Trash in the Adirondacks

Taking care of our planet starts with respecting her

Treasures found near Lake George, NY, Adirondack Mountains

Recently, a good friend and I took a drive on a beautiful Sunday to enjoy a hike in the Adirondacks. We were feeling a bit lazy, so we found an easy one, an out and back that described a fifty-foot waterfall and scenic views of Lake George.

For those of you not familiar, the Adirondacks cover an area greater in size than Yellowstone, the Everglades, and Glacier and Grand Canyon National parks combined. The boundary of the park encompasses six million acres. The state of New York owns 2.6 million acres or about 43 percent of the land, while the rest is publicly owned and devoted to forestry, agriculture and recreation. The Adirondack Mountain range features forty-six mountains, the High Peaks, with elevations over four thousand feet. There are three thousand lakes and over thirty-thousand miles of streams and rivers. Fifty-six known mammal species make the Adirondacks their home, as do 130,000 people who live in one hundred and three towns and villages.

The Adirondacks were the home of Native American tribes, including the Mohawk and Iroquois. Forced off their lands by the U.S. Government, the land was sold to New York investors. Logging ensued, which increased greatly after the Civil War and the period of Reconstruction. Forests were laid bare, and runoff fed directly into the Hudson River and Erie Canal. Watersheds critical to New York City were affected and people began to take notice. A record drought in 1883 drove those residents into the Adirondacks and spurred politicians to action. The New York legislature passed a law prohibiting future sales of Adirondack state-owned lands. The Adirondack Park was officially established in 1892 and given constitutional protection through the efforts of conservationists by 1894.

I have spent significant time in the Adirondacks, although not nearly enough. I have kayaked her lakes, hiked her mountains and been filled by her beauty as I scanned the high peaks. However, I am never completely at peace knowing that many of her lakes are acidified and dead and that there is a never ending battle to keep destructive commercial interests at bay. The solace and hope I feel for this amazing landscape lies in its inhabitants—the hares and rabbits, fox and coyote, black bears and beavers, bobcats and lynx—and even a few mountain lions. Loons, ducks and herons fish her lakes, eagles, hawks and falcons glide in her skies, and trout, bass and salmon swim her streams. Being alive feels better, knowing there is a place for them and thousands of other creatures whose home is the Adirondacks.

On this particular Sunday, Mary and I took a drive into the southern Adirondacks for our, an easy hike. After enduring the usual aggression up I-87, we exited and soon turned down a road that went from pavement to dirt and gravel, became narrower and narrower and invited us into an ever denser forest. We were content in anticipation of an afternoon surrounded by beauty.

The hike started out well enough. A rocky path led to a soft pine needle carpet. A boulder strewn stream ran to the right and quickly led to the top of a waterfall. After taking a few pictures, we descended for a better look.

Although these falls are not the most spectacular in the Adirondacks, they were still lovely. About fifty feet high, they cascaded down into clear pools where children waded. It was crowded, not our preference, but not surprising as Lake George is highly developed and easily accessible compared to areas further north in the park. However, it wasn’t sharing that soured our day, it was the trash.

We began noticing beer cans tossed here and there, some wedged under rocks and trees. Mary pulled a bag out of my backpack and as we left the falls and walked back to the path we began picking up garbage.

Perhaps dismay made our eyesight keener, because as we walked, the garbage grew exponentially. Most of it was cheap beer cans, Keystone and Bud Light, but there were also plastic water bottles, chunks of styrofoam, foully stained paper towels, empty cigarette packs and plastic baggies. The increasing density of garbage was no coincidence, as at the end of this short path was the lake on which perhaps fifty boats anchored. The air was filled with competing loud music, roaring boats and jet skis and one particularly loud and drunk bellowing fool, who thought he was a comedian. Campfire rings and denser garbage made it apparent this was where the boaters disembarked to party on land. Mary and I were in disbelief that this was the end of our walk.

I don't begrudge people their use of powerful boats, loud music, drinking a bit and having fun. Lake George isn't where people go for solitude and beauty, it's where they go to party. We should have driven further north for our hike. However, I am dismayed and saddened by the insensitivity, disrespect and ignorance illustrated by trashing of a place of beauty. Although litter is hardly the most serious environmental problem we face, it represents an attitude that bothers me profoundly.

Litter is either an ignorant or deliberate desecration of nature. Other than profit, it's little different from the behavior of those who were leveling the Adirondacks for timber in the 1800s. Littering is done by those who don’t care about you or anything else, who think it’s okay for others to clean up after them. Litter is the cousin to corporations that dump PCBs in the river and punch holes in the ozone. Perhaps this is what we collectively deserve for not fighting greed and ignorance harder.

Mary and I continued to clean up. More beer cans, more paper towels, more plastic baggies, more soda cans. At one point, as I reached for an object and Mary said, “Stop!” I asked why, and she told me it was a tampon applicator. It’s hard in a moment like that, with knowledge of the systematic destruction of our Earth, to feel we are nothing a plague on this planet.

We turned back for the car, our moods turned gray, continuing to pick up trash. I saw a piece of blue plastic partially buried in the ground and began to pull it out. Mary told me to stop again. She realized it was a bag for dog excrement. I couldn’t understand why someone would bag their dog’s scat, then toss the bag into the woods. Mary theorized that someone had it in their car and decided they needed to ditch it. Then we came across a baby diaper. We chose to leave this behind, too. Our 30 gallon bag was stuffed and we didn’t have rubber gloves.

As we drove back over the dirt and gravel road, Mary commented that this was the first time we had left the Adirondacks not exhilarated by the beauty of what we had seen, by the comfort of its existence. It was true, we both felt depressed about the state of humanity.

We will certainly go again, the Adirondacks are vast. Our mistake was in trying for an easy day, a short drive. Lake George is commercialized and densely used, not a real Adirondack experience. It attracts people who hold misguided values, gluttons that believe the party can go on forever, or at least long enough for them. I am weary of these soulless people who have no idea of what beauty is or the very privilege of their own existence.

Whatever our next destination, the hike will be accompanied by rubber gloves and larger garbage bags.