To the editor:

I went for a paddle the other day in an area I have been paddling my whole life, but had taken a couple of years off of for no good reason. This was a place where if I saw one other paddler all day, I was disappointed, and seeing two paddlers, which rarely happened, made me downright cranky.

In a recent effort to draw people “away from the High Peaks,” lesser known, far-flung areas became the target for increased usage and easier access. Up went the state Department of Environmental Conservation signage and out came the magazine articles, social media stories and the cute local public radio story about this particular little known place.

Fast forward to the other day. I round a bend into the mouth of this backwater and am greeted by 14 other kayakers, merrily chatting and spread out in all directions. I am, of course, horrified, but glad they are on their way out. In an effort to calm myself down, I run through the possible environmental impacts of such a large party. Nothing too bad other than noise and pee breaks, I surmise. I paddled for a bit, came around a big rock I have often picnicked on, and I saw it. A lily pad field that was once so thick you could imagine walking across it, a quarter acre of large green leaves and flowers that you had to pick your way through, following the narrow opening caused by the current or risk tangling your paddle in a web of roots, was no more. There are still lily pads but nothing like before. During the rest of my paddle I ran into a few more (thankfully) smaller groups of paddlers and saw more areas once dense with lilies and potamogeton that have been significantly thinned out in just a couple years since the DEC signs went up, etc. Did DEC’s recreation management plan for this area consider the domino effect impacts of upsetting these habitats? Some places need to be harder to get to. Some places need to be kept quiet about. All the sweeter the discovery for the ones that work harder to get there.

I found out the paddling party of 14 kayaks (28 spinning paddle blades) was being led by the Adirondack Mountain Club. Shame on them. They should certainly know better.

My special place has been discovered and is being loved to death. There are days when I see over 20 cars parked at the access point. Keep your special places a secret. Let’s rely on talking to each other with our actual mouths and discovery by looking at maps and wondering, not social media, to carefully reveal these fragile treasures. And when we do venture in, consider the impact even something as seemingly benign as a paddle can have on a single plant.

Leslie Dame

Saranac Lake