Before arrival day even began, Beaver Trip 2025 was due to be one for the ages.  A truly stacked group of campers had signed up, including several trip camp veterans, two enthusiastic first-time trippers, and one camper who decided to swap registrations from main camp to trip camp less than a week before it started.  This legendary group of adventurers would be staffed by ‘Canoe’ Sam (the resident guide) and staff celebrity Fran (on his way to finally find that elusive perfect Adirondack acorn).

During the first full meeting of Trip Camp personnel on the Sunday of Beaver Trip, the campers made their intentions clear: they wanted to see something that no other trip camp had ever seen.  ‘Canoe’ Sam’s suggestion?  A much-whispered-about waterway that few had ever dared to access by canoe: the Cold River.

Lying in the heart of the ADK wilderness, the Cold River serves as one of the main tributaries to Beaver Trip’s traditional route.  It drains off the eastern High Peaks before merging with the Raquette River.  This year, Beaver Trip cut the first day of lake-hopping off of the usual route, starting 12 miles further northeast than previous years.  This gave the group an extra day in the middle of the week to explore the Cold River’s unpaddled twists and turns.

After a mild and uneventful (although gorgeous and meaningful) first day and a half, the group arrived at their fateful intersection, the confluence of Raquette and Cold rivers.  The plan was to paddle upstream, dodging any obstacles, for 5 miles, and arrive at a cluster of campsites and an old suspension footbridge.

The first mile seemed easy going, the river staying friendly, deep, and not too swift.  It was only after lunch and into the afternoon that the Cold River revealed its true nature, and the reason it was not-often paddled.  It was here that Beaver Trip discovered that the entire channel they had planned to travel grew swift, rocky, and (crucially) shallow.  Too shallow to successfully float their boats with people sitting inside.  The only option forward was to get out and start wading.

At first, it was only short sections that required “trekking” through the river, campers and staff pulling empty pack boats behind them.  As they got closer to their destination, however, the river became tougher and tougher to navigate.  The final mile took over an hour to traverse, over ninety percent of which required everyone’s feet in the water.  If the Cold River experience wasn't adventurous enough already, it was during this final mile that one camper’s trusty Croc (sandal) was stolen by the current and whisked away too quickly to chase.

Fortunately, Beaver Trip’s tenacity and resilience prevailed, and just as evening began to fall, they spotted a trail sign up on the steep northern bank of the Cold River, signaling that they had joyously reached their destination.  At this point, being experts in campsite assembly, Beaver Trip began the quick work of pitching tents and collecting firewood.  The reward that evening for dinner was well worth the hard work of dragging boats against the current all day: the famous trip camp mac’n’cheese recipe – Thunder Mac!  Of course, afterwards, they observed the Unirondack traditions of campfire and the friendship circle, which this time felt somehow more meaningful than ever.

On the following morning, after oatmeal and hashbrowns for breakfast, the Cold River proved to be much friendlier in the opposite direction.  Traveling downstream, Beaver Trip was able to stay in their boats for the majority of the way back to rejoin the Raquette.  Handling the many rocky twists and turns while traveling with the current proved to be a challenge, still, but a much more exhilarating one.  And remember that lost lonesome Croc?  It had washed up on a boulder downstream and waited all night to be reunited with its pair.

Back on course, and not to be without hardship for the day, Beaver trip reached Raquette Falls later in the day and demolished its 1.25-mile portage in a single pass.  They were rewarded with a lean-to campsite for the evening and an unforgettable story to tell.

                 In the words of one Beaver Trip camper, “I remember the cold river never seemed to end. It was endless, not just because it was four miles of walking upstream in knee-deep water, slipping on the round river rocks, and chasing after lost canoes, but because it was just so fun to be with everyone.  We had the music going, we swam, we talked.  And we had a mission, I think we bonded particularly on the river because we were doing something hard together.”