Wheeled to River's Edge

Wheeled to River's Edge

Early May can be pretty cold in the Adirondacks, and tonight was no different.  My friends came over to celebrate my eleventh birthday and we weren't going to give up our fun just 'cause  of a little cold weather, no way!  After a lot of fun music and dancing we were craving real adventure, you know.... the kind you remember even when you're completely grown up.  That was when my sisters and friends got the crazy idea of loading me into a wheel barrow and pushing me down, broken toe and all, to the edge of the river to set up a tent and spend the night.

With my broken toe I could walk but not far, so being pushed was definitely the way to go.  We traveled down a dirt road, across our neighbor's grassy hill and down to the bank of the Ausable River.  They pushed me along a weedy trail complete with mud and bumps, rocks, and holes.  Nearly wobbling over with each bump, we made it and set up our tent with only the light from the moon and a small flashlight..

Our dog came down to guard the camp and we tethered her to our tent just to make sure she'd stick around to protect us.  Telling scary stories and secrets lent itself to a lot of fun and talking way into the night but eventually we did get tired and began, one by one, to fall asleep.  Finally, we all peacefully slumbered in the cool springtime air.

Sometime after two or three in the morning, we heard a low quiet growl and, at first, no one moved.  Then there was the sound of tall grass scraping, and again our dog growled, this time a bit louder.  Now we were all awake and whispering quietly to one another, "What do you think it is?"  "Could it be a raccoon or coyote?"  I must say, we were all a bit too frightened to move even one little bit.

The rope Faith, our dog, was tied to began to yank, to pull quite hard on the pole to which we had it attached.  Then a bark and a tug and a loud whimper!  We were all getting more scared with each and every tug of the tent, every growl, every bark.  We huddled all much closer together, all in our separate sleeping bags, knowing the tent would go nowhere with the weight of us girls, yet the tugging and barking continued.  

"I'm scared!"  "Me too!"  "I want to go home."  "What will we do?"  "What could it be?"  "Faith will protect us."  Just a few of the panicked comments which were spoken in anxious hushed tones in the dark of our tent.  The tugging of the tent and the noises continued.  Running back home with a broken toe was out of the question and pushing the wheelbarrow up the steep hill from the river in any kind of a hurry would be next to impossible, no matter how many pushed.  Wheelbarrows are notoriously wobbly and that's just all there is to it.

Resigned to our fate, we huddled together within the tent's flimsy walls just waiting to see what would happen....

A snicker, a chuckle, and finally, a loud laugh and out came my fourteen-year-old brother who had snuck down just behind us to give us the scare of our lives.  Happy to be successful, he continued to laugh and tease with great joy.  We told him to leave and he finally did but you can imagine that night was not soon forgotten nor was the fact that we needed revenge and that would take time and some thought, but rest assured it would come, 'cause that's the sibling code and revenge is oh so sweet.... by the light of the Adirondack moon. 

 Anyone Home?

 What river exploration would ever be complete without checking out a few of the homes along the banks?  By homes, I'm not talking about your average three bedroom Adirondack camp.  No, I am speaking of the homes of the true inhabitants along the marshy banks of the river.  Those homes belonging to that of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and family.  That's right.  My friends and I were out for some fun on a beautiful sunny summer's day.  We loved to look for the painted, wood, and snapping turtles which would come out of the water to sun themselves on the warm rocks or broken logs that darted to the river's surface, but this time we found something even more interesting in an unusual sort of way. An opening into the muddy river bank underneath the upturned roots of an enourmous maple tree,. The entrance was just big enough to squeeze inside where we were actually able to fit three at a time.  Natural curiosity welled within so my sister, and two of my friends and I  took turns entering the cavern and looking around.  It was about the size of the inside of a small car.  This was an honest to goodness beaver home, and nobody seemed to be inside.  The roots of the tree were what provided most of the structural support, those beavers had gone to great lengths to construct a dwelling to last.  It truly amazed us all at how smart thses little critters were and what a good job they had done.  

When we got back to my house I told my mom what we had done and she was absolutely astonished by what we had done.  I think my mom had always wished to do so many of the adventures that we were now doing and so she always enjoyed hearing our first hand accounts.  Not once did she really worry about the potential for danger, no she was too busy thinking of our adventure and excitement, and the incredible opportunities which availed themselves to five young siblings and their friends growing up so close to a living, moving, and powerful, river.  It was only after a day or two when my friends came for another visit when we realized that we just may have made a terrible mistake.  Their faces a swollen in a disfiguring manner and were coated with pink calomine lotion because within the walls of that beaver home were the oils of some very potent poison ivy and we had exposed ourselves to quite the dose.  My sister and I, fortuately, did not have such a severe reaction, but boy they sure did and for days this served to remind us that just maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go snooping in homes where we weren't invited.  I guess we learned our lesson, this is something we never again repeated.