Adirondack Sportswoman: The Bowfin

By Melanie Houck

Friday, September 7, 2012

Welcome to the Amazon! I think this every time I come to this other-worldly place. Dead trees reach far out into the water along the narrow channel, and lush trees tower on both sides. Strange birds flitter about, screeching in protest at our invasion. The water is slow moving and very green, hiding a plethora of strange, exotic creatures that occasionally show themselves in the murky depths. We are not in the deep jungles of another country, but in our rowboat, meandering along the bizarre and exotic LaChute River. If you don’t know it, it’s a short river that flows out of the northern end of Lake George, and into the southern end of Lake Champlain. With connections to the St. Lawrence and ultimately the ocean, all kinds of unusual fish swim up this river and stop at the LaChute Falls in Ticonderoga.

Today, three of us are in our small motorboat. My husband Roger was dismayed at first at just how low the water was. With intentions of fishing the backwaters, he worried they’d be too low and weedy to be fishable. I poo-poo his negativity, reminding him that the ‘monster’ we are going after could be just about anywhere.

With tackle boxes and heavy rods, we head away from the falls and the launching site. Rog, anxious to get to the backwaters up the river, guns the engine but I tell him to take it slow because there are some really neat things to see along the way.

“Holy moly, look at that monster! It’s over there under that log!” I shout and Rog stops the trolling motor.

“Oh my gosh, get your crayfish out there!” Rog whispers, and our buddy Samuel and I then stumble and bumble frantically, trying to get our bait towards it. This is the second largest bass I have ever seen, most likely in the 8-9 pound range. The fish is too smart for us, and it sinks back into the murky depths, ignoring my huge, wiggly, yummy crayfish.

We move on and within minutes are plopping all kinds of bait in front of another bass, this one tiny in comparison at ‘only’ five pounds or so. It doesn’t even notice us and I try to get some pictures as it rudely snubs our bait. Ouch, what an insult.

The Roger spies a strange, beautiful little bird hopping about on limbs of a downed tree. He coasts over for a look; I think it’s a green heron. We laugh as it hops about, stretching its neck inquisitively and arching the feathers on the backside of its head.

These little herons are everywhere. In fact, great blues and bitterns (all part of the heron family) are all over, squawking and flying off. I see kingfishers, hear an osprey calling, and I know where an eagle nest will soon come into view. The bird ‘nerd’ in me is going nuts in this birder’s paradise, and I almost forget that we are here to fish.

We come within sight of the tall weeds and narrow opening leading to the backwaters and are momentarily distracted by a 4-foot carp that shows itself briefly. “No way can we get in there,” Rog says. He’s right, all we can see is muck, choking lily pads and pickerel weeds.

“Let’s head to the mouth of the river and see what’s along the shore,” I suggest. I warily scan the horizon. Our little pocket of blue sky is now completely surrounded by dark menacing clouds and far off thunder. We are running out of time, so Rog revs up the motor and we head to where river meets lake. Weeds tower over our heads on either side of the channel and thousands of sunfish scatter below us as the boat moves along.

An opening appears and we sneak through a channel that meanders through thick weeds. Rog slows down and I shriek, “I see one! It’s going right under the boat!” Our intended target, a huge, dark, fat, slithering bowfin is finally within sight. We help Samuel get his bait into the water. He’s more patient than I am, calmly trying to keep from getting tangled in all the thick weeds in the shallow water. We can’t see the bowfin anymore, but we know he’s near. These ugly, scary fish have no fear, they don’t mind the boat, and even if we do spook one, it will quickly come back. They have wide, round heads with big eyes to the side, a long dorsal fin on top, and can get up to over three feet long, weighing over 20 pounds. They are some of the most aggressive, voracious feeders and give one heck of a fight. I get chills when they appear, quietly slithering out of nowhere.

Five minutes later, one appears and slowly takes Samuel’s bait.

“Hold on Samuel, wait for him to totally take it and swallow it, before setting the hook,” Rog cautions him. This is always the hardest part, waiting, knowing the fight of your life is about to happen if you time it just right.

“Now!” I say, and Samuel pulls his rod up a bit, but the bowfin is already on. He horses the fish for a while as I take pictures. Rog gets the net ready and a few minutes later Samuel’s first bowfin is angrily thrashing in it.

He’s all smiles as we try to help him hold on to the fish long enough for a photo. These fish are nasty and will even bite with their sharp teeth if provoked. Seconds after I snap a few, it goes crazy, so Samuel releases it back into the water. We know there are more out there, but by now lighting is visible and the storm is most definitely coming our way, so we have to cut our fishing trip short. But we are happy. Our mission is accomplished!

As we head back at full speed, I can’t help but think of the show ‘River Monsters’ from the History Channel. I am semi-convinced there are creatures in here we can’t even imagine and I’m not sure I want to. And yet, I keep coming back for more. Someday I hope to see my first long-nosed gar, which thrives in Lake Champlain. If you’re looking for a really neat, other-worldly adventure, take your boat on the LaChute!

Drop me a line at melanie.houck@gmail.com.

Tags: Adirondack Sportswoman, Adirondacks, Bowfin, Melanie Houck, Outdoors

Adirondack Sportswoman: In Pursuit of Moose

By Melanie Houck

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Normally I like to build a little suspense but I’ll just come right out with it. I have yet to see an actual moose while on my moose ‘hunt’…or have I? The latest and greatest moose update is here!

For the past few months, Roger and I have had two trail cameras set up, deep within the state land near our home, and recently we were able to check the cameras together. We had set one up on a dam between two beaver flows that are a highway bridge of sorts for the deer. We are also scouting for the deer hunting season, of course. We eagerly swapped out memory cards but had to wait until we got back to our computer to see what was on the card. We then continued on to where camera #2 was located, near a set of three beaver flows, and this camera was just inside the woods along the shore of the third and largest flow. We chose this spot after seeing some fresh moose sign along the edge of the second and third flow when we were last out here. Things were looking good, as the camera had shown that a few pictures were taken.

This particular flow is huge. It is lily pad heaven, and far from most human interference. That day, we got cozy with the deer flies and we watched the swamp for a while. It was a beautiful day, and the dragon flies flitted about, ducks quacked and turtles and fish subtly made their presence known. Our silent observation was moose-less.

Eventually we had to begin the long trek back, as this beaver flow is well over a mile back into the woods, but the picture shown here does speak for itself! The fresh moose sign we saw pointed to not one, but three moose, as it appears we have a mamma and twin babies living in our area. But ‘our area’ is a loose term, as moose have a huge range of territory that they live in.

Since then I have checked the camera a few times and we have gotten some deer pictures but no more moose. I haven’t seen any fresh moose sign. There are many swamps and beaver flows within a five-mile radius, so I am beginning to think they just might cover all that territory regularly. A neighbor told me that someone saw a baby moose a mile from our house in the other direction, right by the road. It could very well be the same baby we got on camera, but there is no way of knowing for sure. It’s a little funny that despite all the miles I’ve put in to see one of these beasts in the wild, I could just as easily see one on the side of the road by my house. In fact, I know quite a few people that never look for them, yet have seen more moose in this area than I have! I plan to keep on hunting, hoping that one day I will actually see one of these goofy, beautiful creatures and capture a live image!

I try to go on a moose hunt every two weeks, with all the rest of my hikes being to observe the heron nest. This past Monday I went in to see them probably for the last time, as the three vibrant, healthy ‘babies’ will soon fledge. They were quite entertaining to watch as they hopped about the nest, tested their wings over and over, attacked the twigs in the nest with misplaced hunting angst, and pecked at each other playfully. I said a sad, yet grateful farewell; I have enjoyed seeing another successful family reared in my treasured, special swamp. I’m sure I’ll see them in the lake or area swamps throughout the rest of the summer and into fall.

There is always something awesome to see in the woods of our beautiful Adirondacks! Despite the difficultly of bush whacking in bug central, I am so grateful for the chance to get out, and never quite knowing what I might see! I would love to hear of your own moose sightings! Drop me a line at melanie.houck@gmail.com.

Tags: Adirondack Sportswoman, Adirondacks, Melanie Houck, Moose

Adirondack Sportswoman: Moose are Indeed on the Loose

By Melanie Houck

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Big bucks, mammoth bears, and huge moose, oh my! This is my own version of that famous Oz song. When hunting here in the Adirondacks, I’m usually sitting on the ‘edge’ of my dirt spot, knowing these trophy animals are out there and just might actually come within sight, even if the chances are slim. I dream of shooting a trophy buck, or any buck in the Adirondacks; I have yet to shoot one in the park. I would love to shoot a mammoth bear, or even a normal sized bear as I’m still waiting on my first. As for moose, there isn’t a season on them here…yet. I have a feeling that will change someday. Moose are most definitely on the loose. More and more people are seeing them in the park and one sighting was by yours truly!

Throughout this past deer season we saw more moose sign than deer sign. We would see their droppings, tracks, and trees stripped of bark at seven feet off the ground. We’ve since learned this indicates that they were eating bark, a common staple of moose at this time of year. I started taking my camera with a zoom lens in the hope that I’d capture a moose this way! There are numerous swamps and lowlands in the area, along with mountains and ridges, apparently perfect grounds for a small, growing moose population.

Enough suspense. It was a Saturday in December, the second to last day of hunting season. We had some friends who came to hunt, with 8 of us altogether. There was still some snow on the ground, just enough so anything moving through the trees would stick out. We were hunting my favorite woods, where, when it wasn’t hunting season, we have seen huge bucks (the irony of hunting). We have caught a huge bear on trail camera here, so we know they are definitely out there at large, keeping me awake many a night, dreaming of a chance at such a grand animal!

After a couple drives and no deer, we settled in to eat lunch. There’s nothing like camaraderie in the woods. We built a fire, and past deer blunders and blooper stories commenced, followed by much laughter.

Shortly thereafter, I was in charge of setting up the next line of watchers, strung out along a major creek. I set up the first three people on good spots with deer trails and open woods for long visibility. Meanwhile four others were climbing the long way up a mountain and would then walk down it, hopefully pushing deer to any of us four sitters.

I was the last person to sit, and by the time I’d got the third person settled, I was entering new territory. All I was going on were descriptions from my husband, Roger, about what the woods here looked like. I had my compass, of course, something I don’t go anywhere without in these big northern woods. I decided to sit on a knoll where off to my left was a shallow creek running down to a main creek. I sat right on a deer trail with fresh tracks going up the mountain. I was excited; I really felt like something cool just might happen.

I couldn’t see all that far, as there were a lot of beech trees with leaves still on. The snow was thicker here and everything was covered. With the sun shining, it glittered exquisitely. Sometimes you really do just know when you’ve found a good spot.

I was in mid-daydream about a huge buck coming down the trail when I heard something that sounded like a deer bounding straight at me. I got my gun up and excitedly waited. I saw movement and realized this was no deer. A huge, dark animal was walking right at me, and then veered to my left. I stared for a second as the Bull Moose moved along the edge of the tiny creek. He casually loped along, his huge, goofy head bobbing a bit, with decent sized paddle horns. Scrambling, I tried to get my camera, which just had to be situated at the very bottom of my pack. This was the one time I didn’t have it easily accessible, on and ready to go. The moose wasn’t even 80 yards away. By the time I got my camera up, he had stopped behind some very thick brush, and my camera wanted to focus only on the branches in front of him. My breath caught, wondering what he’d do next. I’ve heard of them walking towards people unafraid, but he walked on, down the hill and off further to the left, never giving me another chance for a good photo.

I sat there frozen for I don’t know how long. Did that really just happen? I’d hoped fervently for such a moment, and then it came and went so fast. I was breathing hard and shaking, adrenaline pumping. I was bummed I didn’t get a picture, but I know I won’t soon forget the memory. Few people would describe a moose as beautiful, including me, but it was nothing short of awesome, amazing, majestic and super cool! Later I learned that Roger had seen four moose beds in the snow, and we figured that he pushed that moose right to me.

Hunting season is now over. But for me, moose ‘hunting’ has just begun. I am going to keep looking and hopefully capture one on camera. I’ve been out several times and seen a lot of sign that they are still out there somewhere. Some fresh tracking snow would help. Moose are a newer phenomenon in the Adirondacks, and are largely a mystery. This is part one of my planned moose series. Stay tuned for a more in depth look at moose and their habits, their primary food sources, behaviors, etc. And, here’s hoping for a picture or two of one!

Tags: Adirondack Sportswoman, Adirondacks, Melanie Houck, Moose, Outdoors

Adirondack Sportswoman: Big Lakers

By Melanie Houck

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

This is a big moment for my husband and me. As I eagerly head towards the dock, I feel a little pang. For the first time since our daughter Hannah was born exactly four weeks ago, I am away from her for more than an hour; I miss her, but I’m so excited for our coming adventure. Good friends wait for us by their boat. We are about to head out onto the crystal clear waters of Lake George, and the weather is perfect. There are lots of clouds but the sun peeks out occasionally, and the temperature is pleasant. I know my little one is in good hands, and I already anticipate the time when she’s big enough to go boating and fishing with us.

We all clamber onto their boat. Already, I can’t thank our friends enough. We are about to fish for Lake Trout in August; something I’ve wanted to do for years. I’ve enjoyed fishing for trout through the ice and a little bit in the spring when they are in the shallows, but at this time of year, they head to the deep waters, which in Lake George is way, way down there. Lake George is as deep as 195 feet, but today, we are focusing on just the first 100. Still, that’s pretty deep!

Off we go, heading out towards the deep. The mountain backdrop looks so familiar, though usually I am walking on the water and rounded out by many warm layers in the middle of February. Today, in my tank top and shorts, I close my eyes and soak up that refreshing breeze off the water. It’s much more pleasant, not to mention easier getting to our fishing spots by boat rather than waddling at a slow pace in my many winter layers!

Before I know it, we are at the first ‘honey hole’ spot. Our buddy Shane is a master at Lake Trout fishing, anytime of the year. I am envious of his many fishing stories and all the pictures of nice-sized Lake Trout. It’s been two years since I’ve been able to catch a nice Laker on Lake George. We haven’t had as much time to fish as we’d like, plus it seemed my luck had run out. Today I am excited, but trying not to get my hopes up, but that’s like telling the sun not to rise; I can’t help that exciting tingle in my belly, and the anticipation of picturing the first glimpse of a hooked fish emerging from the depths. I keep telling myself that it’s enough that we are enjoying time with good friends. But hey, who am I kidding, a fish would be awesome!

Shane shows me his methods of success. He doesn’t use just any old line; he uses heavy wire line with a heavy leader. He uses a larger rod, the kind used for deep sea fishing. The wire line is good for getting down to the bottom and jigging for the Trout.

Shane gets his line to the bottom relatively quickly, with a simple gold lure on the end. “We’ll catch fish today,” he says. His confidence gets me even more excited. He’s had pretty good success already this summer, usually catching fish on every outing.

Shane hands me the line. “Just hold it and loop it partway around your finger.” I start pulling the line up and down rapidly, making sure to feel the lure hit the bottom before I bring it up off again. I feel like I’m trying to start a lawn mower. This isn’t how a person would usually picture fishing, but it’s pretty simple and even relaxing. And just like that, I am officially jigging in 106 of water for Lake Trout. After being used to having to work hard to get one or two all day from below the ice, I hope fervently that we have enough time to catch even one.

Melanie with her catch

“When one is on, you’ll know.” Shane settles down and watches his depth sounder, making sure we are drifting at a good depth. “This is good grounds. We should have one on.” I can tell he’s as excited as I am. And my excitement only builds.

Just fifteen minutes and with no fish, we pull up to move on to another secret spot. We are over about 100 feet of water once again, and down goes the line. I settle in to my seat and start jockeying the line, constantly up and down. I ask Shane if he’s seen any bears near their house lately.

“Oh! Something’s there!” I shout as I jump up. One second there’s no pressure, the next there’s a very heavy weight and I can feel something moving on the line far below. I get flustered, “What do I do, what do I do?!”

“Hold on, wait a minute,” Shane is so calm and patient as the volume of my voice steadily rises. He helps me grab on to the pole and start reeling.

Our friend Kim helps me hold on to the big rod. “Oh my goodness, this is heavy!” I give it all I’ve got, which seems rather pathetic as at times I couldn’t reel at all. I can’t believe how hard it is to reel this thing in!

“That’s a good fish,” Shane says, leaning over the side of the boat, already with the net in hand.

“Wow, is this thing heavy,” I shout. One hundred feet seems more like 300 now. Where is this thing? Am I going to lose it?!

“There it is!” Shane gets the net ready and several people are snapping away with their cameras.

“Oh my gosh, that trout is huge,” I holler as Shane brings it in. Congratulations go all around as Shane pulls out the biggest Lake Trout I have ever caught, by far. Kim and I high-five, as it took some great teamwork to bring this lunker up! I can’t stop laughing as I take the fish from him, just now realizing my arms are sore and shaking from the exertion. Now I have to hold up this heavy fish. But I am far from complaining.

Roger takes a million pictures and I can’t take my eyes of this beautiful fish. He’s not super long at 27 inches, but he’s quite fat at nine pounds, and very healthy looking. I can’t believe that just like that, I caught one! I am now completely hooked on a new method of fishing.

Surprisingly, we don’t catch any more Trout. Roger catches a nice smallmouth in 70 feet of water. We all catch some nice rays and great visiting time on the water. It ends all too soon, but I am anxious for my daughter to see her first lake trout, which is about as big as she is! I don’t imagine she’ll care all that much yet, but she will. Oh my yes, she will.

Tags: Adirondack Sportswoman, Fishing, Lake George Fishing, Melanie Houck, Outdoors

Adirondack Sportswoman: Fishing for Crappies

By Melanie Houck

Saturday, August 13, 2011

“That is one big bucket of crap!” I rolled my eyes, smiling to humor my husband. “Holy crap!” He exclaims again, bringing in another one.

“This sure is a crappie day,” I can’t resist joining in. It’s hard not to be in a good mood on this kind of an evening. The sun had just slipped behind the nearest mountain and the air finally cooled off. There was just enough of a breeze to ward off most of the bugs. The rare blue sky was a welcome sight from the usual gray rain we’ve experienced a lot of this spring. It was a wonderful evening, especially because of the ever growing bucket of ‘crap.’

Ok, I’ve had too much fun with word play here. It’s as bad as a kid is with the word ‘poop.’ But for some reason, one of the yummiest freshwater fish around is called a ‘crappie.’ I’ve written about the joys of perch jigging, and how delicious they are. Well another lovely pan fish that is part of the sunfish family is the crappie, and in the springtime the crappie bite can be exciting and nonstop.

On this fine evening, it was almost too easy, so I decided I wanted the extra challenge. I pulled out my fly fishing rod. “Nice cast!” Rog exclaimed as I managed to get my line out an adequate distance. I’ve learned that the more I think and worry about my cast, the worse I do. My casting has since steadily improved!

It wasn’t hard to get one on my fly. But keeping them on was at first a challenge, as I’m still learning how to reel in a fish on a fly rod, making sure to keep the line tight. Crappie are harder than most fish, because they have a delicate, papery thin mouth that is difficult to hook. I lost the first few but then caught on pretty quickly. Once again that soothing, rhythmic casting of the line had me relaxing and further enjoying an already splendid evening. Roger and our friend Michael continued to excitedly haul in these cool looking little fish, one after another. Their enthusiasm was no less each time. It’s such a great feeling to know that in just a couple hours, we can catch enough fish to supply almost a week’s worth of meals. I could eat these fish just about every day too!

Melanie with her Crappie catch

We usually use a small simple lure called a gitzit, sometimes with a piece of a worm attached. On a night like this, the extra worm doesn’t make much of a difference. They bite no matter what. We like to keep it moving, though not too fast, bopping the line as we reel it in. We discovered later on in the evening that a small jointed rapalla was just as hot, especially for some slightly bigger crappie that were able to grab on to a bigger lure like that.

I never even heard of a crappie until I met Roger. Back while we were dating I caught one and he had to tell me what the heck I had on my hook. They are neat looking with black and shimmery gold speckles. They have a small head, high forehead with close-set eyes and a small, papery, thin mouth. They taste similar to a perch, light, lacking any sort of a ‘fishy’ flavor like a trout or salmon might.

They don’t usually get any bigger than 18 inches, averaging 9-10. Other names they are known by include strawberry bass, paper mouth, calico bass, or speckled perch. Interestingly I’ve heard most of these names at various times, assuming they were different kinds of fish.

For years now I’ve wondered about the origin of the name ‘crappie’ but never bothered to investigate until now. It is amazing the stuff you learn when you show an interest! I’ve heard them called crappie for the past five years but the official correct pronunciation is actually ‘kropie’ or ‘croppie.’ The word crappie derives from the French Canadian word ‘crapet.’ While that makes for kind of a boring reason for such an interesting name, at least we can still have fun with it!

After ‘mastering’ the fly rod for the evening, I switched to a jointed rapalla, catching some nice sized crappie. Roger steered our canoe towards some promising lily pads. I cast along the edge of them and felt a fish on. It felt small at first, until my rod bent double and my drag kicked in. I knew this was no crappie. The typical shrieking commenced and Roger got the net out. Five minutes later I was proudly displaying my four pound bass, marveling at the intensity of the fight. Bass season wasn’t for another few weeks so back into the water he went. But the memory, of course it will stay with me always!

I sit here writing this article with a belly full of crappie (and a baby, I might add!). Yes, that still sounds funny to me and probably always will. I can’t wait to take our little daughter to our favorite crappie and bass pond. What better place to teach a little one the joys of fishing for crap?!

Tags: Adirondack Sportswoman, Adirondacks, Crappie, Fishing, Lake George Fishing, Melanie Houck, Outdoors

Photos by Clea G. Hall

Multi-Tubing! Tubby Tubes in Luzerne Offers Year Round Tubing

By Melanie Houck

Saturday, July 9, 2011

I never imagined I’d be standing in shorts and tank top in summer, about to jump in a snow tube and slide down a hill. Here at the brand new Tubby Tubes Tubing Park, it is the main activity and I’m about to discover why!

I look out over the valley below, getting a fluttery nervous feeling in my stomach. It seems kind of high and steep from here. Shane, the friendly slide attendant, arranges my tube and I sit down. On the tube behind me is Shane’s brother in law and owner of Tubby Tubes, Eric Hamell. “I’m ready!” I cry and Shane gives us a good push. Instantly our ‘two tube train’ is flying fast down a smooth, white, low friction, synthetic year round slide. I shriek for most of the fifteen seconds, and I can hear Eric laughing behind me. I hop up like a little kid at the bottom, exclaiming that I wanna go again!

Eric’s dad Dave awaits us at the lift, with a friendly smile and easy instructions. Just have a seat and it will gently pull you up! I watch to my right as kids and adults alike laugh with glee as they fly down the two slides . They hope to build a third one soon.

At the top Eric shares more of his vision with me. In 2002, his long held dream came true when he started Tubby Tubes Tubing Company, providing guided tubing trips down a beautiful stretch of the Hudson River near Lake Luzerne. He’s now branched to this all-season downhill tubing park (One of few of its kind within the US!). They are now open all year, jobs are sustained, and people can either tube in a bathing suit or snowsuit!

“I created models of what I wanted to build, using Play-Doh, and for years it sat on my desk. People were wondering what the heck it was,” Eric said. It is obvious that he is passionate about tubing and his ambition and drive has paid off immensely.

After another great slide I feel reluctant to hand over my snow tube, but I also can’t wait to check out their main attraction.

A little boy runs past us, laughing and eager to get back in line. Eric beams as he says how cool it is to watch a kid leaving the park crying. Not that he likes to see kids cry, but because they had so much fun they don’t want to leave.

Eric then sends me on to my next adventure; attacking the mighty Hudson with nothing but a tube. I arrive in time to get ready for the 1-3 pm tubing trip. Our main guide Phil greets our tribe of eager tubers and it is apparent that he loves his job, especially as he greets a few of us with squirts from a water gun.

“Ok raise hands, whose first time is it?” he asks and a bunch of us raise our hands. “Oh really, you’ve never been on a bus before? “

This is my kind of humor. We all climb onto the blue bus named Brutus and before long PhiI, Jeff, and the other guides have us cracking up with their crazy jokes. Brutus carries us down a dirt road and Phil excitedly points out the window, informing us that all those things out there are genuine live trees. We are really getting the backwoods experience! Our guides even look like mountain men straight out of the high peaks, bushy beards, tanned skin and all.

Soon we reach our launching site. We unload quickly, and I am surprised at how wide the river is. The Hudson appears deep and fast moving, no doubt from recent rains raising the water levels a bit. With quick efficiency all fifty or so of us are given happy looking bright yellow tubes. Phil demos the difficult process of ‘correct butthole alignment.’ Those are his words, not mine. I would rather not give away too many of his ‘classy’ jokes, you really need to hear them for yourself.

I exclaim as my toes first touch the cold water, and laugh with a couple of other people as we all do a little dance at first. But overall it feels so good after all this hot weather.

The current caries us at a decent though not too crazy pace. I feel a nudge and smile appreciatively at the guide on a kayak who just gave me a push so I wouldn’t float away into some remote backwater. Everyone relaxes and a certain camaraderie settles over us tubers, even as several have water guns trained on each other. All our cares are left behind on the shore as we sit back and let the world flow by. The scenery is amazing. It feels like you are deep in the mountains with woods on all sides, truly experiencing the Adirondacks. Look for eagles, as they have been spotted by tubers before!

We take a break along a rock outcrop where some climb up to jump in while many of us continue to chill in our tubes. No one’s in a hurry, and I pretend I don’t hear Phil say that our final destination is within sight, but I know the fun has to end at some point. The tubing trip is about an hour long, but it feels so much shorter.

Many people come back to Tubby Tubes year after year. I know I will! If you’re looking for a really cool multi tubing experience, Tubby Tubes is the place to be! It is fun for all ages, as little ones can tube too! The staff is excellent, friendly, and highly efficient.

Tubby Tubes is open seven days a week through July and August. After Labor Day Weekend they are open on weekends for river tubing until October 12th. The snow tubing is open all year. Lazy River tubing offers trips of various length and you can also kayak or raft if you choose. Call for more information or visit their website at www.tubbytubestubing.com. Call for info on Lazy River Tubing at 518-696-5454 or for Year Round Snow Tubing at 518-696-7222.

Tags: Lake George Activities, Lake Luzerne, Lazy River Tubing, Melanie Houck, Snow Tubing, Things to Do, Tubby Tubes, Tubing

Photos by Clea G. Hall

What’s Up: Stand Up Paddling on Lake George

By Melanie Houck

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

“This is almost like walking on water!” This was my first thought as I successfully stood up, tottered a bit, and managed to stay upright. I felt my leg muscles tense, and my toes automatically tried to cling to the wet, smooth surface I balanced upon. I tried not to think about all those little waves constantly rocking my fiberglass island, nor the steady wind that would be felt all the more once out of the haven of the docking area. I was fully decked out in my bathing suit and life jacket, 110% sure I was going to involuntarily perfect the ‘art’ of falling off my board. It was a beautiful day with few clouds, and despite my trepidation about the waves, the wind felt good.

Ah summer in the Adirondacks! It is finally here, as fleeting as it is. For outdoor enthusiasts, there’s no end to the possible activities to squeeze in those free hours. Today I took a lesson in another fun activity to add to my ever growing list of watery escapades; using a stand up paddle board, otherwise called a SUP.

When asked if I would be interested in trying it, I was definitely curious as I’d never heard of SUPs before. I felt just a tad concerned because I know that I don’t have the sense of balance I used to, for whatever reason (never age!). Once upon a time I played sports regularly, was pretty athletic, and considered myself to be fairly ‘balanced.’

I was relieved that the day was nice and warm, so falling often wouldn’t be quite so horrible. My friend Oli and I arrived at the boathouse of the Lake George Kayak Company and were greeted by instructor John Flynn. He introduced us to our boards which are similar to surf boards. I really didn’t know what to expect, other than what the brief video on YouTube showed me.

Melanie and Oli

Our gear was simple; a paddle board ranging anywhere from 9 to 14 feet long, really long single blade paddles, and life jackets. That’s it! John shared with us some tips on several of the different strokes we’d use to maneuver, and also some of the history of SUPs. The sport has a Hawaiian origin and is relatively new in the rest of the states. In just the last few years the sport’s popularity has spread throughout the US, starting to reach further inland into places like Lake George. I felt pretty excited, knowing we had the privilege of learning a sport that maybe few people had yet to hear of.

Once the initial instructions were complete, we slid into the ‘warm water, and by ‘warm’ I mean…bbbrrr!! This was my first time this year getting into the beautiful crystal clear waters of LG and it took a minute to adjust. I tried not to think about what it might feel like if I involuntarily plunged my whole self into the water. I learned how to get onto my 12 foot board, hoisting up onto my chest and then sliding on. We started out on our knees, getting a feel for the board and the motion of the small waves. Slowly we stood up and took another few minutes to get our bearings. We stood facing forward, not sideways like in surfing, making sure to be in the center of the board. I looked around grinning like a fool. This was cool! After my initial excitement over ‘walking on water,’ the fisherwoman in me thought how much fun it would be to fish standing on one of these things. John said that people do, and even mentioned seeing a video on YouTube of a guy reeling in a shark off one of these boards. Later on, I checked it out and while I wouldn’t mind a bass or trout off this thing, I’m not quite ready to take on a shark. In fact, I think I’ll skip that activity altogether. The video is worth seeing though!

The water is so clear on LG, and looking down from the board, it was a neat sight to behold. I was literally on top of the world, the aquatic world that is. John once again demonstrated some of the paddle motions, how to go forward in a straight line, which is called the Jay stroke. Seconds later Oli and I were blown away in the opposite direction by the wind. Skinny people standing on a board can be easily influenced by a good gust.

Learning from the experts at Lake George Kayak Company

After just an hour though, my legs stopped wobbling and shaking, and I could not only paddle forward (maybe not quite in a straight line but I was no longer floundering in circles!) with or against the wind, but I could also voluntarily go backwards and turn around! Along with John’s simple and clear instruction, it doesn’t take long to get the hang of paddling, especially if you have any experience in canoeing. There’s something magical and even a bit majestic about standing tall on one of these boards and gliding along. Races do exist for SUPs, especially on the west coast. John told us that races range from distances of 3k to 22k! He also noted that women seem to be the most interested, as this is a great and easy workout. Even though you don’t move your legs much, you are engaging those muscles for balance, as well as your arms and your core for paddling. You can’t beat that. A great workout, all while standing still!

It was hard to get back off my little floating island and end our incredibly fun lesson. Speaking of lessons, the Lake George Kayak Company offers them seven days a week if you call a week ahead to schedule, and they have great instructors like John Flynn. They offer great rates, and you can rent SUPs for an hourly rate, a half day or four hours, up to a full day. This is their second year selling and renting stand up boards and they are excitedly anticipating what the future holds for this sport. You can sign up for a lesson, rent a board, and then if you really enjoy it, buy your very own, all right there at the LGKC. They have a fantastic and very informative website at HYPERLINK “http://www.lakegeorgekayak.com/” http://www.lakegeorgekayak.com/. You can call them at 518-644-9366, or check out their store right on Main Street of Bolton Landing, across from the Grand Union.

One day there just might be races on Lake George. I’m not sure I could picture myself at that level just yet, but I am looking forward to trying it again. I really like the idea of cruising along on one of these boards, working my way up Lake George. Talk about the beautiful views, both above and below! This activity has definitely been added to my list, and I encourage all of you to sign up for a lesson and check them out for yourself! Oh and by the way, I didn’t even fall by accident once! Neither of us did! I voluntarily ‘fell’ in to practice getting back onto the board and it was surprisingly refreshing. So if I can stay on and have a blast, so can you!

Tags: Bolton, Bolton Landing, Lake George Events, Lake George Kayak, Melanie Houck, Outdoors, Stand Up Paddleboarding, Things to Do

Fly fishing on Lake George. Photo by Clea G. Hall

We’re Hooked on Lake George Fly Fishing

By Melanie Houck

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

My husband Roger and I received two beautiful fly rods as wedding presents. I have touched mine once and experienced only deep frustration. But today I am finally going to face the mysterious giant known as fly casting. I’m a bit nervous but I’m also determined. I tell myself: I will make contact with the water rather than my feet; I will not lose anyone’s hat; and I will catch – wait, let’s be realistic. Is four hours really enough time for me to learn to catch a fish with a fly rod? But I will at least try!

Roger and I arrive at Bolton Landing’s town dock where we meet John Tarrant, owner and guide of Mickey Finn Fly Fishing guide services. Introductions are made, and Tarrant gets right down to basics – the flies. Flies are so colorful, imitating all kinds of bugs, they are small works of art themselves. He has an amazing collection and eagerly explains the purpose of some of his favorites. I find it hard not to get excited about nymphs as he explains why trout love to go after a fly representing one of their favorite foods. Then he pulls out his all-time favorite. “What works on Lake George is the Mickey Finn. I’ve fished it for years – it resembles nothing in nature, so it’s strictly an attractor.” Just like people, fish like colorful things too.

Now for the basics of the fly cast. I groan inwardly and outwardly. My experience up to this point was mostly tangled messes, and the line all bunching right at my feet with occasional water contact. Next to Roger’s experience, I feel pretty silly. But I figure this guy has dealt with my ‘kind’ before.

As an instructor at the Orvis fly fishing school in Vermont, Tarrant is a skilled casting teacher. His directions on timing and where and when to stop your rod during forward and backward casting are simple and direct. While my casting improves a smidgeon within twenty minutes of demo on the beach, I am already feeling more confident that things might improve once on water.

We climb aboard Tarrant’s beautiful twenty-foot-long Action Craft Flats Boat, complete with joist stick controlled trolling motors, a draft of only 11 inches, and enough fishing gear to stock a sporting goods store. The 200 horse power motor lays silent for only a few more minutes as he gives the safety speech and we nibble on good biscotti and sip coffee he’s provided.

And then we’re off! Tarrant knows the southern end of Lake George, like a turtle knows its shell. He sets up upon a rocky shoal that rises up to about 20 feet, with 80 or more drop offs on either side. I gaze down in awe. The water, even at 20 feet deep, is crystal clear! We could see sunfish, minnows and all sizes of bass. Now to actually get one of them!

It’s time for the real thing. Sometimes putting too much thought into an activity can make it harder. Tarrant emphasizes that “the only way to really learn is to do it. I mean, just start flailing away…” And flail away I did. I stand upon the rear casting deck with the whole lake at my back, no obstacles for tangles in sight. This is the ideal spot to perfect the graceful fly cast. With this kind of unhurried atmosphere and good instruction, each cast seems to get a little farther out.

After a particularly far cast out (mind you, I am actually getting my line out beyond the boat!), I feel a heavy tug on my line. With a fly rod, you feel so much more than with a spinning rod. I squeal ‘I got one!’ The fish bursts out of the water, fighting hard, and suddenly wriggles free of my hook. It was a good sized smallmouth – almost within my grasp! Tarrant is as disappointed as I am, but tells me to get right back out there.

I am rewarded within minutes, as my line pulls and moves off to the side. I shriek and remember to pull in my line by hand and triumphantly bring in my first catch; a rock bass.

“Way to go!” He hands me my catch and insists I get a picture. I don’t argue, for this is a monumental event.

Mikey Finn Fly Fishing's John Tarrant shows technique. Photo by Clea G. Hall

“Amazing! It felt huge. I can’t even imagine a large fish on that thing!” I stare in awe at the fish, trying hard to imagine a five pound bass. I’m beginning to realize what I’ve been missing.

“Do you think smallmouth fight harder than other bass?” I ask, still remembering that close call of a few minutes ago, and trying desperately to cast that way again hoping the fish was still hungry.

“Oh, they dance” Tarrant replies. And as I continue to false cast my line before letting it go, I feel like the word ‘dance’ fits fly fishing in multiple ways. The movement of the rod and line is graceful, as it arcs above, behind, above, and to the front of my head in a smooth, rolling motion. And like dance, it’s all about timing and lots of practice, of course.

Meanwhile Roger’s rod bends and he pulls in a nice smallmouth. “The Mickey Finn strikes again!” Tarrant proudly proclaims. The name of his charter services and boat fits quite well.

I manage to catch another rock bass and am happy, even as Roger out-fishes me. The atmosphere is relaxing, as the sun warms our backs, the light wind cools our faces and the soothing sound of the fly line rolls through the air. We ask Tarrant if the economy is impacting his guide service. For him it’s actually picked up. I could see how it’s hard to be worried about the next paycheck or the stock market when you have forty feet of weight forward fly line, about to settle a tiny fly directly on top of a hungry fish. Nothing can compare.

Before we know it our time is up. As we head back,Tarrant shares some thoughts on fly fishing that really hit home for me. “There’s a mystique about it – I take a lot of people out and they are just really nervous at first. They are very reluctant to start casting because they are afraid they will do it wrong. The message is that it’s not that hard.”

He laughs and continues, “On a four hour trip, I mean, look at your cast from the beach this morning to now. You were getting some distance. If people realized it wasn’t that hard, they would get into fly fishing.” I smile as Roger nudges me. This morning I was one of those people scared about fly fishing. Now I can’t wait to try it on my own. I now have goals beyond just getting my line into the water. I want to experience the feel of a 5 lb. bass or good sized trout. I want to get my cast out there as far as Roger can.

We dock and Tarrant shakes our hands. “So get those wedding presents out of the tube and onto the lake!” He laughs and we join in. I tell him I most certainly will and we thank him for an amazing day.

Tarrant also guides on the Schroon River. In the fall he is a guide for several weeks up in Alaska, fly fishing for salmon. For further information, some great pictures, and contact info, check his website out at www.mickeyfinnflyfishing.com or call at (518)423-6074 and book your trip today! John’s enthusiasm and love for fly fishing is ‘catching’ and you will most certainly be ‘hooked!’ I know I am!

Tags: Fly Fishing, John Tarrant, Lake George Fishing, Lake George Outdoors, Melanie Houck, Mickey Finn, Mickey Finn Fly Fishing, Outdoors

Adirondack Sportswoman: Vernal Visitors

By Melanie Houck

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

I crept along through the woods, at a snail’s pace, or, I should say salamander’s pace, my eyes glued in fascination to the ground. They were everywhere! I worried that if I would look up and step just once I’d flatten one of them. It was May of last year and the woods were dripping from the previous night’s rain. The forest floor was literally covered in fiery orange red efts, or red spotted newts!

Since becoming and Adirondacker, I’ve noticed these cute little guys, mostly in the spring, when everything is moist from all the rain. It’s hard to resist the urge to pick them up carefully, and exclaim over their cuteness. They can grow up to a few inches in length and have fiery orange bodies with red dots, outlined in black, all over their backs and sides. As a photography enthusiast, I love to shoot of these amazing critters, placing them on gray rocks and focusing on that beautiful contrast of color against a duller background. It’s great to zoom in on their little reptilian faces, capturing those large eyes located on either side of the head. They care little, as they continue to slowly make their way to wherever it is they are trying to get to.

Photo: www.edupic.net

Seeing these little guys in the woods and on the side of the road, I realized that I know very little about them. The red eft is only the middle or ‘teenage’ stage in the life of the eastern newt. This is also called their ‘land stage,’ which can last up to 3 to 4 years. They have three stages of life: the aquatic, the red eft or terrestrial juvenile stage, and the aquatic adult. When I saw the pictures of what they look like at each stage, I was surprised to discover that I’ve seen them at all three of these stages, and what I thought to be a variety of newts or salamanders are one and the same! Newts are actually a type of salamander. So it would be correct to say that all newts are salamanders but not all salamanders are newts.

Newts start out as tadpoles, developing a flat tale and legs and living in the pond they hatch in, looking like a mini version of the adult, mostly brown or olive in color. Two to five months later they crawl out and turn orange with red spots. Not only do they change coloring and design, but they lose their gills and develop lungs. I can’t help but wonder why? Why start out in water, leave for a few years to wander the forests, and then wander back to a pond to live out the rest of its days? They live quite a bit longer than one might think, the average life span being 12 to 15 years. Once they return to the water and reach their adult stage they turn a yellow-ish brown or olive color, retaining their red spots and growing up to five inches long.

Newts have no natural predators, since their skin secretes a poisonous substance when in danger or injured, so it’s no wonder we see so many; few fish or birds will want a piece of that. Their bright orange coloring on land and bright red spots in the water are a warning to stay away.

Late winter to early springtime is their mating season, and this is when I see the adults swimming along the shores of bodies of water. The female newt will then lay over several hundred eggs, one at a time, on underwater plants. Many of the eggs never make it to hatching, and even as the newts progress through the various stages of life, there is a naturally high mortality rate. But those eggs that do hatch will do so in about a month or two. The red efts that wander on land for a few years will hibernate under rocks and logs during the winter, eating small insects and snails. Once they instinctively feel ready to return to the water, they will eat anything from insects, worms, small crayfish, snails, tadpoles, amphibian eggs and fish eggs.

One last interesting fact: adult eastern newts have four toes on their front feet and five toes on their back feet. I start noticing the tadpole or adult newts in early spring along the edges of lakes and ponds. Just today I was jogging and the red efts were all along the sides of the road. I even managed to save a few that were foolishly in the middle busy lanes! This is just scratching the surface of learning about their amazing, complicated little lives. Read more for yourself ! Who ‘newt’ the kind of mysteries and neat little discoveries that await an adventurer, just off the beaten path or along the side of the road!

Tags: Adirondack Sportswoman, Adirondacks, Melanie Houck, Newts

Adirondack Sportswoman: Turkey Talk

By Melanie Houck

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Let’s talk turkey. I’ve hunted turkeys for six years now and have yet to take my first turkey. They amaze me, humor me, annoy me, infuriate me, and elude me. I have had some awesome encounters with turkeys, and I would like to try and share a few of those moments from this year so far with a camera in my hands rather than a gun.

It’s finally spring time and the hormones are raging within those gobblers (male turkeys). Lately I’m starting to see turkeys along the roads around here, fanned out in the woods, and in the occasional field. One morning way back in March, we awoke to hearing gobbling across the swamp behind our house, through our opened window. Turkey season was more than a month away but already my adrenaline was pumping, and I quickly came fully awake. The sound of a turkey gobble is one of the coolest sounds in nature (right up there with the call of a Loon!) and hearing that is both exciting and tormenting. If you’ve never heard one before and are curious, check out this great sound recording of multiple gobblers: HYPERLINK “http://soundbible.com/1315-Turkey-Gobble.html” http://soundbible.com/1315-Turkey-Gobble.html. Spring is when turkeys mate and when males will gobble, or call for the females.

A few weeks later, my husband and I were driving through the Adirondacks after a trip to visit family in Western NY. Along Route 8, close to sunset, we saw some large hens feeding in a little open yard by an old abandoned house. Of course, I urge my husband to stop and he complies. At first it appears as if it’s just a few hens. That is, until we pull forward a little more and just behind the house is a large strutting gobbler. His tail feathers are in a full fan, he’s dragging his wings on the ground and his head is white and red from all the blood rushing straight to it. We scramble and get the camera in position, taking scores of pictures in an instant. We captured all angles as he strutted in a full circle. We had to laugh, for despite all his flaunting and showing off, as they do to attract the females, the hens could have cared less and were more into eating bugs and dirt. Ouch.

“Here, I’ll turn around and then drive past them until the house is between us and they can’t see us. You get out and sneak up to get closer!” Roger’s mind was working fast, and I jumped at the chance to get closer. I shut the door quietly and tiptoed across the lawn, though that was hardly necessary. The wind was whipping, drowning out the sound of my feet as I approached. It was the perfect set up.

Photo by Melanie Houck

I peeked around the corner. Just like that, I was within twenty feet of a huge, beautiful horny male turkey. All the shimmering colors within his feathers were catching the light from the setting sun. The greens, the bronze, the whites, the beautiful perfect fan of his tail feathers, and then that crazy, funny looking head all tucked into his fuzzed out body. He strutted around some more, then abruptly unfuzzed and picked at the ground, only to fuzz/fan back out again and strut for a minute. I clicked away, although at first I was unfortunately not using my flash for fear of alerting them to my presence. Amazingly, I got away with a lot, considering how skittish turkeys usually are. They have even more amazing eyesight than deer, and pretty darn good hearing too, though thank goodness their sense of smell is lacking. I have literally only blinked in the presence of a turkey and it spooked and ran off. This was a rare moment where their guard was actually down.

I got bolder and turned on my flash, and come to find out later, those were the only pictures to semi turn out. They still didn’t have a clue, and eventually they headed off into the woods. The gobbler eagerly followed, inflamed ego and all, as the darkness crept in and they were heading to their roosting trees. I ran back across the yard, heart racing and a silly grin to boot. That was the second closest encounter with a turkey I’ve ever had.

As I shared the story with my husband, I also lamented that if only it were turkey season and that situation had occurred on land I could hunt, I’d easily have my first turkey. Why couldn’t they be that easy to stalk during the season?! I may not be able to kill a turkey, but I got some great pictures in various encounters. I can learn to be grateful for that and realize that is an accomplishment itself!

Not too long after that event, I had my closest encounter. I was driving to work and saw a large gobbler walking across a tiny field on my right side. I slowed down and pulled into a road that turned along the edge of the field. The turkey stopped and laid right down in the field. I pulled out my camera, got out, and started walking towards it, clicking away. The turkey didn’t move. I was closing in: Fifty feet, then forty, thirty, down to twenty. By now it had its head down and was just lying there, still as can be. I got plenty of photos and to within ten feet or so before the silly thing suddenly realized it wasn’t so well hidden and that I just may be dangerous. It got up and ran off. And that became the closest I’d ever been to a turkey.

I gotta admit that as it ran off and I snapped a few more pictures, I laughed right out loud. Turkeys run funny, awkwardly with their tiny head on a long neck, round body bobbing up and down a bit, and their two legs really pumping up and down rapidly. It’s like watching a tall, slightly wide person with arms flat to their sides pumping their legs up in down in place, while bobbing.

The turkey season lasts the whole month of May. One of the ways us turkey hunters hope to get a bird is by calling the male turkeys to us. Yes, when I say let’s talk turkey, I also mean literal turkey talk. I don’t have time and space to get into all the many types of calls out there, but simply put, there are various calls created to sound like a female turkey in heat. When done correctly, at the right place and right time, it is incredibly exciting to have a gobbler gobble back at you. It’s even cooler when they actually come to you! But even if they DO come, often times their amazing eyesight discovers the human or they get nervous if a hen doesn’t show up real fast. I’ve seen many turkeys the last six years of my hunting career but never quite in gun range. I could write a book of all my blunders, close calls, and almost’s. So, regardless of that pea sized brain of theirs, thus far, those turkeys have outsmarted me!

God’s creation is so full of the cycles of life, of new beginnings, of starting over. Just forty years ago the turkey didn’t exist in most of our state. But they got a second chance and like with the beaver, extensive transplanting efforts resulted in a rapidly growing population of these adaptable and resilient creatures. Despite my impatience at getting my first, it’s apparent they aren’t going anywhere and I will get a chance not only in spring, but also the fall turkey season, which runs for all of October. But for now I have a whole month to attempt, and maybe, just maybe, everything will fall into place and I will talk turkey with one eager male and have the privilege of bringing him home. But in the meantime, I’m going to focus on the great opportunity to get out and watch the sunrise and soak in the glory of a beautiful spring morning and hopefully get a few good pictures too. If interested in learning more about turkeys, check out the link at the DEC website that provides some really neat info as well as some other interesting links: Website

Tags: Adirondack Hunting, Adirondack Sportswoman, Adirondacks, Melanie Houck, Turkey Hunting, Turkeys