So, why would anyone load a tent and two big dogs into the car and drive eleven hours each way to spend two nights in the Adirondack woods? One with BEARS? Let me tell you our story.
Late last month Ann, a friend from college, (YES, I went), posted a photo of this caribou head on facebook saying she had put it on craigslist on a whim, saying ”I don't think it will sell. I will probably have to give it away.”
Nobody would want it? Was she nuts?
Let me explain. I’m the type of guy who loves animals, feels guilty about eating meat and loving it, even hates to kill a fly (I’ll comically karmically capture and release) and has always had this fanatic fascination with taxidermy. I know, it’s sick. I’ve always wanted to collect heads (be warned). So when the opportunity arose, I fired off an email offering WHATEVER she wanted: it’s a good thing I don’t have a first born.
The head was at her camp. See, Ann was married to this guy who came from the kind of family who had long ago (late 1800’s?) built this “camp” in the woods of the Adirondacks. All rough twigs and logs, rustic, hunt and gamey, vernacular and compound-y and very, very cool. She had her wedding there in the boathouse of ONE of the lodges in the late 80’s. I attended. I fell in love with the buildings, and all 50,000+ park-like acres of it. But more on the camp later. We decided to go again. The Caribou was the door prize.
We left last Friday afternoon, heading due south to the turnpike. I drove but don’t let the picture of me an Lucy fool you. Brian soon tired of my speed limit “speed” and got behind the wheel at the 1st opportunity in Ohio and we continued to head east. Making good time despite a stand still near Cleveland.
I love the north east coast of our country. It’s all mossy and historical. (Laugh all you want Europeans, smirk-on Westerners, I love it.) The further East, the older it seems to get. We were headed into Buffalo that night, and hopefully Frank & Teressa’s Anchor Bar, and the 1930’s and the 60’s
Teressa is credited with the invention of Buffalo Wings one late Friday night in 1964, for her bar tending son Dominic’s ravenous friends.
We checked into the Motel 6 and made it to the Anchor before it closed, we ordered the wings, we thanked Teressa.
The place was a great big. friendly. noisy. aging, paneled NE bar. I loved it, loved the wings, loved the company, loved that our waitress told me I could keep the menu. Face it, we’re Road Food-y kind of guys. Hope that’s alright.
- - - David
1 comment:
more, more ...i want to hear the next chapter...tell the story.
Post a Comment