AuSable’s West Branch: A fishing paradise with unmatched scenery

Uncover scenic hiking trails leading to secluded fishing spots outside of Wilmington

By Tim Rowland

The West Branch of the AuSable is excellent fishing because, as one river-wag told me, “Of course it is, when you dump 10,000 fish into it every year.”

I don’t know what the actual stocking numbers are, but the point was well-taken: The West Branch, from the Lake Placid ski jumps to the hamlet of Wilmington, is designed to be as attractive for tourists as it is for fish, with achingly beautiful scenery, movie-studio pools and falls and of course plenty of public access.

But the West Branch doesn’t just disappear at Wilmington prior to its chattering arrival in Au Sable Forks, and, with the approach of trout season today (April 1), there are several sneaky-good  approaches well downstream of the famed catch-and-release run through Wilmington Notch.

Since I’m writing about it, you can assume one of these secluded access points has a trail, and a nice one at that. Part of the Wilmington Wild Forest, the trailhead is on Haselton Road, a mile from the hamlet of Black Brook, or about 5.7 miles from the hamlet of Wilmington. Coming from Wilmington there’s a parking pullout on the left, with the trail across the road.

If you’re an angler, a steep scramble down the bank from the parking pullout brings you to (stocked) Black Brook — a quick side-trip that’s worth it just for a scenic little amble along the stream.

The sign for the West Branch of the Ausable is small and barely discernible. It indicates the beginning of a 0.8 mile hop to the river’s shoreline. 

I thought maybe the trail had arrived a couple of years ago when a Porta John was dropped off at the pullout — but it was more of an aspirational toilet, because in all my time there I’ve met only one other person on the trail, and the parking lot is more apt to be used less by hikers than an old reprobate sleeping it off.

Until last year it had been difficult to recommend the trail because a dozen or more large trees had come down across the footpath, an irritant to some and a downright barrier to those with less mobility. But happily the chainsaws finally arrived, and only two or three smaller, easily stepped-over trees have come down across the trail since.

For half a mile, this is a thoroughly enjoyable, level walk in the woods, forested primarily with limbless red pines, their towering trunks as straight as a flashlight beam in the fog. The forest floor will soon light up in green with huckleberry, wild sarsaparilla, witch hazel, bracken ferns and Canada mayflowers amid little seedlings of white pine. If you turn around where this pancake-flat run ends, you will have had an enjoyable and interesting 1-mile walk.

Continuing on, the trail descends rather steeply for about 50 yards through a swale before  leveling out and clinging to a hillside to remain on state land. Finally it drops down to an abandoned road that you follow for a short distance until a blue DEC marker nudges you to peel off to the right, down the bank to the river bottom. This is a classic Adirondack river scene with a remote feel (across the river is a vacation-home subdivision, but it’s well-hidden) and some promising riffles and boulders if you brought your tackle box. 

Spring is a good time to explore the shoreline, because in summer the grasses downstream get pretty high, hiding some watery pitfalls. And even if you don’t fish, it’s an excellent spot to have a picnic or lie on a rock in the increasingly warm spring sun.

But wait, there’s more.

The trail ends, but the state land doesn’t, as you can see on the Wilmington Wild Forest map. So instead of leaving the abandoned road where the trail markers tell you to (you may do this anyway, the operative medallion is kind of easy to miss) you can continue on the road until you come to a washed out ravine where the old iron culverts lie all cattywampus at the bottom.

Scramble down and then up and out of the ravine and then follow the little brook upstream — another old road will help — and keep an eye out for a well-constructed beaver dam. Continue upstream to another. And then another. And another. I don’t know if the beavers got ahold of some good cocaine or what, but they just started building and never stopped. I counted seven dams, one right after the other, but there could be more; the state lands end before this Dubai-like building spree does.

Turn around at the boundary, and return to the river, where you can continue downstream as you pick up another old trace above the water. This is bushwhacking, yes, but the river is right at your side, so if you get lost here, the authorities will be at your house in the morning to revoke your Ponce de Leon Merit Badge for advanced wilderness exploration.

Continuing downstream for as long as the state land holds out will afford you a fine view of the river from a high bluff and some beautiful stretches of churning whitewater. The old road leaves the river at an abandoned campground, but fishing trails continue on, although again, in summer you will encounter thick grass that isn’t always pleasant to wade through.

All told, this hike can be a 1-mile jaunt on level ground, a 1.6 mile round trip to the river, or more than three miles if you go for the whole enchilada. And if you happen to catch a couple of trout while you’re there, so much the better.