Visions from days yet to go by. Calling me forth once again, it’s time to return to the North Country. Without a single mile accounted for, we’ve been faced with our first obstacle – landslides in Avalanche Pass, blocking our original route to Lake Colden, but pay no mind, run-on sentences be damned, we have an alternative, we will find our way and in less than a weeks time I’ll be under and above a starry sky as light that’s taken millions, billions of years to reach the moment finds its resting place on the gentle ripples of a cool mountain lake and the eyes of my companions. Positive energy courses its way through our ambitions. I have a good feeling about this.
My time in Washington was as much an exploration of myself as it was an exploration of anything else. A scouting mission of the PNW, a prelude to grander aspirations, paired with me trying to find where I’m at right now, outside of the mundane dramas of daily living. A looking-glass into what may be my future. Saying that, this trip to the North Country may also be a looking-glass into my future. Two options, not necessarily mutually exclusive of one another. Time will tell at its own pace, neither rushing nor waiting.
No time for introspection this go-round. Well, that’s what I say now, but we find ourselves in the most peculiar places. There’s as much to be learned about ourselves in a crowd as there is alone. At least this crowd is friendly, as I’m joined by Stilly, Audrey, Elaine, and Melanie in this trip to the North Country. It’s a good group, and I’m glad to be joined by them. I’ve spent an embarrassingly high amount of time pouring over developing the perfect itinerary for us but all I can really guarantee is that the days will begin with sunshine and end with starlight, clouds notwithstanding. They deserve a good time and I hope I can bring that to them, while still injecting enough Type 2 fun to make things interesting. Hell, my camera might even come back in one piece.
Selfishly, I think part of why it’s so important to me folks have a good time on things I plan is that this is me being vulnerable in one of the ways I know how. These are the things I enjoy doing, in a place with deep significance to me. I feel a deeply-bounded connection to the Adirondacks, and in bringing these folks into a place that holds this much importance to me, I feel… exposed. What if – well there’s always a sea of what-ifs aren’t there? I could make novels out of what ifs, but it doesn’t change what is. These are people who I deeply care about who I have shared interests with that I enjoy spending time with. Sometimes we get so clouded by hypotheticals we can’t see the facts laying plainly in front of us. To be known is to be exposed. A life spent guarded is one spent alone. I could let down my guard a bit more.
Nevermind the rambling, what should you expect to be hearing about from this upcoming trip to the North Country? Backpacking to an alpine lake, and if I can twist enough arms, detouring to an old plane crash overlooking the High Peaks of the Adirondacks. Paddling through still waters, a change of pace from the waters I’ve handled as of late. Museums and culture galore. Running our bodies down and our livers slightly ragged off of Switchback Ale, Moulson Canadians, and a reserve of PBRs as always. Ethnographic observations coupled with slightly redundant introspection as I inevitably learn the same thing twice. Stories I can’t even begin to fathom until I’m in the middle of making them with the folks I adore. All paired with photography that’ll make you say “yeah, he peaked in Washington” and a decent amount of self-deprecation to mask my vanity. And as always, run-on sentences that’d make Kerouac blush. All in due time, as I white-knuckle my way to Saturday. More then.