A solo backpacking adventure in the Adirondacks follows a hermit’s path
By Herb Terns
“So, you need to get away from us for a couple of days?” my 13-year-old asked when I announced I was backpacking the 23-mile French Louie Trail Loop in the central Adirondacks.
My motivation, I tried to explain, was about what I was headed to, woods and lakes, not about getting away from the family. Still, along with my tent and sleeping bag, I packed some guilt.
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There are no special trail markers for the Louie Loop. The only sign was at the parking lot shared with the trailhead for Pillsbury Mountain outside Speculator. French Louie was a logger and trapper who lived at a camp near Pillsbury Lake in the early 1900s. His life is chronicled in Harvey Dunham’s book “Adirondack French Louie: Early Life in the North Woods.”
“It is best not to walk alone” is the advice most hiking guides offer. I considered that as I shouldered my pack in the late afternoon. I wasn’t completely alone; my floppy-eared 9-month-old mutt, Cooper, somewhat reluctantly shouldered his own pack.
The philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer wrote, “A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free.”
An animal encounter
Near Grassy Brook, an hour into our trip, a black bear stood in the middle of the trail. Nose to the ground, back to us, the bear didn’t know we were there. Like statues, we stood and watched. The sleek black of the bear’s fur contrasted against the deep green of the trailside moss. Eventually, the bear ambled off to whatever was next on his bear agenda.
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Never hike alone, but if you do, you’ll find an intense experience. The image of the bear lingered as I hiked through the long shadows of late afternoon.
I made camp along the north shore of Cedar Lakes. Cooper and I ate dinner and watched the sun close the books on another wild, gorgeous day in the West Canada Lakes Wilderness.
I often don’t sleep well on the first night of a solo trip but that night I drifted off easily. A vex of age is nocturnal outhouse visits. On my trip out that night, I heard snorting. I thought of the bear because anyone would think of the bear. A few intense heartbeats later, I recognized the outline of a buck. After another minute, I saw the rest of the deer. We stood in silence, the silhouettes of trees and deer in silvery starlight. It felt like a dream.
Before returning to my tent, I walked to the water’s edge. A panoply of stars was reflected in the lake. The dream continued and my vexation looked a lot like a gift.
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Strolling in solitude
There were clouds the next morning. I packed and we hiked the Northville-Placid Trail between Beaver Pond and Cedar Lakes. I fantasized about someday having a canoe here.
We met northbound backpackers and exchanged greetings. Past Kings Pond, I saw no other hikers and acquired full ownership of my head. It was why I went out alone. I’m not a misanthrope, I just sometimes need a break from the input of other people. I wonder if this is some gene I inherited or is a product of starting life as an only child in an off-the-grid mountain cabin.
Cooper was great company because he didn’t talk. I wondered if Schopenhauer took his poodles on long walks.
The trail around West Lake was wet and challenging but I didn’t go out to be dry and comfortable. At South Lake, we stopped for lunch. A sky-clearing wind roiled the water’s surface. We could have camped here or pushed on to another lake. That’s the beauty of solo travel.
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We opted to continue and left the NPT near West Canada Creek. We hiked east toward Sampson and Pillsbury lakes. The trail was faint, not as well-used as the NPT.
We found our home for the night at Sampson Lake. Another group was camped at the lean-to, but by silent agreement we respected each other’s solitude.
Mealtime mishaps
My water filter failed and an iodine allergy made me reluctant to use my backup water treatment pills. I boiled water instead and accidentally spilled boiling water on my hand.
“I’ve never known any trouble that an hour’s reading couldn’t assuage,” Schopenhauer wrote. I prepared hot chocolate and leaned against a tree with a book, a snoozing dog and the call of chickadees.
I make an effort at cooking when out with other people, but as a backpacking bachelor, I am a lazy chef. I spread refried beans on tortilla shells while Cooper scarfed down kibble. The sunset was beautiful, but I barely stayed awake for the show. I drifted off to sleep to the calls of a north woods trio: a loon, a barred owl and a great horned owl.
Reflections on the French Louie trail
The next morning, I woke to a world of silver fog. The unseen loon was the morning’s musical headliner. I sipped coffee as the sun burned off the mist.
Cooper and I continued to Pillsbury Lake. Some leaves had changed colors while others did not. There are no absolutes. I wished my wife and our teen could see what I was seeing and feel what I was feeling.
Schopenhauer had thoughts about marriage, but like many existential philosophers, he never married. I’m unwilling to consider marital advice from the unmarried and suspect there are many small treasures that Schopenhauer missed.
The people I love understand I am only a part-time hermit. That solitude fuels my appetite for company, and company fuels my appetite for solitude. The combination of these appetites leads to a full life, or at least the one I want to live. Cooper and I shouldered our packs one last time and headed home.
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This article first appeared in a recent issue of Adirondack Explorer magazine.
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Nice article. The French Louie trail. Up until January 16, 2022, the trail was Meticulously Maintained by Legendary ADK club volunteer Trail steward Paul Weinstein. Paul maintained The French Louie Trail for well over a decade. His trademark was the “Weinstein Cut” in which he would clear Ridiculously large Blow downs and fallen trees well beyond the boundaries of the trail. It was an innovative and should I say, a cutting edge technique . Paul died unexpectedly while hiking on lake George’s tongue mountain range, at the five mile leanto on January 22nd, 2022.
I lived in the park off and on for ten years. I miss it every day. On retirement, we only spent summer & fall (the premium time) in the woods. While we were off grid, we pushed the limit with things like hot showers, dish internert & phone, and gas refrigerators. I had one neighbor. His house was one mile away. However, because of the lay of the land, we could see each others houses. I feel privilaged and fortunate to have had the experiences. Reading this article makes me realise there is always time for solitude…..and, a good read.