The Magazine of the Mountains since 1969
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.
Every Adirondack small town has its own cast of characters whose presence becomes as familiar as its landmarks, and just as entwined with its sense of place. For the better part of five decades, the affable Keene Valley artist Frank Owen has played a recurring role around town, with frequent appearances at the Ausable Inn, where you may find him chatting up hikers, contractors and anyone else who happens upon the only local watering hole.
It is easy to imagine that spring in the Adirondacks is a concert. The trills of toads and background refrains of frogs and the choral fervor of coyotes. The staccatos and crescendos of waterfowl and the tremulous songs of meadow and forest birds. A white-throated sparrow whistling “Taps” at dusk while I sit in a rocking chair on the porch of my Long Lake cabin.
Fort Ticonderoga hosts a three-day reenactment of the capture of Fort Ticonderoga on the 250th anniversary of the raid.
It was a cool, perfect afternoon with fluffy clouds floating over Upper St. Regis Lake. My plan was to spend the day rowing my guideboat around the lake in search of a sunset composition for a photograph I had etched in my mind. I had borrowed a lantern from a friend, and brought along a red-and-black checkered wool blanket I had found on the back side of Colvin Mountain.
Subscribe Today!
for calendars, apparel, maps and more!