In a swoon over Schroon

Aloysius, one of my oldest friends, and his wife have a home up north which they bought in the last couple of years. He describes the lake it is on as being similar to Greenwood Lake, where we grew up, but with the benefit of not having been trashed by a combination of long ago tourism and poor waste management.

I’ve learned through the years that Aloysius’ descriptions, such as Chicago being similar to NYC but with the advantage of having been burned down (in the Great Fire) and rebuilt correctly, are usually right on.

After my time at his property last weekend, I’m happy to report that he is absolutely correct in his assessment of Schroon Lake. It’s lovely.

When I found that I unexpectedly had Saturday night off, I immediately reached out to my downstate girlfriends to organize a rare weekend get together. But, as my cold continued to overstay its welcome and the potential of catching a Northern Lights display seemed possible, I began to rethink my plan. I wasn’t up for a 90+ minute drive followed by a bustling time with the girls.

I just wanted to do something quiet with my dog.

Saturday morning I tossed a mess of stuff into a laundry basket, along with a side bag of soup and some fruit, and Jeter and I headed north. Despite my hesitation to make a long drive south to meet my friends, in my typical contrarian way, I mapped out a route that would avoid highways and substantially increase my driving time. As Jeter and I wound our way through counties on the east side of the Hudson, I realized that I was feeling a little better than I had in previous days. Maybe I had finally turned the corner and was shaking the lethargy and other related symptoms of my first cold of the season.

I’m certain that catching this bald eagle’s graceful swoops above me and through a perfect blue sky did wonders for improving my health in every imaginable way.

Jeter and I arrived at our destination and were unpacked by early afternoon. The weather was glorious – warm and sunny, with the foliage approaching peak. The obvious thing to do was take a walk into town, which we did, making our way up the private road and past the house with the wooden fence covered by pro-convicted felon, insurrectionist DJT flags and banners. Naturally, the owner of this property was outdoors tending to some chores and he greeted me, despite my Harris Walz tshirt with a friendly enough “hello.”

Having noted the Labrador Xing sign on my way to Aloysius’ place, I seized upon that common to us both interest and said “I guess we can agree on Labradors.” He nodded and we had a few minutes conversation about the Labradors we’ve each had and loved. It felt good to make a connection and each subsequent time we passed one another it was with a smile and a nod.

The walk to town was about a mile and Jeter and I both enjoyed stretching our legs. I was moving pretty slowly, but there was no rush. For the first time in days, I felt hungry and the well placed Stewart’s featured a convenient window for ordering ice cream treats. I was inspired to indulge in a vanilla malt and it was perfect, a word I don’t use lightly. Shake in hand, Jeter and I strolled to the beach area nearby for a swim – for him, that is. Although the water seemed delightfully warm, I wasn’t interested in swimming. All I wanted was to give Jeter yet another experience in living his best life. He’s nearly 11 and he, like each of us, has a finite amount of time to sample as many different bodies of water as possible.

We should all be as joyful as Jeter.

The evening was quiet. A friend surprised me by texting her eta in response to my invitation to try to catch the northern lights from Aloysius’ dock on the lake. We were unfortunately a day too early for that to happen, but sitting on the dock taking in the starry night sky was more than consolation for me.

The morning was foggy as the warmth of the lake met the cool air and everything looked ethereal wrapped in grey. I had hoped for a view of sunrise over the water but that wasn’t happening on this particular day. Jeter and I were on the road towards home by 8:30 with a route planned that would once again avoid highways.

The reward for taking our time was numerous opportunities to pull off the road to see whatever was compelling, such as Eagle Lake, the changing colors of the leaves and the most spectacular blanket of fog tucked into the mountains that I’ve ever seen. It was awe inspiring.

I drove a ridiculous loop north then east then south then west then east and finally south, again, for real. I took my time but still made it home before noon, cinnamon raisin rolls from the Lake George Baking Company in hand.

And belly.

My lungs were full of fresh air and Jeter was sweetly tired.

It was an excellent escape.