Toadstools and Trail Tales
The Northville-Placid Trail: Piseco to Lake Placid
Good evening, friends,
Sunday night, at around 9PM, Ciara and I returned home after an adventurous thru-hike in the Adirondack Mountains. We started our journey in Piseco, NY and headed northbound on the Northville-Placid trail (part of the same section I hiked with Phil last September). Six nights, seven days, and 100 miles later we haggardly stumbled into the town of Lake Placid.
Throughout the trek, I did my best to document the impressive diversity of mushrooms and trail escapades as they presented themselves. If you want just the mushrooms, scroll to the end, otherwise I hope you enjoy the story.
Background
We could’ve gone for easier hikes in closer locale, but I felt compelled to return to the same trail that Phil and I hiked last year because the forest is just so impressive. The trail winds next to the biggest trees I’ve seen in the northeast. Nowhere have I seen larger white pines, birches, hemlocks, and maples in both width and height. All that old growth forest generates lots of mushroom diversity, as well, and makes it a phenomenal place to see mushrooms I’ve never seen before.
The objective of this hike was multi-pronged. We wanted to not only immerse ourselves in this incredibly intact ecosystem, but we also wanted to prep for a hopeful thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail next spring. We wanted to test our gear, our mental and physical endurance, and figure out what works and what doesn’t.
Initially, we were going to hike the entire 138 miles of the NPT, but time constraints and a lingering wiffle ball injury (one thing I’ve learned since turning now 31 is that there can be such thing as a lingering wiffle ball injury) made us opt to park the car in Piseco and hike the northern 100 miles of the trail.
Wounds, Self-inflicted and Otherwise
Any thru-hike isn’t without its hiccups. Some hiccups might be avoidable, some unavoidable, and we were victims of both.
Upon arrival we quickly understood that if there is great tree and fungus habitat, there’s going to be great insect habitat, too. Particularly with the insects that like to bite — this time of the year those are mosquitos and deer flies. They were all over us before we even got out of the car, and shorts were quickly fazed out of the wardrobe after the first day.
Thunder also began to rumble a couple hours into our hike. We had just come upon a campsite, and could’ve set up the tents to play it safe, but wanted to push a few miles further to the lean-to. It’s nice to have a roof in the rain.
Naturally, we’re walking directly toward the rumbling thunder. Well, about fifteen minutes later, we were in the middle of a downpour. I, wearing my 100% cotton Mushroom Monday shirt (to impress all the deer flies) which managed to never fully dry over the next six days. Shoes? Soaked beyond comprehension to ensure next day’s hike would be a wet one regardless of the weather. Ciara squeezed water out of the laces as she tied her boots on the next morning.
That next day we (I) slept in and didn’t break camp until 10:30. That wouldn’t have been too big of a deal if we didn’t get a few miles down the trail before I realized I didn’t have any of my bracelets or necklaces that I had hung up to dry after the rain. I realized that if I wanted to get them it was now or never, so that prompted an impromptu 5k back to where we just left. At least we didn’t have to carry the packs on the completely avoidable down and back. We only hiked a net eleven miles north that day (seventeen total) and this left us with a “behind the eight ball” feel to finish on Sunday.
Back to back twenty mile days in the right direction (alright, technically nineteen) put us back in a comfortable place mentally, but certainly not physically. Our feet were raw after walking that far through what felt like perpetually wet trail. Though it only rained that first afternoon and the last night, the trail wound through several bogs and beaver ponds so our shoes were saturated on the regular.
Hiking in wet socks isn’t good for your feet, but the results can be good for the minnows that lived in Stephens Pond. A school of them quickly helped themselves to the buffet of detritus that had collected in and around my toes.
The feeding frenzy attracted another hungry little pond dweller: a leech. I was able to flick one off me before they got fully attached, but I was incredibly impressed by the determination and sticktoitiveness this little bloodsucker demonstrated.
The leech, undeterred by an unsuccessful first latch, desperately tried to climb out of the water to get my foot which I had resting just a couple inches from the surface. The leech would make a failed attempt to climb on land, swim a lap, then try again to see if it had learned to walk in the interim. At least five times. Honestly, if I didn’t need all my blood dedicated to my legs for the hike, I might’ve rewarded that tenacity with a little snack.
Speaking of snacks, the other aspect of the hike that presented a challenge was the caloric intake, or our lack thereof.
The trail only crossed roads near towns twice: once near Blue Mountain Lake and once near Long Lake. I packed food anticipating that we would resupply in one of them, and that way we wouldn’t have to carry as much all at once, but I did pack enough (to survive) in case we didn’t. Well, that early sense of being "behind", coupled with road crossings either too early in the morning or too late in the evening, made us eschew the resupply and press forward.
We had enough dehydrated dinners to satiate us each night, but our offerings during the day became rather bleak. Nothing quite like splitting a Clif bar for lunch to reward yourself after five hours of hiking.
A Charity Case
We were in a bad place calorically, and it looked like that would be the case for the last two days of the hike, before we got a little help from a familiar face…
The New York State Department of Environmental Conservation leaves registers at the major trailheads which they request overnight hikers sign with their name, where they plan to go, and how long they plan to be there. This is both to monitor use of the trails and to be able to assist in case of an emergency.
I like to browse the registers to see where people are from, and on the fourth day, as we entered Lake Durant State Campground, I noticed a name that sounded familiar: Tom Walsh.
Five years ago, in June of 2002, I hiked the Shawangunk Ridge Trail with Phil, back when we lived together and worked in Central Park. While we were on the trail, we ran into a quirky and charismatic hiker named Tom Walsh just south of Wurtsboro, NY. He was thru-hiking the entire 358 mile Long Path to raise money for charity, and I remember I even mailed his sister a check to contribute after we finished our hike.
As I scanned the register I had a hunch this was the same Tom. It was 7/10 and I noticed that he had come through on 7/8, so we were a couple days behind. I was pretty keen to catch up with this Tom Walsh to see if he was in fact the Tom Walsh I had met five years ago.
Well, we were in luck. As we forwent the trip into town, we were able to catch up with him a day later down the trail. He wasn’t in much better shape than we were, but he was carrying a few more calories than us and insisted we take some food after hearing about our half a Clif bar diet. He even found it in his heart to give us a Poptart, the trail equivalent of parting with a family heirloom.
Not only was he charitable with his food on the trail, he was once again walking for charity — his sixth consecutive, annual charity hike.
Two of his neighbors were recently diagnosed with cancer, so this time he was hiking to raise money for their families. If you’d like to support Tom’s charitable efforts, or learn more about his other philanthropic efforts, you can visit the Gofundme he set up for the two families here.
There were two other hikers we ran into, Greg and Andrew from Chicago, who were thru-hiking the entire trail northbound. When they found out about our caloric plight they bestowed upon us even more snacks. Soon we were flush with candy, granola bars, and electrolytes. The way they so easily and selflessly turned our half a Clif bar day into one rich with KitKats, pretzels, and Sour Patch Kids was nothing short of Jesus and the Feeding of the 5,000.
The last night C and I hiked to just a touch over five miles south of Lake Placid. We wanted to be in town early because we didn’t necessarily know how we were going to get back to our car. Ciara and I swapped our personal strengths and weaknesses at one point during the hike, and my number one self-declared weakness “lack of organizational skills” was rearing its head once more. First mild starvation, now stranded hours from the car.
We got into Lake Placid on Sunday around 9:30 AM and our first action was to engage in a significant caloric binge at the diner (four entrees between the two of us, culminating in homemade banana bread french toast). Now, with bellies full, we were staring down the issue of getting back to our parked car. 100 miles by foot, which was out of the question, so it was an even longer route by the road.
An Uber was a few hundred dollars, a scheduled shuttle service even more than that, so we figured we’d try to hitch a few rides to see how close we could get. It worked almost flawlessly for Phil and I last year when one of us (not throwing anyone under the bus) had a little snafu and didn’t remember their keys when we left their car at the terminus of our hike.
Right across the street from the diner we caught the free Lake Placid shuttle to the outskirts of town and then sat on our packs with our thumbs up for the cars headed west toward Saranac Lake.
We were stymied for the first half hour and felt that our chances of getting back to the car without shelling out a couple hundred bucks was quickly evaporating. This wasn’t even the hard leg of the journey, we were just looking for a ride fifteen minutes over to the town of Saranac Lake. The idea that we could string together over two hours of rides seemed unrealistic.
However, all it took was one break. A kind couple from Saranac Lake pulled over (mostly because they felt bad that a girl was having to hitchhike 😅), and we were on our way. We strung together rides from Lake Placid to Saranac Lake, Saranac Lake to Tupper Lake, Tupper Lake to Long Lake, Long Lake to Blue Mountain Lake, Blue Mountain Lake to Speculator, and finally Speculator to the trailhead in Piseco. It took us a mere three hours to get back and we didn’t wait more than fifteen minutes for a ride after the first one.
An enormous thank you to Robert, Chris, Cassandra, Anne, Jodie, Nicole, John, John E., Scout, and Billy. We couldn’t have done it without you kind folks. You put the cherries on top of our banana bread french toast.
The Mushrooms of the Northville-Placid Trail
And finally, without futher ado, the mushrooms. Highlights from the ~89 or so different species I found:
Golden coincap (Cyptotrama chrysopepla)
Violet Coral Fungus (Clavaria zollingeri)
Lion Shield (Pluteus leoninus)
Caterpillar Fungus (Cordyceps militaris)
Mystery Polypore
Collybia (Now Gymnopus) with Collybia Clouds (Now Gymnopus Clouds I guess)
Chanterelles (Cantharellus)
Orange Earthtongue (Microglossum rufum)
Tawny Grisette (Amanita vaginata group)
Greenfoot Fibrecap (Inosperma calamistratum)
Bonus plant that relies on fungi to germinate their seeds : Bog Orchid (Platanthera orbiculata)
You know it’s a good one when we bulldoze way past the "Post too long for email” warning that Substack throws up after ~13 pictures or so. Thanks for reading. Keep on trekking,
Aubrey
hey anytime man haha good luck!
Thanks for sharing! Sounds like y'all had quite a genuine adventure. I appreciate the effort to document your fungi finds amidst the arduous effort.