Subhranil De

The Charm of the Adirondacks and Dave Hassig What makes this experience worth writing a story about is meeting a man named Dave, who will appear in due course. Tubun and I decided to go to the Adirondack Mountains for Labor Day weekend. I had been to Lake Placid quite a few times before, and whatever I had seen of the Adirondacks so far had left an impression: I love the Adirondacks. Tubun too loves the mountains, and he was excited about the idea of seeing the area for the first time in his life. On Friday, the third of September, I called up the North Pole Motor Inn at Wilmington; it was way too late for reserving for a long weekend, but fortunately they had had a last-minute cancellation, so I could reserve for two nights, Saturday and Sunday. Tubun arrived in Albany on Friday evening. We stayed at my place in Troy that night. The next day we managed to get onto US Route 9 around half past noon. I take the smaller roads whenever possible. It makes the wayside beauty more accessible; you can stop at any point you want, and driving through the village centers conveys a feel of continuity from home to your destination. Well, this time we eventually realized that driving on this road was a bad idea. It passes through too many closely spaced towns, almost all of which are tourist spots. The main streets were crowded and congested for the long weekend. We passed through Saratoga Springs, Glens Falls, and Lake George--and by the time we were out of the greater Capital District region of New York, it was past 4 o'clock. By then we could see the Adirondacks far to the north. We had the long weekend at our disposal, and did not care much about having already wasted some time. During our stay in the Adirondacks I wanted to see the Hudson in the mountains. Usually, the Hudson river conjures images of the wide river known to the industrialized banks in the lower Hudson valley. Its estuary extends all the way up to Troy, where I live. I always wondered what the river would look like where it rises in the high peaks of the Adirondacks, where the brooks of the mountain add to its restless stream--the tear of the clouds, the Feldspar brook, the Opalescent river. I wanted to see all of them one day. Hudson at North Creek I had seen on the road map that there is a place named Tahawus where one can drive closest to Hudson's headwaters, beyond that point one would have to hike. On our way to Lake Placid, we decided to take a route that somewhat follows the Hudson upstream. After seeing the wonders of the natural stones, that is the route we got onto. We stopped at the bridge on the Hudson in a village named North Creek. We could see the mountains, but the river there hardly looked like a mountainous brook. We resumed driving, and stopped where the road crosses the Boreas River. Boreas River Boreas Meanders When we got out of the car, we realized that the odor of the deep woods was in the air; we were surrounded by Adirondack wilderness. We got back into the car, and next stopped at the Hudson river at Newcomb. Hudson at Newcomb It was a charming sight with clouds kissing the distant mountaintop, but the Hudson was still as wide as before. I was a little disappointed, but the evening was already falling, and we decided that we would go to Lake Placid directly from that point and go all the way to Tahawus on Sunday. We stopped one more time at the village of Long Lake to have dinner, and finally arrived at the North Pole Inn when it was past 10 o'clock. We knew our room, and the key was kept inside. I had stayed in this motel many times before, and nostalgia struck me intensely. We freshened up, and drove to the village of Lake Placid for a walk on the main street. When we got back to the motel, it was 1 o'clock in the morning. Tubun went to bed. I did some research for a couple hours before going to sleep. There is no straight road from the Lake Placid region to Tahawus, because right between these two regions stand the Adirondack high peaks. On Sunday we sat down and decided what route to take. Before that, we wanted to drive to the top of the Whiteface Mountain, the nearby high peak from which you get a vast view of the Adirondacks. The road that takes you to the top is a toll road, and by the time we reached the top, it was quite crowded. Unfortunately, there were too many clouds in the sky, and even the visibility was not too good; we could hardly see what one can see from there on a very clear day. Mountain Spring After driving down from the top we started driving to Tahawus, caught sight of a spring on our way--and when we stopped for lunch at the village of Keene the sun was shining more brightly. Lunch was good, and soon after we resumed driving, the sky was getting cloudy again. The more we approached Tahawus, the more grey it was getting. What made matters worse was that at one point we realized that we were about to run out of gas. The remote villages of the Adirondacks do not have gas stations, and the nearest gas station from that location is in Long Lake, which was 20 miles in a completely different direction. In any case, we drove to Long Lake to get gas and then came back to complete the last stretch on our route. We crossed small creeks, and drove past lonely little ponds; finally beyond one point the road became unpaved. It was late in the afternoon, and the grey shadow of the clouds had fallen on everything. We drove past Sanford Lake, and finally reached a point where the road ended and a hiking trail began. The murmur of a stream came from somewhere closeby. We saw a group of people coming back from a hike and asked them if they knew where the Hudson was. They frowned. One of them said that to see the Hudson we would have to go downstate. I got irritated and also got out of the car and tried to explain. They were intrigued, and one girl pointed out that there was a map at the trailhead. She and I both walked over to it, and now it became clear that the Hudson was somewhere very close to us. I loved the expression of surprise on the lady's face. Tubun and I thanked her, and started looking for the river. I thought that the murmur must be Hudson's, and only a mountainous brook can sound like that. We found it within a few yards. This was, indeed, a different Hudson.   Mountainous Hudson Rocks were on the bank and in the river, and the stream flowed through rapids. I felt the water with my feet, and we sat down on a rock, wondering. On my feet I could feel the momentum of the flow, and my unmindful mind started confusing between rest and motion. We spent quite a while there on the rocks, and my trance was broken by the roar of an animal in the woods. I also heard footsteps of hikers in the nearby trail, and looked around to realize that evening was falling. We decided to start our journey back. Before retracing our route though, I wanted to see the Opalescent River if possible; this river, with such a sonorous name, is one of Hudson's prime tributaries close to its source, and it was never clear to me from looking at the road map if any road at all takes you to its bank. We consulted, and it appeared that one smaller road springing out of our route back might take us to a point like that. We even took that road where it started, but soon hit a dead-end, beyond which the road continued on private property. We had to come back from there. I have yet to see the Opalescent. After coming back to Wilmington, we had dinner at the Hungry Trout Motor Inn on the bank of the Ausable river. Duck again for me, and Tubun tried haddock. We went to Lake Placid after dinner. We had ice cream from Ben and Jerry's, and started walking on the main street. The shops were closed, and there were signs of Labor Day sales at boutiques: Gap, Izod, Van Heussen. Tubun said he would like to buy some clothes on Monday, and I decided to as well. We were still eating our ice cream when somebody called me by name. It was an old acquaintance from Rochester. He came to Lake Placid for the long weekend with his family. We stood for a few moments, exchanged pleasantries, and updated each other briefly. He then went his way, and Tubun and I sat down on a bench and finished our ice cream. The night was young, not even midnight, and we were not too tired. We decided to go to a dance club. We first went to Wise Guys, but nothing was happening there. We then entered another one named Roomers. You enter, and stairs take you down to where the bar and the dance floor are. The music was good, and we liked the place. I remembered that I had gone there with some of my good friends a few years before. The wooden dance floor is in front of the bar, and tables are on slightly elevated platforms on both sides of the dance floor. These platforms are separated from the dance floor by wooden railings. We liked the look and the feel, and after buying drinks at the bar we sat down. Tubun was having beer, and for me pineapple juice with sugar, as usual. There was nobody dancing yet though, and I was watching a movie that was playing on the big-screen television on our platform, not paying too much attention. Soon enough a pretty girl came to the dance floor and started dancing on her own. I watched for some time, then got onto the dance floor, approached her and asked for a dance. We started dancing. She was a brunette with a pretty face named Maggy. For quite a while it was only the two of us dancing, and soon enough we were dancing closely. A little later other people joined us on the floor: Tubun, Maggy's friends, and a man wearing a cowboy hat. He was a middle-aged man, had long hair and long beard, and was wearing jeans and a party shirt. A little thin but tall, he had sharp features and a confident face. Though part of his hair and beard has already turned grey, he looked bright and youthful and also quite enthusiastic about dancing. People on the floor borrowed his hat; everyone put it on one by one, and when my turn came I put it on and he did a high five with me. He was friendly. Then I gave him the hat back, and he shook my hand and introduced himself. His name was Dave, and he had come from the north close to the Saint Lawrence River. His home was in a small village near Potsdam, but he came to Lake Placid often. I also introduced myself, told him a little about me. Tubun came forward, and introduced himself as well. Dave was sweating and decided to take a break. He went to the bar, fetched a beer, and came to the platform. He was standing there while I kept dancing on the floor. The music was really good, and not too loud, and I had gotten into the mood. At one point Dave said something to me that I missed. I begged his pardon and moved a little close to him. He repeated his words - it was a question " By any chance are you Bengalee?" I said "Yes, how do you know ?" He said "No, I don't know - I was just hoping - the reason I ask is that my favorite poet is Rabindranath Tagore." For a few moments I could not speak; I was frozen at the posture I had caught his words at. Then I exclaimed. Tubun came forward, curious. I told him. Tubun too was struck by utter disbelief - Dave was smiling. The three of us stepped out of the dance club. We started talking about Tagore. Dave is a poet at heart, and spends a lot of time reading poetry. He is also an environmental activist, and he explained to us how poetry has influenced his life. He writes poetry too, and recited some to us. I recited some poetry too. We discussed the subtleties of racism and communalism, and whatever their sources may be how they keep humans from discovering what is human amidst all the diversity. We talked about Tagore's unique romanticism - how in his poetry the love for the Lord and the love for the lover have merged into one. We talked for quite a while, then exchanged email addresses, and went back into the club. Around 3 o'clock we said goodbye to Dave and left; we still could not believe the incident. Had this been in Greenwich village in New York City with some person who lives in the city, it would have been different - but with a man who manages a farm on the bank of the Saint Lawrence, and that too in a dance club in Lake Placid, was too serendipitous to believe. Lake Placid and a wide span of nearby villages fall into the realm of the two branches of the Ausable River. The West branch flows through Lake Placid and Wilmington, and the East branch flows through Keene Valley, Keene and Jay to eventually meet the West branch in the village of Ausable Forks. On Monday, we felt like exploring the small roads around the area. We first went to Ausable Forks - and on our way saw signs to Fern Lake. We came back to Wilmington and then drove again to Lake Placid; this is a stretch of NY Route 86 by the side of which the west branch of Ausable flows. This is the road that we had to take several times on Our way to Lake Placid from Wilmington and back. The Ausable there flows in many colors and forms, making the road a very endearing one to drive on.   Fisherman and Ausable   Is it Ether   Ausable from Rt. 86 Bridge   Yellow Ausable Bank We stopped at different spots on the bank; fishermen were fishing in the river, and we took photographs. Then we went down Riverside Drive, a smaller road that I had only seen the name of before. This too turned out to be a charming road. At places the Ausable looked like a tranquil tropical pond. On it we passed by a vast plainland surrounded by mountains and covered with wildflowers. We had lunch in Lake Placid, did some shopping in the boutiques as planned, and then drove to the shore of the Placid, the waters of which cannot be seen from the street. Most parts of its shore are not accessible by road. We gazed at the islands in the middle of the lake, and further, where the shoreline along with the deeply wooded slopes meanders into utter mysteriousness.

Ausable like Tropical Pond   More Ausable on Riverside Dr. Wildflower Adirondack Plain When we came back to the village, we did not have too much time left for getting back to Albany where Tubun again had his bus to catch in the evening. So we started driving back, and on our way saw the evening gold mix with green in the Cascade Lakes. At one point U.S. border patrol officials stopped us on the road - we were not carrying our immigration documents (we never do unless we are leaving this country). That stole some of our time, and Tubun missed his bus in Albany. He stayed at my place for the night and left for Boston early the next morning. The long weekend had come to its end. The next few days were busy with research work - but amidst the duties and trifles of weekday life, the Adirondack images kept haunting me. On Thursday night, I received an email from Dave. He wrote that meeting me and Shounak was a most out of the ordinary experience; he had not expected to meet comrades of the Spirit in a dance club in Placid and hopes that The Fates decree that we are to have many more good conversations on spirituality and Grandfather Rabindranath to look forward to. On Friday I checked the forecast for the weekend. Saturday was to be clear and sunny with a temperature not too high. I called up Tubun in the afternoon and asked him to come that night - I was thinking of paying a visit to Dave during the weekend. It was too late for Tubun to plan on catching the evening bus, so he bought tickets for later at night. At quarter to nine that evening, I remembered that I had yet to reserve accommodation and called up a few places to reserve a room in a lodge in Keene Valley. I picked up Tubun at the Greyhound station just before midnight. We came to Troy to take care of a few small things - I had not even written back to Dave yet. I sent him an email saying that Shounak and I were off to the Adirondacks again, and we could go all the way to the Saint Lawrence River on Saturday if he had the time to meet with us. I also added our cell phone numbers. Then we packed and left, but first went to Bob's Diner in Albany to have dinner. By the time we had finished dinner it was already 2 o'clock, so we decided to start our journey right away. We were both thrilled about the idea of going back to the Adirondacks and a prospective meeting with Dave. No small roads at night; we got onto interstate 87, the Adirondack Northway. We reached the lodge at Keene Valley at around 4 o'clock. I had been told that my name would be on a notice board in the living room. Living Room Scene This was like a guest house. The living room on the first floor had a fireplace, and was decorated with furniture made of heavy wood. Close to a window stood a table on which rested an elegant chessboard with all its thirty-two men. We saw my last name on the notice board - we had been assigned room 5. We climbed the stairs, and found our room on the second floor. At first I did not realize that there were no attached bathrooms. I opened the latch of a door in our room and when entered, someone lying on a bed said, "It is the other room". I said "sorry" and closed the door immediately. It felt strange though, because the man spoke readily as if he had been awake and was expecting someone to enter through that door. I wondered why he had not kept his side of the door locked. In any case, we found the common bathroom and cleaned up; from the bathroom one could hear the murmur of a stream. Our room was cozy and comfortable. We changed. Tubun went to bed. I need a little light for sleeping, and before going to bed I wondered what the source of that light could be. There was a table lamp on a table - but if we kept that turned on the bulb would stare us in the face, so I first covered it with a basket. Tubun adviced that that way the basket would catch fire and our journey to the Saint Lawrence would never happen. I then removed the basket, picked up the lamp and put it on the floor beside the table. This would block my view of the bulb from bed, but I asked Tubun if he could still see the bulb from his bed. He started laughing. I realized that while asking the question I was actually standing between him and the lamp. Well, we soon figured out a good position for the lamp and I too went to bed. Tubun then said that he felt he was covering himself with the wrong side of the blanket. I told him to sleep on it instead of under it. It was an untimely hour for such a rapid succession of uncontrolled humor, so we tried hard to stop laughing and fall asleep. We eventually succeeded.   More Ausable on the Way   The next day was indeed a clear one. The sky was very blue and the sun was shining bright. On a day like this the stream of a mountainous river looks like fluid mercury. After paying the lodge, we started driving to Lake Placid. We stopped at several places on our way. At one point Tubun got his cell phone signal back and received a voice message from Dave. It said that he had gotten my email - he had left a number. I thought I would give him a call from Lake Placid. After entering Wilmington we stopped at a bridge - the grandeur of the view of the Ausable from it had caught my attention before as well. On this day the water lay still, and the green mountains in the far with the pine forests at their feet were reflected with pristine clarity. As I was capturing the image, a gull flew by.   Ausable with Gull Flying By   We checked into the Alpine Lodge in Wilmington, just across the North Pole Inn. Then we went to Lake Placid, entered a cafe to have lunch. We ordered sandwiches, and then I gave Dave a call. We made a plan of meeting in a cafe in Potsdam named the Strawberry Fields, at 5o'clock in the afternoon. After lunch, we started driving to Potsdam - we were off to the Saint Lawrence. We gradually left the high peaks behind us, we were traveling more north now. On our way we drove past more rivers and lakes, and beyond a point it was only the Raquette river that intermittently flowed alongside our route - NY route 56. By the time we reached Potsdam the sunshine had started turning golden, and we met with Dave in Strawberry Fields at around quarter past five.   More Ausable on a Clear Day   He was happy to see us, and soon we were discussing and reciting poetry. He told us about an Algonquin poet who inspires him, recited paraphrases of a few Tagore poems he has composed. We told him about Tagore songs - he had not listened to Tagore's music before. He had brought the Gitanjali with him - I told him that on our way to Potsdam I had been remembering a few lines from the Bengali Gitanjali. He asked me to recite - I recited in Bengali and then tried to translate - " This little flute of a reed you have carried over mountains and streams ; To whom shall I play the melodies that you breathe through me ?" We came out of Strawberry Fields not before too long - we wanted to go to the Saint Lawrence shore before sunset.   The Three of Us in Strawberry Fields     Silo on Raquette River Bank       Saint Lawrence Sunset The river was a little more north, close to a village named Massena. Dave got into my car - on our way he told us the poignant story of his life. We caught the sunset when we reached the river bank - we were finally at a spot where the Saint Lawrence flows as the border between the United States and Canada. We could see the Canadian land on the other bank. We spent some time there and kept chatting. After the sun set completely, we hit the road again. Dave proposed that we meet in 'Roomers' in Lake Placid later at night. Tubun and I liked the idea - we gave him a ride back to the main street in Potsdam and started driving back to Lake Placid - the plan was to get fresh after coming back to the motel, have dinner, and then meet with Dave again in Roomers at around midnight. On our way back to Wilmington, Tubun and I were listening to Tagore songs in the car. Soon after leaving the Potsdam area, U.S. border patrol officials stopped us ; NY-56 is a Major state route in that area, and much traffic from the Ottawa region in Canada enter the U.S. and take this route to travel deeper into the country - so they run random checks. Moreover, it was just after September 11, so probably that is why they were more on the alert. Again, we were not carrying our immigration documents, and an officer said that he would have to arrest us. His face bore an expression of amusement, and it was clear that he was joking, but it was still quite an unpleasant situation. The Tagore tape was running silent by then, as there were no songs left on that side, and I sighed. Tubun was fortunately carrying his passport - he got out of the car to open the trunk while I sat at the driver's seat. The playful officer was still standing close to my window, throwing me the same amused smile while I tried hard to mix some expression of guilty-consciousness in the smile I threw him back. Suddenly, there was music. The first song on the other side of the tape started playing, and the officer said "What's that ?". I replied "devotional songs", and being a little stirred for the moment, I mistakenly turned the volume knob in the wrong direction. The woods resonated with Tagore's music - the officer said "wow" with a changed expression, as if he was struck by spiritual awe. He gave me a salute, and told me that we were free to go. On the rest of our way back, Tubun and I laughed much in the car. We had dinner and then got fresh in the motel. We arrived at roomers at around quarter past midnight - Dave was already there. It was saturday night, and Roomers was alive. We bought drinks at the bar, and went to the dance floor. We danced a lot this night, for more than a couple hours. After coming out at around 3o'clock, it was time to say goodbye to Dave. We chatted a little more, then Tubun and I bid him goodbye, and parted. On our way back to the motel in Wilmington, I remembered that it was a new moon night, and that too a clear one following a clear day. We stopped the car by the bank of the Ausable, got out and looked at the sky. There was not even a speck of a cloud there, and the only thing that looked like a fine phosphorescent layer of cloud was actually the milky way. We were both struck by celestial delight. I had never seen the milky way before - I had never seen so many stars in the sky before. We could hear the pleasant murmur of the Ausable rushing on, and we kept watching the resplendent sky. The next day was mildly breezy, and the shadow of the clouds was chasing sunlight all the time and everywhere. After checking out of the motel, we decided to explore a few more small roads in the vicinity. We both remembered that we had seen signs for the Fern lake the previous week, but had not ended up going there. We decided to go to the Fern lake now. On our way, we stopped at Ausable Forks and took coffee, consulted the road map, and after driving for a while on small roads finally reached the shore of the Fern. We kept driving along the shore until the road hit a dead end. We saw a private property that bore a warning sign "Parking for Italians only, all other cars will be towed" - an old sign, amusing enough, and since no car was parked there and nobody could be seen in the house, we parked and trespassed and stood on the lakeshore. From that point the view was captivating. The places close to the lakeshore were overwhelmingly flat, but in the far one could see the high mountains, and the sun shone bright on the waters. We stood and took photographs. We then realized that we should calculate time - again that evening Tubun had his bus to catch.   Fern Lake   We came to Lake Placid, and soon were having lunch in a nice restaurant. My baby-back ribs were delicious, and Tubun liked his NY strip steak, and while eating we were reminiscing about the previous day - we wondered what Dave was doing at the moment. After lunch we bought chocolates from a chocolate store, took coffee there, and hit the road again. This time we did not want to be stopped by border patrol officials again, so in part of our way back we chose to drive on roads that take you south through within the Adirondacks. On our way we crossed the Indian lake, and at one point the Hudson joined us again. We did not stop anywhere this time, we were trying to reach Albany in time. Nevertheless, it eventually became clear that our estimate of time had been a pretty poor one, and in Albany Tubun could catch the bus only because it was late by ten minutes. It felt as if the long weekend had come to an end for a second time. It had been a deeply fulfilling experience. But at the same time I was already feeling the separation. Separation from the colors that had brought me the delight. A feeling of nascent nostalgia. The colors of the Adirondacks will keep playing their melodies, and I will only wonder from afar. I have not seen the Opalescent, but will keep imagining what gives it the entrancing name. I met a great friend and philosopher, and do not know how much I will be able to learn from him. One more time, the realization of the minuteness of the human reach made me wistful - paraphrasing Grandfather Rabindranath's words "Oh Lord, you are so full, and everything rests there at your endearing feet. I am the one who is afraid of loss, and therefore cry day and night."

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