Adirondack Road Trip Day 2 - Lake George, Glens Falls, Westport & Essex
I woke up and was startled to see a 1950’s television to my right, a fan that looked as if it were on its last spin, and some type of large web near the window, but put these thoughts behind me and hopped into the shower before what was bound to be another long and exciting day. I’ve always thought the best part of any trip is not knowing what the trip entails while you’re on the go, but always knowing stuff - sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes incredible - is going to happen and there’s no real way to prepare for it. Perhaps its this excitement of looking for adventure, or seeing new things, or just being part of a completely different world than I’ve lived in drives me to see small towns and these random places across the world. I have learned one thing though about my travels - things happen to me, and thus far I’ve managed to prevent anything terrible from happening.
It was freezing as I left my room and headed to my car to get it warmed up. I was 200 miles away from New York City, but I felt as if I were closer to a thousand miles away. Snow had piled up, and it seemed as if the Adirondack Region was in the heart of winter. Perhaps global warming was creating a less chill winter than usual, but it was plenty cold for this native Long Islander. I warmed my car up, returned my key in a bin near the door and was back on the road.
Most of the time when I’m on the road or actually traveling I’m on my way to see something man-made- a town, a city, a museum. I think this is a common interest amongst travelers, but sometimes I drive to areas to see a part of nature. I think this desire is equally as appealing to tourists - and the thousands of people who joined me at Niagra Falls or the Dead Sea during the summer will prove me right. However, when I feel a little uneasy when I set my sights on seeing something not as naturally magnificent, I feel kind of weird, and perhaps think that maybe my peers are right and think I’m losing it…
But thirty minutes later I drove into Lake George and felt that my critics were in the wrong again, and I was extremely fortunate to be gazing out at the lake and the towns built around its perimeter. Lake George is humongous (32 miles in circumference), and reminded me of Lake Zurich - actually it reminded me of my experience when I was in Zurich during my Spring Break during my senior year, which seems so long ago now. Unsurprisingly, all lakes look very similar to me. They’re very large, very blue or green, and most importantly very beautiful. I had had a terrible cold during my day in Zurich and worried that I would be effected by the cold for the remainder of my two week trip, since I had gotten sick on the first day. I had a new camera on this trip, one that I had to purchase batteries for instead of charging a lithium battery, and really missed my previous digital, rechargeable Canon camera. I broke it one night at Kenyon when I was about to go to bed and threw everything off my comforter. I remember feeling extremely squeamish when I heard my camera hit the floor of my room. That was the third camera I’d managed to break in two years. Anyways, I was so amazed by Lake Zurich, especially by the Swiss Alps in the distance and thought I’d make a day of walking around the entire lake, but after 20 minutes of walking I realized that I could easily spend a couple days walking its 24 miles and I didn’t have the time to do that. I remember turning around to make my way back to downtown Zurich and my hostel, but realizing that I didn’t have my key and searched for it for the next 45 minutes and returned to the hostel tired, sick, frustrated and 20 euros poorer…damn key! At that time I also remember being obsessed with Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” and wondering if there was any future with Suzanna. It was an interesting moment in my life.
I thought these thoughts while looking out at Lake George, and wondered how far I’d come in life since that evening in Switzerland close to a year ago, and thought that I had managed to make the best of time time since then.
Lake George is often described as the “Queen of America’s Lakes” partly due to its crystal-clear water, and wild shorelines, and was of strategic importance during the French and Indian War. In 1755, the Lake was named after the British King George by British general William Johnson. Recently, the lake has attracted city-weary artists such as Georgia O’Keeffe and her husband, Alfred Steiglitz - a photographer. The south end of the lake contains the village of Lake George which sadly reminded me of the tacky town nearby the Great Smoky Mountains Park - a village crammed with motels and souvenir shops for tourists. I didn’t think much of the town, and actually slightly despised. it
Since I was traveling solo I didn’t have anyone to take a picture of me standing in front of the lake but managed to get a few self-timed shots with me in the forefront and the lake in the background - I’ve gotten pretty good at that. I looked in my Lonely Planet (LP) and read that there was a museum called “The Hyde Collection” in nearby Glens Falls, so after driving around the lake for 30 minutes or so I headed for the museum.
Gas was running kind of low at this point, but I refused to pay $3.30 a gallon for gas and nearly ran out before pulling into a station that sold gas for $3.08 a gallon, and actually felt I was getting a good deal - isn’t that bizarre? I drove another 20 minutes before entering the hustle and bustle village life of Glens Falls. There actually wasn’t much going on when I got to the town, but it seemed very Americana and this delighted me enormously. Each street seemed to have a sports bar or pub, a restaurant and a fast food joint with a bookstore and some interesting looking buildings lined along Main Street. I followed the signs to the Hyde Collection, found the museum, parked my car and made my way to the entrance. The door was locked, so I drove back into downtown and grabbed a bite at the sandwich joint in downtown Glens Falls.
The woman behind the counter looked not much older than me but she had a noticeable skin deformity. It’s not that I felt bad for her because she seemed to be doing well and was close to me in age, but I thought to myself - “Geez, Stu, you’ve had so many damn problems with your peers, girls, elders and basically everyone at some point in your life, imagine if people looked at you uncomfortably every time they saw you - or at least initially.” I actually didn’t think of the skin deformity more than that thought and ordered a turkey sandwich and a hot chocolate for a whopping $8 - seemed a little pricey for this part of the state - grabbed the local Lake George paper and looked to see what was happening in the town. A local election was coming up, Obama and Clinton were on the front page, and things seemed to be peachy in Lake George. I checked my watch and saw that the museum would be opening any minute and drove five minutes back to the museum.
The Hyde Collection was free - thank goodness, that’s a rarity in the States - and I’m glad it was. I really enjoyed walking through the house and admiring the art collection, and the random sculptures and monuments collected by the Hydes, as it reminded somewhat of Sir John Soane’s House in London, but that place was a complete mess of art. The Hyde collection had some order to it, but after 20 minutes I had covered the entire premises and thanked the ticket ladies for the museum.
Hopped backed into my car and was on the road again…but this time I was confusing myself even more than before with my next destination - Westport. Lake George was confusing to me because I didn’t really know how excited I was to see a Lake, and I’ll admit I wasn’t blown away by the town, but I still managed to have a good time. It was brand new, a completely different part of the world, and I guess those novel experiences are good enough for me, so with these thoughts in my mind I headed towards Westport, New York hoping my enthusiasm of the unknown would pull me through again.
The 80 mile drive to Westport was completely gorgeous. I had officially entered the Adirondack State Park and I was amazed that I was still in New York State. I was surrounded by trees, and mountains and felt as if I was in a completely different world. New York City wasn’t part of this world, and I loved it. I also couldn’t believe how close I was getting to Canada - I felt somewhat amazed by this, and also found myself breaking into laughter at the thought of heading to Canada, or at least getting dangerously close to the place. On my drive I was somewhat disappointed that I had missed out on Fort Ticonderoga solely because I had used the pencil with the same name as a student, however I didn’t think it was worth the 40 mile backtrack to check it out. Instead, I made my way to the wee-town of Westport, and let me tell you, this place is virtually nonexistant.
I don’t exactly know why Lonely Planet felt compelled to include the towns of Westport and Essex on their suggested itinerary, but they said that these towns “seem more like satellites of Vermont, tidy and dignified.” THAT was the sole reason to visit these towns, and once I got to Westport I actually somewhat enjoyed the place. There was absolutely nothing to do in Westport, but I parked my car walked along Main Street until I reached the main intersection of Washington and Main, and headed towards Lake Champlain. Since it’s the middle of the winter I made sure I wasn’t stepping on black ice on my descent and I spent the next 20 minutes or so walking along the lake before heading to my car and saying good bye to Westport- Lake Champlain was very beautiful though.
Once i got to my car I got a phone call from a Kenyon friend of mine who I hadn’t spoken to since graduating but she’s a fellow runner and I have a special place in my heart for those people who run as regularly as I have in a somewhat non-competitive manner. We chatted for a little, but I explained to her that I was out of town for the weekend but we’d meet up later in the week for drinks - which we did - and I was on the road again to Essex, New York.
The drive to Essex was 20 miles of swerving roads through the wilderness and then out of nowhere Essex appeared. Essex reminded me more of Gambier than any other place I’ve ever visited in the world outside of Ohio, and this was somewhat charming to me. I parked my car in one of the spaces on Main Street and walked along the main drag gazing into the closed stores. After a six minute stroll I had almost crossed the entire commercial district of Essex but was attracted to an ice cream store. Unfortunately, once I arrived at the door I saw that it was closed, like everything else in Essex on a Sunday. I kept walking a few more feet where I saw a library that looked like a building where the gingerbread people would live -with it’s bright pink, yellow and blue colors - but I was disappointed once again when i saw that the library was closed as well. I had almost reached the end of downtown when I saw the most interesting sign I would see on the trip - “Ferry to Vermont.” “VERMONT??!!” I thought to myself. “This can’t be right, how could there be a ferry to Vermont? I’m in New York still, Vermont isn’t a ferry ride away, it can’t be,” I stood there thinking while looking at the sign. I walked to the edge of the pier to gaze out at Vermont and saw that it looked very tree-ey as well and headed back to my car thinking Essex was totally worth it for some strange reason. My real sight seeing and adventures I would soon learn were just about to begin.
Tags: New York Road Trips, Travel
