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Jun 15, 2023

» Waite: Make the effort to get outside

Callum, 2, looks back from his seat in the canoe as his older sister Ria, 5, paddles on Forked Lake. Two days before our family camping trip, my wife and I received notice that the site we’d reserved

Callum, 2, looks back from his seat in the canoe as his older sister Ria, 5, paddles on Forked Lake.

Two days before our family camping trip, my wife and I received notice that the site we’d reserved had flooded. I asked Kathleen if she secretly hoped this meant we could cancel the canoe trip altogether.

“Maybe,” she said.

Canceling would have been easier. If we canceled the Forked Lake trip, we wouldn’t have had to pack up all the gear. The tent, the tarps, the sleeping bags, the cooking equipment, the cooler – all of it could have remained in the basement. And if we canceled, we wouldn’t have had to worry about how our mischievous 2-year-old might behave on his first big canoe trip. He is, after all, the same age I was when I dropped my sneakers off the bow.

But canceling also would have meant not bringing my son to the very same Adirondack lake that my parents took me to when I was young enough to want to drop my shoes into the water. It would have meant not establishing the tradition for him and my daughter – an independent-minded 5-year-old who is, so far, more interested in indoor crafts than outdoor adventures. If we canceled this year, wouldn’t we be more likely to cancel next year, too?

So I called the ranger station and booked one of the few sites still available.

The morning of our departure, the sun shone as my wife and I hoisted the canoe atop the roof racks. Of course, by the time we made it to the lake, the sky had turned gray, with rain visible off the western shore. I asked the ranger about the forecast.

She gestured to the clouds.

My wife and I looked at each other. At that moment, the kids were happy. Ria demonstrated her leaping skills from a rock onto a log, and little Callum did his best to imitate. We’d come this far – can’t turn around now!

So we loaded up the canoe, sliding camp chairs under the seats, stacking firewood in the bow, and bungeeing blue tarps over everything. In all, we loaded the canoe with four humans, one small dog and enough food and supplies to survive three nights. Behind us, we towed two innertubes piled with more stuff. We had, let’s say, about the width of a rain fly’s worth of clearance between the edge of our canoe and the surface of the lake, and I’m pretty sure a snail could have given us a run for our money as we paddled out.

But, oh, am I glad we did. If we hadn’t camped, we’d have missed out on all of it. We never would have glided through the marsh one morning to see a beaver dam that’s been there since before I was born. My daughter wouldn’t have caught sunfish from the sandy shore of our site. We wouldn’t have spent a hot, sunny day splashing in the water, with my son “helping” me paddle as we towed the ladies in the tubes. We wouldn’t have roasted marshmallows or popped popcorn on an open fire. And we wouldn’t have passed a rainy afternoon playing a silly card game called “Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza.”

Was it perfect? Far from it. The trip may always be remembered as the year the dog peed in the tent. And then there was the forgettable sleep, with nights spent tossing and turning on thin pads.

But was it worth it? Totally. It always is. That’s what I’ve learned about outdoor adventure. As a kid, I didn’t love hiking or rowing, but I’ve now developed a taste for all of it. I find I crave it. All the effort that goes into camping or climbing a mountain – the early mornings, the sore muscles, the packing – there’s always a slight dread in the lead-up. But in the end, there’s never regret.

So with roughly one month of summer-vacation season still ahead of us, I invite you to get outside. Take that camping trip, go for that day hike or swim in that lake. Our region is resplendent with accessible natural wonder. CDTA even runs a Nature Bus that can connect you with the outdoors.

Have faith it’ll all be worthwhile.

As the rain wore on during our final full day, the silly card game began to feel repetitive, and the kids became slap happy and restless. I kept poking my head out of the tent.

“The rain’s going to taper off soon,” I repeated enough times that it became a joke between my wife and daughter.

Finally, around 6 p.m., just in time for chicken stew, the rain stopped.

“The taper!” I roared, prompting belly laughs from my family.

Minutes later the sun emerged, casting a silvery light across the lily pads.

The rest of the trip remained cool and dry. But, honestly, even if the clouds had opened again, I don’t think it would have dampened the experience one bit.

Columnist Andrew Waite can be reached at [email protected] and at 518-417-9338.

Categories: Andrew Waite, Email Newsletter, Opinion, Opinion

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