There is always going to be something special about the Adirondacks for me. They are my home mountains. The place I learned how to start a fire with birch bark; where I got my first look at the sky unpolluted by street lights; where I learned to like the sound of coyotes in the distance and that a fire on a wet, cold night can be a magical thing. They are not as high as the Rockies, as rugged as Maine or covered in snow year-round like Alaska but they are beautiful.
On this particular trip we walked along a flooded river and watched as the last pieces of river ice floated down stream. The woods were in full spring mode. We could hear the loons and the peepers at night and see the buds on the birch and beech just starting to emerge. I found this tiny trillium bud just coming up from the leaf litter.
The forests of the Adirondacks are wet, damp and full of moss, lichens, ferns and other primitive plants. Despite the dampness of the woods and the intermittent rain and drizzle, we were able to find standing dead trees each night for our fire. We enjoyed the relative shelter of the lean-to and the good company.
Each night spent in the woods is a like a fresh breath. Hopefully, I got enough to get me through one more week in town.