588 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Nov. 9, 1912 
A Vacation in the Adirondacks 
W E left home on the evening of the sec¬ 
ond of August, and after a journey 
of more than a day, reached the Mecca 
of the East, Lake Placid. 
The next morning we were refreshed and 
eager to begin our preliminary practice for 
mountain climbing. After breakfast we drove 
sixteen miles through the most beautiful valley 
past the Cascade Lakes to the Owl’s Head, at 
By ELSIE SCHNEIDER 
Photographs by the Author. 
we could see Marcy, the Big and Little Ele¬ 
phants, and many other mountains in the Senti¬ 
nel Range. 
Tuesday we arose at five-thirty, jumped 
into our middies and bloomers, put on stout 
high-topped shoes, and after a hasty break¬ 
fast, started toward formidable Mount Marcy. 
Three guides—Hull, Hail and Martin— 
carried all our duffle, except a few steamer rugs 
We were caught in several light showers, 
which gave us a few bits of rest under the over¬ 
hanging rocks. Our longest rest came at noon 
when we fell wearily upon a large rock in the 
brook, and there ate our cold lunch. 
We moved on for a few rods and came 
upon beautiful nameless falls, about one hun¬ 
dred feet high, made when nature heaved up 
two immense rocks, stood them strata on end 
“moosettes.” 
AN UNLUCKY NUMBER AT THE TOP OF MT. MARCY. 
Keene, famous for its maple sugar and griddle 
cakes, which are made fourteen inches in di¬ 
ameter, stacked seven or eight deep. 
We spent the first afternoon on the side of 
a little hill from which we could get a com¬ 
prehensive view of the surrounding mountains. 
Monday afternoon we went to Hurricane 
Lodge, which looks like a pocket edition of 
Lake Placid Club, without the watermarks. 
The lodge is about half way up the mountain, 
with a good wagon road all the way. 
We came down Jackson Hill, from which 
and tin cups. The John’s Brook trail, which 
we followed, leads over an old lumber trail 
with bits of corduroy road. When the roads 
became impassable for horses, we got out and 
walked. Our guides, with well-filled pack-bas¬ 
kets, started up the woody trail, which is much 
like that on the lower half of Whiteface Moun¬ 
tain. Mr. Martin, who owns the camp on 
Marcy, shortened the regular and longer trail 
by leading us right through the bed of John’s 
Brook for two miles, over stones, into puddles, 
often through the shallow cold water. 
and lavished her laughing waters over them. 
The next few miles led us through a forest 
of pines, balsams, impressive hemlock and 
spruce, with their black trunks and sighing 
branches. Here and there a silver birch stood 
in bold relief against the dark evergreens. The 
maple and the sturdy oak are missing on the 
higher trails and there even the graceful willow 
forsakes the banks of the brook. Ferns of 
every kind nod gracefully in the pine-ladened 
breeze, and with the little pale white flower that 
(Continued on page 604.) 
beede’s lumber camp. 
FROM TOP OF MT. MARCY LOOKING WEST. 
