Oswegatchie

Certain experiences in life can make a person glad to be alive.

I had one such experience a few weekends past. It was one of those days when the air seems to carry a weight to it, a bit of the autumn air creeping into summer, warning you to get while the gettin's good. Me and a friend, along with a couple of younger folks, headed for parts north. With our kayaks strapped four abreast to the top of my friend's vehicle, we made our way toward St. Lawrence and the Oswegatchie River.

Not being much for music myself, and the rest of the group of such disparate age, we rode without the radio. The whistle of the wind against the strap ends of the kayak tie off quickly lulled us all into a bit of a trance. The dark greens of the forest whirring past and the great expanse of blue Adirondack sky reminded me of the early days with Gramp and running supplies back and forth from the seaplane to camp.

"Mind ya don't stumble and lose all those potatoes on the dock. I like 'em mashed, not bruised," he'd say this all with a chuckle, sometimes seemed as if he'd'a preferred me to fall so as to break up the chores and laugh for a spell.

Gramp would've appreciated being able to take a day to steal away for a paddle. Speaking of paddle...I found the photograph from the Northeast Paddlers. It shows a piece of the river. I don't go in for the rapids and steep ledge drops. Me,I like to just sort of float, paddling as I feel so inclined. Better to take things in when you let the boat kinda do the work. Paddle, glide, breathe.

This bit of river was particularly suited to just coasting and looking around. I was far behind the group and enjoying the sounds of the wildlife, the feel of the paddle in my hands and the sun breaking through the tree limbs. Made me glad to be an Adirondacker. Gladder still that we had several growlers in the rig to enjoy at day's end.