"Water Skier at Eagle Bay," Here is the first value and watercolor sketch from my trip.

My mind is full to overflowing from the last few days spent in the Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York with my friend, Anne.  I’d packed everything, but the kitchen sink (just in case) - shorts, pants, short sleeve, long sleeve, suit, sandals, shampoo, toothpaste, towels, pillows, powder, paints, paper, palette, brushes, books, apples, oatmeal, raisins, juice and coffee, of course.

I brought no makeup, no stockings, no perfume, no junk, no iron, no tension, no worry and no hassles.  There would be no need for those things in this place.

As I drove into the Adirondacks I could feel the stress being shed like an old skin and when I caught my first glimpse of the mountains as they peeked out from behind the trees I could feel nature take me into her arms - likened to a deep and refreshing inhale then exhale.

I followed winding roads, rising and falling into the mountains as I drove north.  With the rising of the road came an excitement about what majestic view would be revealed as I reached the peak. The three hour drive, with Van Morrison serenading me, seemed to fly by.  Van and I sang as I drove, my voice loud and slightly off key. As we sang his joyful, “Bright Side of the Road,” then his sentimental “Have I Told You Lately,” followed up with his questioning “Brown Eyed Girl,” feelings of joy and a sense of freedom began to overtake me.

Arriving at Eagle Bay around a quarter past twelve, Anne greeted me with a true friend’s welcome and began helping to get things unloaded from my car and settled into the room.  Our spot for the next couple of days was situated right on the lake.   I mean literally, step out the front door onto a short deck and then directly into the wet, sandy shore of Fourth Lake.  The beach was covered with tracks from friendly ducks looking for a treat and footprints of other vacationers long home from their time at the lake.

As I’d anticipated, the lapping waves could be heard easily from our room, the repetition of sound, soothing and meditative.  A small table would be split 50/50 with Anne’s painting setup on one side, mine on the other, a tall floor lamp would illuminate the maple table where art would be created over the next couple of days.

The air had begun to cool, as if nature had switched off summer and switched on autumn overnight.  Nonetheless, a swim in the lake was to be one of the first items on the agenda.  After a quick lunch of PB&J with a steaming cup of coffee, I suited up and grabbed my towel.   The air temperature, in the high 60’s maybe low 70’s, caused me to momentarily question my decision to take a dip, but with few opportunities these days to swim I decided, “What the heck!”

Taking the slow torturous route into the water, I inched my way into the cool, clear lake.  First, wading in up to my knees, then waist and finally up to my shoulders all the while kicking my legs and waving my arms through the water, back and forth, in an attempt to stay warm.  Truthfully, once in the water, it was refreshing with a certain freedom in the floating and kicking, feeling nearly weightless.  Especially refreshing once out of the water and wrapped in a large, warm towel.

Afterward Anne and I sat on the deck facing the water and immediately began to sketch. Rare is there an opportunity for me to sketch en plein air and as intimidating as it may have felt, I could not let this opportunity go by.  We sketched and talked, non-stop, making plans for the next few days.   I snapped a few pics as the afternoon began to slip away and the light began to change.

It was decided we’d venture into a little town nearby, Inlet, to check out the local gift shops, pick up a bar of soap I’d forgotten, get pizza for dinner at the local pizzeria and then head around the lake in search of friendly, hungry deer that seem unafraid of humans with crackers in hand.

Our evening was finished with painting.  Painting late into the night.  As we sat in the quiet Anne heard a weighted walker on the deck and decided it might be best to close the door.   As she approached the open door with only a screen of protection, she realized that a large black bear was our late night visitor, right on the deck, just outside our door.   Anne turned to me and quietly yelled in alarm, “It’s a BEAR!”  We hurriedly closed the door, locking it (at my suggestion) just in case he was an intelligent and determined bear who thought we might have a Snickers or two inside. We turned out the lights while peering out the window to try and catch another glance at our hairy visitor.   Nothing could be seen, but knowing that nature was lurking just outside got the adrenalin pumping and gave a renewed alertness to continue painting even later into the night.

When no more energy could be summoned, lights were snuffed out and heads placed on pillows.   Steady breathing and light snoring was all that could be heard in our room at Fourth Lake.

This, my first day and night in the Adirondacks.  Breathe in. . . breathe out. .