This weekend I had the honor of being the convocation speaker at the opening of Clarkson University's 2015-16 academic year.  I drove there on Saturday.  If you plan a similar trip I advise bringing a powerful car, extra fuel, survival gear and defensive weaponry.

The road to Potsdam runs through the heart of New York’s Adirondack forest, which has become a place of ruins.  The Adirondacks were once the playground where all New Yorkers went to vacation. The camps were filled with kids and parents, and the resorts were booming with couples and groups of all sorts.  Not any more.

That said, with the humans subtracted it remains a place of wild and rugged beauty.  It's home to some of the northernmost rattlesnake dens in North America.  

Nowadays, though, it's largely forgotten as New Yorkers go to Aspen – or even farther - and the opportunities closer to home are abandoned.  First the resorts closed, and the great complexes like Grossinger’s were reclaimed by the woods.  The campgrounds were closer to woods to begin with and they disappeared even faster.

Then went the people who served them.  Whole communities depended on the tourist trade, and as it dried up, so went the means of support.  Anyone who could moved away.  Realtors put signs on the properties that were paid for, but there were not too many buyers.  Banks foreclosed the properties that had debt, and they had even less luck with remarketing.

Some of the houses people abandoned were pretty grand.  You wonder who they were, why they left, and where they went . . .

Today you drive wooded country roads, seemingly devoid of houses.  But when you look close, you see they are in there, surrounded by trees.  Some standing, others fallen down.  It is impressive, how quickly nature reclaims its own.

Then there are the roads themselves – the ones with pavement last longer.  Dirt roads can vanish as fast as the camps they led to.  Can you see the road in here?

Then, as you get father north, you come into farm country.  Abandonment there too a different form.  Half the farmers left, and abandoned or sold their holdings.  The houses and many of the barns were left to their fate, and the land was worked by those who remained. 

In the northern towns there is a pattern of struggle, then abandonment.  The working men and women who once populated this part of New York are leaving, to be replaced by transient college students at Clarkson, SUNY Potsdam, St Lawrence and a few other schools.  Health care is big up here too, thanks to an older core population and rising health care costs. 

Places like the 3 Bears Gluten Free Bakery are thriving, but you know times are tough when the tavern next door goes bust.

And for the rest . . .

In some places abandoned storefronts would signal crime and danger.  Here the people are mostly gone.  Yet they still manage to leave their mark . . .

The strong smell of urine is the first thing that hits you as you approach then Potsdam Court.  Then you see where the odor is concentrated – the collection box.  Clearly the people of northern New York have brought more than money to show their regard for the state court.

Then there is whimsy.  A block up from the court, the Patron Saint of the Bathroom stands before his legions.

Potsdam is actually known far and wide for having a whole house lot devoted to the Art of the Urinal

Most people don't think of New York as rural, but this is some of the most rural and wild country in the Eastern United States.  And it's empty.  You know it's remote when the accoutrements of modern highways slip away.  First the road widens a bit, and there are no guard rails.  Then there are no houses.  Finally there are no telephone poles.  And of course there are no other cars.  Run off the road up there and you'll be waiting a long time for rescue.

I left Clarkson in Potsdam and headed home Sunday night about 9.  Once I cleared Potsdam, it was 150 miles through the mountains to the honky-tonk of Lake George.  In that whole distance I passed 16 moving cars.  Think about that.  Can you imagine driving from Boston to New Haven and seeng less than 20 other motorists?  It gives pause for thought . . .

Until next time . . . 

All words and images (c) 2015 John Elder Robison