Quest for the Mountain Mistrel

Adventures are getting harder and harder to come by these days, but God be thanked for old friends with wheels. Our spirits percolated with excitement as the worthy Golf whisked us from Ottawa to the nearest mountain. Mt. Marcy was our destination, the highest peak of the Adirondacks at 5,343 ft. We could do no less. This spectacular mountain wilderness just happens to be the dwelling of a particularly rare and beautiful bird. Chantal, being no fool, already suspected there must be an ulterior motive for this quest. Birders know of which bird I speak. 

The summit is in view

"Only recently considered a separate species from the Gray-cheeked Thrush, the Bicknell's Thrush has one of the most restricted breeding and wintering ranges of any North American Bird." (http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Bicknells_Thrush/id). 

The route was 30 km to the summit and back, a light stroll for a fit young man and woman. But we were off to a rocky start even before our boots struck the trail. Chantal was asked to work Saturday morning, which delayed us, but more importantly, we were set back a whole 15 minutes because I forgot to write down directions. I received much scolding due to this, and my rusty gear-shifting abilities in the Golf. 

By the time we had reached the trail head, it was nigh 7 o'clock. "Plenty of time to reach camp" I reassured. As the sun went down, I lighted the way with my beaming positivity, but my companion was starting to have doubts, about the hiking in darkness thing and uncertainty of how far ahead the nearest campsite lay. "That's why we have headlamps." That she had hiked to Cape Scot on northern Vancouver Island solo was my best argument for us to carry on. It helped little. Despite my positivity and expert nocturnal guiding skills, she had lost complete confidence in me. Nevertheless, withstanding a couple hours of scolding was a small price to pay for a chance to witness the melodic minstrel. When I had received a 10 minute ultimatum (I'm not sure what the threat was, we were in the wilderness) we suddenly saw a glimmer of light and heard the faint sound of hearty banter - it was the Adirondack Mountain Lodge! From the wilderness to the company of fellow hikers, my companion's spirits soared and I too was a little relieved I have to admit. The friendly Innkepper Dom even leant us a bear barrel. We were offered a room (for free!) by a group that had rented the whole place, which I would have given them some money for of course, had not Chantal resolved to continue to the next camp site. We had knocked off 7 km, 23 were left for tomorrow. 

The stunted forest where dwelleth the mountain mistrel

With a new day came a new vigour in our step as we sped to the summit. Well, occasionally I sped a little too far ahead. A couple more scoldings for nostalgia's sake. Then we entered the mountain monastery of stunted black spruce, and no sooner had we noted the change in habitat, we heard it. Yes, that was definitely it: the song of the Bicknell's. I gazed in reverence for a full 3 seconds at the mountain mistrel. Seizing a once-in-a-lifetime moment, I attempted to secure a second view, so that I could further reinforce this moment in memory. However, my old companion hastened: "I know how this goes, you'll be here for 2 hours..." Then I realized: "Nothing worth doing in life takes 3 seconds." 

Diapensia

Lapland Rosebay

To wrap up this tale, we rejoiced at the summit with celebratory beers, viewed alpine wildflowers, took a customary AvThat! shot, sped down the mountain with a vengeance, and were back in Ottawa with a 24 pack of Yuengling Lager and hearty memories with a great friend. 

As an endnote, here is a great program they have going in the Adirondacks:

http://www.adk.org/page.php?pname=summit-steward-program-what-we-do