The Adirondacks Remind me of Home

After our field trip and then further discussion of Great Camps in class this week I starting thinking about this uniquely Adirondack tradition and the history these Great Camps that make them so culturally important. Coming from Minnesota I don't know a family that doesn't have a cabin up in the Northern woods of Minnesota and Wisconsin. However, most of these cabins are small to mid size and situated back in the trees, these woods are also sparsely populated by small towns. At first glance the Adirondacks reminded me a lot of the beautiful Northwoods that I spent so much time in growing up. As I learned more about the Adirondacks the farther they were removed from my previous experiences with the woods of Minnesota and even other state parks. The concept of Great Camps was one that particularly caught my attention as a difference between my experiences with cabins and those of the Adirondacks. Until our discussion this week I was having a hard tim getting past my own biases to understand why these elite families even bothered to come out and spend time in nature. To a certain extent it didn't seem like they were evening trying to commune with nature at all, simply moving their wealthy lives to a slightly different setting. However, as we talked in class I began to better understand that Great Camps serve an incredible historical and cultural purpose to the Adirondacks as a whole and the families themselves. Similar to the cabins that I know so well in the Midwest the Great Camps were also passed down through families and represented memories of family gatherings and important time spent together away from the stresses of daily life. These families were also very interested in recreation and conservation of the land that they owned, making them some of the most important environmentalists of Adirondack Park.

As we discussed in class how expensive maintaining Great Camp Santanoni was I became curious as to how families to which the other Great Camps have been passed down to maintain them as well. I know that the Camps are often split up and sold to multiple different families who all get a share of the property, however I did not know that they are also often rented. I think that this is a truly amazing way to preserve the history of the Great Camps and make it accessible to people who would not normally be able to maintain an entire camp. I have come to realize that the Great Camps are a really special and unique aspect of the history of the Adirondacks and that they are so much more than just another home for the wealthy families who live there. These unique places remind me of the special places that exist in and around the Boundary Waters and Northern Minnesota, really making me feel more connected to the Adirondacks.

The Lack of a Camera

As the only real medium readily available, sketching and drawing the Adirondack landscape started out as a practical endeavor, with a focus generally on lines and accuracy. These artists were trying to understand the landscape by creating an identical copy of it on their paper. These images were often copied and used for more business-oriented tasks, such as being included in certain "published reports and surveys" (Mandel, 14) These practical sketches then morphed into something more traditionally artistic, which was created almost entirely for aesthetic pleasure. These artists focused on light and color, with a general goal of connecting with and appreciating the landscape. These artists were a little more idealistic in their depictions of the land, making it appear as beautiful as possible, even if they lost their focus on accuracy. Although the paintings were less realistic, they were hardly ever abstracted.

Looking at this progression caused me to wonder how it would have been changed had the invention and near-perfection of the camera happened simultaneously. Assumedly, out of convenience, the photograph would have been used in lieu of the original, for-practical-use-only, sketches of the Adirondacks. Adirondack painting might have been, from the very beginning, a solely aesthetic form, and, given more time, it's possible that the idealization of the landscape through this form could have grown so much that surrealism could have become more prevalent in the Adirondacks. If realist painters had been competing with modern cameras that could, much more easily, capture the realistic beauty of the landscape, would they have found another form through which to express their feelings about and connections with the Adirondack Park? Was the lack of a camera what kept Adirondack painting so focused on realism, or was this simply the beauty that the painters saw in the landscape as it was?

Whatever Happened to Follensby? Follensbee?

After Molly's presentation, I was really interested in what became of Follensby Pond after the "philosophers" were there for just a summer. According to a Daily Gazette article from 2008, Follensby is the largest single-party owned water in the Northeast. It is about five miles in length and covers 1,000 acres. The entrance is marked by an iron gate often called "McCormick's Gate" by John McCormick, the 94-year owner of Follensby. There is also a caretaker of Follensby named Thomas Lake, who has worked there since 1970.
http://www.dailygazette.com/news/2008/jun/22/0622_philomain/?print

McCormick purchased the 14, 500 acre-tract that includes Follensby pond in 1952. In more recent years after the death of his wife, he has attempted to sell the land. In 1994, there was an unsuccessful attempt for the state to purchase the tract. There is also the potential possibility that the Adirondack chapter of the Nature Conservancy may hold the property until the state is able to buy it.

Today, there aren't many physical marks of the time that the philosophers spent at Follensby at "Camp Maple." Thomas Lake once found a shattered whisky broken bottle from the 1950s that he believes was from the site, one of the physical artifacts reflecting the Philosopher's Camp. Now a flat clearing and a moss-capped boulder are the only features that mark the site where Emerson and the great philosophers camped for a summer.

 On an interesting note, the moss-covered boulder that is still there today was featured in Stillman's Philosopher's Camp (1858). It is the same boulder that Stillman used to identify the camp in 1883 when he returned to Follensby after twenty five years.

(There's the boulder in the right hand corner!)

And then there's this #?!* for brains...

... a New Yorker painting in acrylic all over our national parks?!
Let's hope she never returns to the state!

http://www.modernhiker.com/2014/10/21/instagram-artist-defaces-national-parks/

Governor Cuomo: A good witch or a bad witch?

Recently in the New York Times, there was an interesting response to the op-ed “An Adirondack Wilderness Imperiled” written by Edward Zahniser. Zahniser discussed Governor Cuomo’s proposal to set in motion a plan that would allow open pit mining on 200 acres of wilderness his father once set aside as forest preserve. For most of his article, Zahniser criticizes Cuomo for discrediting his father’s previous efforts to preserve the Adirondacks, and remains staunchly against open pit mining.

Outraged, Joe Martens, the Commissioner of the Department of Environmental Conservation, wrote a letter to Zahniser in response. Martens noted that since being elected, Andrew Cuomo has approved the classification of 34,745 acres of land as wilderness or primitive in the Adirondacks and the Catskills, and signed one of the largest land acquisition deals in the park in more than a century, adding 69,000 acres to the Forest Preserve by 2016. Additionally, Martens clarified that Cuomo, in collaboration with the DEC, has taken every measure to ensure that exploratory drilling on the 200-acre parcel is done in a protective manner and minimizes any possible effects to the land.

The Adirondack Council and the Adirondack Mountain Club have endorsed the amendment, and 1.2 million voters approved it last November. It turns out that Cuomo has in fact spent more time in the Adirondack Park than any modern-day governor.

Despite the two different arguments, here’s a picture that captures the scope of open pit mining. Does this look like this will preserve the Adirondacks? Do you think Cuomo should allow this practice?

                                                     Source: www.panoramio.com

culture vs. wilderness??

I totally spaced yesterday and forgot to post a blog. So, I figured I would relate this week's post to Wednesday's reading about Adirondack Great Camps. Debates about whether we should preserve Great Camps like Santanoni or let the land return to wilderness parallels many other debates in the park. For instance, people also debate whether to remove or maintain railroad tracks and fire towers on Adirondack peaks. In each case, one side believes that camp buildings, railroad tracks, and fire towers have no place the wilderness, and others argue that these structures are worth preserving for the history and culture that they represent. These arguments place wilderness and culture in stark opposition, making them mutually exclusive. I wonder, though, if this must be the case. Defining wilderness as land without signs of human influence is problematic, since humans are animals and since other animals (such as beavers and deer) also alter the environment.

Turn Your Veins into a (Renewable) Power Source

so this is slightly tangential to all that we've been discussing this semester, in that it isn't specifically related to ADK. however, it IS directly related to questions about energy consumption, our use of non-renewable vs. renewable resources, and our immediate bodies. an intriguing art/science project from an Israeli graduate student that is at one and the same time brilliant and unnerving. it is critical of our addiction to energy while yet providing a potential solution...

Turn Your Veins into a Power Source

oh, and if you haven't already, you should read Edward Bulwer-Lytton's The Coming Race (or Vril). A Victorian scifi novel that already got us (t)here!

Is local culture solely supported by tourism?

Tourism in the Adirondacks has both blessed the region with a stable economy and harmed the region environmentally. If the Park was still only settled by those who are not involved in the tourism business, as long as the logging companies were sufficiently regulated. Today, the Adirondacks flourish in tourism and the local culture seems to be only alive due to those tourists. Many locals live there solely because of the tourists, and the next most prominent population is most likely those with second homes or those who live in the Adirondacks because they want to be closer to the wild - and they often do not embody the historical culture of the Park. Who would be left without the tourists?

Camps and chromosomes

Bear with me on this one. When I was thinking today about what a "camp" means, and from our discussion, it became clear that there are plenty of different interpretations of what a camp is. For me, the word "camp" can have two definitions depending on the perspective that you look at it. If you're looking at a single lodge on the scale of an acre - sure, you can call it a camp. But if you're looking at a whole community of lodges and service buildings on the scale of 50 acres, the entire area is a camp. The individual lodges, though the same size as in the first example, no longer take the form of a camp.

This drew me to the comparison with chromosomes. The phase in the cell cycle or reference point determines the definition of "chromosome." For instance, "chromosome" can refer to the pair of sister chromatids when joined together. But when the chromatids separate, they each become known as chromosomes.

I'm sure there are other words that take on different definitions depending on the reference point. The analogy might be a stretch, but that's at least how I envision "camps."

How I Killed a Bear

I found Schneider’s accounts of Adirondack guides particularly interesting and amusing. The 19th century Adirondack guides seem to epitomize the ideal of manly ruggedness that was thought to be essential for survival in the wilderness. In his travel narrative Adventures in the Wilderness, W.H.H. “Adirondack” Murray recounts his adventures paddling the rapids of the Raquette river and shooting loons (in a thunderstorm!) for sport, which he presents as particularly manly escapades.

Schneider also suggests that much of the lore surrounding guides is fictional. For example, Orson “Old Mountain” Phelps tended to use a cryptic lingo in his profession but could actually speak and write conventional English outside of guiding. Schneider presents a particularly striking image of an early tourist and a guide, snuggled up next to each other in a leaky lean-to in a rainstorm, but also points out that this is not the image of the period that endures.

A footnote on page 171 of Schneider caught my interest. It referenced a short story called “How I Killed a Bear” by Charles Dudley Warner, who was a writer who spent time (and actually killed a bear!) in the Adirondacks. I found the text online and it is as amusing as Schneider promises. The title suggests a feat of heroic manliness but the narrative seems to mock this implication. The story is about a man who is told by housekeepers at his cottage to fetch some blackberries. He sets off with a tin pail but grabs a gun on his way out so as to maintain an appearance of toughness. Warner suggests a fictional tale in which a father kills a bear that had kidnapped and cared for his daughter to set up a contrast between the “ideal” way to kill a bear and the author’s clumsy confrontation with the animal. When Warner first notices the bear while “blackberrying”, he freezes. His first thought, rather than to shoot it, it to give it a pail of blackberries to distract it as he attempts to flee. When he realizes that the bear is close behind, he reluctantly shoots the animal. This encounter mocks the ideal of manly ruggedness, which the guides were thought to exemplify, and suggests that it is often merely an act.

Here’s a link to the full text if you’re interested: http://www.24hourcampfire.com/Warner.html     

Brown or Red

A good chunk of our reading about acid rain talked about how it was bringing about the end of the sugar maple. Especially in the Southwestern Adirondacks acid rain has been killing off the seedlings that carpet the floor around sugar maples, allowing beech trees to take over the forest. Not only would this hurt the maple syrup industry, but it would also change the fall colors as beech turn yellow, not the myriad shades of red and orange of the sugar maple. The foliage forecast for global warming is even more drab: as New York's climate becomes more and more temperate, trees like the oak will move into the Adirondacks. Oak leaves turn brown in the fall (not very exiting). We will probably end up with something looking like this:

View of the hills along Route 8 between Deposit and Utica. While many of the trees are missing their leaves, the effect is approximately the same a week or two earlier. While not all brown, it lacks the fair of the red and orange maple leaves.

Or will we? There is another maple who also turns red in the fall. While the red maple's foliage is not as varied as the sugar maple (it's all red), this maple could help to add color to many forests around New York. The red maple is capable of living in environments from Florida to Quebec, and is thought to be more tolerant of acidic soil and low air quality. It also grows more quickly than other hardwoods, and it has been given a competitive edge by the clearing and fire fighting activities of humans. Red maple is a softer hardwood, making it less desirable for lumber, and trees rarely live to be 150 while sugar maples can live 300 years or more. The red maple can also be used for sap production: the technique for putting in taps is slightly different between the two species, and there is some controversy over whether the syrup from red maples is as good as that from sugar maples. Regardless, the fact that commercial syrup is being produced from red maples means that even after the sugar maples are driven out by acid rain and climate change, some fall color and syrup production will remain!

 USDA Fact Sheet
UVM Article

Photo by Jeff Dean http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/27/Redmaple2.jpg

What Will Happen to the Railroads

After looking at the comments on the web page that Onno posted about the issue of what to do with the railroads in the Adirondacks, I was surprised at what I saw. I was expecting the comments to be a mix of Train enthusiast arguments and hiker/snowmobilist arguments but I was mistaken. The bulk of the chatter, on this web page at least, was economic. The arguments include local interest in train use, tourist spending on and along the railroads, and raising tax revenue through the operation of the railways. It is interesting to me that there seemed to be no nostalgic or historical argument for maintaining the railroad tracks. From my little experience in the park and after evaluating these comments on this web page, it seems that the state has come to a crossroads of whether to revamp the railroad industry in the Adirondacks and have rail travel be a significant mode of transportation in the park or disband with the sporadic rail travel that currently runs in the park. One of the major complaints in the comments seemed to be that there just aren't that many trains that run nowadays. Personally I'd like to see the rails become very nicely maintained paths for hikers, snowmobiles, etc. It will be interesting to see what the state decides on this hot issue.

Tourists in the Woods

I found a list of Recent Adirondack Search and Rescue Incidents that goes along nicely with our discussion of tourism today. Our definition of a tourist was someone who was visiting a place they didn't intend to live in and someone who didn't know how things were done in the place they were visiting (think: a tourist standing in the middle of a street looking at a map and getting in the way).

Well, hikers who get lost (which are the majority of these search and rescue incidents) are kind of like tourists who get in the way. They might not know the area they are hiking in well, and they do something that creates extra work for the locals. I'm sure that helicopter rescues are expensive and difficult.

This does well to emphasize the paradox of tourism. Money is brought into an area by tourists who want to visit, but in order to sustain tourism, money must be spent. The Adirondacks need to be under the watch of rangers and have wilderness medical teams and helicopters in order to respond properly when people who are visiting the Adirondacks need help. This also does well to illustrate why being a tourist has such a bad connotation.

Tourism as Plague and Savior

Tourism is a complicated subject matter, as we discussed in class today. As it comes to carry a negative connotation, certain "tourists" choose to distance themselves from the term, and refer to themselves as "travelers," "backpackers," etc. However, despite the connotations and the attempts to avoid them, tourists are simply those who visit a place with no intention of settling there. Under this description, we're all tourists in most of the places we go. So why has the term garnered such hate? Often, the associated image is that of a heavy, middle-aged white man in khaki shorts, socks and sandals, and a fanny pack with his camera hanging around his neck. He and his family as seen as pests, ignorant of the customs and cultures of the place they're visiting and often too loud, too demanding, too in-the-way. But, many areas like the Adirondacks are incredibly reliant on tourism for the support of the local economy. So why is the tourist such a universally despised figure? Should visitors be expected to learn about a location's customs and adhere to them, or and if so, to what degree? At what point must we accept that no one will ever fit in quite like a local? Beyond that, at what point are you a "local" someplace? When you buy a house? Settle in? Make a family? Is it a matter of months, years, or generations? Obviously this depends on the community and this is a rhetorical question in this situation but it's something worth considering the next time you grumble about tourists ruining someplace you love.

Adirondack Mountain Club

Over fall break, I led a HOC trip in the White Mountains of New Hampshire and couldn't help comparing the Whites with the Adirondacks. I was accustomed to the relatively unkept nature of Adirondack trails, campsites that aren't clearly labeled, and small lean-to's that have clearly been used by hundreds of hikers. Instead, the trails of the Whites were much more clearly marked and well defined, the campsites were very obvious and built up with platforms and outhouses, and the lean-to's were more like homes than quick shelters. I did a little bit of research today to try and find out why there was such a stark distinction, and I quickly saw that the Adirondacks and the Whites are managed very differently.

We have already talked a bit about the APA (Adirondack Park Agency) and the DEC (Department of Environmental Conservation), two NY state organizations that are jointly responsible for the management and protection of land in the Adirondacks. Naturally, they are also the ones responsible for the creation and maintenance of trails in state land. However, I read a little bit about the Adirondack Mountain Club ("ADK") that has taken over a lot of the land in the High Peaks region of the park. A private organization, the Adirondack Mountain Club runs primarily on volunteers and donations. It has over 28,000 members and is responsible for "the conservation, preservation, and responsible recreational use of the New York State Forest Preserve". The club places summit stewards on mountain peaks, manages popular trailheads like the Adirondack Loj, and is in charge of a lot of the infrastructure in popular hiking areas. While the High Peaks is still under the rules set by the DEC, like the maximum group size, the ADK is the one maintaining most of the land.

From its website, the ADK seems like a much smaller club that relies heavily on volunteers, while the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) that manages trails in the White Mountains is a larger club that collects fees for parking and camping. We are lucky to have access to the Adirondacks for free, but the quality of trails and campsites in the White Mountains was a good example of the benefits of collecting money from backpackers. I think that, ultimately, I prefer the unkept nature of Adirondack trails and campsites and I like that the trails are accessible to everyone, but I can't help but wonder what the Adirondacks would look like if there was some sort of campsite fee.

Wandering Home with Bill McKibben

For fall break this year I was fortunate enough to spend my time with the Rubright-Scott family in New Haven, Vermont, a beautiful area talked about in Bill McKibben’s book Wandering Home.  I got to drive through Ripton, Vermont, where McKibben begins his story. It is a tiny Vermont town home to Robert Frost’s small cabin. We stopped at a small general store and gas station in Ripton that overcharges prices because the owner claims “it’s better gas.” A little further down the road we stopped at the Bread Loaf Campus of Middlebury College, a school of English open during the summer months and a cross-country ski area in the winter, mentioned by McKibben in his book.  Even farther down the road is the Middlebury Snow Bowl, the local ski area for the college. Although not in the book, this is where McKibben spent much of his time skiing.

John Rubright managed the Middlebury Snow Bowl for 30 years before retiring in 2009, handling much of the ski trail grooming, lift maintenance, and snowmaking. Mr. Rubright showed me an article written by McKibben himself about Mr. Rubright’s work at the slopes for the Middlebury Alumni magazine from 2005. He talks mostly of getting ready for Middlebury’s Winter Carnival, two days of Nordic ski racing. The article reveals the anxiety of working at a place that relies heavily on very unreliable weather and what Mr. Rubright had to do to combat the sporadic winter temperatures and conditions.

            We continued our drive through New Haven, passing Mount Abe during the peak of fall foliage and the New Haven River, bubbling with water after all the heavy rainfall. Through Lincoln we drove to another small town general store, and up Lincoln Peak to the most beautiful view. Now I know why Mckibben lives and writes about this area. It is truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

My view of Bristol, Vt
 July 2014

New Haven, VT
October 2014

On top of the Appalachian Gap
October 2014 

Middlebury Snow Bowl
October 2014

What does it mean to be authentic?

I really enjoyed Sarah's presentation today on Adirondack chairs. These chairs are something that I was familiar with, in terms of knowing what they are, but was unaware of their history and how they came to be about. In her presentation, one of Sarah's discussion questions was "do you think the mass produced/plastic Adirondack chairs have the same connotations as the authentic/wood Adirondack chairs?" This question is hard to answer because in answering it, we have to define what it means to be an "authentic"Adirondack chair...

If you were to ask me, a large part of being authentic has to deal with production - more specifically, who is producing it and where it is being produced. For example, I would not consider an Adirondack chair mass produced in China to be 'authentic.' I would hope that an 'authentic' Adirondack chair was crafted (not produced) in the Adirondacks by someone who knew how to work with wood. For me, another aspect of what defines the word authentic is being crafted using the same building plan and materials that were originally intended for the object. In terms of the chair, this would mean using the same blueprint for the chair, in addition to using the material that would have created the chair back then - wood. For example, I would not consider this Adirondack chair to be authentic:

http://community.pearljam.com/discussion/231344/the-adirondack-chair-appreciation-thread/p2

Yes, it is made of wood and possibly could have been make in the Adirondacks (the website did not specify where it was made), but I can bet you my life's savings that Thomas Lee and Harry Bunnell did not plan or intend for the back of the chair to be crafted in the shape of a human skull. Crafting adaptations and putting modern spins on object invalidates their authenticity. 

Of course, out of all the Adirondack chairs ever produced, the remaining number of chairs that actually fit my definition of authentic would seem to be very few, with the advance of modern day technology and machinery, as well as development of more synthetic, weather resisting materials. But on the other hand, the fact that very few "authentic" Adirondack Chairs actually exists makes them special and gives them some importance to those who possess them. 

After I wrote this post, I looked up authentic just to see how the word is really defined. Merriam-Webster defines the word authentic to be "conforming to an original so as to reproduce essential features" as well as "made or done the same way as an original." I would say my homemade definition fits pretty well! 

A Hike Into the "Wild"

There wasn't a car in sight and the path was barely visible beneath a covering of orange and red leaves; it seemed like the perfect place to run into nobody. We stepped into hiking boots, threw on rain coats to deflect the occasional drizzel and stepped on to the path. The leaves was slippery and appeared untouched; it gave me a thrill to think that we were going to experience a part of the woods that had been hidden away from people for so long. 

We walked for 30 minutes barely talking, our eyes looking down for the easiest path over the rocks. Every once in a while we would reach a clearing and we could see rays of sunlight breaking through the dissipating clouds. We could see the small stores and gas stations from the nearby town, but they seemed distant and unconnected to us. It was like the trees had formed a metaphorical barrier between us and society; it could have been straight out a Bill McKibben novel. I felt contained within the forest, and for a few moments nothing really mattered but what was directly in front of me and under my feet. 

If you had asked me at that moment, as we looked out through the tree branches, I would have said that this was my closest experience to being in the "Wild". Throughout the hike my body had created so many endorphins that I felt elated, like I had earned a spot in the wilderness. This feeling lasted for only a moment, however, because the path took a turn and we walked into a sobering scene. The forest opened up and the trees that had accompanied us on our way up were replaced by stumps and fallen branches. The stumps ended so abruptly and cleanly that it must have been the work of machinery, though nothing was there now. My immediate thought was of a graveyard, and the feeling of elation that had overcome me moments before disappeared. I felt guilty, as though the actions of loggers was my fault for depending on the timber they supplied. My spot in the wilderness was revoked, and I was a conquerer instead of a guest. 

All the time that I was looking at the stumps, I couldn't stop thinking about the maps in our Atlas of tree populations declining in much of the Adirondacks. Seeing the clearing in person, the implications of the maps became very real; unless we regulate our use of the land, we will lose much of the wilderness around us. Knowing the joy and escape that wilderness can bring, I hope that we reconsider it as a price to pay for resources.

Hottest Topic in the Park?

I'm not sure why this is, or what this means, exactly, but the topic that gets the most comments on the Adirondack Almanack, and on which I've seen the most letters to the Editor of various local publications, is the idea of converting some old rail lines in the ADKS to a trail. There are VERY vocal and active folks on both sides, generating lots of heat. Here's a very recent example: http://www.adirondackalmanack.com/2014/10/state-seeks-comments-on-best-use-of-railroad-corridor.html

Present-Day Guiding in the Adirondacks

After reading Adirondack Murray's stories and encountering many professional climbing guides over the course of the year, I felt like doing a little comparing between the two. Just like the 1800s, guides today are primarily locals who were hired by the wealthy for adventures in the wilderness. These days, a 1:1 day with a guide will cost anywhere from $250 to $500, depending on the certifications of the guide (Cloudsplitter Mountain Guides). Guides today must go through a rigorous and expensive certification process, something that was absent during the era of Adirondack Murray. Last year I had the fortune of attending a presentation by Emilie Drinkwater of Cloudsplitter Mountain Guides in the Adirondacks. She touched upon the difficulties of entering the industry today, and the advantages of being a female mountain guide. In Adirondack Murray's time, there is no mention of any female guides, and it appears that any local could christen himself a guide. While the websites of present day guiding companies have some grand descriptions of what a day in the wilderness is like, it is nothing like the exaggerated and sensationalized ramblings of Adirondack Murray.

Circumstance

The Adirondacks are a special region in New York and certainly unique in being so relatively well preserved in comparison with the rest of the United States.  It's quite interesting to think on how this really became the case.  I'm sure we'd like to think that from the outset we sought to protect the Adirondacks.  However, the way I see it, it was mostly through a series of failures and accidents that the Adirondacks became this unique place.

This is pretty much explicitly stated in Schneider when talking about the railroad system. There was a grand vision of 185 miles of railroad around Saratoga and Ogdensburg.  From lack of investments, the railroad tycoon was only able to build roughly a third of the proposed structure, thus failing  and making the system obsolete and could not connect the region as much.  Similar circumstances of harshness include acidic soil and cold winters.


Failure may be a little to harsh a word to acceptably cover this topic.  Failure implies not meeting a series of goals that one sets.  If we use a conventional definition of "not being fully developed and exploited by humans", then yes, then settlement of the Adirondacks was quite poor throughout much of Adirondack history.  It was widely characteristic of bust and boom, and many places lacked proper infrastructure to support a conventionally good quality of life at the time.  However, the implications of having some sort of settling success would have meant kind of depressing things for how the region would be shaped.  The New York Times had predicted that should the railroad have completed, the Adirondacks would just be another suburb of New York.  Knowing how most of us here treat hearing someone is from "a suburb right outside of Boston", another large suburb of New York would be rather uninteresting to talk about or visit as opposed to the region we enjoyed running around two weekends ago.  So if we change failure to being a generic region than doesn't take advantage of the great biodiversity of the United States, then the Adirondacks is certainly a success.