Friday, June 23 I decided to do a hilly detour to see the Adirondacks. I'm off the bike route now, because I'm going to Greenwich, NY and then Boston and Mystic, CT instead of Bar Harbor, Maine.
Adirondack means "bark eater" - a reference to winters so hard that natives had to eat bark or starve. The area still has an impoverished economy, except for a handful of major tourist towns like Lake Placid, site of the 1980 Winter Olympics. More than anywhere on the trip, this feels almost like home - winding mountain roads, alpine lakes, lush forests. There are more deciduous trees, which attract scads of tourists for the brilliant fall color show. The air smells of earthy peat moss and crisp sparkling lakes. Nature is a powerful presence. This is home to black bears and quickly rising rivers. It feels wonderful.
The seven mile hill rising out of Middleville, NY took with it the carbs from my fish fry dinner, and dashed my attempt to make Caroga Lake. Clandestine camping again. As the sun disappeared behind a forested hill I entered the Adirondacks at Stratford. Criss-crossing rivers and streams, I picked a few roads to explore, and found a path to the broad, rocky riverbed. Except for a beer can or two, it looked and felt like a campsite in the Cascades. I fell sound asleep in the delightfully cool air to the sound of icy cascading waters.
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