Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Diana Pond Log Book

                         
Larry Beahan 

In October 1985, my son Teck and I backpacked across the Stillwater Reservoir Dam north through Five Ponds wilderness to Wanakena, about 25 miles in three days. We breakfasted sumptuously before we left the Stillwater Inn. 

Teck and Larry Beahan at Stillwater 

After crossing the dam we followed Ranger Terry Perkins directions along Raven and Lyon Lakes to the juncture of Bear and Diana Ponds. We found a little camp in a wooded spot where water flowed over a rock outcropping between the two ponds.  Inside there sat on an old cupboard a spiral steno pad with Camp Log handed printed on the cover. We scanned a few entries and left this one of our own passing through.

Out front, sun-bathed rocks at the water’s edge invited us to rest. We lunched on bagels and chunks of cheddar cheese. While I sat there munching, Teck snapped a picture which I used as an illustration when I published an account of that trip. We talked of returning on skis in the winter but never did get back.
Twenty two years later I received a letter from Ed Kuster saying he had in his possession the Log Book from the cabin on Bear and Diana Ponds. He had rescued it in 1986 just before the DEC burned the place down.  


When Ed and I got together it was apparent that though we were very different in some ways we had a great deal in common. He is a couple years older than me, late rather than middle seventies. We both bear scars of ageing so that we re not as able in the woods as we used to be. The main thing is that we are both fond of the woods and particularly the Five Ponds Stillwater region of the Adirondacks.  He’s a hunter with a lifetime kill of 44 deer and 4 bear. I’ve never killed anything, on purpose.

                                               Ed Kuster and bear 1948
I recently considered taking up deer hunting because I think they are eating too much of our local woods’ under story  but when I got into the fine points of sitting out in the cold and dragging dead animals around , I decided it was more work than I was interested in.
He is opposed to the New York State policy of buying up Adirondack Forests and making them forever wild; forever wild is my favorite kind of forest. Just to needle me he crowed that it was his ambition to go down around Zoar Valley (where we local Western New Yorkers have just persuaded the State to protect an old growth forest) and buy five hundred acres to log off. After that thrust, he offered an olive branch. “I use an ATV up there,” he said, “because it is hard for me to get around but I got to admit they do make a mess out of the woods.”
I had to nod my head in agreement. I hate ATV’s for that mess.
 He went on, “It’s those advertisements. They don’t have to show ‘em skidding around in the mud and jumping the way they do. You should see our camp when we have the annual meeting at Bear Pond late in August. We’ll have 50 to 80 of them parked around.”
Ed has an unpublished book that covers his sixty years of hunting and hunting club membership around Bear Pond. An uncle of his who first took Ed up there in 1946 provided him with stories from years before that.  The book is an excellent account of the place and a great primer in hunting technique, clothes, and guns styles of stalking and means of transport.  
One of Ed’s favorite subjects is that of flying into Bear Pond. Bird air service would fly over from fourth lake pick them up at Stillwater and drop them off at the camp’s front door. I wasn’t too impressed with the need to fly from Stillwater to Bear Pond a distance that Teck and I covered in a morning jaunt but then I saw pictures of the bear and deer and piles of supplies that they used in camp and I could understand the problem of carting all that stuff. Flying into those lakes is no longer legal.

1927 Waco at Diana Pond

Ed’s house is ornamented with Adirondack relief-map models, photo albums, mounted deer heads, even deer antler chandeliers but that little steno pad was the most fascinating gem of his collection.  
The camp whose comings and goings were recorded in this Log Book belonged to the Evergreen Hunting Club and was known as the Fisher Camp after the Fisher realty company from whom it was leased beginning in the 1950s. The first entry in the book is:

July 15, ’78.
Number in Party 1- Red
Left Main gate at 5:45 pm 2hr walk to landing1hr to
Bear Pond Saw 4 sets of
bear tracks to landing.
Not real fresh
Fresh bear sign within
400 yards of camp you
Could almost smell them.
Hit the rack at 2:30 am
Sun July 16
Worked on stove all day.
Saw four fox on way in Sat.
 Went for swim in bear
Hit trail at 5:00 P.M.  

Nice thing about being alone up in the woods you don’t need a bathing suit.
The Log Book is not great literature but if you’ve been there or if you are sitting in the camp while it’s raining and there is nothing much going on it can be absorbing. It is a chronicle of what people, in that unique place, thought and did and were willing to write down.

Ed Kuster Chief Cook and Bottle Washer

 Most of the handwriting is pretty good. Some of the spelling is terrible. The ideas are, well… interesting. Fantasy seems to have come to life when a writer was alone. Some of the fantasy has the aroma of alcohol fumes.  One entry was inscribed after the writer had drunk up all the tequila and eaten the worm.
Methods of getting there are recorded: walking, flying, canoeing, Toyota, skiing,    snowmobiling and via a long hard ride in a Jeep or a Toyota from Croghan. Hiking in got the most complaints. Like this from August “84
We are staying two more
nights. We will be leav-
ing Sunday. I hate to think
 of the walk back.
 Going to leave any exter 
food. that we do not eat.
 Don’t want to carrie eny
 exter back.
This colorful writer goes on to yearn for conjugal experience, threaten to roll cigarettes out of Captain Black pipe tobacco and yearn for the days when there were fish in Diana and Bear pond.

One girl who signed off “Wide Glide Harley’s and Sportster Women  Forever” seemed a little wilted after riding a Harley from Binghamton  to Stillwater, canoeing across  the reservoir and walking into camp only to be talked into spending the night there at Bear Pond with out provisions or equipment and then anticipating a trip back to Binghamton in the rain.
Locally picked blueberries for a blueberry pancake breakfast. One of the biggest breakfasts I’ve ever heard of potatoes, cake, stew, pancakes and coffee. One of the smallest was a can of Pepsi split four ways. Steak sounded good. corn bread cake baked in the oven meatloaf and rolls in the oven squash.
Ed Kuster told me he did a lot of cooking during hunting camp. He recalled that during his first few seasons at bear pond all they ate was fresh liver. The custom being to take out whole deer to hang in front of your house as a trophy. When he finally persuades them to eat fresh venison the folks at Stillwater were horrified to see them bring in partially consumed deer.
This reminds me of a trip to Kodiak island Alaska. We stayed with Inuit at a bear hunting camp they were converting to an ecological tourist site. We were anticipating eating Indian style, fresh salmon, and king crab and maybe bear steak. They served us real Indian food, canned peas, wonder bread and caned spaghetti.
  Backpacking we eat pretty simple, instant oatmeal with raisins brown sugar and margarine all ready to add boiling water, hot chocolate, freeze dried spaghetti, bagels cheese and jam  dried fruit  cookies and chocolate all in combustible paper or plastic so we have as little weight  and clean up as possible, no fresh meat, fruit or vegetables no tin or glass. We clearly do not eat as well as the average visitor to Bear Pond did.
And generally we don’t allow our selves any alcohol till we finish the trip. On a rare occasion I’ve carried a tiny quantity of Curacao to celebrate something special. I got that idea from Roal Amundsun. The night after he and his crew reached the South Pole they celebrated with an ounce each of that delicious piercing orange flavored drink.
 Few people actually wrote about hunting. Though on November a party of four got two bucks, six and eight pointers. A few tried fishing but had no luck in the e immediate vicinity. There are Trout in the Oswegatchie not far away.
Many folks comment on the weather.
Sunday August 13 1978
Rain Saturday morn
Thunder in the distance all day Sat.
 Heavy rain Sat. nite
Sunday Beautiful Sunny day
Perfect Temperature went
swimming in Diana
Some one else heard booming all day and decided it was bombing presumably at Fort Drum.
Insects get fairly prominent mention. On Wednesday Aug 16 1978 some one who signs himself in as “Trespasser” says:
Been camping in Kettle Bowl,
Decided to take a day hike to
Bear Pond
I was here last summer
after the bear sacked the
place, it has shaped-up.
Well, thanks for a place to avoid
the deer flies.
Left same day.

Many visitors signed the log as Trespassers.  there were other camps in the neighborhood and the owners seemed to keep an eye on each others property and make use of it at will. When Teck and I went trespassing through there we didn’t admit it till we got out though we had the word of Ranger Terry Perkins that no one would mind. In June of 1982 a party signed in as DEC Professional Bird watchers. hey found amusing spiders a fawn that wrinkled its nose at them. They complained, "Where are the birds.”They found no hawks, owls or herons. birds. 
Most every one signed in the number in there party one or two was the most common number but there were parties of four six and eight. The most interesting census was someone who signed in saying his crew had sixteen legs among them. He left us speculating, a couple octopus, two spiders and a dog, three dogs and two people or what.
One couple after drinking Southern Comfort and Grape juice broke the upper bunk over an unfortunate occupant.
An old timer came through with his son saying:
Camp looks different
than the first time I saw
it in 1938 and considerably
better than when I last
looked in 1967.

Chores were a big part of many visits, fixing the stove, recharging the door, cutting wood

Club members and visitors took on new names perhaps to help throw of the feeders of civilization in this wild place, Bilbo, the Monk, and Feel-boy, Jake the Snake and Brocks were one crew. Another was Wounded Bear and Ol’ Joe from Penns Woods. The boys from Buffalo came styled as Old Chief, Squaw Man and, Little Piece. Then there was Little Wolf, Morning Thunder and their Dog Sebastian or Sebachan.  At least I think Sebastian was the dog from some later reference to him but don’t hold me to it.
 Apology for using too much wood
March 1&2 (1979)
Trespassers party of 2, walked
up from flow.
Bitter cold Hope
NYSDEC doesn’t burn this place.

Foreshadowing the eventual fate of this camp which was burned as non-complying structure in 1986.
Some locals stopped by Diana pond and informed the book that in the old days it was known as Dog pond.
The center piece of the whole book is an epic done by a lone visitor starting with this July 4th 1984 sketch. 
Beginning on the next page and day he goes on for 7 pages of neatly scripted soliloquy.  He is pleased that he saw no fire works and suggests an easy substitute is hitting you in the head with a hammer. He discovers Captain Black pipe tobacco and finds that it goes well with Ballintine Scotch.  It rains much of the time and he goes for some walks becoming accustomed to “the moist state.” The sky clears briefly as he sits by Bear Pond only to cloud over again and rain some more which he observes, “The frogs seem to enjoy…”
Here the excitement begins. He is attacked, or claims to have been attacked by a swarm of bees. He takes refuge in the pond trying to maintain him submersed in three feet of water with out sinking into the five feet of black muck on the bottom. When ever he comes up he is attacked. So resourcefully he discovers his pen floating on the surface and he cuts off both ends to form a breathing tube by means of which he avoids those pesky bees for “It seemed like hours,” so he says. The reader wonders if it is the same pen that he converted to scuba gear which he reconverted to write the account.
He then launches into the story of his friend John who used fruit flies to cheat at Euchre. Euchre seems to have been a favorite pastime at Diana Pond. The eyes of the fruit flies and those of portraits of Lennin and Picasso figure some how in the meanderings of which he eventually tires. (and who can blame him.)  He finishes by not finishing but with an offer to send the rest of the story to any one who will mail him $5. I think I’ve gotten the point so I am saving my $5.

This author returns the end of August bringing us the story with which Ed Kuster first enticed me, how Diana Pond got its name. This time his story spins on for 16 pages.  His buddy puts a little finer point on it for him in a two page addendum.
Our story teller starts us off by painting an ominous picture of the wind coming up and clouds rolling in. He wonders who built this “caban.” The wind makes noise in the trees and it makes him think of bears. He claims out of the blue, “I ain’t frade of no Ghost!”  But then he telegraphs his trepidation by wondering what his buddy is doing.
He writes, in the twenties or thirties a logger named Jack was the first to cut timber in these woods. His families were loggers from way back and though he wasn’t real big he could cut down trees with any man. These were the days of hard working logging when the wood s were full of animals and you’d see three of four bears a week. And they ate very good too to do that kind of work but Jack had a temper and one time a big fellow named Hank spilled coffee on him and they  had a terrible fight. It took ten men to get Jack off Hank and a week to put the dining tent back in order. Loggers in those days worked hard and partied hard and Jack was no exception He’d work for a month and then take a week off.
This was a five year job at Diana pond and Jack built a cabin for himself. He worked at it in off hours and at night. You’d be sleeping and everything peaceful and you’d here that axe cracking across the pond. The writer seemed to be implying that he still heard it at night and it was sometimes cause for panic especially if you were trying to get up and check it out and your sleeping bag zipper got stuck. 
It took him three to four months to build it and he was ready to party in town. He was going to do some drinking and find a “Lady of the Night.” He drank so much the first night that he passed out and Hank the guy he fought with put him to bed for three days. When he got up he was hungry and he went to J.P.'s diner for diner. They always had good looking women working there.
Here the writer breaks off saying that he two is hungry but telling us that Jack met Diana at J.P.s. He sign off with, “Here’s where those noises across the Lake come from.” Then a PS: "Some people say they have seen things.”
The writer’s buddy named, “Pirate,” adds  that the way he hears it Diana didn’t stay very long at the pond because there was some misunderstanding between Hank and Jack over who’s girl she was.

There are just a few more brief notes naming the visitors and “Nice place might be back in the winter, a very beautiful spot in the middle of the wilderness or back in two weeks for deer hunting. The book closes with Teck and my note:

3 October 1985  Teck + Larry Beahan
Had lunch  Beautiful Fall Day
On way from Stillwater to Wanakena

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