From elk herds to muddy trails: The mystery of Debar Meadows

Exploring unmarked trails on two wheels near Meacham Lake

By Tom French

Visions of majestic beasts and herds of elk lured Doug and I to the unmarked Debar Meadows Trail near Meacham Lake. Alas, even the “old metal fences,” as described by Barbara McMartin, have melted into the forest, though I wouldn’t recommend searching for them while riding a bike on this rough and technical trail. 

The 10,000-acre Debar Mountain Game Refuge was established circa 1930 as an attempt to restock elk to the Adirondacks. According to McMartin, the effort may have had some success initially, but after the program was suspended, the elk succumbed to illegal hunting and were gone by the 1960s.

You can still find remnants of the “interesting loops and side paths” mentioned by McMartin, but they are mostly overgrown and would be a bush ride on a bike. Evidence of the headquarters as seen on old topographical maps has also been erased.

MORE TO EXPLORE: Could elk roam the Adirondacks again? Researchers map wildlife shifts in a warming world.

Doug and I ditched a car at the parking area for Clear Pond near the entrance to Meacham Lake Campground then drove to Route 26 (Port Kent-Hopkinton Turnpike and previously NY 99). The entrance to the Debar Game Management Area, aka Debar Meadows, is 4.5 miles beyond the entrance to Debar Pond. The DEC sign was missing the day we went, but the post is still at the corner with a classic cement bridge built in 1949 (the date is embedded in the cement).

The road to the parking area, 1.7 miles from the entrance, is rough and requires a high-clearance vehicle. Look around – the only remaining evidence of pastures for grazing elk might simply be the small clearings with white pines. Continue driving to the sign that indicates the end of vehicular travel.

Seeking access

According to a DEC map, the trail to the south is called the Skiff Pond Trail and includes a primitive campground at Skiff Pond – a sliver of water on any map. It reconnects to the Debar Meadows Trail after 2-plus miles, and it was our back up plan if our planned route became impassible. Years ago, Doug failed multiple times to access Debar Meadows from Meacham Lake campground due to beaver activity.

But we were optimistic. We passed a biker heading out as we were driving in, and after descending a significant hill 500 yards from the start, we noticed multiple bike treads in the mud through a marshy area. 

The single track rose out of the wetland and followed a roly-poly contour with views of Hatch Brook to the left. The marshy areas often required dismounting and caution at culverts due to sinkholes.

Even if remains of the game farm lurked in the woods, we would have missed them. The trail required constant vigilance. It was only because a steep rock garden over a drainage forced us off our bikes that we noticed a cobblestone dam on the left – perhaps one of the “artificial ponds” mentioned by McMartin. It was a strange engineering design along the side of a stream with culverts through its base.

Tricky trails

After two miles, we arrived at the gate marking the junction with the Skiff Pond Trail. So far, the trail had been free of any blowdown. Indeed, several downed trees appeared to have been cut recently. But two fallen trees were visible from the gate and several more followed along with significant debris that littered the trail and constantly threatened to jump into our wheels. At least the trail was level for the next mile as it wrapped around a shoulder of Debar Mountain with lovely views through the understory up the slope. 

After a mile, the trail turned north, the pitch increased, and the condition of the trail deteriorated as it gradually climbed about 150 feet over the next mile. I’m not sure when the actual downhill began because the track became the most technical of the day, perhaps in my lifetime (which isn’t saying a lot), with more than one auto-stop. Passage through a field of ferns became a minefield of hidden rocks. Sections of corduroy were like riding a washboard. A small log became wedged between my pedals and frame. Numerous twigs jumped into my spokes. My feet became immersed in mud while pedaling through sludge that ate my tires above the rim.

Unexpected encounters

Imagine our surprise when we happened upon another biker. Doug and I never encounter other people on these kinds of trips, and this was our second contact of the day. We asked the fellow where he’d started. “Hard to say, Northville?” was not the answer we expected.

Turns out, Joe Moore of Kalispell, Montana, was one of 23 people participating in The Adirondack Trail Ride (TATR), a 585-mile race that loops the Adirondacks. He was on day 5, and after questioning, we determined he spent the night in Hopkinton and was trying to reach Wilmington. He was following the “OG” trail (the original vs. the “TATR 10” which was designed for the 10th anniversary of the race and “more tourist friendly”).

I think Joe was eager for conversation after spending several days alone in the wilderness with limited gear on his custom bike. We ran into David Wright from Ottawa a few minutes later. 

A difficult descent, and back via the campground

The descent from the high point to Winnebago Pond was the most technical of the day and included many natural features and three man-made bridges – all of dubious quality with rotting boards and craters. Doug rolled over all three. “I did a risk assessment and went for it,” he said. I was more cautious.

At some point, Doug startled a barred owl which flew up into a nearby tree. We stopped to observe it while it did the same. We also encountered a small pile of bear poop, a blue heron, a grove of cherry trees, and the usual vistas of hardwood forests flush with fall foliage. 

The condition of the trail improved as we approached the junction with the Debar Mountain Trail. The last mile to the trailhead is mostly downhill, though signs of flood damage were apparent all the way to the gate – including a washout at a culvert that you do not want to tumble into. Flood repair can also be seen along the gravel road to the campground.

We had lunch at the Meacham Lake beach. 

The total bike took three hours of sometimes grueling gymnastics, but not in an exhilarating way. I was glad the path was clear and we didn’t have to turn around, though theoretically, we could have circled back on the paved roads for a 25-mile loop if we were extreme bikers and not the wimps we felt like after meeting the TATR participants.