Chasing Humans Up A Hill

This is the hill: Panther Mountain, NY.  I work here. I carry a badge, hanging from my neck.  It helps me find humans should they go missing.

Up the trail, humans!

I like it when they show some initiative.

Other times, I must remind them of our purpose.

  

Like here, when they pause on the reclining rock.

Onward and upward, humans!

At times, I must cajole them.
"Though you only have two legs, don't be discouraged.
You can still get up the hill."

In places, the rocks are set like steps
making it easier for the minimally legged humans.

I encourage them to use the roots in a similar manner.

They dawdle incessantly.
Without me chasing them,
they'd never reach the top.

 

There are many other humans at our destination.
Other four-legged friends have also done their jobs.

Particularly in the fall, the view over Piseco is spectacular.
I'm sure the humans are glad I chased them up here.

The rocky outcropping of Echo Cliffs provides a lookout.
Of course, there is no echo.
Your barks do not return.

This is a good shot I took of the humans, don't you think?
I am a full service guide.

I even capture their shenanigans.
Humans are so silly.

I have to admit I also enjoy the view.

I'm happy to have chased the humans up the hill
so they could enjoy the autumn panorama.

And I am also glad to provide guidance when humans become confused.

 

"Yes, take a picture in that direction."

There you go.

Perhaps next time I'll chase them up one of those other hills.

And then I chased them back down.

Visited by an old friend

Leslie and Rick finally made their way to the camp.  She’s had infections that have prevented them from coming at the time of the two previously scheduled attempts.  This time, we had other friends here, but I think their presence added to the experience for Leslie and Rick. And for Mary and me, since their upbeat that positive attitudes helped keep the melancholy from overwhelming the weekend.

Les has been fighting a brain tumor for many years.  When it returned about 2 year ago (I could well have the time frame wrong), the doctors decided to treat it aggressively with chemo and radiation.  This was a second, at least, round of treatment. From what Rick says, the frontal lobe radiation seems to have very negatively affected Leslie’s functioning.  Obviously, Rick wishes treatment had more beneficial effect.

15 months ago, Leslie was driving to her treatment sessions.  Now, she gets stuck. She has to be coaxed through the activities of daily living, and needs to be helped from one place to another both for balance issues and for lack of the cognitive process to connect moving her feet with the objective of getting from point A to point B.

Rick has retired (or otherwise left IBM, which is another long story of corporate malfeasance) to take care of Leslie more or less full time.  They have people coming in to help from time to time, but that is minimal. Their daughter, Sophia, is also home to help at least some. She is an energetic young woman building a career in environmental advocacy.  Having her nearby at least part of the time is a big plus for Leslie and Rick.

I can imagine what Rick is going through as the caregiver, but I’m sure I don’t grasp half of the requirements and toll of the arduous task.  His entire existence is consumed by Leslie’s care. I suppose there is some backward blessing in the fact Leslie sleeps a lot, since during that time Rick can attend somewhat to his own needs, however inadequately.  It is certainly not an existence one would choose.  

My heart breaks for them both.  Their unfortunate example instructs us all to enjoy every day to the fullest.  Which hopefully, by their visit, they were doing.

We all played “Oh Hell,” on Saturday night, and on Friday, Rick and Les were able to go canoeing and enjoy the wind, water, and bright colors of the fall foliage.

As I helped Leslie into their car so they could depart, I gave her a kiss and a hug, remembering a similar embrace with our friend Ginny, gone ten (?) years now.  Tears welled up, so I turned away briefly before regaining enough composure to shake Rick’s hand and encourage them to come again anytime. I even managed a couple of silly one-footed, precariously balanced poses as Leslie waved while Rick backed the car out to turn around and leave.

They are headed to see Leslie’s Mom next weekend and another friend the one after that.  Mary wonders if Rick is taking her to see old friends before she can’t see them anymore. I would not bet against it.

We May Never Pass This Way Again

The mountains were very near their peak, though a few of us are well past ours.

For some, this is a repeat of a nice trip many years ago.  Why not, when a fine campsite and local points of interest beckon?  Even when hours of downpour greet you upon loading up your canoes and paddling to the campsite.  There was so much rain, it was questionable whether we'd know the difference should we capsize our overloaded canoe.

But no reason to broadcast, "Mayday!"  Or even, "M'aidez!"  A good part of the experience is taking inconveniences in stride so that the annual camping trip can provide excellent entertainment opportunities.

There was a vaudeville review.

After much precipitation,
one wakes up to fog in the forest.
There must be a wizard and a gnome back there somewhere.

The loons have no problem with swimming close to the campsite
before the sun melts the mist.

Less mist means more color.

Eventually, the sun breaks free of the haze
and boots can be dried.

Had there been a few more giant mushrooms,
we would not have needed a tarp the size of Rhode Island.

Rain and fog gone, the decision to paddle was unanimous.

After paddling, we hiked over mossy ground
on the way to Ledge Pond,
carrying the lightest of the canoes with us.

Plenty of color to be seen once there,
all the better appreciated from the canoe.

As a rule, ponds are not so aptly named.
Here is one of the ledges.
Had it been warmer and had we been more adventurous,
ledge leaping might have been the preferred activity.

A fine reward for a paddle and a hike, don't you think?

Here is a barrier put up by the government to keep undesirables out.
M. F. G. A.
Make Fishing Great Again!

Later that same day, the fishermen fished.
While no catches of great note were reported,
the fishermen didn't really care.

Later that same evening,
we were visited by a lumberjack who said, "I'm OK."

Even later, backsides were warmed.

And a disembodied head floated by.

Though the sky had been blue the previous day, 
the next morning provided evidence of rain during the night,
which continued through the morning.

Another paddle and hike were the orders of the day.
We left after the rain tapered off.
The bag hanging from the tree?  That contains our food.
At that height and proximity to the trunk,
it only discouraged underachieving bears.

Scenery worth paddling through,
regardless of the clouds.

Lots of it.

Time for intermission?  Too many pictures?  Always.  And this is the edited group!

Out of the boats and onto the trail to Long Pond Mountain.

We hiked the beautiful path through the pines, past a picturesque pond,
and up Long Pond Mountain.

Interesting mossy growth.

Weary bones enjoy lunch at the top.

Fabulous views!
Pay no attention to the man almost completely obscured behind the hiking stick.

He thinks he's hiding behind the stick.

We work to get to the pinnacle, but never stay long enough 
to fully assimilate the sights.  It is not possible. 
The photos never do justice to the views.
While one's head is larger than this picture,
it's impossible to get one's head around the vastness of the actual space.

The larger mountains have gathered in the far off mist.

The gang gathers on a second rocky ledge.

Green-clad Jim drank in the views.  "This is probably the last time I'll get to see this."

Oh, Jimmy, don't say that.  Even if it is 100% true, let us old guys have the illusion that encroaching age will not soon end this fun. 

But damned if Russ, the third of the "mature" campers, didn't tweak his knee on the way down, just to emphasize the point.  We could have rolled him down the steep spots, but chose to get him a walking stick instead.  We did not leave him, since he kept insisting, "I'm not dead yet!"

Sappy cones

Mossy shrooms.

A last look and then on our way.
We came from one of those water bodies way down there.

We departed and the butterfly had the entire mountaintop to himself.

Nosewood?

Mushrooms "Heart" NY, too.

A mushroom of the 4-fingered variety.

Delicate saprophytes on the forest floor.

Up there.  That's where we were.
Will we ever return?

We got back to the campsite just as another rainstorm arrived.  Dinner, another campfire, and outstandingly intellectual conversation ensued.  Maybe even an inappropriate song or two.  

The next morning saw us striking camp and hustling out of the woods.  On the 4th day in the woods, the call of the warm shower is strong.  But even so, the beauty of the land makes for a few delays.

The rocky summit of Snowy Mountain looms high above Lewey Lake.

And farther south, the lowlands of the Sacandaga River
 cause another short delay.