We go once a year way up in the Adirondacks It feels remote, and not tame. I wrote this entry in my journal from our 2007 trip... "I am here at the lake. My camp chair in the sand, with my camera bag slung over the back, my shoe hanging on the tip of my toe, and the water lapping up just inches away. It sounds like some kind of laughter and makes my eyelids heavy. My boys in the canoe grew smaller and smaller in view until just moments ago they disappeared. They are out in search of otters. I am not with them, but I have been with Steve enough times to know just what he looks like, pointing things out to the boys. I can just see the boys dragging their little sticks in the water, that they were allowed to bring along. I won't be surprised if Steve brings me back a nice big piece of white driftwood. He has been making fun of my growing collection, but I know he secretly likes it. It is cloudy and cool today when the sun comes out it feels like a mother spreading a warm blanket over a child on a cold night. The loons and smaller birds in the woods behind me sing tunes so different from the songs my ears are used to, that I stop and listen. I am in a different place entirely. A dragonfly skims the water A flash of white in the wings of a small butterfly This is the kind of place Annie Dillard and Anne LaBastille write about. Everywhere I rest my eyes is a postcard, a poem, a song, a painting, a praise to the Creator." I included this page from my journal because that same day we were talking to John and Mary the couple whose property we camp at. They bought their lake front property from a Forest Ranger years ago and it is the only cabin for miles and miles. When you camp there you cannot see any other human structure, only wilderness. They talked that night about how just a few years ago LaBastille approached them and asked if she could set up camp on their property because she was looking for a new temporary place to experience remote living. I also found out that her camp that is described in her books is only ten miles from where we stay every year. Her later books talk more about trying to preserve the remoteness of the Adirondack lakes and keeping large motor boats from being allowed to disturb wildlife. But her earlier book called Beyond Black bear lake, was more like modern day Thoreau or Muir. In it she writes.. "Soaring skyscrapers and nameless crowds of faces always alienate me, whereas the outdoors, with its silence, wildlife, big trees, and starry skies, eases any loneliness. Just sitting on my dock through a summer's eve, watching otters cavort, and snowshoeing in a marshmallow white woods on a nippy winter day gives me the sense of belonging to something vital and bigger than myself. Backcountry is the best place to feel useful, resourceful, vibrant and whole." 
 Steve and I went out alone late at night in the canoe, the camera caught the feel and color perfectly. Thank you NIKON! 
If you wake up early enough you can see the fog lifting off the water and listen to the LOONS Click on the link to hear the haunting sound of their call. To me it sounds like a Native american flute. 
"There are two ways to go through life.. You can waffle along like a beautiful dreamer or fly straight, high, and hard. Both methods have their share of dangers and pitfalls but of the two I choose the latter." --LaBastille 
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