Post Script

 Our road trip through the Adirondacks was quite lovely...if a little warm.  After more than a year of not going anyway, we were all ready for a little time away.  Not one of our "epic adventures", this trip involved no significant plan, just a basic map, three motorcycles, and the family.

We took the ferry across Lake Champlain and continued south to Pottersville where the natural (stone) bridge and caves are.  We were there twenty years ago with another couple but I don't remember there being so much climbing involved.  Back then I would have been pregnant with Patrick.  This time, Patrick was a steady shoulder to lean on as I stepped down the rocky steps in my motorcycle pants and heavy leather boots (not particularly awesome climbing gear).

After the caves, we continued on our way enjoying the scenery, the weather, and the open road, stopping occasionally to stretch our legs and grab a drink, read a book, and check the map.  All-in-all this trip  put a little more than 500 miles on the odometer.  That's a short trip for this gang.

One of the things that I wanted to do was ride up White Face Mountain.  There is a Veterans Memorial Drive that goes *almost* all the way to the top, and I had heard that the views were wonderful.  We went early enough in the day that we beat the tourist traffic.  By the time we were done enjoying the views and were mounting up to continue our journey, the crowds were starting to roll in; it was a good time to get moving.

The view from the parking lot.

A panoramic view from the parking lot.

I made it about halfway up the climb to the summit (in motorcycle pants and leather boots) before deciding I had a pretty good view from here.  Patrick made a run for the summit with Joerg.  Rumor has it...I didn't miss that much.  You can get a 360 degree view, but... look at the rest of that climb.

I'm a little out of order here, but another activity that we did was go for a ski-lift gondola ride just outside of Lake Placid.  I don't think I've ever done anything like this before so it was really fun.  The views were lovely.  Although it has been a short trip (only two and a half days), it was definitely enjoyable and met the need to get everyone out of the house.

(Katherine, reading a book)

 

Now, sometimes weird things happen.

Off and on for the past many months, a name has come to my mind. I don't know why, it just did.

Anyway, on the second day of our journey, we stopped at a store in a tiny little town called Speculator New York.  Speculator is the home of Camp of the Woods, a Christian camp/resort where I spent a summer working as a waiter and tubaist (wait tables three meals a day, practice band/choir/handbell music in between, give concerts a few times each week) during one summer in college.  So there we were at Charlie Johns drinking our water and staying cool in the shade when a guy rolls in on a BMW GS (same bike that Joerg rides) and comes over to chat.  We talked about motorcycles (of course) and quickly discovered that he had spent part of his career in the aviation industry (queue airplane geekspeek) into which Patrick is preparing to enter.  We learned that he was from out of state and was in town visiting family.  I mentioned that I had been to Speculator 30 years ago to work at Camp of the Woods.

Chris (we would later learn his name) looked a little surprised and said that his wife worked at Camp of the Woods.  How cool is that! I have only ever twice met other COTW people so this was pretty special. We did a little math to figure out when I was there and when his wife was there and then he said it. "Did you know Britta Tobiessen?"

Did I mention that the name that has been coming to mind over these past many months was Britta Tobiessen?

I couldn't believe it. I was standing in a parking lot in a tiny town in New York talking to the husband of Britta Tobiessen...long-lost camp mate from 33 years ago, who doesn't even live in New York.

I told him about visiting her parents' cabin on the lake and how we made chocolate chip cookies (that's us, eating the evidence) but had to unplug the refrigerator in order to use the oven. It was a rustic, homey cabin right next to the water. The windows, hinged at the top, opened to the ceiling for maximum airflow. I have very fond memories of being there. It turns out that they still have the cabin, but now the oven has its own circuit.

Chris put me in touch with his wife and Britta and I have enjoyed a little catching up.  What a fun story.  Two people, who don't even live in the same state, separated by thirty-three years - a lifetime - reconnected by a chance encounter in the parking lot of grocery store, over a conversation about motorcycles and airplanes.

One of my favorite things about our family "epic adventures" is the stories that linger long after the laundry is done and the gear is put away.  This may not have been one of our big trips to a distant land or an action-packed adventure, but this will be one of those stories that lingers long after the laundry is done.