Hermit

Only certain people have the fantasy of becoming a hermit. Most people are too social to ever consider this drastic decision to be left alone with them selves. I am one that has fantasies of becoming a hermit. I have desired this since I was a teen, though the thought is more and more fleeting as my age advances and I really enjoy a good bed and a hot shower.

When in my 20s I became fascinated with Noah John Rondeau, the Adirondack Hermit of the Cold River Valley. Noah was born in 1883 and learned the craft of surviving in nature in the Adirondacks from Indians. He visited the Cold River Valley and built a hermitage for his visits. He started staying there year round at the age of 46 in 1929, which was no small task considering the brutality of the winters in the Adirondacks.

Though he was a hermit he was pretty social. He welcomed visitors that wandered his way and would even entertain them with his violin. He was literate with a cabin full of books. He’d venture into town for supplies and would visit with folks on his arrival.

Noah had his first run-ins with the Conservation Department, the predecessor of today's New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. He had problems with one particular game warden who would cause him problems for years to come. To survive he had to hunt animals and fish that were out of season.

Noah’s decline began with a big wind storm in 1950 where much of his Cold River Valley was leveled by fallen trees. The Conservation Department closed the Cold River Valley for the next three years. Noah ended up living in Lake Placid and Saranac Lake for the final 17 years of his life. Noah died at the age of 84.

Noah John Rondeau was never granted his final wish: to be buried at his hermitage; his remains lie in the North Elba Cemetery near Lake Placid. His grave marker is a stone from his Cold River home.