Grand Magazine - July/August 2008 - (Page 55)

Heading into the rapids aptly named The Big Nasty. The spring rains created bigger rapids on the Adirondack’s Indian River, making the trip wilder than expected. PHoTogRAPHy By Melody THoMAs Everyone did. One long blare of the boat’s horn brought residents down to their docks, and Jim deftly swapped the incoming mailbag with the matching outgoing mailbag. Entering Fourth Lake, I pointed to a place across the lake. “Jim, see that big white building? It used to be a resort. That’s where I worked when I was in college, and your great-grandmother worked there before she was married.” After the mailboat ride, we continued along Route 28. Passing Bald Mountain, I said, “Your mother climbed Bald Mountain without complaint when she was only 3.” We headed deeper into the Adirondack Park and detoured into Raquette Lake Village. “My first job was behind the soda fountain in the General Store. And we camped on the lake years ago.” Our home for the next few days was The Hedges on tranquil Blue Mountain Lake surrounded by mountains. The Hedges has preserved the old camp style that was popular during the Gilded Age with the East Coast’s rich and powerful who escaped the cities during the muggy summers to stay in the cool, fresh Adirondack Mountains. The rustic elegance is enhanced by the absence of televisions and telephones. Within minutes of our arrival, Jim explored the lake by rowboat. After a few instructions from his grandfather, he graduated to a kayak. The time had come when I could no longer live in denial regarding the whitewater rafting. The day of reckoning began after a mountain-style breakfast of waffles and sausage slathered in real maple syrup, which I would have enjoyed more had it not been for the angst over the pending adventure. At Indian Lake, we joined the other thrill seekers. “I think Grandpa and I are the oldest people here,” I whispered to Jim. “But I’m not the youngest,” he said. The river guide began his orientation chat. stay ashore and take pictures.” “No way, Grandma, you can do it! Sounds like fun!” There was little choice—I didn’t even have the camera. Working as a team, we carried the raft from the trailer down to the Indian River. We practiced our paddle instructions: “Right forward. Left forward. All rest.” Then, we were off. Flushed with the thrill of successfully completing the first set of rapids, I was beginning to enjoy the ride when we hit the second set of rapids, “The Big Nasty”! The guy in front of me disappeared over the side. Then, my grandson popped out into the water. They were quickly retrieved. I, who had no interest in experiencing the joy of being retrieved, figured out that if I kept my weight toward the center of the boat I would pop into the boat, not out of it. Each exhilarating set of rapids was “Don’t worry. I will grab the back of your life vest, dunk you, and on the third dunk, heft you into the boat. I’ve never lost anyone—yet!” “You are lucky. The river is running fast because of the recent rains. People usually pay more for this class of white water.” Lucky wasn’t the word that had come to mind. That bit of information and the safety instructions nearly caused me to opt out. “If you get bounced out of the raft, keep your feet headed downstream. Don’t try to stand up. You might get your foot lodged under a rock.” Bounced out. Lodged under a rock. And I wasn’t relieved when he continued, “Don’t worry. I will grab the back of your life vest, dunk you, and on the third dunk, heft you into the boat. I’ve never lost anyone—yet!” On the 20-minute bus ride to the putin place, I announced, “Someone should followed by stretches of calm water and rest. During one of the quiet times—in an area with the tree-covered gorge rising steeply on both sides—Jim murmured, “It’s awesome!” Too soon, the fun was over…and it was fun. Four hours had just flowed by. I was glowing with pride over my survival as we headed back to The Hedges. On the way we passed the trailhead for Blue Mountain. “Grandpa and I climbed that with your mother several times.” “Can we climb it tomorrow?” “We’ll see. If it doesn’t rain,” I said, eyeing the dark clouds on the horizon— willing them in our direction. G www.iloveny.com, www.oldforgeny.com, www.thehedges.com, www.hudsonriverrafting.net JULY AUGUST 2008 GRAND 55 http://www.iloveny.com http://www.oldforgeny.com http://www.thehedges.com http://www.hudsonriverrafting.net

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of Grand Magazine - July/August 2008

Grand Magazine - July/August 2008 Contents Grand View: Love Is All That's Left Isn't It Grand?: Reassessing the Postponed Life Grand Central Just So We Know: One Mixed-Up Lemon Long-Distance Love: Cuttings Ask Grand: Stuck on Stuff Grand Gestures: "Thanks for the Ugly Gift" Tips on Teens: All That Doesn't Meet the Eye Live Long and Propser On the Cover: Peter Yarrow Presents of Mine Thicker Than Water? Reunions: White Water, White Knuckles The Grand Gourmet So We Are Not Alone Looking Grand: Suit-Able Grandbloggers: Why Watch TV When We Can Talk? Grand Bazaar Resources Grand Finale: What Boat

Grand Magazine - July/August 2008

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