If it's March, it's time to camp in the Adirondacks, at least it has been for me for the last 20 years. This being a COVID year, it was for Gail too. She tested out her sleeping bags on our back porch and was satisfied she wouldn't freeze, then she got busy packing and unpacking several times, a ritual I take part in almost every year as the forecast changes in the last day or two.
It poured during 210 miles of the 230-mile trip. I silently contemplated spending Thursday night at Glenn's on Lake George with him and Roy to avoid getting soaked during the hike in, but it let up as we neared the exit for his house and/or Pharaoh Lake. Gail couldn't mask her enthusiasm about joining us
I tried the old trick of hooking my sled to Gail's as we set out on the four-mile-hike in, but she caught on right away and I had to pull it myself. Conditions were good, a little soft from the rain and warm temps, but our spikes dug in enough to keep us moving along at a good pace.
The ice was smooth and solid when we got to the lake. We didn't let a few inches of standing water bother us since we'd packed expecting to face some rain and all our stuff stayed dry.
The temps plummeted overnight, with wind gusts of 30 mph at regional airports. We were in a sheltered lean-to and felt no discomfort. The boys would later thank us for choosing the one we did. Since we had our heads down and didn't admire the sights on the way in, we headed back towards the parking lot to meet the boys coming in.
Does this look more like a coffin, or an angel with wings? It's obvious to me.
Gail with her first good look at Pharaoh Mountain from the beaver pond.
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