It was August, 1940. Harold and I were on the George Washington Bridge, at the crack of dawn, on the first lap of our honeymoon trip to the Adirondack Mountains. We were married in February but due to job commitments could not get away at that time. At first I was disappointed about this but it turned out well. Our “getting to know you” period was unhurried and pleasant and now we were at ease and comfortable with each other.
No super highways in those days as we slowly meandered in and out of sleepy Hudson River towns and getting hopelessly lost in Albany. It was a beautiful but very long drive. Fortunately, Harold had made reservations at the Long Lake Lodge. He was familiar with this area since for several summers he and my brother had gone on camping trips to these lovely mountains. Harold loved it so much he promised himself that when we were married he would bring me here for our honeymoon.
After twelve hours of driving, we were tired and hungry when we arrived at the lodge. It was an attractive place with a large central building, two rows of motel type attached rooms and small individual log cabins facing the lake. There was a small sandy beach with row boats and canoes at a dock. The dining room, serving breakfast and dinner, was spacious and pleasant. There was a small bar serving beer and soda and a player piano at one end. We were told it was also a community room in the evenings for the vacationers to enjoy. We had some good times there, with someone playing the piano and Harold who was an excellent harmonica player joining in. I was so pleased that Harold reserved a log cabin for us. It was at the far end of the complex with a small porch extending over the lake. That night with Harold’s arms around me, listening to the murmur of the ripples stirred up by the cool breeze kissing the stony shoreline, I was lulled to sleep.
The next few days were carefree fun times with Harold taking me to various happily remembered campsites on Loon Lake and Tupper Lake and other places telling me amusing stories about silly incidents that happened while camping.
On Thursday evening he told me that he had saved our last day to take me to a very special place he loved called Buttermilk Falls. In the morning he went shopping for our picnic lunch and soon we were on our way. After driving for some time he started to slow down, looking for the sign to the Falls. Suddenly there it was. So small, a painted wooden plaque on a stake plunged into the ground. If you were driving more than ten miles per hour you would miss it. Carefully Harold turned into what was not more than a narrow grassy lane. We unloaded the car and carrying a blanket, two camp chairs, and our lunch basket, we walked the rest of the way.
Harold was slightly ahead of me and stopped at a turn in the lane and waited for me. As I caught up with him, I looked and there it was. Such a simple little place. A small rocky glen in the middle of the forest. Tall trees and smaller shrubs all around it with a rushing stream on one side. In the center was this enormous flat round rock raised about a foot or so above the ground. And there in the center of this warm bed was a red fox fast asleep. He wakened as he heard us enter his domain and raising his head stared at us with sleepy eyes. I was frightened and grasped Harold’s hand. He whispered, “Be quiet.” Slowly the fox go up, stretched, jumped off his warm bed and with a wave of his furry tail strolled into the forest.
We quickly settled in. I spread the blanket on the large rock and placed the camp chairs around a natural fireplace. Harold anchored several cans of beer between stones in the cold stream and placed our food basket in the shade between two shrubs. He was in a hurry to show me his prize. As we climbed the path alongside of the stream, I became aware of a rushing sound that became louder the higher we climbed. And suddenly there she was, the most beautiful small waterfall, shyly hiding behind a veil of leafy tree branches she shone in all her glory. She dropped from ledge to ledge spreading a sun sparkled spray all around her. In her exuberant plunge down the mountainside, beating up a foam that indeed took on the color of whipped buttermilk. I sat on the ledge overlooking the pool into which she fell and admired her beauty. It was so lovely, this peaceful place in the heart of the mountains. I said to Harold, “Too bad we didn’t bring our bathing suits.” And with a sly grin he replied, “Who needs a bathing suit?” In a flash he uncovered and dove into the pool. I quickly followed and shrieked as I hit the icy water. We swam around and went as close to the falls as possible and laughed when she showered us with her spray. What a wonderful time. However, the water was so cold I had to get out and clad in only Harold’s undershirt and my shoes ran to our sunny glen. Quickly wrapping myself in the warm blanket I lay on that smooth round stone heated by the hot sun. Before I knew it, Harold was beside me and we melted into that warm blanket. Gradually, we stopped shivering and there in our private garden of Eden we loved each other.
After some time, still wrapped in the blanket, I awakened to the most tantalizing aroma. Turning my head, I saw Harold busily working in front of a campfire. “Wake up, princess,” he called, “your royal dinner awaits you.” I dressed quickly and came to a dinner fit for a royal princess of what else?? Grilled HOT DOGS with all the trimmings. Cold beer from the stream, a can of opened beans warming by the fireside, he even remembered fresh sauerkraut, dill pickles and mustard.
After gorging myself on this feast, I leaned back in my chair and had the nerve to ask, “What’s for dessert?” Quickly, Harold handed me a bag. I opened it and drew out a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows and a large Hershey’s chocolate bar. Of course, what else is fit for a princess but S’mores? What s’more could anyone want??
For awhile we sat with Harold’s arms around me watching the fire slowly fade away not wanting to leave this enchanting place. As the sun started to set, we reluctantly gathered our gear and stomping out the embers turned to leave. At the entrance to the lane I wanted one last look at our wonderful retreat. I was already in shadow with only the tops of the tall trees glowing in the setting sun. I knew that I would never ever forget my day in Paradise.
Anne Humbach — Fall, 2008
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