Kayak Camping & Fishing At Adirondack Park

Burning the candle at both ends.

That’s how I’ve spent my last few months. My job has been insanely busy, the farmstead “to-do” list seems to get longer despite crossing things off the top, and add to that the busy schedule of fishing tournaments; my internal battery was flashing LOW VOLTAGE. Luckily, for as long as I can remember, there’s a place I can go to rest and recharge; a remote lake deep in the heart of the Adirondack Park where all the troubles of the world just melt away.

The allure of this lake for me is the limited access. You first must drive the 5 miles down a seasonal use-only road to the parking area. From there you can hike three miles around the lake to access a couple of the campsites, but most people opt for the 0.3 mile trail from the parking lot to access the entire lake by boat. This trail is no walk in the park either. It is your typical Adirondack trail, up and down the hills, through the mud, and over boulders and tree roots. Another restriction is that no motors, not even electric, are permitted on the lake. When you factor in that there is zero cell service on the lake, this all equals a perfect secluded kayak camping destination.

As a kid, we would carry the 12-ft pine-strip canoe my dad made down the trail to the lake. We’d load it up with a cooler, pack basket, tents, and sleeping bags for a 4-day excursion away from everything. My dad would paddle the gear and me across the lake to find a vacant campsite. Once there, we would unload the canoe, and I would wait with the gear for him to return with my mother and younger brother.

Many things have changed from what was once an annual family trip. My mom was replaced by my grandfather for a few years. Some years it was just my father and either my brother or I, or occasionally others have joined and as of late, the trip has become less frequent. But one of the biggest changes has been the boats we’ve used to make this excursion. We’ve hauled in various combinations of canoes and kayaks over the years, and this time I decided to take out my brand new Feelfree Moken 12.5 PDL.

This would be my first trip out with the Moken PDL and I was excited. The wind never seems to stop on this lake, so having a pedal drive is a major advantage. When planning any kayak camping excursion, the two most important items to consider are the transportability of the kayak and the packability of your gear in the kayak. This Moken was going to be the best of all options. While not a light boat, the built-in wheel in the keel and relative size and weight would mean I could wheel it across much of the trail down to the lake. There were spots where I had to have my father help lift it over some obstacles, but for the most part, it went pretty smoothly. We were forced to carry my father’s kayak down to the lake which was a brutal endeavor requiring that we stop to rest multiple times as we covered the rough terrain. I regretted not bringing my kart even though in years past we’d experienced how difficult it is even with one.

Packing the kayaks up with all of our gear was a breeze, mostly because I tested how things would fit at home long before ever even loading up the truck. In the weeks leading up to the trip, I had watched the weather closely to see what we would be expecting. While rain was forecast, it didn’t include any heavy thunderstorms, so we opted to pack a small two-person tent for my father, while I would sleep in my hammock tent. We could have easily brought a larger tent, but when packing gear into kayaks, it is much easier to pack two small items as opposed to a single large item.

It was this concept that I carried over into all of my packing. I opted for multiple smaller dry bags rather than my larger ones. I was able to easily slide one inside the front hatch of my Moken that held my hammock tent, sleeping bag, and sleeping pad. Inside my hatch also went all my rain gear. In the tankwell went my fishing gear, camping accessories, a drybag for my clothes, and cooler. My father’s kayak was similarly loaded, with his tent and sleeping gear loaded in the hatch, and his fishing gear, clothing, and a tote of food loaded up in the tankwell.

We stopped on the way to the lake for an early lunch so it was early afternoon by the time we made the multiple trips up and down the trail with our gear, loaded up, and headed out onto the water. The afternoon alpine breeze was blowing across the lake giving it a little chop, but nothing we hadn’t paddled in before. We set off on the two-mile trek to our favorite island, hoping to find it unoccupied. It only took us 45 minutes to get there, and that was at a leisurely pace, the fastest we’d ever made it.

The island was empty, so we started to set up camp.

Having made this trip many times before, we were a well-oiled machine without needing to say a word. My father gathered firewood, set up the fire pit, and organized the “kitchen space” which consisted of a flattened off log lying next to the camping area. I set up the tent and hammock and organized the rest of our gear.

The next two days were pure relaxation. I was awakened by the sounds of the loons nesting on the back side of the island. The smell of hemlock and campfire smoke while we waited for the water to boil for that first cup of coffee. By mid-morning I was on the water, pedaling to all my old fishing spots. The big bluff walls, the creek channel inlets, the rock shoals, and pencil reed beds. Checking each to see if they still held the big smallmouth I remember catching all the years past. The fishing wasn’t fired like it had been some years. The water was warm, and most of the bass had likely pulled out deeper, but there were still plenty of good fish shallow. I didn’t catch any giants, with the biggest going about 16.5”, but it was all I could ask for.

I would cook dinner over the fire in the evenings while my dad kept the woodpile stocked. We ate well (as we always did), grilled chicken sandwiches, black bean salad, grilled pork loin, baked potatoes, seasoned rice, and fried fish straight from the lake are just a few things on the menu. As the sun set, a couple of ounces of bourbon filled our mugs as we enjoyed the pure tranquility of being completely disconnected from society. Not even the rain (which didn’t stop at all on the third day) or the mosquitoes (which weren’t as bad as expected) could lessen the euphoria of that place.

We were slow to pack up on the last day. We spent our time enjoying our coffee and oatmeal, breaking down the camp, and packing up the kayaks same as we did before. While we pedaled slowly back to the trailhead for the parking lot, trying to savor the remaining minutes, the wind at our backs hied us along. Lugging the gear and kayaks back up to the truck seemed to take much longer than on the way in. While the food was gone, so our packs were lighter; the mood was one of not wanting to leave so I think we both walked a little slower.

With the back seat of the truck loaded up with gear, and the kayaks strapped down, we checked out in the log book and headed for home. As I turned from the back roads onto a paved highway, my phone finally dinged, signaling a return to cell coverage at the official end of the vacation. I was looking forward to getting home, showering, and sleeping back in my bed. I was physically exhausted, but my spirit was renewed. I felt refreshed, ready to tackle whatever life was going to have in store for me next.

Written by Tyler Sweet, Feelfree US Pro Staff Team Member

Edited by Bobby Ulrich, Feelfree US Pro Staff Team Member