Adirondack Meditations

The wood thrush calls from deep within the surrounding forest. Its solitary melody rising, reverberating off cedar, birch, and hemlock. You must stop and listen carefully to catch its next verse, always lovely and cool. As soothing as the lake itself. And then you are diving into still silent waters. Like a pebble you break the dark surface, sending perfect circles oscillating outward. Like soundwaves announcing your arrival, they stretch away touching rock, gently rocking small boats. You emerge again to see the busy network of criss-crossing circles echoing your arrival. The lake is alive with your presence.

And so we come, descending not like a solitary loon, but rather like a flock of Canada Geese, noisy and chaotic. Signs of our existence are scattered everywhere - T-shirts, sweatshirts, sandals, paperbacks, life jackets, water skis, fishing poles & tackle, swim floats, empty soda cans. Towels are draped over everything - the Adirondack loveseats, the chairs, the rocks, the picnic table - like colorful banners drying in the sun and shade.

The ski boat drifts in and out of the dock, like a ferry picking up its next shift of passengers, accomplished water-skiers and little tubers. Six young anglers cast from the dock all at once, fish-hooks flying over unsuspecting little heads, parents shouting all at once, "Look Out!" We enjoy toasted marshmallows, marshmallow flambé, marshmallows squished between graham crackers & Hershey bar rectangles, and, for the impatient camper, the ever popular raw variety.

We are always either swimming or eating. The refrigerator overflows with leftovers, glorious dinners, every night a feast on paper plates. And then it's a feast for starving bears who, unseen, visit our neatly stowed garbage, dragging half-torn plastic sacks off in different directions, abandoning them once they're satisfied. Clean-up goes quickly when we work together. (It would have gone quicker still had we known at the time that one bear was napping by the upper camp!)

No rain, only sunshine, and occasional clouds which cast undulating shadows across the mountains. Gentle sunsets, silent nights, and shooting stars descend around us and our storybook evenings. Exhausted kids slip into pj's, clean sheets, and instant slumber; and the house is suddenly peaceful enough for adult conversation or quiet reflection. And then suddenly the week is gone and we find ourselves only partially able to focus on the dismal chore of separating our belongings, packing up, and returning to our responsibilities.

And like the geese, we are quickly gone. The camp sits silently awaiting the next flock.

Written By: Carolyn O'Dell
Freelance Writer who loves vacationing in 
The Adirondacks at Rock Bay Camps