From its humble beginnings as farmland a few miles outside of Plattsburgh in the town of Beekmantown, Beartown Ski Area was a “field of dreams.”
Under the direction of what was called the Council of Community Services, and through the work of many local supporters, Norris Reyell sold 99 acres of his land for a dollar and became the first manager of Beartown when the slopes were cleared and ready for skiing in the winter of 1958.
Now more than 50 years later, residents who grew up skiing at Beartown are bringing their children to the hill. The family-oriented environment is at the core of the not-for-profit ski area’s mission. Go out on any given day and the hill will be covered with children, some barely out of the walking stage, whizzing past on skis and snowboards.
While humans can only tolerate being counted every 10 years, an annual bird census conducted by the Audubon Society has reached its 110th year. Conducted at year’s end, the Christmas bird count is an informal opportunity for birding enthusiasts across the country to get together and assess the health of avian populations in their area.
Since the Audubon Christmas Bird Count hit a notable milestone this year, I decided to shadow some experienced birders on this year’s Plattsburgh count. My goals: to see what sorts of birds stick around the city during our long North Country winters, to find out more about the hobby of bird watching and to learn whatever lessons I could.
What does your driveway say about you after a snowfall? More than you might guess, says this winter driveway observer.
A walk along a local road after a North Country snowfall provides the perfect setting for my favorite winter pastime---reading driveways. You’d be surprised how much a driveway can tell about the household that uses it. But reading a driveway is not always elementary, my dear Watson.
For example, a driveway cleared in a timely and tidy manner might lead you to deduce that its owners also keep a tidy garage, an organized basement, 2-cycle engines that turn over with one pull, and a car whose radiator gets flushed each fall. But meticulous grooming might also suggest that the driveway belongs to a North Country newcomer, who still clings to downstate ways and has yet to adopt the more nonchalant custom of letting snow pile up until the spring thaw.
Both of these deductions, however, could be wrong if a driveway is poorly designed. I know. I have one of these. My partner and I are outside snow blowing, shoveling, and sweeping while our neighbors pursue their daily routines. We do this, not because we enjoy the exercise or because exposed pavement thrills us, but because our wide driveway is a Venus flytrap for unsuspecting cars seeking a place to turn around. Just a little bit of ice or snow, and down they slide straight toward our garage door. The plaintive wail of their spinning tires summons us to their aid with shovels of sand and helping hands.
From the minute the black Lab mix set eyes on me at the animal shelter, he gave himself to me, heart and soul. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want him, that only the pleading of my three daughters persuaded me to OK his adoption. It didn’t matter that, in the beginning, I came close to detesting him.
His worst behavior (among many) was as Destructor Dog: He chewed up shoes, a tube of Ben Gay, a big section of the couch, the wooden gate put up to keep him away from the rest of the couch …
It didn’t matter that I’d chew him out, holler at him, tell he’d never win my love by being a BAD DOG. He still worshipped me.
In fact, our connection even seemed psychic, though not in a good way.
My snowshoes made a soft crunching sound as I herringboned up the steeper part of the hill across from my Vermont home. The sun was bright, and its strong rays turned the snow crystals into a field of diamonds. A few clouds floated across the mid-day sky. Some 20 inches of snow had fallen overnight, and I was busy making new tracks across the undisturbed snow. It was good exercise for a sunny Sunday morning.
This was my first winter in the picturesque house at the end of a dirt road in South Woodbury. It was the early 1970s and I was in that great physical condition so necessary to handle the never-ending chores associated with country living. There was wood to chop, fixing-up to do, nails to hammer, snow to shovel, and...well, you name it. Today’s hike was a break from the routine.
At the crest of the hill adjacent to the house I paused. There was no wind today, piles of leaves were covered by a thick quilt of snow, most birds had headed for warmer climates and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. For a city boy from noisy Brooklyn, it was the first time I had experienced complete silence--and I loved it. Except for that annoying muffled boom, boom, boom — like a bass drum beating somewhere in the distance. I wondered what it could be until I realized that in the powerful stillness I could hear the beating of my own heart!
Learning to ski or snowboard is an adventure likely to provide a lifetime of enjoyment. Unlike some athletics, theses skills and experiences often transcend the various phases of life and provide an enduring desire to slide down snow covered mountains with family and friends.
The Napper girls are no strangers to adventure. Growing up on the shores of Chazy Lake has exposed them to a wide variety of outdoor thrills and perhaps a few spills. Actually, they are both accomplished water skiers, swimmers and all around athletes, supported carefully by their fun loving parents. As is often the case when you hang around with our family, discussions about the slopes are common, even during the summer while cruising the lake. The interest of teenagers Kristen and Kayla grew steadily and culminated in a plan to learn skiing on the majestic slopes of Whiteface Mountain. Outfitted with leased equipment from Viking Ski Shop, courtesy of their generous neighbor and water sports mentor, Bob Jessey, they met us on a bitter cold morning recently to begin their new adventure.
From its humble beginnings as farmland a few miles outside of Plattsburgh in the town of Beekmantown, Beartown Ski Area was a “field of dreams.”
While humans can only tolerate being counted every 10 years, an annual bird census conducted by the Audubon Society has reached its 110th year. Conducted at year’s end, the Christmas bird count is an informal opportunity for birding enthusiasts across the country to get together and assess the health of avian populations in their area.
Name: Aimée (pronounced ah-may) Wheaton
Learning to ski or snowboard is an adventure likely to provide a lifetime of enjoyment. Unlike some athletics, theses skills and experiences often transcend the various phases of life and provide an enduring desire to slide down snow covered mountains with family and friends.