By Wednesday, our munitions were running low at the cabin and there’s only so much you can do with gas station groceries. The plan was to head into Ticonderoga for some culture and some cuisine. I remember having visited Fort Ticonderoga, a living history museum, when I was a kid. It’s hard to be impressed by living history museums as a Colonial Williamsburg ex-pat, but Fort Ticonderoga had done a half decent job as I recalled. Figuring it’d be a good change of pace, we were to grab lunch in Ticonderoga, visit the fort, and grab groceries from Wal-Mart, capping the evening off with a formal homemade dinner back at the cabin.
Audrey and I left first, hoping to stop by a Walgreens in North Creek to get her something a bit more soothing than moleskin for her blisters. North Creek was a sleepy town nestled along the burgeoning Hudson River. The main strip had the look of an old western ghost town, just with beiges traded for greens. Once the northern terminus of the Adirondack Railway, it was where Teddy Roosevelt began his train ride after descending Mount Marcy to assume the presidency following the death of William McKinley. Now, it had us gracing its streets following our own trip into the High Peaks. I wonder if Teddy was dealing with blisters too.
The streets were being dug up with seemingly long-overdue road work. To be fair, though, in upstate New York roads exist in two states and two states only – in need of work, and being worked on. It’s not a dig at their DOT, just a fact of life given the harsh winters. Exhausted and knowing neither of us had the mental capacity to be social without a pick-me-up, the two of us walked down from Walgreens to Cafe Sarah. It was a hole-in-the-wall cafe that seemed like it had either been there for a day or an eternity, clearly catered more towards locals than tourists. We chatted up the ladies behind the counter as they poured our black iced coffees, and as we turned to leave Audrey turned to the one behind the register to say “you know, you have my mothers eyes.” It’s funny how just a statement like that can make somebody’s day. She teared up as we got out the door.
By that point we had spent a good twenty minutes or so gallivanting through town, and weren’t in any rush to catch up to the others as we winded up and down the two-lane roads. Unbeknownst to us, the other three had stopped in a town up ahead for coffee under the assumption we’d meet them there. Instead of joining them, we discussed theology and the divine in general. The way some folks just have an outsized positive impact on everyone around them. How there’s a bit of holiness in everyone. We were both raised Christian, and I think at this point have reached similar conclusions that Christ was a great guy and that there’s got to be something bigger than us out there, but we can’t even begin to properly understand, let alone describe it. My Sweet Lord. Talking about the ways we can find God in everyone, I wondered if she knew that she was the lady behind the counters glimpse of God for the day.
There was a certain dreamy melancholy that permeated through the air. As we got close to Ticonderoga, we were able to get on the same page as the others, planning to meet up at a pizza joint for lunch. We were about half an hour ahead of them now, given they had waited at the other coffee shop a good while for us only to realize we were on our own path. I struggled to parallel park as some guys behind a diner counter laughed, and all I could do was laugh along and be thankful that it wasn’t the same place we planned to eat.
The two of us slowly meandered through local shops until the others arrived. The pizza joint, House of Pizza, was a pleasant surprise in that it was actually able to accommodate everybody’s dietary and allergy needs. To Stilly’s confusion, Audrey and I opted for subs as Elaine opted for nothing out, leaving Stilly and Melanie to their respective pies. I felt a bit anxious about the pace we were going, before remembering ultimately the plan was just for us to be together, it wasn’t like we had timed tickets to Fort Ticonderoga.
As we prepared to leave, Audrey got up to go to the restroom and was stopped by an older lady who told her something to the effect of “you’re a gorgeous young woman, enjoy being young.” Not an exact quote, but it felt to me a clear example of some sort of larger cosmic karma, positive energy begets positive energy.
We moseyed our way to the fort. As we stepped into the visitor center, everything was as I recalled, more than I would’ve liked. It struck me at that moment that the last time I’d been there was also one of the last full family vacations we were able to have with my sister, though it was one of the last ones for a reason. That’s a whole bottle of wine I’m not ready to uncork right now, but needless to say it left me feeling a bit outside of myself. It was also one of the last trips we were able to have with my Grandpa, who passed in December 2023. This trip, in a lot of ways, served as a reminder of how much I am a product of those I love.
The fort itself was undergoing some renovations, understandable after a few centuries of existence. Wandering the grounds, my CW training kicked in as I started pointing out little architectural oddities, historical facts, and critiqued their fife and drums. The gang was disappointed to find out that besides sharing the same name, the fort had nothing to do with Ticonderoga pencils. Honestly, I found their displays a bit outdated and their interpretation was just ok – at the same time, I had to grant a certain level of empathy and acknowledgement that they were doing the best they could with what they have. To be fair, the outdatedness of some of the displays was charming. Stilly and I got some quality boy enrichment time looking at their battle dioramas. I think young Jackson is a bit disappointed that I never figured out a way to make a career of that.
We made our way down to the gardens by the water. The gals ran out into the sprinklers just as they turned off, amusing the groundskeeper. He did a good job – the grounds were beautifully kept, as the flowers popped brightly in their mature midsummer state, before the aging of August kicked in. I don’t understand much about flowers, but I’d be damned if they weren’t pretty. We sat together in a gazebo plotting out the rest of the afternoon, as well as the rest of the week, as I took portrait shots of everyone. What a pretty bunch.
Writing these blogs, I’ve gotten tempted lately to go a bit more long form and include more dialog rather than this play-by-play. I’m a great academic writer, and I’d like to think I’m half decent at this, but goddamn Kerouac and co has me feeling inferior. It’s one thing when my adventures are solo, but with groups I worry about not properly representing folks. I guess that fear would persist or maybe get amplified if I started writing dialog. Who knows!
Nonetheless, thoroughly intellectually stimulated we headed to Wal-Mart to turn our brains off to grab munitions. I broke off from the group to grab my own things – the melancholy and mental exhaustion was preparing for another pass through and I figured it was best to let my mind clear alone as I haphazardly grabbed groceries without any clear plan. Eventually, I ran back into Audrey and we combined forces to grab a few more items before heading out.
The others went ahead as we grabbed gas for the drive back. Cracking open beers, we knew we’d be properly filled to get back. I don’t remember how we got on the topic, but we both were missing our grandpas that we had lost relatively recently. We traded memories and threw back beers as we winded down the gorgeous Adirondack byways. I hadn’t really spoken with anyone about any of how I’d felt and how, despite him passing over a year ago, I’m still processing the grief from his passing. I think the conversation, the reminiscing, was cathartic for both of us.
Feeling lighter and just a bit tipsier, we got dressed into our formal attire back at the cabin. We’d stripped everything else we had planned to be fancy away – chicken instead of steak, beer instead of wine or cocktails, Stilly had forgotten his dry cleaning, but us four excluding him still looked damn nice. The beers kept pouring as we took photos in the backyard between the light of the sunset and the grill. After gorging ourselves on chicken, we played games until we couldn’t remember. If reports are to be trusted, we all fell asleep on the couch together. Suppose we do find God in each other.