A trip to the Adirondacks with Talbot
Guest Spot Post by Henry Fox Talbot (not that one). Talbot is a three year old Terrier mix who enjoys long walks, peanut butter treats, and is passionate about the conservation of our natural resources. This is his account of his recent trip to the Adirondacks, New York.
Guest Spot Post by Henry Fox Talbot (not that one). Talbot is a three year old Terrier mix who enjoys long walks, peanut butter treats, and is passionate about the conservation of our natural resources. This is his account of his recent trip to the Adirondacks, New York.
They took me with them! It was looking dicey this morning while they packed up half of the house into the back of the truck: duffel bags, coolers, food, blankets, tools, cameras
What about me!?!
I thought for sure they were going to leave me behind, so I made certain to stay constantly underfoot and give extra kisses to make it as difficult as possible. It was only at the last second and a particularly pathetic look on my part that I got the go-ahead. I think I broke a new record running from the front door to the truck before they could change their minds.
Eight hours in the car feels like 5 days in the car. True, I slept through most of it, but would a treat have killed them? Everything they packed and I couldn’t have any of the peanut butter bone things? Anyway, it was worth it. We’re here!
At the cabin!
In the woods!
I spit on my leash!
And everything smells great! Everything– wait. This doesn’t smell like me. And this definitely doesn’t smell like me and– okay, I got this. I got this– where’s my water?
People! Where’s my water!? I can’t do this by myself!
The guys have been working on the cabin all morning. It’s been nothing but whirling and banging! Yelling, and buzzing! You try sleeping in a construction zone– even my dreams featured dancing tool belts and talking table saws. I like to think I rose above it though, and gave moral support.
The lake is just like I remember. We had to walk about 10 minutes down the railroad bed and hang a right through the wild raspberry bushes, milkweed, and ferns and there it is– Rainbow Lake all to myself. I jumped in and waded in up to my chest which is about two feet from shore. Sometimes I wish I was taller.
To tell you the truth, I am not wild about canoes. They’re hot, there’s no shade, and every time I move around, everyone freaks out! Furthermore, ducks are a big tease. I do get to drink a lot from over the side of the canoe which is convenient, but still. It seems to make them happy though and bonus! All of the other boaters we pass are super excited to see me. I feel like a celebrity out here!
It’s a big one, Whiteface. 4,865 feet up to the top and the fifth highest mountain in New York.
Oh yeah!
We drove up 95% of it which I felt was cheating, but beggars can’t be choosers. I am told the view was spectacular, you can see into Canada on clear days. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see most of it for reasons that should be readily apparent. Note: Schedule a haircut next week.
Now we we’re talking. We hiked up Mount Saint Regis today (which is small but respectable) and I led the way. I always like to be first for the following reasons:
- I am much friendlier than my owners and first impressions are important.
- I like to think I am an effective guide. I set a reasonable pace, point out interesting or unusual vegetation, and allow for regular bathroom breaks.
- They are unbearably slow!!! I know they only walk on two legs, but come on!
Today, I met my match. We stopped by for dinner with some friends and I was making my preliminary inspections of their yard when she came charging out of the house. Her name is Bunni, but not like the good kind. She is tiny, loud, and bossy! I can’t sniff without her having an opinion on it. I think I am just going to hide out here until she forgets about me.
We left and are heading back home! We just crossed into Pennsylvania and already I'm thinking about the next time I can get back to the Dack. Until next time!
Wish you were here!
I was raised to believe that a vacation was not really a vacation until you had purchased your obligatory T-shirt with the screen printed name of your current family-friendly locale likeWilliamsburg, Va, or Gettysburg, PA. I have personally taken time out of my childhood to agonize over whether or not I wanted the t-shirt with the canons and the sabers or the one with Abraham Lincoln with the Gettysburg Address scripted behind him.*
Seriously, this is what I had to work with. Totally uninspired.
I hate that I love tacky souvenir shops. I can’t get enough of them, I personally blame my upbringing (another thing that I hate/love to do). Like millions of Americans, I was raised to believe that a vacation was not really a vacation until you had purchased your obligatory T-shirt with the screen printed (embroidered if you could afford it) name of your current family-friendly vacation locale like Williamsburg, Virginia or Gettysburg Pennsylvania. I have personally taken time out of my life, to agonize over whether or not I wanted the t-shirt with the canons and sabers or the one with Abraham Lincoln with the Gettysburg Address scripted behind him.*
I hate/love the shelves filled with seashell encrusted jewelry boxes, ridiculously expensive coffee table books, and the little personalized license plates on the spin rack by checkout that never have my name (They always spell it with a “Y”. Bastards.). But what I really love are postcards– but not just postcards: vintage-style, overpriced postcards. Sometimes, I don’t even send them. I keep them in a repurposed shoebox next to my computer and periodically rifle through them like old photos. Here is my postcard from a luncheon dated 1925 from Longwood Gardens, Pennsylvania, tucked between my Vespa postcard from Naples, Italy and my Elvis postcard from a trip to Memphis complete, with his trademark recipe for Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches.
Imagine my disappointment then, when on a recent trip to Lake Placid, I discovered that my beloved tacky souvenir shops were either out of my vintage-style, overpriced postcards or didn’t sell them at all. I’ll save you the energy and tell you it was disproportionately comical:
- Maple sugar candy– check.
- 10 different varieties of New England Maple syrup– check.
- Elk beef jerky– check.
- Sweatshirts, tote-bags, and baseball caps with the words “Miracle” or “Hockey” stiched on them– checkcheckCHECK! Where the hell are my postcards???
Long story short– they didn’t have any. So I created my own, I am industrious that way. Now, I know I didn’t reinvent the wheel here, but I found myself really enjoying the process of creating postcards that were inspired by my own photography and I'm pretty happy with how they turned out. Especially taking into account that I am not an illustrator and practically have no game when it comes to free-hand drawing. But give me a pen tool in Adobe Illustrator and I can trace in the top 60% percentile. Yeah, that’s selling it.
In any case, I hope you enjoy them as much as I did making them!
*You can’t go wrong with Abraham Lincoln.
This my finished postcard of the most photographed barn in the Adirondacks, or so I'm told.
Again with the finished product. I took advantage of the format and moved the people to the left to make a better composition.
My original. A little bit more beat-up by the elements she's got personality to spare.
My inspiration. You can skate around the entire perimeter or the lake which I think is awesome.