Standing stones, liths, menhirs, megoliths, orthostats, monoliths, bautasteiners, Maui’s, and vishapakars are found all over the world standing silently, just as they have for thousands of years.
In my Limekiln Lake woods there were some great big standing rocks that were left by the last great glacier.
These erratics, as I came to know them, were wayposts for my many adventures as a child.
They fascinated me enough to try and learn all that I could about the rock formations created by other cultures.
My boulders were moved into place by nature at a fraction of an inch per year, left as a sentinel in my woods to watch over the growth of my forest for some ten thousand years.
I named them all, and like long-time friends they awaited my arrival, glancing as I passed by them with my fish pole in hand and my dog, Mutt, by my side.
Some of them were places I sought as a destination, such as the Castle, and Tower Rock.
Amidst the large megolith erratics I fought off imaginary dragons and defended against Vikings.
But one of my very favorite places was Pinched Boulders.
In a boggy low stream bed rose two large gray stones some 30 feet tall.
Somehow they had come to rest against each other and created a passageway just large enough for me to walk through.
Mutt and I visited the site more frequently than the rest as it was a cool place to rest in the damp darkness on a warm muggy afternoon.
A small flat stone set horizontally between the two large ones made a seat, giving the setting a natural grotto feeling of shelter and serenity.
I had a couple of paperback Westerns stashed there for reading.
The seat of a broken lawn chair I had left behind on a previous trip made for a comfortable place to sit and read for an hour or two.
As I read, my thoughts wandered. I listened to the sounds of scolding squirrels, chirping birds, the hushed ripple of the stream and Mutt’s panting.
My nose was filled with the damp aroma of cinnamon fern, mosses, balsam and spruce. It was a cozy backdrop I enjoyed with every visit.
I had tried to climb those Pinched Boulders several times without success.
It was as if they were willing to provide shelter, but the view of the forest was something they wanted to keep to themselves.
My love of Adirondack erratics has never ceased.
I often find myself reaching out to touch one of those lone standing stones as I hike by.
I search around the base for a way to climb up, or just gaze at the wonders that grow so far off the ground on their shouldered peaks.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller, lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com