some words I wrote several years ago after a canoe trip.

Some might have described it as a miserable day but the rain was never very heavy or cold and there was no wind to speak of.  It was the third day of paddling in or near the Saint Regis Canoe Access Area.  A Loon let us drift closer than usual affording an opportunity to photograph it.  Another Loon some distance across the pond called out in that haunting voice that carries well over the open water and echoes off the distant shore.  I'm reminded of the lyrics of a Gordon Lightfoot song describing another bird's call.

There's a kind of a restless feeling and it pulls me from within
It sets my senses reeling and my wheels begin to spin
In the quietude of winter you can hear the wild geese cry
And I will always love that sound until the day I die

It's a moment that defines the essence of communing with nature and I struggle to describe it.  In the end no words - be they sublimely lyrical or deathless prose, no photograph, no motion picture, nor any sound recording can do it justice.  Some things must be experienced to be appreciated.

Another brief theme in my notes deals with smells. On July 8 I described the inside of my tent and/or sleeping bag as smelling "like a wet sneaker" and Jerry added, "or a high school locker room." I think a teenager's wet sneaker is closer. One of the things that tell me I have entered the kind of woods I love is the sweet odor of decaying leaves and logs, I found it several times on this hike. At one point the air was filled with the distinct and unmistakable aroma of cedar. I've been around plenty of cedar trees in the Adirondacks and have only smelled cedar when cutting the wood or finding a recently broken tree. I looked around when I detected the odor but couldn't find the source.

Wildlife was seen at every turn. Along the trail we saw countless salamanders, toads and frogs. There were the usual cast of small furry things - chipmunks and red squirrels. On July 16 at 10:30 am a large Whitetail jumped and ran down the trail for a few yards before disappearing into the woods. On the last two days I flushed two or three Grouse. When we were jockeying cars down Route 30 south of Indian lake a Wild Turkey Hen lead her five little ones across the road. I saw two more hens and a chick along the dirt road leading out from Wakely Dam.  The last bird across the road was an adult and she stopped on a rock to watch our approach. I didn't have a very long camera lens so I tried to walk close enough for a decent photograph only to drive