Last weekend, Peanut had a Brownie meeting at Green Spring Gardens – a beautiful park not far from our old haunts in Alexandria. We’d been there once before – for a children’s beekeeping event organized by the park – and always meant to go back. Funny we should find ourselves driving down there after moving away from Alexandria, but it turned out it wasn’t that far away. I brought my new mirrorless camera, fully tricked out with a lens that isn’t even released to traditional retail yet (I got it direct from Nikon) and planned to drop Peanut off with her troop and then take a photography walk around the gardens.
That wasn’t to be. Peanut was having a mommymommymommy kind of day and I couldn’t leave. But it turned out the other moms were pretty much all sticking around too; we stood together in a clump discussing the kids’ COVID-19 vaccines, upcoming holiday plans, sports schedules and the like.
While Peanut worked on her letterboxing “log book,” I did sneak off to photograph the Children’s Garden, at least. We had wind in the forecast and I suspected – and was confirmed by the park employee who was leading the Brownie event – that this was probably the last weekend of fall colors before all of the leaves would be on the ground for the duration.
As the temperature started dropping, I rushed off to the car to pick up Peanut’s heavy coat. On the way back, without breaking a stride, I managed to get a few more snaps of the gardens in their fall glory.
When I got back to the Brownies, they were nearly done with their projects, and almost ready to go on a walk to search for the Green Spring Gardens’ letterbox and stamp their new logbooks. All the moms (and one dad) came too.
The girls found the Green Spring letterbox by a beautiful pond, and lined up to stamp their logbooks. What a fun event! I think we’ll definitely be seeking out other letterboxes in our area so Peanut can get more stamps in her “passport.”
As for me – I got my fall color pictures after all! Still getting to know my new camera, but I think they came out well, and I can’t wait to experiment more on other photography walks.
How is the foliage where you live? Still going strong, or is the season pretty much over?
Apparently, spending Labor Day weekend in Shenandoah is our thing – at least, for the last two years it has been. In 2020, we drove out for the day, but in 2021 we decided to make a weekend of it; it was so much fun that I can absolutely see it becoming a tradition. We bunked up at Skylands, a park concessions facility right in the central district of the park, surrounded by some of the best hikes for miles – perfect location. After rolling in on Friday afternoon and spending the first night exploring our surroundings, we woke up on Saturday morning ready to go.
Our first hike – of about seven we planned – was Bearfence Mountain. Although we’ve been to Shenandoah quite a few times before, we’d never hit this one before. The trail included a segment of the famed Appalachian Trail! So cool.
In researching our hikes for the weekend, I planned a mix of repeats and new ground, and I also targeted hikes that – while they may include a more “advanced” route, had an alternate route that would be suitable for the kiddos. Steve downloaded the maps into his phone, and following his directions we quickly came up against – scrambles. They started out relatively easy, but they got intense quickly.
The kids did a fabulous job following directions and climbing safely, but I started to get more and more anxious as the scrambles got more intense.
Eventually, we came up against this monster – the route to the summit. You can’t see from this picture, but there’s a sheer dropoff of a few dozen feet, at least. Although the kids had been game, I just wasn’t comfortable with them scaling this beast. Down we went.
After a huddle, we realized what had gone wrong – the map downloaded was the “more advanced” route to the summit, and while the kids had done wonderfully well with it (and wanted to continue) it was never the route I’d intended them to take. We carefully picked our way down the scrambles to the spot where the trail had split off, then we started to climb again, this time up the more “family friendly” route.
Much better.
Eventually, our circuitous route finally deposited us at our goal – the summit! Views for miles.
These boots are made for walkin’.
It was a bit more roundabout of a hike than we’d intended – but that’s fine. More time in the woods is always good, right? It is in my book.
Next week: an old favorite hike, with summer colors.
After a week of working, adventuring, and eating our way around Lake Placid, we woke up on Saturday morning ready to head back to the anklebiters – but we had one more adventure planned on the way home: a stop at Mt. Van Hoevenberg for mountain biking (me), walking (Steve), and hopefully riding the mountain coaster (both).
Mt. Van Hoevenberg is right outside of Lake Placid, and housed the sliding sports at the 1932 and 1980 Olympic Winter Games. I’d been wanting to check it out for ages. The complex now boasts a network of trails for cross-country skiing (in winter) and mountain biking (in summer); the trailhead for Mt. Van Hoevenberg itself (part of the LP 9’er hiking challenge); a bobsled experience; and a mountain coaster. On my agenda: exploring the trails via my mountain bike, and – hopefully – riding the mountain coaster. I’d tried to buy advance tickets earlier in the week, but they were sold out. Still, I thought there was no harm in at least asking if there was a chance, and the desk attendant explained that they under-sell advance spots and reserve room for walk-ins depending on track conditions. She was expecting the track report in about half an hour, if we could wait? We could. Steve and I wandered around the facility, checking out the old bobsled and other Olympic paraphernalia, until we got the good news – track conditions looked good, and there were two spaces for us on the mountain coaster. Hurray!
But first things first! Adventure Annie was raring to hit the trails.
One of the complex employees, seeing me wheeling my mountain bike in the direction of the trail network, helpfully pointed out the sites. “If you’re not back by sunset, we’ll send out a search party,” he told me gravely, “and you should know that the search party is a big black bear.” I laughed and assured him I’d only be an hour, as I now had mountain coaster (!!!) tickets.
To the trails! This bike is way too clean.
This is the face of someone who has been enjoying some truly epic single track:
After tooling around looking for the best trails, I barely felt like I was getting my wheels under me when it was time to head back to the main facility and meet up with Steve for the mountain coaster ride. I was bummed that my mountain biking had flown by so quickly, but seriously stoked for the next adrenaline rush.
I quickly locked Adventure Annie back on the car, then met up with Steve by the main lodge.
We checked out the scenery – including the historic bobsled track; so cool! – while we waited for our turn on the mountain coaster.
Ready to fly!
Each rider had his or her own car, styled like an Olympic bobsled. Steve was Team Canada, and I was Team Austria. Each repping (part of) our own family heritage!
Snapped one last picture on the initial incline, then tucked my phone away so it didn’t fly out of my hands on the descent. What a ride! It was totally exhilarating, and I could have flown around the mountain all day – but we had to get back to Albany and the kiddos. As we headed for the car, grinning broadly, we had one last surprise – I heard my name shouted, and turned around to see our mutual friend Jeff and his daughter Lucy waiting in line for the mountain coaster. Small world! We chatted to Jeff for a few minutes, then left them to enjoy their Adirondack weekend and headed back to our own rugrats – refreshed and pleasantly exhausted from a week of adventuring.
This ends Adirondack recaps (for now; we’ll always be back!) but not travel recaps. Next week I’ve got the first of a series of posts to share with you about Shenandoah National Park. Stay tuned!
When we spent a week in Lake Placid with the kiddos three years ago, I had a list of flattish, easy-ish hikes to try with them; we made it on quite a few, but the list was longer than a week’s worth and we didn’t have time for all of them. On this trip, we were kid-free, but that list of family-friendly hikes proved useful for squeezing in quick jaunts around work. Finding ourselves able to knock off a bit early on our anniversary (which was a Friday – yay!) we decided to nip over to Henry’s Woods, a privately maintained preserve just outside of Lake Placid, for a pre-dinner ramble.
Ferns! Fun fact: when I was thirteen, I spent a summer as a counselor-in-training at CampIs-sho-da, and one of my assignments was to draw and label every variety of fern in the camp’s fern garden. I used to know them all. Not so much anymore – lawyering and parenting have chased that knowledge out of my head, sadly.
Anyway – it was a lovely, peaceful trail, winding through a quiet wood; perfect for unwinding after a week of work and adventuring.
We followed the gently inclining path up to a quiet overlook.
Just the exhale we needed! We admired the view and then wandered back downhill, bound for Lake Placid and a delicious dinner at Top-of-the-Park, overlooking Mirror Lake. A totally perfect celebration of sixteen years of marriage. Can’t wait to see what the next sixteen (and more!) bring.
Next week: one final Adirondack adventure, and it’s quite the adrenaline rush.
When Steve and I first started to entertain the possibility that we might be able to pick up our fifteenth-anniversary touring kayakswhile up in the Adirondacks over the summer, I started making a list of places to paddle if we actually managed to get the long dreamed-of boats. I stopped list-making almost immediately, realizing that if I got too invested in dreaming of paddling spots, it would prove an irresistible temptation to Fate and we might never get kayaks. But list or no list, one Adirondack paddling destination was stuck in my mind – Upper St. Regis and Spitfire Lakes. If we did have something to paddle, this was the top of my list.
You all know how it worked out – we left the Lake George Kayak Company with two gorgeous new boats lashed to the roof of our car and immediately started planning a week’s worth of paddling. I told Steve that Upper St. Regis and Spitfire were my top priority – billed as the perfect combination of pristine, unspoilt nature and classic Adirondack architecture. We agreed to save the two lakes (which are connected by an inlet) for a special morning’s paddle on our sixteenth anniversary.
I’d never been to the St. Regis lakes before, even though they’re less than an hour’s drive from Lake Placid. (But my cousin Jocelyn later told me that she and her husband, Jason, spent their honeymoon here after their pared down exchange of wedding vows in June 2020 – I can see why; this was a perfect place to unwind and enjoy being together.)
Ready to paddle!
There is only one public launch spot on Upper St. Regis, and none on Spitfire, so we had our route pretty much set. We launched in the secluded little bay reserved for public car-top boats, and paddled out onto the open lake.
The water was as clear as crystal. And Steve spotted a loon! Seriously – how perfectly Adirondack can you get?
While we would have loved to explore every nook and cranny of Upper St. Regis, our time was limited and we were determined to get to Spitfire, so we made straight for the little inlet connecting the two lakes.
Spitfire is famous for having some of the most beautiful examples of classic Adirondack Great Camps in the park. Almost as soon as we cleared the inlet connecting Spitfire to Upper St. Regis, we saw this stunning camp and made our way to the shoreline so we could appreciate the architecture from close up.
Can you imagine spending summers here? I was in heaven just looking at the place.
We bobbed around admiring for a few minutes, then continued on down the shoreline. Steve announced: I see a castle! A closer look revealed: yes, definitely a castle.
It was actually Camp Cobblestone, a famous Great Camp built in 1906 and recently lovingly restored.
Don’t look now, but some of the buildings had HOBBIT DOORS. Can you even?
Oh, and almost every boathouse had at least one classic wooden speedboat, most of which were proudly displaying American flags. I mean. It was like something out of a Kiel James Patrick catalog. I love classic Americana, so I was dying.
We could have stayed out on Spitfire for hours, and then spent hours more exploring Upper St. Regis. But again, work and reality beckoned, so we reluctantly headed back to the boat launch, bound for the car and then our laptops. But we had a post-work hike, followed by a dinner overlooking Mirror Lake, to look forward to – so anniversary celebrations were far from over.
And I really couldn’t think of a better way to kick off sixteen years of marriage to the very best paddling buddy.
On the evening before our sixteenth wedding anniversary, we wrapped work a little early and decided we had time to squeeze in a short hike – no high peaks this time – before dinner. I suggested Heart Lake, which had been on my to-do list for awhile.
(Can’t believe I still haven’t climbed Mt. Jo. Next time, for sure.)
It was a perfect quick hike to squeeze in between work and dinner – just a couple of miles of relatively flat trail (this is the ‘dacks, there was some up and down – but very gentle – and some mud). We parked at the Loj and set off past the family campsites, making plans to stay there the next time we come up to the mountains. It’s such a good home base for the high peaks.
Adirondack perfection!
Found the old ski slope!
We ended the hike down on the sand, letting the water lap almost up to our hiking boots. It was beautiful and peaceful – the perfect way to ring in anniversary celebrations.
Next week: celebrating sixteen years of marriage with an extra special morning on the water.
Continuing our tour of the Adirondack lakes around the Lake Placid region, on Thursday morning we drove the ‘yaks over to Lake Flower, near the town of Saranac Lake. I had the vague idea that we’d be able to launch our kayaks and paddle up the river into the town of Saranac Lake, but it turned out that wasn’t possible. No big deal – we were happy to be out paddling in the fresh air on a beautiful morning.
I forgot my hat – d’oh! At least I had my shades.
We’ve been to the Saranac Lake area before, but never actually got out on the water. It was a lovely, calm, clear lake – and we had it mostly to ourselves. Saw a couple of other paddlers, but it was very quiet overall.
Obviously we checked out the camps and boathouses – we always do – and discussed buying lakefront property ourselves. Someday!
We couldn’t stay out too long – the sun was climbing higher in the sky, and work beckoned. We made it as far as the inlet between Lake Flower and Oseetah Lake before reluctantly turning back toward the boat launch, the car, and reality.
Another great morning on the water, though! Any day paddling an Adirondack lake is a good day.
Next week: an early anniversary hike around a lake with a romantic name.
Each evening in Lake Placid, after we wrapped up work/adventures for the day, Steve and I would wander out to dinner somewhere on Main Street and plan out the next day’s wandering. We’d compare work calendars and notes about fun ideas, and hash out a plan to tackle an adventure around conference calls. Because we were working, most of our adventures were bite-sized; that doesn’t mean they were lame. On Wednesday morning, with calendars clear of conference calls until 11:00, we woke to an early alarm and set out for Cobble Hill.
Cobble Hill rises 2,343 feet above downtown Lake Placid; it’s the local hike in a town full of local hikes. These days there isn’t even trailhead parking; you stride out of your hotel, walk up Main Street and partway around Mirror Lake, and you’re there. It’s a short-ish trail (just about 5 miles round trip counting the town portion) but with plenty of classic Adirondack granite and views.
There’s a pristine pond.
A decent amount of climbing – and you’re at the top, with a stellar view of a Lake Placid landmark – the ski jumps.
There’s Adirondack granite boulders to scramble over.
And lots of space for dorky summit selfies. What happened here? Steve looks creepy and I look terrified. I joked that he could be a serial killer.
Summit slayer, woman about to be murdered.
We were up and down this mountain before my West Coast colleagues had even woken up, and settled in for a day of lawyering – but feeling pretty smug about having climbed a mountain before the workday even started.
You guys! I have a milestone to report: first start line since pre-pandemic. Look at me go!
Months ago, I signed up for the DC Bike Ride, billed as twenty car-free miles through DC. Apparently, this is the fifth year running for this event, although somehow I’d never heard of it before. I was stoked. My friend Zoya signed up as well, and we made plans to ride together, but at the last minute she decided to be in Boston that week (Zoya and her husband split their time between cities) so I was riding alone. No matter! I missed Zoya, but I was looking forward to a blissful ride around gorgeous DC scenery.
It had definitely been awhile, because I was not at all on my start line game. I used to have races and events down to a science, but apparently I’ve forgotten everything. I remembered to lay out my clothes the night before, but spent the early morning dashing around looking for my race dots, then realized halfway to DC that I’d forgotten a mask for the start line (but fortunately had a Buff in the glove box). I left my water bottle in the car (d’oh!) and spent the entire pre-race festivities worrying about whether I’d remembered to lock up. (I had a distinct memory of zipping my car keys into my bike saddle pack, but no memory of actually locking the car door. Figuring I didn’t have enough time to get back to the car and check before the ride started, I just trusted in my personal autopilot. Spoiler alert: I had locked the car.)
I also noticed, while riding from my parking spot to the starting line corrals, that both of my tires seemed to be lower on air than they were when I left the house. Very weird, considering I just had my bike tuned up for the race. And I don’t have a travel pump – another fail; I’ll be putting that on my Christmas list for sure. I found a volunteer who had a pump and got a quick top-off, hoping it would be enough to get me through the ride, and then I could figure out what the heck was going on with my tires.
From where I set up, in the middle of the intermediate riders’ corral, it took forty-five minutes from the starting gun to actually get across the start line – oof. I spent the entire time worrying about (1) whether I locked my car; (2) whether I would get back before my meter ran out; and (3) the air in my tires. Not the most restful start line experience – but pretty much all on me. The crowd had fantastic energy, and I was looking forward to a great ride if my tires held out.
8:45 a.m. – hey! The start line! Wahoo!
We set off through Potomac Park, bound for Haines Point – one of the most scenic spots in DC, so a lovely place to begin a race. The first few miles were quite bottlenecked, so I rode along slowly, looking for opportunities to thread through the crowd and find myself a bit more riding space. We rounded the corner and – look at that view!
What a place to ride! Normally there are cars whipping down this scenic street. It was very cool to share the road only with a few thousand of my best cycling friends. The last time I got to ride through cool car-free city scenery was 2014, when I did the Five Boro Bike Tour with my dad, brother, and sister-in-law. This ride had a similar feel (albeit much smaller crowds – not a bad thing) and it was fabulous. Would have been fun to ride with my family again – or with Zoya, as planned – but I had a grand time pedaling along by myself and enjoying the scenery.
My smooth ride was not to last, though. My front tire held up fine, but as I rounded the traffic circle near Arlington Cemetery, I noticed a sickening bump-bump-bump sound; it was my back tire, and it was completely flat. Woof. I thudded my way over Memorial Bridge, enjoying the stunning view of the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument, but wondering what I should do. I quickly dismissed the idea of pulling out of the race – my car was parked so far away that it wasn’t worth trying to ride back, and I’d be more likely to solve my problem by finding a race volunteer to help. Instead, I decided that my goal was just to get to the next rest stop, where hopefully a volunteer would have a pump (I had a patch kit in my saddle bag). I thumped over the bridge and under the overpass by the Kennedy Center, where several people helpfully informed me that they thought I might have a flat. I waved and agreed that I definitely had a flat, and hoped that no one else would talk to me or I may not be able to rely on my natural politeness to bite back a rude retort, and I might channel Phoebe Buffay and shout “THAT IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION!”
As I pedaled over Whitehurst Freeway towards Georgetown, scanning for a rest stop with the bumping getting worse all the while, I spotted two riders in yellow shirts pedaling slowly along the right side of the road. When I got close enough to read the back of their shirts (“Conte’s Bike Shop Mobile Mechanics”) my heart soared. I drew up next to them and called over, “Excuse me! You guys doing repairs?” They were. Hallelujah. They quickly diagnosed my flat tire as a valve problem – not a hole, thank goodness – and kindly (and efficiently) replaced my inner tube, pumped up the back tire and topped off the air in my front tire, before sending me on my way. HEROES, totally saved my ride. The last eight miles of the ride were as smooth as the first twelve were bumpy.
Finish festival! Thanks to the Conte’s Bike Shop Mobile Mechanics, or I would never have made it – I’d have had no choice but to peel off and ride back to the car at my first opportunity.
I’d have liked to stay and enjoy the finish festival, but I was still worried about whether I’d locked my car, and I had definitely exceeded my parking meter (because of the flat tire; even with the extra forty-five minutes to cross the start line I’d have finished well before my meter ran out if I hadn’t run into that trouble on the course). So I snapped a quick picture, collected my new water bottle, and rushed to the car. I was parked right across the street from the Washington Monument, and I did stop for a solemn moment with the white flags commemorating the American victims of the COVID-19 pandemic. Please get vaccinated, my friends.
What a crazy ride that was! Hopefully, the next start line will lead to a smoother experience – but that’s all on me; this was a fabulous event and I’ll definitely be repeating the ride next year.
When I sat down to plan a week’s worth of Adirondack paddling, Lake Placid was the top of the list of lakes to hit. How could it not be? Just a five minute drive – or less – from our hotel, it doesn’t get more convenient. Or more beautiful! I’d paddled Lake Placid before, with my dad – we dropped our kayaks in at the Lake Placid boat launch, paddled four miles to the back slope of Whiteface Mountain, and floated around drinking wine. (An epic day.) I was eager to show Steve the same paddling route – minus the wine, because this was a quick late-lunchtime escape, and we were headed back to “work” afterwards.
Steve grew up in the Adirondack region – just “outside the blue line,” as locals say, in Glens Falls. But he wasn’t an outdoorsy guy, and he didn’t paddle growing up. So this was his first foray onto Lake Placid.
Obviously he loved it.
I was excited to show him the gorgeous Adirondack camps and boathouses. We’d love to own lakefront property in Virginia someday (longterm financial goal alert!) and I think the boathouses inspired him. He especially liked the Japanese-style one; I preferred the more traditional Adirondack architecture – but they are clearly all stunning.
As we checked out the classic architecture, another Adirondack symbol popped up a few dozen yards away – a common loon! I can’t get enough of them. Sorry for the blurry picture – iPhone zoom.
As we paddled up toward the back slope of Whiteface, we passed by a group on a pontoon boat, who had obviously started their happy hour early. (No shade!) One of the men on the boat shouted to us, “You guys look so beautiful, paddling with the sun behind you!” Blushing, we laughed as his friends reprimanded him: “You can’t say stuff like that to strangers!” (“What!?” he protested. “It was a compliment!”) We laughed and assured him that we were flattered and not at all weirded out.
Approaching Whiteface – this might be the most serene, pristine bay in all of the Adirondacks. Change my mind.
We bobbed around for a few minutes, drinking water from our Nalgene bottles (not wine, sadly – next time, maybe) before reluctantly turning back toward the boat launch. We had another four miles of paddling ahead, so that was something to look forward to, at least.
(I love my paddle.)
Heading back to the boat launch, we passed our pontoon boat friends – and the same garrulous gentleman called to me “You have the smoothest paddle stroke!” I shouted back that I’d been paddling for twenty-five years and he replied “It shows!” As we cruised off, I heard him protesting to his friends, “What, I can’t compliment people’s paddling strokes either?!” Steve and I paddled off, laughing to each other that our new buddy reminded us of our dear friend Seth, who lives up in the Adirondacks and makes friends everywhere he goes. But really – in a place like this, how can you not be so full of joy and life that you want to befriend absolutely everyone?
covered in flour 