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A quiet paddle with uncle Brad

We didn’t see the first loon of the day until we were on our second pond. It was off in the distance, too far away to get good pictures of. But so were the only other people on the pond, and even though we could see their small canoes, they were far enough away that none of their sounds hit our ears.

My uncle, Brad, and I had done some paddling together in the past, but it had been several years since we had gone out in the canoe.

The last time we went out together was to paddle a section of the Saranac River between Franklin Falls and Union Falls, probably 10 years ago. After a short portage around some rocks, we re-launched the canoe and almost immediately swamped it, each of us going for an unexpected swim. We were fine, and the beer was still with us, so no harm, no foul.

But this past Saturday we had no such trouble. Brad picked me up and we headed to the Floodwood Road by Saranac Inn with the idea that we would scope out a couple of primitive campsites for an article I wanted to write.

Once we made the short paddle to a beautiful peninsula site on Polliwog Pond, Brad pulled out the map and suggested that instead of heading back to go to another pond we do a loop instead. I glanced at the map, and since the weather was better than predicted and both of us were enjoying a day out of the house, I eagerly agreed.

With that decision, we packed up the tent that we had set up for photos and proceeded on our way. We slowly made our way toward the carry to Little Polliwog Pond, and after finding the rather rough take-out, decided it might be better to bushwhack the short distance.

We launched on Little Polliwog and soon noticed that loon. There were two other people on the pond in small boats, making for a total of five bodies on the water. All of us were quiet and the scene was peaceful to say the least.

After another few minutes of leisurely paddling, we made it to the carry to Horseshoe Pond. The carry was in good shape, and we brought our gear over to the shore of Horseshoe. We sat down, cracked a beer and enjoyed basking in the sunshine on the bank as huge tadpoles with legs already growing flitted around in the shallow water beneath us.

Brad and I talked about the day and the paddle and how great it was to be out on the water after several years of run-of-the-mill life stuff getting in the way of our doing this kind of thing. Even though he’s my uncle, there is a more than 20-year difference in age between my mom and him. In fact, when I was in eighth grade, Brad and I were on the high school ski team together.

After the short break, we motivated a little bit to slowly make our way across the larger Horseshoe Pond. Neither of us had done this trip before, or even paddled on these ponds. Horseshoe was vacant of people, but a pair of loons were fishing off in the distance as we floated toward our next carry.

The carry to Follensby Clear Pond was easy to find since it’s right out in the open. There was a small cherry tree in full bloom next to the sign for the take-out, but we opted to beach the canoe on the primitive campsite to the left of the carry.

The site was in a great location, full afternoon sun and a nice sandy beach. Since it had taken us about two hours to get there, intentionally taking our time, we both commented on how nice this paddle would be to do with our families.

We took note of the clouds getting larger and darker, but there was still enough sun coming through to reduce our worry about the rain that was forecast for the afternoon. We walked the short path to Follensby Clear, making sure that there were no surprises or blowdowns along the way and found that the path was short and open.

Launching the canoe on Follensby Clear, Brad and I made our way to the closest island, then took the long way around. Neither of us was in a hurry to get back to chores and bills and kids.

Rounding the island, we let the wind push us along as a loon swam and dived off to our left. We drift-paddled to another, larger island and pulled up at another primitive site. We strolled around the island and made a mental note that this island, with a couple of sites on it, would be perfect for a large group to camp on. The views from the site went up the pond channel in one direction, and a few steps away the vista stretched out to the end of the pond.

As the wind picked up a little bit, we floated along the windward side of the island until the breeze wouldn’t help us along anymore. Brad was a good sport and kept us moving as I tried to take some shots of the loon which had been joined by two more of the black and white birds. The iconic Adirondack waterfowl were too far away for good pics, but their presence was enough to make us feel grateful for the mental image.

Finding the carry from Follensby Clear back to Polliwog to complete our loop proved only slightly more difficult than locating the previous carries. The sign for the carry to Green Pond was prominent and shone brightly in the sun. But the sign marking the trail to Polliwog was hidden away off to the left of the visible carry. No big deal, we had an idea of where it should be and located it with just a little effort.

Moving the canoe across the little spit of land separating the two ponds, we were just out of sight of the truck. Since our paddle was coming to an end, we decided to take another break and have a snack before launching on the final leg of the journey.

As I was stuffing my face with peanut butter-filled pretzels, Brad quietly but excitedly asked where my camera was. Since I had had limited luck getting pictures of loons, I had put it back in a dry bag for the last little paddle of the day.

I grabbed the camera just as Brad was pointing at the water about 20 feet away, where a loon with a bright blue band ringing its neck was lazily swimming by the canoe launch.

The loon seemed completely unfazed by our presence, and after a few minutes of sneaking around to take pictures, I eventually walked out in the open to get closer shots. The loon was unperturbed by either the clicking of the camera or our increasingly vocal amazement that it was simply hanging out so close to us.

After grabbing more than enough good shots of the loon swimming and diving, we decided to launch the canoe again and head back to the truck. The wind was still up a bit, at least enough to keep the bugs down on the five-minute paddle back. We saw a few guys fishing on the shore of the pond, and one had a fire going getting ready to cook a late lunch.

Brad and I opted for burgers and beers in Gabriels, and as we rehashed the day, we made plans to do more paddling this summer. After the short but rewarding four-pond loop we had done, both of us were anxious to get out on the water more than every couple of years. And even if we end up going for an unexpected swim like we did in the Saranac all those years ago, floating around with my uncle is one of the things I hope to do regularly this summer and for the rest of my life.

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