Holiday Greetings, Salutations and Best Wishes!

Damn the risk of braggadocio, and greetings from our new dwelling to yours.  

It seems appropriate to use this image to convey holiday sentiments.  While not losing sight of the past, our vision is focused on enjoying the Christmas season and also looking forward to enjoying the future.

We're almost done.  There are odds and ends that need attention, and the fireplace is in need of a surround superior to the current cement board, but livability has been achieved.  We are thankful that the long, strange trip is concluding.  

And we just received a Christmas present from our builder.  An invoice.  Joy to the World!

Almost like being there

Not really.  However, the two videos provided here may give you some sense of a portion of the experience at Stewarts Landing in the Adirondacks.

By the way, video, in general, is a royal pain in the buttocks.  What you are about to see, should you decide to invest less than 2 minutes total, took an inordinate amount of time to capture, assemble, distribute, and so on.  Thank goodness moving pictures are just another passing fad.

In both cases, you can watch right here on this blog, in teeny tiny thumbnail splendor, or follow the link to YouTube, where you can actually see what's going on.  But you have to know the secret handshake.

Secret YouTube Handshake

After following the link to the video posted on YouTube, you'll very likely be presented with a blurry mess that will cause you to wonder what possible reason could possibly have prompted posting this thing.  

Please pause the video and direct your attention to the lower right corner of the video.  Click on the sprocket representation to allow the following to appear:

Click on the little arrow to the right of "Quality."  You may not be presented with the same setting at the outset.  Carry on regardless.

The video is posted at 720p, which is pretty good quality.  If you really want to get any benefit from watching, select this setting, or as high as your connection will allow.  Auto may select something that is lower bandwidth and not worth your time.

After making the quality selection, another suggestion for improvement is to click on the 4 corner bracket icon at the far right.  This will take you to full screen playback.  Since there is a lot of detail in the video, you will enjoy it much more if you watch it full screen.  Don't worry, you won't be trapped in this mode forever.  The ESC key will take you back to the normal view.

Ugh.  Glad the prerequisites are done.

Here is the link to the first video:  https://youtu.be/pwZTYv5jT3A

If you want to see the second video after this one, just click on the "back" button when you're done.  I was unable to make the link open in another tab even after swearing profusely at the screen.

Don't watch this tiny version.

It's an experiment in time lapse photography over a few days.  It leaves a great deal to be desired, but is interesting nonetheless.  Watch the water in the stream recede as the raised floodgate 1.5 miles away sets the water level to the winter nadir.  And lots of other stuff.

During this sequence there was also a splendid sunset which prompted the second video.

Link to Video #2: https://youtu.be/8SXrgWNQQsM  Be sure to remember the Secret Handshake!

Don't watch this one here either, unless you absolutely must.

Returning from our day-after-Thanksgiving hike and dinner out, David and I had the same idea.  He took the direct route from the car to the water, while I meandered around the back of the house. We met on the low launch-dock and looked west.

The sun had set, but the bright afterglow was persisting.  Yellow to orange to pink to blue was the order as we looked from the silhouetted pines near the horizon to the clear sky above.  We soon moved rock-to-rock out to ground that the receding water had exposed, positioning ourselves midway between the trees bordering the summer high water.

We heard them before we could see them.  The geese came from the beyond the bright sky, following the channel, looking for a wider portion of still water upon which to spend the night.  We stood and watched as groups of 6 and then 9 and then 20 passed low overhead.  Group followed group for at least 30 minutes as the skies darkened.  Hundreds passed.

The spectacle was one neither of us had been fortunate to behold before.  And all the better for me to to enjoy with my son.

Oh Dear!

We have to take the garbage and recyclables to the transfer station on a regular basis if we don’t want the overflow to stink up the garage or attract bears, or both.  So into the Ford Expedition I never should have allowed my father to buy goes flattened cardboard, as a base and absorbent layer, followed by the questionably bagged refuse and recyclables.  The Stratford Town Supervisor says garbage costs the town $53 per ton while recycled stuff is only $12 so I try to be a good citizen and keep my taxes down.

But wait, there's more!

Slam the tailgate, fire up the tunes, and git on down the road.  Stink factor was only 4 on the 10 point scale, and it’s chilly, so the windows stay rolled up.  The stretch from our place to just below the dam is full of twists and turns, so one’s speed is naturally regulated by inertia and proximity to trees.  Nonetheless, a doe and fawn cause a momentary reduction.

The deer have been everywhere this year.  Particularly on Stewarts Landing Road, we see them almost every time we drive or walk.  Often, they stand and stare at us as we approach.  Doe-eyed, of course.

This is a deer.
Not a great shot, but definitely a deer.

This is also a deer.
Don't see the bucks very often.

It’s a good policy to slow down a bit and be cautious.  So down the road I fly, every bit as oblivious as usual, particularly when the sound system is blaring a good tune.

Past the zig and the zag where I once saw a pickup on its side below the roadbed, miraculously wedged between trees, it’s time to pick up to the proper speed for passing intersecting Bliss road.  What is beyond bliss?  A long downhill where one can coast for over 2 miles with the Expedition in neutral.  Heavenly!

I’m helping Tori Kelly cover “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing” when another doe flashes across in front of the hood.  Her fawn follows as I slam on the brakes.

Do you see the deer?
Neither did I.

What the deer saw.

My eyes enlarge as my foot goes farther than expected.  A tad of deceleration is all I get before the brake pedal goes to the metal.  But there is just enough reduction in speed for the quick brown fawn to jump over the lazy log at the side of the road and disappear into the woods.  Good for the critter. Good for the lack of repair bills.

Not the two in question, but a similar duo.
Surprisingly, the camera was not in hand during the event.

But I’m still moving, even if at a slightly slower pace.  I pump the pedal again and again, disbelieving.  Before my leg gets too sore, I realize it’s time for the emergency brake.  Looking around, I finally remember it’s the old-fashioned foot brake type.  Trees are rushing past.

Sleepily (“Where’s the clutch?”), lefty leaves the floor and rises up to push the trusty mechanical backup into action.  Bringing him down with all the force an old soccer player can muster, the emergency brake is engaged.  Trees continue to rush past at the same rate.

“Push harder,” I think, but I’m already practically standing on the thing.  I consider the ditch, but think better of that method in favor of low gear deceleration.  Second does nothing, but first gear’s the charm.  Trees slow and then stop. No wonder this thing gets such lousy mileage.  If the engine has that much inertia, a good percentage of the energy generated has to be used just to move the pistons.  Thank goodness I wasn’t on the big downhill stretch with a good head of steam when escaping brake fluid coated the engine compartment.  OK, steam was not involved in propulsion, but you know what I mean.

Finally stopped, I exhale and relax as another whitetail bobs along in the woods off to the north.

Now what?  Though equipped for cellular telephony, the coverage on the road is spotty at best.  I could try a first gear ride down to the main road where a connection is likely, but a first gear downhill journey did not promise to be much fun, and had a great deal of potential to be dangerous.  This would be the time there’d be a stubborn and seldom seen moose in the road.  

Being over 2 miles from home, though the thought of leaving the mechanical beast and getting some exercise was not daunting, it would take the better part of an hour to walk. My mood and formal transfer station dress (it’s quite the social scene) did not favor a run.   And the car would be left sitting there on the side of the road in either case.

First gear and reverse, gingerly alternated, can execute a brakeless 9-point (9 more than the deer) turn without going into the roadside ditch, even without prior practice.  Flashers on, I headed up the slight rise and twisting road back home at 4 miles per hour.  Only a little better than a walking pace, but at least the car wouldn’t be left to deal with abandonment issues.

Attractive analog metering in the 2004 Ford Expedition.
First time I ever used #1.
Yes, again, not an action photo since the camera was not in hand at the moment.

Safely home without further deer sightings, I announced that the garbage would be rising to at least a #6 stink factor.  Calls to AAA and repair shop ensued.  Refuse was removed from the vehicle as a kind gesture to the mechanics.

But no cursing bad luck.  It’s much better that the mishap occurred at low speed on a back road than on the interstate at 70-odd miles per hour when some idiot coming out of a service area decides that he can’t wait 15 seconds to allow the higher speed vehicle to get past the truck he loathes to follow.

Thank you, deer!

Going with the flow

The Cedar River Flow is a rather remote lake created when a dam ruined a fine swamp.  But the result is a pretty lake with wonderful mountain views and campsites for extended visits.  The loons approve.

The inviting upstream view.
"Explore me!"

Does the downstream view show remnants of a bridge?
A wooden dam?

Our fearless leader moving his canoe to the launch.

Canoe camping is different than carrying a pack from place to place.
Weight and bulk constraints are much less stringent.
However, you still need to make sure your stuff and y'all fit in the canoe.
Without sinking it.

The man is yelling at Russ.

The elderly gentleman drove his car up to the launch, pressed the button that caused his window to descend, and barked, "Where's the road to Inlet?!!" 

Always quick witted, Russ answered, "Huh?"

"Inlet.  There's a road to Inlet here somewhere.  Where is it?" he demanded.  Russ asked the rest of the party for Inlet insight, but none was found.  "Sorry, but we don't know about any road to Inlet other than the main road, 15 miles back."

Scowling, he used a great deal of energy to move his bulk out of the car.  Regarding us with contempt, he went to study the trail map, which shows only the lake and campsites.

Here he was, at the end of a long, backwoods road to nowhere, with no idea where he was or how to get where wanted to go, but somehow we were at fault for not for not having the information he needed.  He must be in management.  

We finished loading our canoes and paddled away.  As we put distance between ourselves and the launch, it became apparent that we had missed an opportunity.  Yes, he let us know he wanted help, and we should have given it to him.  Any hairbrained set of directions would have done.  "Well, you need to go back to the main road and turn left.  Then you go past the first dirt road off to your left and turn onto the second one.  Before long you'll come to the white house (not the gray one!), where you turn right."  And so on.  

What we delivered might not have been what he wanted, but it would have been what he deserved.

Not sure what's going on here.
Our paddle in was no more than a mile,
and we only checked out one other site prior to settling in.
Fearless leader is losing his touch.

But the view from the selected site needed no apology.

Setting up.
If there is no picnic table or rocky flat surface,
and overturned canoe makes a fine table.

Much more important than a picnic table,
a privy with a view makes any campsite more appealing.
Ignore the flies.

Though the leaves were gone,
The birches towering over the site were lovely.

High up, people have difficulty practicing
the ill-advised act of stripping the paper birches.

Ahhh...

Not Iwo Jima, but teamwork is always important.

Would you stand under the food box?
Any savvy high-peaks bear would make short work of our precautions,
but here in an area with less bear-appeal,
we had no trouble.

He would not share because he only carried one flask.

Some of the crew near the fire.
Someone has obviously been hitting his flask too hard,
since he is already blurry.

You may note the cans in hand.  Not recommended practice when camping...only hard stuff, due to weight to wallop ratio.  However, on this trip, it was straight to the campsite, since there were no places where we had to unload, schlep and reload canoes and gear.  These carries, or portages, generally keep idiots (we often use a different descriptor) who carry in coolers of beverages and chainsaws and boomboxes from moving too far into the woods.

This time, at least with respect to the beverages, we were the idiots.

Have you ever heard Arthur Brown's "Fire?"

Gotta love the headlamp-eyes and fiery feelers.

It is easy to measure the of the state of mind of the photographer during the previous evening. There is inverse relationship between the number of campfire pictures captured and lucidity.  

The above are only a small sampling of the total.

The most important meal of the day.

Off on an adventure.
We paddled south down the lake to explore the river
above the point where it becomes a lake.

The cliffs on the mountain opposite our campsite
had to have an amazing view.
A bushwack up the spine of the mountain was planned for the next day.

But this was a splendid sunny day
just made for paddling.

It gets very swampy towards the river's mouth.
Not easy to find.

This nice shot is of one of us standing up in the canoe
surrounded by so many swamp plants
that the canoe is fully obscured.
The unrecommended vertical rise was an attempt
to see where the opening to the river might be.

Does this look like a river to you?

Well upstream, the group pulled up onto shore 
and had lunch at a nearby lean-to.
The antisocial fisherman in a kayak left when our band arrived.

He's fearless.
At least with fashion choices.

Dead lichen-covered trees lined the river channel.
Whether a natural cycle or signal of an environmental issue,
the trees are strikingly beautiful in demise.

Many treetops were loaded with pine cones.
Is this the reaction to a wet summer following dry?

The way back provided an opportunity to race geese.
They cheated, taking flight.

Relaxing after 9 miles of paddling.

Regardless of the catch,
there is joy to be had in fly fishing.

Even without vibrant color, mirrored sunsets are beautiful.

The beginning of an all-night rain put a damper on festivities.
Far fewer photos this evening.

After the soaking,
the clouds hung low over the lake.

Bacon, bacon,
in the skillet.
Soon the campers
fill their gullets.

A small side fire is stoked.
Very important that coffee water is readied,
regardless of posture.

The opposing cliffs looked down upon a loon,
50 feet off our shore.  He provided an hour of entertainment.
Unusual to see one in the same area for such a long time.

By noon it was apparent that the entire day would be damp.  Since the plan was to get up and out early the following day, it was decided to pack up and vamoose in the afternoon.  The bushwhack up the mountain would have to wait, since the wet underbrush would make it a miserable pursuit.

The decision to break camp made,
this guy was discovered high and dry under the tent fly.
Glad to be of service.

And off they go!
Wait a minute...is that a patch of blue?

[Editor's note:  There IS a road from the Cedar River Flow to Inlet.  There are things to be learned, even from the boorish.  Still wish we had "helped" him.]