Travel Writer?

So. I'm going to write a travelogue of my vacation this week. Here goes nothing...

Tuesday 8.19
Woken up by Meghan in robe and toweled hair. “It’s too early” I say. Well actually it was almost 9 am. Hit the road around 10 or 10:30, Meghan at the wheel. She knew I would want to gawk, and I did. Once we got on route 73 I was like a child riding in a cart at the grocery store. Ooh, Ahhh; I want this, I want that. And I would consume these mountains like a box of animal crackers if it were possible. Giant seems to be the first really big thing you see, and it lives up to its name, isolated as it is from the rest of the high peaks. And we passed Cascade, which we have planned for Thursday, our first high peak, and I’m uncontrollably excited about it.

After a driving tour of all Meghan’s old stomping (teaching) grounds, we pulled into the motel a bit after 1:00, checked in, unloaded and then took a walk up to the deli to get lunch. “Italian Mix” of turkey, ham and salami. Oh well. They had good chips. A cool breezy lunch, it’s only been around 60 degrees up here today, and a bit windy off of Lake Flower, but not totally unpleasant.

After lunch we set off for Mt. Baker, practically right in town, a short .9 mile hike up 900 feet to the top (2452 ft). The trail proved to be full of families, obviously taking advantage of its ease of use. Encountered at least a handful of grandparents on the trip, as well as the usual French-Canadians and some nice dogs. The trail was rather poorly marked, but due to the heavy use and relatively thin growth it’s pretty easy to find your way to the top. There is a bit of a flat stretch after the initial climb, followed by some more substantial climbing in the last 1/3 of the hike and the views occur about 50 feet below the actual summit on a rocky ridge. And they were good. The whole high peaks region stretches out in front of you from east to west. Giant cuts a significant profile and the tops of Algonquin and Marcy were just barely frosted with clouds. Through my binoculars I watched the clouds burn off Algonquin’s summit and then sit just above. It looked like you could put a step-ladder on the summit and climb right back into them. And the view of the Saranac Chain as well as the village was beautiful as well. While the high peaks present a tangible, imposing and relatively close barrier, to the west and southwest the park seems to stretch endlessly away.

The hike was quite short, half an hour up, 45 minutes at the top and half an hour down. After an aborted stop for beer at the Grand Union on the way back (poor selection, I think I might need some bourbon), we’ve been relaxing at the motel. Meghan is reading, I’m listening to Charles Ives as I write and watching Jack, the motel’s dog, get a bath out on the lawn. Regarding the motel, its nice and simple. The beds have really nice quilts, I’m assuming made with love by somebody’s grandmother, or family friend. And the toilet has a note about country plumbing and not flushing anything you didn’t eat, but the thing is a turbo-flush nonetheless. Anyway, out to dinner and wandering around town tonight.