Randy Galusha and the Legacy of Toad Hill Maple Farm
Randy Galusha’s roots in maple sugaring go back to his great-grandfather.
The fire burns brightly as Randy Galusha swings open the heavy door of his wood-fired evaporator, a wave of heat rising with the scent of burning hardwood and maple steam. Outside, wisps of vapor drift from the timber-framed sugarhouse, curling into the cold March air over Thurman. Inside, the gleaming stainless-steel rig hums and bubbles as gallons of sap transform into syrup. For Randy, this isn't just sugaring season—it's the culmination of a lifetime rooted in the land, a family legacy preserved with both reverence and ingenuity.
"My earliest memory of maple sugaring, I was ten years old," he recalls. "My younger brother was seven, and my grandmother, up in Johnsburg, always made a little bit of syrup in just her backyard, a little setup on cinder blocks, small pan, roadside trees. My brother and I were playing in my dad's barn one day, we found some spouts, and we thought, yay! We'd seen her do it. We figured we could do it."
That childhood experiment sparked a lifelong passion. Though the farm officially took on the name Toad Hill around 1980, its maple-sugaring roots stretch back to Randy's great-grandfather, who worked an 80-acre subsistence farm in Thurman. "We've found remnants on the property," Randy says. "Three different stone arches, which is what you set the pans on to boil sap. That probably goes back to the 1930s to 1950s."
After college, Randy returned to the land full-time in 1983. "It's just one of those things. It's an addiction," he says with a chuckle. "I don't think I ever consciously thought, 'I'm going to make this a big business.' But a lot of maple producers will tell you, you always want more trees. You get more trees, you need a bigger evaporator. Then you're like, 'Well, I can handle more trees now.' It's a snowball effect."
That snowball eventually led to the construction of the magnificent timber-frame sugarhouse in 2010. Fueled in part by a USDA REAP grant, Randy replaced a large oil-fired evaporator with a high-efficiency wood-fired one and added a reverse osmosis (RO) system to reduce the sap's water content before it hits the evaporator.
"Historically, producers with a wood-fired evaporator might make about 25 gallons of syrup per cord of wood. We produce over 200 gallons per cord now," he says, underscoring the impact of efficiency improvements.
Still, the heart of Toad Hill remains their wood-fired evaporator—a showpiece not only for its performance, but for the experience it offers visitors. "When you walk through the front door of the sugarhouse, people are impressed by the timber frame. But I also put in a lot of windows so people can see into the kitchen, from the tank room upstairs down to the evaporator," Randy says. "One reason we still burn wood is that it adds something. The public really enjoys it. They stand there and watch the steam billow off the evaporator, up through the cupola. Every eight minutes, we're opening the door and firing it. It's intense. People who aren't familiar with maple see it all going on and they're kind of thrilled by it. So it's a show."
Randy walks visitors through the process with pride. "The concentrate from the RO flows at about the same rate that we're consuming it in the evaporator. The evaporator is set up with floats on each pan, so as water evaporates out, more concentrate flows in. It's a continuous flow process."
Even the waste steam is put to work. "We have a steam-away on the evaporator that captures steam off the flue pan to preheat more sap. It saves a lot of energy," he explains.
Blending Tradition and Innovation
Randy built this magnificent sugarhouse in 2010.
As Thurman Maple Days draws to a close each year, Toad Hill opens its doors to families eager to experience this blend of tradition and innovation. "Everybody comes into the sugarhouse, and obviously they want to see the evaporator running," Randy says. "Then we take them on a wagon ride, across a timber-frame covered bridge we built, out into the sugarbush. Somebody on the wagon talks about how we manage the woods, install tubing, how we get the sap from the trees back to the sugarhouse. We talk about working with a forester, how we manage it sustainably."
The connection with visitors is a highlight of the season. "I think the one thing people leave with is an appreciation for the work that goes into it," Randy says. "They appreciate the science and technology that help us make a better, more consistent product. They're surprised by the complexity."
Children are captivated by the scale of the operation. Inside the kitchen, visitors are treated to tastings of different syrup grades and value-added products. "They can sample bourbon barrel-aged syrup, a bunch of different things to see what they like," Randy says.
Toad Hill has built a reputation for its maple confections. "One of our primary products is our maple candy. Several years ago, I discovered a new process. Now we make a candy that is very soft and smooth. A lot of people, when they try it, you see their eyes light up."
Another standout is the maple cream. "It's the gold standard," Randy says. "Perfectly smooth texture."
Even the bourbon barrel-aged syrup, though alcohol-free, is rich in character. The farm store offers all of these treats, along with unique gifts and maple popcorn.
But behind the polished offerings lies an ongoing commitment to stewardship. "We practice sustainable forestry to protect and nurture our sugarbush, ensuring it thrives for future generations," Randy says. The farm's 900 acres are managed with the help of a professional forester to balance timber harvesting with the long-term health of their sugar maples.
"This is a business, but it's also a passion," Randy reflects. "As soon as we pull the taps and clean up, we start thinking about next year. What are we going to expand? What new equipment might we add? It's just the nature of the beast. It really is an addiction."
For Randy Galusha, the sweet reward isn’t only the syrup bottled at season’s end—it's the enduring connection to the land, the rhythm of the trees, and the joy of welcoming others into the warmth and wonder of the sugaring life at Toad Hill.
Author’s Acknowledgement
I wrote this story with substantial help from three AI tools.
I describe the process here
