Perspective
requires a certain amount of elevation.
From the
Rap-Shaw Club dock at Williams Island paddle north toward the Stillwater Dam,
staying slightly to the left of Chicken and State Islands. Cross in front of
the State Landing where several dozen of the modest cottages that make up the
hamlet of Stillwater line the shore. Do not turn out into the main part of the
reservoir, but continue northerly to pass through the narrows between an
inhabited island and a stubby peninsula jutting out from the north shore. The
dam forming the reservoir can now be seen on the far left. Turn right into the
north arm of the reservoir and stay left near the north shore.
This arm
of the reservoir was created in 1925 by flooding the lower section of Raven
Lake outlet stream. A small deep pond along Raven Lake outlet, known as the
Kettlehole, thus became part of the reservoir. The Kettlehole is still there,
of course, now just a deep spot at the far end of the north arm. Beautiful
campsite #1 is located at the Kettlehole, quite near where the outlet stream
tumbles down Kettlehole Falls. A DEC maintained trail leads up the steep bank
behind campsite #1 along the outlet stream to Raven Lake. It’s scenic and worth
the trip.
But, I
am not headed to Raven Lake today.
About a
quarter of a mile from the turn into the north arm there is a largish island in
the middle of the arm. Keep to the left at the island and stay as near the
north shore as possible. Unless the water level is extraordinarily high, a prominent
rock along the shore should come into view on which someone has painted the
word “UP.” It’s easy to miss this marker, so keep a close watch. It’s pretty
much the only hint of the existence of a trail that can be seen from the water.
Near
shore the trail crosses several small rocky ridges. The trees are sparse here,
allowing for considerable undergrowth. By moving slowly and keeping an eye out
for the red markers, the trail is easily discernible. Within a hundred yards or
so the trail enters mature forest.
This is
a classic northern mixed woods forest. The dominant
tree species include red spruce, balsam fir, eastern hemlock, red maple, and
yellow birch. Here and there are stands of majestic old Eastern white pine. The
trees are mostly large and mature. There is no evidence this forest was ever
logged. Back in 1894 Dr. Webb sued the state because he claimed the new dam
made it impractical to conduct logging all along the north shore of the new
reservoir. To settle the suit the state bought 75,000 acres from Webb, all the
way from the dam to Witchhopple Lake. Ever since, these woods have been
protected from logging as a part of the Forest Preserve. It is easy to believe
that many of the trees here have grown undisturbed for well over one hundred
years. It is cool and dark. It smells of balsam and old leaves.
As I climb up from the reservoir the balsam fir gradually
disappears to be replaced by American beech. Understory vegetation appears in
any bright spot with shrubs of witchhopple, honeysuckle, striped maple, as well
as seedlings of beech, white pine and balsam. Ground cover includes masses of bunchberry,
yellow clintonia, common wood sorrel and dozens of types of ferns and mosses.
Decomposition is slow in the damp, acidic conditions found on the forest floor.
Everywhere there is a deep accumulation of needles, leaves and other organic
materials making every step slightly spongy.
I stop
and listen. Away from the water it is profoundly silent. There is an occasional
birdcall. A light summer breeze stirs the trees. Nothing more. It is quiet
enough to hear my own heart as it slows its pace.
The
trail itself is a revelation. Because it is seldom used, it is not worn to rock
and mud. The occasional fallen tree branch creates no serious obstacle. I look
at the trail ahead. I am certain the faint path through the woods looks exactly
like the trails of 150 years ago. I feel like I’ve travelled back to the days
when the Beaver River country was mostly unexplored.
I have now
reached the spot where the trail starts to truly climb. I painfully slab across
a rocky hillside and struggle up a few very steep spots. It gets even steeper
for a short bit then, as I round a large rock outcrop, I see blue sky through
the thinning trees. I exit the trees and scramble up a slab of bare rock to the
summit.
This
spot is not named on any map I have been able to find. In fact, the trail I
have just followed does not appear on any map either. Members of Rap-Shaw Club
have always called this spot “Bald Mountain” but I don’t know if anyone else
calls it by that name.
The
rocky outcrop faces generally south. From here on a clear day it is possible to
see nearly the entire length of the reservoir. Looking back the way I came I
see the dam, Stillwater Landing and, in the near distance, the docks and green
roofs on Williams Island.
I have
reached the necessary elevation. The Beaver River country is spread before me
in every direction. Behind me to the north I can only see forest. When I look
east I see nothing but woods and water all the way to the horizon. Far to the east
I can just make out a pale gray outline of high mountains. To the west the only
sign of human activity is the dam and a few cottages. Looking south I can see a
vast sheet of sparkling water rimmed by trees and a few small islands. This
world appears almost completely as it was before any white settlers reached it.
To be sure, underneath the surface there have been many changes. The animals,
the fish, the birds, the forest and the water have all been altered by the
presence of humans, but here on Bald Mountain, I can easily imagine it as it
once was – the wilderness.
I tell
everyone who comes to visit Rap-Shaw that they should climb Bald Mountain. I
tell them that every club member has climbed it at least once and many climb it
every year. Along that trail, more than anywhere else in the Beaver River
country, the primordial past still lives.
The
members of Rap-Shaw Club climb Bald Mountain for the perspective.
