Christmas at the Creek

Ok, I know each time I've been up at the creek in the last few months, I've said it would likely be my last trip of the season. Nevertheless, I found myself rationalizing why I needed to make the trip this last week. As the snows had just come to the camp the road in was still drivable. Actually the road is actually off-road, but I won't get caught up in semantics. The point is, I've been playing around with a number of ideas for decorating. Twig picture frames, a magazine holder made of raw birch, some pine cones.. you get the idea. Something to keep me occupied over the winter. For that, I need materials.

I suppose I could have gathered more than enough branches, twigs and other stuff at Bear Mountain or maybe even on Long Island, but where's the fun in that? I was also going to meet John and get an updated bill for the clearing of the building lot. Anyway, with a day off, there's no place I'd rather be going. As usual, dinner and Applebys and a night at Johnstown Microtel. Morning saw an overcast daybreak but over the hours the sun burned through the haze. I set out for the Creek.

Rolling up to the mill, I didn't see John's car. I did see his worker operating a payloader. Although he couldn't possibly hear me, he seemed to know by my expression what it was I wanted. I pointed to the office. He shook his head and pointed instead towards the forest. John was in the forest. Indeed, the dirt road was frozen over and covered with a 3 inch coat of snow. Easy for Tru-Blu, my trusty jeep. About a mile in I found John operating a chain saw and doing some last minute timber cutting. He was very surprised to see me.

When we reached the edge of my camp, I noticed someone's footprints coming out of the woods. The prints went on down my path a quarter mile, eventually passing through my woods southwards on a logging road John had cut. Only one set. Whoever enjoyed their walk had not returned the same way. Curious. Anyway, we pulled the jeep into my cabin site and began cutting some small trees and harvesting the wood and twigs. I grabbed a few videos. The cold air stung my face. Thank God for the wool socks and all-season hiking boots I wear. My feet were toasty. With the Jeep carrying as much as I cared to take, we set out.

Up at the convenience store we sat down. I noticed how many of the locals, in their hats and worn workpants would come in. They said little but each gave a slight nod. That's the way up here. No handshakes or loud hellos. Just a look, then a slight nod of acknowledgement afterwhich the banter begins. These guys have known each other a lifetime I'm sure.

We spent a short while at the mill, looking at various projects, wood samples, and having taken care of the bill, we said goodbye. Not much time at the Creek this time, but worth every mile. As nice as it is up here in the summer, winter has a beauty all its own. Now, as it is the last week of December, I think it's finally safe to say I won't be up again this year. At least there's always January...

Last weekend of the year at camp..

I travelled up to camp this Friday.  After leaving the city at 4pm and struggling northward through city traffic I finally got up to speed on the Thruway. My routine's already time-tested and becoming a tradition. Stop at Johnstown, get a room at the new Microtel, eat at Appleby's with the 10% off room card, and bed down for the night.

Daybreak was cloudy and windy. The sky threatened. A cup of coffee and an egg at the breakfast bar, I was on my way north. It felt good to be on the road again. John would be meeting me at the mill at 10am to show me the lumber he had cut. Afterwards, we'd go to the camp to see the lot which was now cleared. As always, my pulse quickened slightly as I rounded the bend into town. Not quite 10am. I popped into the local convenience store which aside from being just in front of my access road, was the local meeting place, and got a hot coffee to go. A group of four older men in camoflage stopped their banter to size me up. I nodded as one usually does in these parts. They nodded back and, after a moment, began talking again. The lady at the counter asked how I'd been and after some idle chatter, I left with a small styrofoam cup filled with something that passed as coffee.

John was across the street and after I pulled in, came over to greet me. He was excited to talk about how all the timber he needed had already been cut. He also showed several photos of fish caught up on the lake. Perch, I think he said. "Now that's fishing", said John, his face showing obvious pride. He had come down from his camp to see me this morning and mentioned that he had almost shot a buck too. Ironically, I recall two occasions this year that he told me he took a buck. My hunting license gives me 1 deer tag per year and I've yet to take anything. Seems like each visit, John has taken a buck. Clearly the locals work on a different system than I do.

After filming the mill and talking about the siding and railing, John led the way offroad into camp. He stopped twice on the trail to show me the two 30 acre parcels he had on sale. The one we passed was heavily wooded and ready to timber. "Buy a lot with all dem timbers and you'll make your money back...that's how I got all this here land", John said with a big smile and sparkle in his eyes.

We moved onward until at last we broke through to my camp. The heavy equipment I remembered had moved to my cabin site. We drove to the entrance and walked in. Awesome! The cabin site had been completely cleared and the river was slightly more visible now. What had been our little camping site last summer was now the beginning of the driveway. What had been a possible future cabin site deep in the woods was now the clearing. I was very happy.

John and I spoke a while about the building process, about clearing certain trees, types of wood, and anything else related to the project. "The snow is late in coming but will be here next week and, after that, we need to shut this down until spring", he added. Fortunately, he had taken most if not all he needed.

The rest of the day, I walked the land in silence. Camera in hand, I took over 50 videos, including some of "infamous" lot 3, which I must say looks so much better on this last walk. I was really down on this lot, largely due to my impressions of the river here. It's slow moving and wasn't a deep forested lot like the others and borders someone else's land. I had serious misgivings about the neighbor due to his visible camp, barking dog, and signs telling everyone to stay the hell out. John told me the neighbor is a actually great guy, and despite his posted signs and dog, is a very friendly sort. This time around I noticed how nice the river is here. Level ground, nice view. At 170ft wide, it looks more like a small lake.

On lot 4, I found an old hunter's stand (oddly at ground level), and down a ravine, a spring box filled with water. More photos and footage of 5 and 6, as well as the cabin site on 7. Finally, up on 8, I follow a marshy area and investigate a brook before climbing a very steep grade up to a wind-swept ridge.

A low wet area at the bottom of Lot 8. A brook passes here.

So now that I have all this land, why was I still yearning for more? It felt great to own lot 4, a decision that I don't regret. Lot 3, the only remaining lot, was like the girl the boys never noticed. A late bloomer of sorts. Then when the light hits it right, it's a winner. The question is now, "should I buy lot 3"? John told me once, "the best zoning board you can have is just buy all the land around you". Point taken. The best neighbor on an Adirondack camp is no neighbor.

Curious about an online ad my dad I and saw for a large tract of land for less than $500/acre, I decided to have a look. "Great dirt road easily accessible", and "no problem for a four wheeler", it read. Following the directions, I drove a mile into deep woods just north of town until the dirt road became swamp and mud. I stepped out of the Jeep and walked a few hundred feet. It seemed that once I got past this area, the land sloped upwards. I got up to speed and despite the tug of the muck, I got through. But the top of the hill was awash with deep mud and tire tracks of someone who had been stuck. Out of fear, I finally turned my Jeep around in a tight 6 point turn and headed back for terra firma. 167 acres for an asking price of only $99K? It's because most of it is swampland. Great for duck hunting. Lousy for anything else. Give me my land anyday!

It looked good here, but down, down, down..into ever deeper mud! This quagmire gave me the willies!

John is selling two 30 acre adjacent parcels at $36K each. The land lies adjacent to my own "subdivision" of 70 acres. I could walk from my camp to the land in 5 minutes and his land is characterized by deep red and white pine forests. In fact, the dirt road to my camp passes through it. Great for timber, this land could almost pay for itself after one cutting. Ah.. what does someone choose? 5 acres of wonderful creekfront with it's idyllic setting adjacent to my own land, or 30 or 60 acres of wooded forest. No creek here, but so many acres of prime forest. If I could, I'd buy them all. I love the nature. I love the solitude. I never got any joy out of stocks I owned...What a great investment!

An old beaver dam reminds me I have some wild neighbors!

The Camp

Some of my other posts have shown the experience of walking the land, making decisions, and some actitivities I've enjoyed. I've not yet actually given a description of the land to put some of the other posts in context.

After wending along country roads northwards until the great northern forests of the Adirondack Park begin, you reach a small village. At the edge of this town lies an unassuming, dirt road, between some houses. One would never know. Never know that over a thousand acres lie just beyond these two houses. Driving in across a long field, we reach a sudden drop which plunges us into deep forest. Herein, we traverse winding rocky sections while others are flat and broad. Some mud here and there, a hill that would challenge any sedan without 4 wheel drive, and some lowlying marshes. After a few unmarked forks in the dirt road (took me a while to remember them), we climb slowly upwards to perhaps 120 feet and catch glimpses of the rest of the forest. Down again for another few minutes until after 2 miles we are in the "subdivision" where our camp lies. We approach from the north and are rewarded by a large open area. This field is actually a cul-de-sac on the survey. To us, it's a field.

Off to our right lies a small dirt road crossing my camp. It's a right of way for  my two neighbors who cannot access the lower parts of their own lots without it. Directly ahead and to the south lies lots 5 and 6, which beginning high, gently slope downwards into deep forest. Pines abound. Eventually the river emerges cradling the southern point of the camp. To the left, eastwards lies lot 4, cause of much late-night reflecting on whether to add it to the camp. It's highland gives way abruptly to a slope marked by some ravines, a lower retention pool, loamy riverbank, and easy moving river. It is to the southwest that, on lot 7, a steady plateau extends eventually to a riverbank some 10 feet above the creek. The views extend well down river and from a bit higher, up river as well. This is to be the site of the cabin. The river along the western land is marked by a width of around 90 feet, with rapid sections, many riffles, and a spectacularly open feel compared to the deep woods.

As I walk the land, maybe this weekend, I'll take photos from each of the lots that are way more descriptive, and maybe more illustrative than any words could be. For now, I've included a aireal perspective below. Don't get lost!

My 30 Acre Camp: Lots 4,5,6,7,8

Swallowing my Pride

"My final offer of $25K is, well, my final offer". I know I said it. At the time I felt it. I mean, who wouldn't feel a bit of indignation knowing that they were getting hardballed on the price. I was buying a pig in a poke. He knew it. I knew it. But this isn't any pig. All in all, it's not such a bad piece. Buildable.., 5 acres.., slower riverfront where trout love to stay.., but not nearly worth the money asked. So why did I buckle and meet his bottom-line of $30K? Because this piece is so strategically placed across the dirt roadway that enters my camp. It means the difference from the road being mine, or being shared with a new neighbor across the path; a neighbor who could build a big eyesore and let his pack of dogs out to chase out any quiet left here. I can't take that chance.

I caved. But I am not sorry. If I had lost the piece over a few thousand only to ruin the solitude here at my camp, I'd have kicked myself forever. Nope. Despite paying a few thousand too much, I made the wise decision in the long run. Let the emotions be taken out of it now. It is a fait-accompli. There remains only lot 3. It borders another dirt road that doesn't lie adjacent to any of my lots. It lies beside a brackish river, is marked by low swampy riverfront, and high ravine cut grounds. A neighbor, who by all appearances is not so neighborly, borders it. I am content with the camp now. Even at half price, the remaining piece wouldn't interest me. So it is be a 30 acre camp. Not too shabby..not to shabby.





Looking down the dirt road that enters the Cul-de-Sac. Lot 4 is on the immediate left and extends along to the car.

   


IslandMom-IslandDad walking in cul-de-sac towards camp. Directly behind them is lot 4.

The creek moves gently on lot 4



The Cabin (sort of)

What's land without a cabin right? I've spend countless hours day dreaming about designs, sizes, styles and locations for one of my own.

Now I don't know whether to call a cabin a cabin or call it a lodge. But then, I also thought I was on a river. So did IslandGirl and my boy. Sure looked like one. Everyone says it's called a creek. I thought I was building a cabin. Everyone told me up north it's called a camp. In fact I'm not even sure if a camp refers to the land, the land and cabin, or just the cabin. Some people with only land tell me they have a camp. My builder John said last, "let's orient your porch so your camp faces the river". Anyway, I'll work all that out later. Here's a few photos and video of my future cabin. It's not built yet, but don't let that fool you. It's existed since I began visiting websites, looking at floor plans, and spending lots of time and money on things that go inside of it, even if there isn't any inside yet!

Logging trail down to river

On my culdesac

My logs at John's mill

Bark stripped and ready for visible rafters

Yours truly on a beautiful November day

Rough cut and ready for roofing and siding

My neighbor John built this 16 x 24 for a song. It inspired a larger but similar Appalachain design for my own.

I photoshopped the 24ft original to my own 36ft plan. My siding will be Adirondack style. Also called "live edge" siding, up here they refer to it as "crazy man" siding but I haven't a clue as to why!

Notice the use of whole timber in many elements of the design

The Creek

Perhaps no other feature defines the camp than the creek. The creek on the camp borders the 5 lots I own, and the other 5 that belong to the subdivision. The creek has a personality all its own. Its character varies from the upstream most point which is wide with many small rapids and riffles along lots 8, 7 and 6, to slow and meandering on part of 5. I've seen the creek small and gentle during the summer drought, and filled of energy such as in this video. When CityGirl and I were up last time, the creek was raging as we crossed a covered bridge.

AdironDoc and kids during summer drought

Taken by my daughter during dry summer month

No porch yet, but we can still enjoy the creek

Swollen creek after heavy rains

Should I or Shouldn't I? I Contemplate Lots 3 and 4

On this most recent trip up with my father, my main goal was to meet with John, who is my neighbor and builder, as well as the local saw mill operator. We got that taken care of and enjoyed walking the land and even firing a few rounds from my rifle and shotgun. What I didn't expect was the visceral response I had from seeing a total of 3 cars of people walking around on lots 3 and 4, who like me, were contemplating them. My offer was in at a maximum of $25K for the better lot, but as these were the only two left, the owner had become inflexible. Still, I felt protective. I felt the stillness and tranquility had been disturbed when these cars were parked right in  front of my land. That only added to my quandry. I talked about the value of the land with islandgirl who asked me, "how badly do you want it?". "Pretty badly", I had said. "Well then what's the problem", she replied. Problem? No problem. But I would be damned if I'm gonna pay a thousand more per acre for the worst two lots, after I got the good ones for so much less. But I hated the idea of anyone in my little secluded area. What to do?

Just before leaving, with the sun sinking low for 4pm, I asked dad to take a final walk on lot 4. "I'm not much for going down there again", said dad, but as I started out, he had a change of heart and followed. A critical look showed most of the nicer river frontage to be on my piece, and maybe only half that on lot 4, which is adjacent to mine. More of it was cut by ravines, a steep grade down to a brackish pool, and finally to the slow river. A large piece of rusty iron from an old bridge lays on its side in the dark water, along with a logjam of debris washed down in the last storm. A few nice spots exist, mostly at the top of the ridge close to the road, making lot 4 less desirable for river frontage or access, but also meaning any cabin on 4 would likely be up by the dirt road close to me. Lot 4 lost some of it's charm this time around.

Dad and I pressed through the low brush upwards to the plateau again and hit the crossroad. We walked down a bit further to have a quick look at lot 3 not even bothering to go downwards to the river frontage. We had seen it from the bend on 4. Passing the road frontage of 3, we saw the camping site the guy on lot 2 made. That's across the road and has nothing adjacent to me. He's on 21 acres mostly upland but does have a 20ft strip of river access. I have yet to meet him and his son but understand he's a good guy. They live in the Bronx says the broker, but others say he's from Jersey.

We came to 100ft from the end of the roadway where a sign hangs that reads, "No Tresspassing! Keep Out! Do Not Enter!" A rope across the path drives home the point. We're not even to the end of lot 3 and we feel uncomfortably close to a neighbor who doesn't seem neighborly. If his signs were not off-putting, his truck, cabin, garage, shed and blue tarp covered woodpiles are. Very visible. As we turned around to head back, a large dog began barking furiously but fortunately didn't cross the property line. Maybe he was tied up? Thank God!

Just before we arrived back at my jeep on the culdesac, dad and I split up. I climbed the ridge on my lot 8, situated on the west side of the peninsula. I came to the very top which is like 50 or 60 feet above the surrounding lands and is marked by a very steep western drop, moderate southern drop, gentle eastern drop, and my neighbor's lot to the north. Silence. A gentle breeze caressed the tree branches and from my high perch, I could make out the hills across the creek and surrounding valleys. I came up to see if this would be a good site for my wind turbine but something else happened instead. As I lay on my back in the pine needles, a good feeling came over me.

This was beautiful land. The other lots were not nearly worth the price being asked. I had gotten the best of them already and another wasn't necessary. A sense of peace came over me and I knew what I wanted to do.  Let my offer for lot 4 stand. Forget about 3. In fact, good luck to whomever buys it. With that good feeling, I set out for home and had once again discovered the serenity and wisdom of the woods.

Cabin Update: A Short Getaway With Dad

After work on Friday, dad and I said goodbye to IslandGirl, jumped into my Jeep and headed north to Johnstown. It's a convenient stopover because it's less than an hour drive to our camp, has a great inexpensive hotel and an Applebees where we can have a late meal and a beer. Dad and I rolled in around 10:30 with a hunger for steaks. After a good night's rest, we headed out on a lovely day. This routin has become a familiar "circuit" on the way from Long Island to the north woods.

At mid-morning we pulled into the long 2 mile winding path that leads into the camp. The ground was frozen with some areas exposed to the sun already slick and muddy. Nothing my jeep, "True-Blue", can't handle. Jeeps are made for this and I modified mine to handle just about anything. I don't know why, but my heart was beating faster as we came down the hill closer to camp. Butterflies. Anticipation? I never know what to expect when I arrive and often imagine there will be tresspassers or junk there. Maybe it's just because I'm at the end of the trail, I'm not used to owning such a large area of land, or I'm just someone who likes seclusion when I'm in the forest.

What dad and I noticed on arriving to the clearing is that John, my neighbor/builder/saw-mill owner/local politician, had cut a trail with his Caterpillar and taken out a number of pine down on the southeast edge, near the river. Not a clearing by any means, but just thinned out a bit and not visible from the top. That path will make a great jeep trail down to my future fishing spot!

Another thing I had noticed on driving through the woods was that they were filled with people and acitivity that morning. A small cabin, also built by my neighbor John, was now occupied. A white pickup was off to the left a mile further in. I figured it was one of John's friends. Unexpectedly, I passed the saleman who sold me my land. He was with some people and said a quick hello. Clearly showing the last two remaining lots. Up on my land were three vehicles. A Caterpillar, a logging truck, and a red pickup. Dad and I were discussing who it might be when we spotted a pair walking out of the woods. Up came my broker's boss with a man looking at lot number 3 and 4, the only two still available. Turned out to be a good opportunity to get an update on my contract and the names of my neighbors up on 8/9, and lot 10.

OK, so my own offer for the lots being shown had been refused. The owner had such an easy time selling to me that he had gotten confident and reluctant to negotiate. I had paid just under $4K per acre of riverfront for the first two pieces. The second two, of similar quality, ran me $5K. Now he wanted at least $6K per acre! Damnation! The remaining lots are the runts of the litter with brackish water, deep ravines, and not as much usable land. Still, I thought, if I could get at least the lot adjacent to mine, I'd own all the path frontage and effectively block any cabins from being put anywhere near mine. Owning the land on both sides of the road would be nice too, since I could just post the road with the camp name on it. "Private Camp: No Access", it might read.

It wasn't long before John showed up and, after putting away my rifle, we got down to business. He talked at length about the types of wood he would use, how many trees he would take, the exact orientation of the cabin, and timetable. As we had never set an exact price, I pressed him a bit.

"When can we get started, John?"
"I started already when I took some of your lumber to my mill. It's already being cut"
"When will you need a payment?"
"I'd like to get things in order first. Don't worry I'll send you a bill and if you don't like it, I always have some nice lumber"
"You did that other cabin for $39 a square foot and said mine might be less because it's bigger"
"Yah, the bigger you build, the lower the per foot. Also you're using your own timber"
"So say like, um, $37 or so?"
"Something like that, and remember you're using your own lumber"
"So $37 is doable?"
"I work up some numbers next week and get them to you, but yah, it's all good".

So that turned out to be a what I refer to as a "definite maybe". At least it was out there. We put stakes down and measured the dimensions of the cabin. At John's recommendation, we moved the site up 40 feet to more even ground. This turned out to be a great move as now the concrete footings wouldn't need to be so high on the downhill end, and I could see more river from this higher perch.

John left to fry his venison steaks back at his own camp. He had taken a nice 10 pointer and showed me the photo. Maybe one day I'll take a deer too. For now I'm just getting comfortable with the rifle and shotgun, and speaking of guns.. It was around this time that my broker's boss showed up again and, as I mentioned, led two carloads of people into the lots on the eastern side. What an excellent time to fire a few rounds!

I grabbed my dad who manned the camera, put a few rounds in the shotgun and blasted  a treestump, a log, and finally a "No Hunting" sign I had posted. Could it have been jealousy that made me smile when I thought of the broker and city folks jumping and swearing at the sudden shots? They may not have been close by, but when the shots ring out, they sound like they're right there. Very unnerving, but hey, this is hunting season, and it is my land. Maybe those remaining lots will be sold and maybe they'll build a big cabin in direct view of mine, but hell, I'm not doing the broker any favors when my own offer is still out there.

My trusty jeep, Tru-Blu

Great time to fire a few rounds!

The Great North: A City Doc's Escape

Ok, so here I was, at the age of 44, with an established practice, a bit of spending money, and more time than I had in any recent year. A desire to get out of the suburbs where I live, and the city, where I work, led me to taking weekend trips northward. It started with the Hudson Valley and ended up with me spending increasing amounts of time in the Catskills where I fondly remember camping with my father many years back. I'm sure I'm not alone here, perhaps most people have "discovered" the open fields and rolling hills of upstate New York like I have.

My weekend forays were leading incrementally northward and became a part of my normal routine. We would enjoy long drives in the Hudson Valley. We felt refreshed being out of the congestion of the city and sprawling shoppings centers of the suburbs. The few thousand dollars I had to kick around wasn't a princely sum to be sure, but I would be damned if it was going back into stocks. My 401K had taken a hit like everyone else's. I thought more and more of buying small parcels of land, like an acre of two, with what extra income I was able to set aside. Income easily spent on the usual stuff that we can never remember at the end of the month. The goal was to accumulate one or two properties that me and the kids could camp on, either to have some fun and sit around a bonfire, ride ATV's, or just "commune with nature".

After a year passed I was far wiser and had a few grand more to spend. I'd learned that land in the Catskills is much higher in cost when it's within that 2-1/2 hour magical range from New York City. I also learned that land comes in a few varieties. The cheapest of the cheap is land surrounded by other people's land, and may have no right of way in other than on foot. That rules out building or driving your truck in. The cheaper land also often offers, "a gentle slope that affords the owner a view of the valley". The "gentle slopes" that I've been on are range from moderate to rocky cliffs with deep ravines. Good luck doing much here. The next grade in land is the more moderately priced property that has not been "perc tested", meaning no one ever requested a permit for septic. Perc and a septic can be in the tens of thousands. The top properties, exorbitantly priced, are gently sloped or flat, smaller, have road access, and have been subdivided and come with a permit for septic. 

After a fruitless year of looking around, we were exploring increasingly north, where prices fell dramatically at the 3 1/2 hour drive mark. Problem is, this area is now north of the Catskills. It's more like farmland, less like woods. "Ok, this is not what I thought it would be", I remember thinking. After cooling my heels for a few months, I was looking at a map of the state and wondered if, instead of wending a path up through the Catskills and out the other side, I drove on the throughway in one straight shot northward. Maybe in the same amount of time, I'd end up much further than I thought. Turns out it's true. In fact, after a 3 1/2 hour drive north, I was north of Albany already. That's not Catskills. That's the Adrirondacks. The great "dacks", land of moose and bear and the largest national forest in our nation. I was intrigued.

At a thousand dollars an acre, I'd end up with triple the land I would in the Catskills. I'd also end up in the true north, where my imagination was filled with bear, moose, coyotes and deer. What a place to camp! The extra hours drive wouldn't kill me, right? I started surfing all the websites that featured land in the southern end of the Adirondacks and planned a road trip.

So off we went, with a page I had printed at home. On it, a brokers offering secluded properties just north of the Mohawk Valley. It was a lovely weekend and I had spent the first day driving through some towns and scouting the area trying to get a "feel" for various places I saw on the map. On Sunday without much time left, I was able to reach the broker who's 20 acre parcel had seemed nice. "Is the 20 acre piece available?", I asked. "Unfortunately it's been sold", he replied. My heart sank and I wondered if I'd ever find the right spot. "That piece had poor access to the river", he continued. "I have several smaller lots there but they are nicer", he added. I waffled on whether to even make the additional hour drive to the small town. Well, here I am already, so, let's do it.

Driving into the small town, I easily found the store I was supposed to meet the broker at. In fact, it was the only store. Simple. He was in a pickup truck, looked to be about 35 years old, and had jeans and hiking boots on. He drove in front, I followed. In on a dirt road, twists and bends, hills, rocks, mud puddles, we drove over 2 miles before coming to a clearing around 80 feet across. "Now this is remote", I thought. I liked it. Nice and quiet. Private. We set out on foot and walked through deep forest and came towards what appeared to be sunshine and a clearing ahead. I could hear water. IslandGirl gave a thumbs up kind of look and a smile that confirmed I wasn't the only one impressed.

As we broke through into the sunlight, the river caught me by surprise. It was brilliant. Around 90ft across and babbling over rocks with many still sections and some riffles, I said a mental, "wow". What an awesome piece of land. The broker asked me to keep up with him as we walked across to another lot, also on the river. The second lot was as nice as the first. My heart was racing. I guess you might call it love at first sight. When I looked around the forest, I saw more than trees. I saw my kids running around laughing, my father fly fishing for trout in the river, and my mother making camp and relaxing on the porch with a cup of tea.

I made an offer later that day and after a bit of back and forth, I closed a deal. I had bought both lots and was now owner of almost 15 acres. In the next month, after a potential buyer had backed out, I acquired another 2 lots as well, also along the creek. As I write this, I'm negotiating on a 5th lot, meeting again with a local cabin builder, constructing the mount for my wind turbine, pricing solar systems, and letting my imagination soar. What began as the first camping trip with my family ended up as plans for a cabin and the added land. A year ago, this entire chapter of my life had not yet been written or even conceived, now the story is a page turner! My father and I are heading up this weekend to clear some land for a cabin. Time with my father. Sharing the excitement of a new project with mom. Making a fire with CityGirl. You know, they say it's not the journey, it's the destination. For me, when I'm heading north, it's both. And that, my friends, is how this story starts, and how I came to call myself the AdironDoc.

On the way up, you leave the Mohawk River-Erie Canal and climb northward. I never forget to look back over my shoulder at the lovely views.

I don't look like a city doc here, do I?

Camping at the Camp. Priceless!

I love this place!