Blue Mountain Public Beach and Park, Rt 28

The drive on Route 28 from Utica to Blue Mountain is a cornucopia of sights, sounds and smells. We catch glimpses of azure lakes peeping between the Scotch pines and Douglas fir trees that stand at attention on each side of the road. I often have a difficult time staying in the lane, because the scenery is so spectacular and I am drawn to it like a duck to water. Much of the lakefront property is privately owned, so we cannot stop and explore the area. However, we were delighted to see a public beach in Blue Mountain Lake, NY, situated at the intersection of Routes 28 and 30. We pulled over to have our lunch and soak in the glorious scenery. I’ll allow the photos to tell their story, but realize the area is ten times more colorful and peaceful and enjoyable. Ah!

The park is small, the smallest beach I’ve ever seen. There are a smattering of picnic tables and a bench. You can also sit on a rocky bank near the boat launching area. Swimming is allowed only when a lifeguard is on duty (no one was here today), but even if there was, I doubt anyone would venture into the lake’s very chilly waters this late in the year. I was so tempted to wade into the lovely waters, though!

Several boaters paddled out from the launch toward the center of the lake, replete with long fishing poles and boxes full of bait. I have no idea the type of fish in this lake, but I could guess trout is popular in this area.

My kitty enjoyed watching the minnows darting near the water’s edge, tantalizingly out of reach.

While the park is tiny, it was rather busy for sleepy little Blue Mountain Lake, NY. Several bikers, taking a break from their motorcycle trek through the Adirondacks, stopped for a respite. Other folks, obviously locals, launched boats and another group of visitors sauntered in with picnic baskets.

Restrooms and water fountains are across the street, next to a radio tower that the boys found interesting.

We stayed, riveted to the scenery, for about half an hour. If you are passing through on Route 28, take a moment to stop here and catch your breath. The air is crisp, the view is stunning. I am desperate to return!

Route 28 to White Lake, Adirondacks

In autumn of 2007, after a trip to the Baron von Steuben Memorial Site in Remsen, we took a late-afternoon drive through the Adirondacks. I scooted up Route 28 to White Lake.

It is absolutely beautiful here. We couldn’t get very close to the lake. “Private Property” signs screamed at us from all directions. Aw! Well, I am not one to rip private property rights, but I’ll say it was sure hard to refrain from trespassing! What beautiful lakefront properties! And since this is Oneida County, these properties must cost a very pretty penny to own.

We meandered back down Route 28 for a while. I wanted to get off the “main drag.” Even though I begrudgingly maintained a speed of 55 miles per hour through this wooded wonderland, huge SUVs and monster pick-up trucks breathed down my tailpipe, pushing me to go faster. Hey, this is the Adirondacks, buster; how can you roar right through them without even a glance and a sigh? I don’t know what it is about SUV drivers, either. I mean, I drive a minivan– no tiny tin can– and still these SUV tanks bully me and budge me to the side. Yow. Driving is, unfortunately, not very pleasant any more.

So I looked for a “country” road to explore. We checked our map and I turned onto Round Lake Road. I am still not sure if this road is private property, or even if it is Round Lake Rd, for that matter. Street signs were glaringly absent, so I was at the mercy of my van’s dashboard compass and our interpretation of our map!

Oh, but the drive did not disappoint. It was lovely. At one place, we stopped the van to explore the area. Folks, this is Upstate New York. Quintessential. Exquisite.

The kids were quiet (as I told them to be). We looked for animal tracks and inspected the beautiful lush ferns growing by the side of the road. We were awed and dwarfed by such massively tall pines.

However, I was a little self-conscious. I wasn’t sure if our pit stop was permitted. We’d parked near a lovely stone and iron gate that led to, according to signs, Masonic Home Camp trails. There were a lot of “private property” signs. I was on the alert for other travelers.

At one point, I thought I heard a car coming. Have you ever heard that sound? It sounds like a faint whooshing sound that grows louder– it is actually the car tires on the asphalt pavement making that sound. I listened and listened as the whooshing got a little louder, but no car ever came. Then it dawned on me! It was the sound of the wind blowing high over the pine trees. We heard the sound long before we saw the trees finally bristle with the wind. The afternoon heat of the sun was beginning to wane, so the wind had gathered up and was running its chilly fingers through the bough branches, in preparation for the cool evening. The delicious scent of pine drizzled down to us at the forest floor. It was glorious.