Jess

We woke up in low spirits after a restless first night, made worse by the incessant rumblings of The Beast.  We had yet to catch a glimpse of him, as he and his master(s) had left camp well before us.  It showered as we packed up. I stole a moment to walk down to the lake and have a quick breakfast. Even in the rain, Silver Lake was a haven.

Though we were off to a rough start, I had to admit I was happy to be back on the trail. We set out for Mud Lake, our lunch stop.  The trail was as wild as we remembered it. Blowdown at every turn, it was impossible to find a rhythm. Stop and go. Over and under. The wild blackberries were a nice surprise. The rain lifted before we reached Mud Lake. For lunch, we enjoyed one of the things we like best about trail life.  Tofurky Jurky.  Washed down by Gatorade. Out of a banged-up Nalgene bottle.  Mmmm.

We pushed on to Hamilton Lake Stream, our intended destination for the night. The trail was in much better shape, and with food in our bellies, our moods were in much better shape too. The Sacandaga suspension bridge was a welcome sight – it always signals the near-end to the day.  We scrambled down the rocks to relax by the river. After a quick game of “Who Can Hit That Rock First” (I don’t remember who won), we rinsed our tired feet in the cold, fresh water.  I was feeling great, but I could tell Dave was not a happy hiker.

We heard him before we saw him. The same yip-yap-growl from the night before.  The Beast barreled out of the lean-to as we walked up the trail, straining at his leash. A small, black, purebred something, he was not nearly as ferocious as we imagined. Nevertheless, we found ourselves banished to the tent again. We began to unpack, unfurled the tent, and there, directly above our sleeping quarters, was the most poorly hung bear bag we had ever seen.  We knew there was only one thing to do: on to Piseco! The promise of a room at the Oxbow Inn was excellent motivation for the last unexpected 4.5 miles.

We reached the edge of town after 10:00 pm, our night hiking skills once again coming in handy. We could see that the Inn was dark. Visions of a lakeside motel room vanished as the image of a roadside tent took over. A quarter mile later, we stood at the door of the Inn. In front of us, a friendly sign read: “If you arrive after closing time, please help yourself to a key.” Oh, how we love Adirondack towns.