Solitude: Gifts and challenges in the Adirondacks

by Ann Mulford Kent

I had waited three months to finally return to my Adirondack camp where I have enjoyed 59 years of memories, Adirondack tales of other generations and a sense of “Adirondack Peace.”

When I pull into the driveway at camp thoughts of work, appointments, and my list of “shoulds” seem to dissipate into the Adirondack air.

My soul begins to take in the gifts of quiet, the smell of pine and the calls of the loons at night.

I look forward to ending each day with windows open, listening to the breeze and the lapping of the water against the shore—an “Adirondack slumber.”

Sometimes, however, that Adirondack Peace is challenged! Last night was one of those times!

I had spent a beautiful day on the dock, reading and swimming to my heart’s content.

It was the kind of day you think you could stay in your suit forever, your mind blank of anything but the blue sky above and the beauty of the Adirondack view in front of you.

Relaxed and happy to “burrow” into a night at camp, I pulled out some knitting and headed to the porch, ready to listen to the sounds of an Adirondack night.

Just as I was about to sit down, the phone rang. It was my brother calling with a camp update as he had just left paradise and was headed home to West Virginia. 

“Had I heard about the bear who had been visiting our back porch?” he asked.  Even though we had nothing to offer in the way of a “bear’s feast” apparently he was a return visitor.

“I banged on the door three times,” said my brother when the bear came to visit.

“I didn’t let him see my face,” he added.

I have spent 59 of my summers up at our camp. I have seen the claw marks on our pump house and I have seen a cub on our property. But all of a sudden my “Adirondack Spirit” began to quiver.

I have often thought about how a bear could simply “pop” his paw right through our  90-year-old kitchen window and come into the kitchen to find a snack!

I called my neighbors to let them know that if they heard me yell “HELP” or “BEAR” I would greatly appreciate their assistance. (Yet, really what could they do except call 911?)

So, I called 911, just to ask, “Is it permissible to call 911 if I have a bear on my porch?” “Yes,” the very kind voice answered.

And so I readied my pots and pans, set to create a symphonic cacophony in the middle of the night if I had to tell the bear he was not an invited guest.

With portable phone in hand, I went upstairs, got under my covers, body feeling tense, waiting until my spirit said “ENOUGH! Go to sleep!”

I’m sure our Naturalists would laugh or perhaps feel annoyed at my fear last night.

I know everyone says that a bear is more afraid of you.

I also know that we have tales of Adirondack women who probably slept outside at night with bears tiptoeing  past their tents or sleeping bags.

I wish I had that sense of trust and Adirondack Spirit.

As for today, however, the sun is out. A loon just glided by the shore and the smell of my Adirondack home is all around.  Life is good!

As for tonight, perhaps I’ll venture back to the porch, knitting in hand, ready to listen to the calls of the loons and the water lapping up against the shore.

As for the bear, he’s welcome to come by any time—as long as he tiptoes and doesn’t challenge my Adirondack Peace!

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