Dawn on Thursday: mist shrouds the mountains while a fisherman braves the morning chill to try his luck.
The sun warms our backs as we paddle the western shore of the lake in the still of the morning. The Colvin Range rises against the horizon.
. . . and native Brook Trout. Careful regulations are enforced by the lodge to keep alien species, both plant and animal, out of the lake's pristine waters. (I chafed a bit at the strictness here, since I was not allowed to paddle my own canoe, but had to make do with the big, heavy aluminum ones the lodge provides.)
Hobblebush, now turning vivid colors, lines the trail that we took to Clear Pond Mountain on Thursday afternoon.
Here's the view from the top of Clear Pond Mountain, with Elk Lake off in the distance, the high peaks of the Adirondacks rising beyond.
We just got back to the lodge from our mountain climb when it started to rain, and it poured the rest of the night. No matter, since it gave us a good excuse to pull up a chair by the fire and read or converse with other guests, a very amiable bunch.
Friday dawned windy and cold, but at least the rain had stopped and a rising sun was warming the lifting fog.
Soon, sunlight dappled the trail we were taking in search of a fen that lay a couple of miles off into the forest.
After making our way through the damp dark woods for more than an hour, we felt a little excitement as we glimpsed a bright opening through the trees.
At last the fen, watered by a quiet stream, lay wide open before us, the wind moving in waves through the sedges and grass, while sunlight and shadow made a beautiful patchwork of the surrounding hills.