Searching for treasures along shore of awaking Limekiln Lake

It was a chilly dark day on the shores of Limekiln Lake. The last several days I stood on the lakeshore watching the ice go from dull grey to a skim coat of slushy white.

And on this particular day, no more ice could be seen.

A brisk wind forced small white caps to lap against the beach. It seemed like the lake was beginning to breathe freely again for the first time following the long winter.

My dog Mutt and I trekked along the shoreline and looked over the winter debris that had washed ashore.

We searched for Adirondack treasures among the gnarled beaver sticks and piles of Maple and Beach leaves that were wrapped in a netted cocoon of White Pine needles.

I’m sure our definition of treasures was much different than that of others.

Dead fish, old lures, bobbers, glass bottles, and remnants of a dock or break-wall were among our long list of coveted booty.As we strolled along I tossed some sticks and waterlogged pinecones back out to sea.

Mutt chased after them in the much too cold water.

She brought them back to shore, shivering all the way. For her own safety I limited my tosses in the chilly drink, though she continued to beg for more.

I breathed in the mixed aromas of open water, wet sand, and Spruce and Pine.

I found a small yellow flip flop half stuck in the sand and wondered if a kid got caught in the first snow storm and got buried underneath.

But I had not heard any news of a missing child so I scooped it up and flung it like a Frisbee.

It wobbled through the air and landed on the scrub covered lawn of the cottage that flanked the beach.

The whole world beyond the waters seemed quiet.

There were no bugs or frogs.

Not even the song of a bird could be heard as the dull wind blew across the beach.

The lake became quite active and the slapping of its waves on shore sounded like a constant low roar.

I had one ear tuned into the water while the other scanned the shoreline for hints of life.

Mutt just seemed content to stay close to me with a good-sized Beaver stick clutched in her jaws.

We traveled the entire length of the beach but the only treasures recovered were the flip flop and a single sun-bleached bobber.

I decided that the lake needed more time to itself having just shed its icy coat.

We would come back the next day to search for more treasure and share our time together.

Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller, lives at Big Moose Lake.ltmitch3rdny@aol.com