Limekiln Falls

Up high on the S. Branch Moose

Limekiln Falls is the most scenic spot on the beautiful South Branch of the Moose River in New York's Adirondack Mountains. The lucky people who have the legal right to see it fall into two categories: members of the Adirondack League Club (ALC) and boaters who paddle a 25-mile stretch of the river. To become a member of the ALC, one must be a property owner on the club's 50,000+ acre property. Current sales of those properties have all been well over $2.5M and the club by-laws prohibit mortgages. In other words, Limekiln provides yet another illumination of the economic dichotomy we live in -- 1% of us could potentially join the club and see it, while the other 99% of us must posses the equipment and skill to paddle the river.

The Rules

I was lucky to see it in May 2014. However, just getting there was not only an arduous undertaking on my part, and the part of my boating friends, it was also the result of a years-long struggle that involved various conservation and recreational organizations, the ALC, and ultimately the New York Supreme Court.

That struggle is outlined very well in this NY Times Article, but I will paraphrase here.

The ALC for years used their own security detail to arrest any boater who was caught paddling the South Branch, who would end up at the Old Forge police station facing trespassing charges. Skeptical of the legality of this, the Sierra Club joined with a local conservation movement and publicized a trip down the river in 1991. Armed with photos of that important boat ride, the ALC sued the Sierra Club for millions, and a court battle began. 

Several years later after belaboring over the definition of "navigable", access was upheld by the NY State Supreme Court, and two decades after that, I found myself signing my name to a roster. My signature on that roster, a clipboard chained to a signpost where the pavement ends just outside the town of Inlet, indicated that I would follow the policy set forth by the court agreement. Essentially, I agreed to not get out of my boat unless absolutely necessary for my own safety for 15 miles as the river passes through the ALC property.To do that, though, we had to paddle a total of 25.

Our particular struggle for access stemmed from a handful of situational issues: (1) we had only one car, (2) it was Memorial Day weekend and all the local outfitters were too busy with their regular business to be hired as our shuttle, (3) the put-in for the river is at the end of a rough road which is in turn many miles from the main road and the outiftters' storefronts, and (4) the shuttle itself is far too long for even the most ambitious boaters to do on foot. Because of this confluence of problems, after spending about four hours in Old Forge trying to convince anybody we found to "give us a ride down the road," we came up empty. So, we had to take our best offer. We set up a campsite at the take-out, drove to the put-in, and launched. An employee of Mountain Man Outfitters agreed to pick us up the following morning and drive us as close to our car as possible before getting to work at 8 am. After running the river, we were picked up at 6 am the following day and by 7:15 we were still 5 miles from the car. So, we got out and ran the remainder of the shuttle on foot so our driver wasn't late for work.

At the put-in

We began our trip down the South Branch of the Moose where it is a small stream above the ALC property, at a place deep in the Moose River Plains Wild Forest that locals called the "Million Dollar Bridge." For a few miles it meanders through thick marshy terrain with little gradient and mild current. After passing though a rapid at a place marked on topographic maps as "rock dam," we became fully aware of our newly constrained legal rights. You're in ALC land now, said the countless signs posted on the trunks of the thousands of riverside trees. 

Printing 50,000 of these must have been a substantial tab at Kinko's

Looking upstream at Limekiln Falls

This is a real adventurer's river. The mileage alone make it a heavy commitment for your run-of-the-mill canoeists not able to make it an overnighter (though I suppose one could try sleeping in their boat). It is also in prime whitewater country so it is passed up by thrill seeking kayakers. Those guys could get in three runs on more challenging rivers in the same time. Thus, for the first 20 of the 25 miles our party saw not a single person, neither boater nor ALC member. We paddled the river through steep gorge sections, around pristine mid-stream islands and through rough water and flat mirrored pools. There were rapids, but none warranting anything beyond a boat scout.

Which brings us this narrative's namesake: Limekiln. After many miles of our incredible Adirondack wild river, the river took a strange 90-degree left turn and all of its flow passed through a space of about 15 feet between two large boulders. There was no gradient, though, so the current simply picked up and rushed through the space without much turbulence. Then, after a short, flat pool of no more than 50 feet, Limekiln Falls dropped out of sight.

Brian drops into Limekiln

It would be the only time we got out of our boats to scout. The scene was dramatic: a 50-foot long chute down a 20-degree slope. A hole here or there, but nothing to be concerned about. Like all rapids it was very loud. Eddies at the bottom gave us the chance to stop, turn around, and take it in before paddling through the run-out to a point too far downstream to be really in it. On the left bank, a branchless trunk reached skyward like the creepy finger of Death and just before the tip sat an enormous Osprey's nest. The resident bird swooped and chattered at us, reminding us that we were just visitors to its home.

Below Limekiln, an Osprey nest

Lucky ALC members could enjoy the scene from a beautifully built timber frame shelter and freshly-mowed picnic spot just above the falls, but just like every other ALC structure we saw all day long, it was empty. Remembering that this was Memorial Day weekend, I told myself that all the ALC members were working overtime at their Manhattan jobs, unable to enjoy their seven-figure salaries. Of course I was probably wrong, that they were sipping top-shelf liquor on the deck of some monstrous lodge just out of view, but this five-figure guy needs to feel like he's got it better than those guys once in awhile.

Just out of the ALC property, an enormous pan

Before long we had left the protected land of the Adirondack League Club. When you get to know rivers, you begin to be able to feel the gradient relax beneath you. The character of the river changes along with the steepness of the canyon walls, the eroded banks look like they're a  bit less mauled by spring runoff, and the sky opens broadly. Kayakers can tell when the rapids are done. We had just begun to relax in our boats and unsnapped our helmets when we heard, "Hey! You guys need a beer?"

An extended family of men, sans spouses and daughters, were camping on the riverbank. We pulled over and met the antithesis of the prototypical ALC member we'd been thinking about all day. In fact we met about 20 of them. Their family tradition goes back over 60 years, and these guys are serious. They have crafted their own rickshaws that they use to carry in ridiculous amounts of bacon and lousy beer for their 3-day trip. They have several shelters, an eternal campfire, plenty of whiskey, a devoted hole in the ground for pissing, another for other unspeakables, and the most enormous cast iron pan allowable by the physical properties of cast iron. The irony of the dramatic disparity between the pretty little empty shelter at Limkiln and this rif-raf Appalachain camp was beautiful.

Boaters: go to New York and run the South Branch of the Moose. Bring your long boats. Not for any singular reason but for many. This is a victory lap for river access. The 99% won this battle, and we don't win many battles. If you do it on Memorial Day weekend, you'll be treated to the most hospitable group of guys I've met (we're not talking rednecks -- though it takes a while to realize it), who guaranteed that they'll be there, and they'll invite you to stay all weekend ("don't sweat it, guys, we have lots of extra sleeping bags!"). Lastly, unless you're a multimillionaire, you're the only one with the skills to allow you get to a good look at the beautiful Limekiln Falls.