Roughing It

Ah…summer. It’s got such a nice ring to it. It’s a word that is nicely rounded, soft, and welcoming. It has the aroma of fresh cut grass and fresh-turned dirt. It looks flowery and poetic, and sounds warm and kind. Perhaps that is one of the reasons that we all look forward to summer, even though as adults we rarely experience the summertime freedom that we did as children. Perhaps the most memorable summer experience I had in my pre-college summers was going backpacking in the Adirondacks.

It was a blazing summer weekend, or rather, long weekend, that my brothers, my dad, and I set out with two of our friends to go for a five-day/four-night backpacking trip in the Pharaoh Lake Wilderness Area. It was our second trip to this magnificent location, and we had high expectations for this adventure.

We arrived in an overstuffed minivan, and heaved all the gear out of the car. We set about doing a last minute overhaul and reorganization, getting rid of extraneous stuff, and re-situating important equipment so that it was within reach. Then it was time to strap on our packs and get moving. We decided to do the loop in reverse of what we had done the previous year, so our first destination was a place called Rock Pond, probably named for the numerous little rock “islands” that dot the surface. After a short walk through what we thought at the time was bug-infested terrain, we arrived at our destination, set up camp, and went for a swim. The water was a perfect temperature, and it was only after the discovery of some rather large and hideous leeches that we forsook the water for the campfire. There is just something about those miniscule bloodsuckers that makes your knees knock.

Since we had budgeted four nights, and there were only three good camp spots along the trail, we decided to use our extra day at Rock Pond. We went for a hike around the pond, then got so hot and sweaty that we were willing to brave the waters at any cost. Luckily, our fears stayed unrealized throughout the trip.

The next day proved a bit more of a challenge. The morning was wet, with a threat of getting wetter, and the biting bugs seemed to be redoubling their efforts. But we made it to the campsite at Oxshoe Pond in good spirits. We set up tent and then my dad immediately went fishing on the Pond. No luck though. The swimming was great, though it was a bit freaky: the water was so dark that you couldn’t see the bottom anywhere, and the flies (most larger than nickel) enjoyed buzzing at your head until you went insane. The campfire that evening was relaxing, except for the ants that seemed to be crawling everywhere.

The next morning signaled a new era in the trip. Everyday, the hiking distance got longer by a mile or two, so that as we grew more tired, we had to walk further. And that was only half the problem. It just so happened that the segment we were traveling that day ran directly through a massive swamp. If we had thought the flies had been bad before, we were wrong. Pleas for mercy echoed in the stagnant air as we stumbled forward through the scorching heat. And just when it seemed we couldn’t go any further…we had to go further. We finally reached the lean-to at Pharaoh Lake, and ditched our packs, surprised at our survival. The feeling of taking off a backpack is probably most equivalent to walking on the moon: it seems as if you are floating across the ground. We could barely get the tent up before we all rushed headlong into the water. It felt really good, to say the least. Supper that night was delicious, comprised of dehydrated “Chicken and Rice,” and pita bread (yum!).

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast of soggy oatmeal and…even soggier oatmeal, we set out on the last stage of the trek. While there was no swamp on this part of the trail, some of the bugs seemed to have followed us. In an attempt to alleviate the wretchedness, we started making up Shakespearean soliloquies about biting flies that I have long since forgotten. There is something about a good “hast” or “dost thou” that lightens the spirit remarkably. Chocolate is also good at doing this, which is probably why we ate so much that last day.

Upon arriving back at the van, I suddenly found myself in a paradox. Despite the obvious misery and torture that I had experienced over the last few days, all I could think of was all the great times I had just had, and about how I couldn’t wait to do it again. In fact, I still can’t wait to do it again! Maybe this summer…