Unknown Pond, Found!

The last couple of years, we have been exploring south of Camp in the Silvio Conte Wilderness Area and surrounding privately owned land. Picnics at the Lewis Pond Overlook and a couple of fishing expeditions later, we are reasonably acquainted with the area. However, one pond had eluded our grasp, despite Alan, Jacques, Bandit and I giving it a real try last fall. But, yesterday, after much climbing and much mud, we found it -- and Unknown Pond was unknown no more.

Having missed the whole month of July, which we never do, we arrived here to spend the first week of August with Mrs. Cattier. Hardy is working this summer as a sous chef at Quimby's, so he was already here. Hardly had I walked in the door than the phone rang! (Pause to watch a heron gliding across a calm Great Averill.) We decided we would hook up Sunday morning and try the Gore Mt road to Unknown, which Hardy had found gated in late June.

He arrived at Camp at 8:30am, bearing breakfast fixings and proceeded to make himself comfortable in the kitchen, whipping up a bacon, onion, potato and egg scramble that was delicious and filling. Later in the day, we sure were grateful for that filling breakfast! Hopped in Hardy's Suburban and rolled down south on 114 to Island Pond and then on to Henshaw Road. Back in the woods, we split off onto Gore Road and then came to the gate -- locked. Bummer.

But Alan was not willing to give up that easily. He had the Garmin and triangulating our position, pronounced triumphantly, "It's only 2.7 miles, guys, and not much elevation gain. Come on!" Never one to pass up an adventure, Hardy and I looked at each other and said "ok!" Now, since we were not anticipating hiking, we weren't exactly outfitted for it -- except for Alan, who has his hiking boots and socks (maybe he had this plan all along?). My choice was Tevas or sneakers without socks (went for the Tevas); Hardy's was Crocs or put on his waders and wading boots -- he went for the latter. And off we went.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, and nowhere near the pond, I looked at Alan and said, "This isn't a 2.7 mile hike." "No," he admitted, "It's not. But we're almost there." Soon after that, we arrived at the logging clearing that signalled the end of the road. A path continued on through muck and grass (Tevas were a good choice). Oh, and did I mention that it has been and continued to be quite steep?

While mucking it up the mountain, Hardy's sharp eyes spotted a whole moose skeleton. No rack but an intact skull and other bones. A little past that, Alan headed right off into the woods. Hardy and I continued on the path until Alan shouted that he had found the pond. Hardy spotted a way through walking through a little creek that was obviously headed for the lake. Creek is probably not the right word -- it was more like a moving bog with earth sucking pools that threatened to consume your whole body. Hardy bounded his way through the mud, even carrying two rods; I was much less graceful but did emerge eventually, to have my faithful heroes prepared to assist me by photographing me staggering out of the brush. Chivalry is dead, ladies and gentlemen!

The pond was kind of anticlimatic. It was low (been dry here) and algae-ridden and had a really muddy bottom. Hardy waded in (had to make some use of those waders) and cast some but couldn't get far enough out to where the fish were. There was an amazing abundance of frogs. Never seen so many in my life. And it was a beautiful place -- very remote, only populated by three cabins. A little reminiscent of Perry Pond, although warmer.

As Hardy and I piddled around the lake, exploring and catching frogs, geek guy Alan fiddled with the GPS. "Hey guys," he announced,"it was 2.7 miles *as the crow flies* -- we did more like 4.1!" Yes, Alan, we did. And we were about to do it again since Hardy had to be at work in like....an hour. Oops.

Suffice it to say, walking down and out went faster than going up and in (as it always does).

And that is the story of how Unknown Pond became known.