors and windows. People slept with hammers and baseball bats. They locked their houses, camps, cars and trucks—some for the first time ever. Armed officers lined roadways, searched passing vehicles, and swept forests and fields while the chop of helicopters drowned out the sounds of Adirondack springtime.
I remember the gloss of a fresh coat of varnish on a newly built boat. I remember the coziness of the shop from the woodstove in the dead of winter. But even without it, my dad’s energy filled the area. He was calm and focused, with a passion for his craft. For years...
Fort Ticonderoga hosts a three-day reenactment of the capture of Fort Ticonderoga on the 250th anniversary of the raid.
Last year on a February afternoon, Danny Filippidis left Whiteface Mountain’s Mid-Station Lodge, clicked into his red Volkls and skied away. According to the Canadian Press, he’d told his friends, a group of fellow Toronto firefighters on their annual Adirondack ski trip, that he wanted to fetch his phone at the bottom of the mountain. And then he disappeared.
Coming from different places and never mass produced, the homemade hand-warmers have been known by names such as shag or shagged mittens, fringe, buff or latch-hook mittens—all references to the yarn that forms a thick pile on the surface of the knit fabric.
Spotlighting regional characters—a movie star, an angler, a 46er 25 times over—and the Adirondack landscape at the time of America’s birth. Plus stunning photographs, where to find exceptional BBQ, and more.
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