Always the first out of bed
I long for more sleep
But Fred thinks he hears "cheep, cheep"
So, I must jump up without dread
Ok, pretty lame but here is where I will confess that I am not an obsessive birder. Don't get me wrong I get just as excited about a nondescript gray bird as the next person but I prefer my birding be done sometime close to when the sun rises. Even better if I'm on a porch with wine in one hand and binoculars in the other. Plus, this has the added benefit of greatly increasing my life list.
In this case, Fred had arranged for a bird guide in the Adirondacks to pick us up the morning after we arrived to camp at Lake Eaton, a state park. The term "morning" was apparently interpreted very loosely because she emailed us and indicated that she would be by to pick us up at 2:30 a.m. I know, right. That meant we had to wake up at 2:00 a.m. One of us was not happy about it, I'll see if you can puzzle it out.
These are the lengths one will go to to see the elusive Bicknell's thrush. And by one, I mean Fred. It looks like this:
But, here's the thing. It never sits out in the open like that on a branch. Instead, it flits in the dense undergrowth of stunted conifers. But Sonia, why are the conifers so stunted you may ask? Well, because it's hard to grow straight up when the wind is blowing all the time and the temperatures are cold enough to freeze your earlobes off.
These were the conditions we found ourselves in in the early pre-dawn hours on the side of a mountain literally down on our knees trying to spot this bird. Did I mention it was also raining?
The woman leading this little expedition was nothing if not enthusiastic, Every minute or so she would say "Did you hear it?" Um, no. "Did you hear it?" No. "Did you hear it?" Hell no, I have a fur cap pulled down over my ears because it's freezing cold up here. For some reason she thought Fred might be more open to the thrill of hearing the thrush after that.
Now, keep in mind we arrived on top of this mountain at about 4:00 a.m. and we tried like hell to find this little devil. We walked up the road, and down the road, and off the road, and looked under bushes, and behind rocks and would occasionally see a tail feather, or a beak, or a leg, but never the whole bird. I was happy to just piece it together in my head but these birder types can be quite persnickety about seeing the whole damn thing.
I gave up and retreated to the car to eat Chez-its and contemplate divorce proceedings but Fred persisted. Our intrepid guide kept insisting that she heard it so I figured I'd play along one more time and lo and behold as I exited the car, crossed the road and got down on both knees in the rain to stare once more into the undergrowth if the damn thing didn't hop up and look me straight in the eye. I was elated, well, possibly something short of that but you wanna know something? I did finally hear a faint sound that day.
The plaintive wail of the dejected birder
There is a word for when someone really wants something and the universe conspires to give it to someone who doesn't want it that bad, or in my case, not at all. That word is irony, or maybe that word is payback for making said person get up at 2:00 a.m.
It wasn't all bad in the Adirondacks, we both did get a new species after all. We got lots of close up looks at the genus Simulium, scientifically referred to as fuc*&% black flies. And by lots I mean swarms. If you were not getting cold and wet on the mountain top you were getting bitten by this scourge of humanity. This part of the trip was just not the best and we decided to hightail it outta there faster than a squirrel drops a moldy nut. I, for one, was ready but not before we captured a few iconic Adirondack wildlife photos.
Top to bottom, common loon, yellow warbler, oven bird, Punxsutawny Phil my first ground hog siting and a snowshoe hare, check out those feet.
Niagara Falls
In my head, this is how I thought this would go. Get on a boat, sit down and gently glide into the mist while slowly raising my camera to capture the majesty known as Niagara Falls.
Maid of the Mist Fail, or alternately this was helpfully titled "Old Maid of the Mist" by my slightly younger sister.
What can I say, it was like going through the car wash without the car and with 30 mph wind gusts and several power washers pointed at your head. There is no place to sit and the winds were so bad that fashionable blue rain coat was blowing all over and sticking to my face making the use of a camera somewhat difficult.
The money shot
Apparently, it isn't always like this but there was a cold front moving through and that just made it all the more fun.
See previous post regarding inability to not photograph a waterfall, I'll spare you all 200 pics
That's the Cave of the Winds but really they should just call it Scaffolding of the Winds because there is no cave but there is a lot of scaffolding.
Suckers
Kinda makes you wonder what happened to Maids I-V
Scaffolding that does not inspire confidence especially when you consider they are not allowed to bolt anything to the rocks, just wedge it in. Given the fact that millions of gallons of water rush over this rickety wood and thousands of people pile onto the stairs, it's no wonder they rebuild it every single year.
Warning, if you don't like pictures of water flowing over cliffs you can just stop reading right now because that's what you get when you come here. So, go ahead and skip to the bottom if you want I won't judge you.
Suckers
Kinda makes you wonder what happened to Maids I-V
Here's my take on Niagara Falls. Is it cheesy? Yep. Is it totally tourismo? Well, yes of course but it's impossible to ignore the wow factor of the falls themselves and they are not cheesy at all. And, guess what? It's pretty damn fun.
So, this is how this years' epic Bambi adventure ends. Well, sorta anyway. We still needed to drive to Columbus and visit Fred's brother and sister-in-law for a couple of days (thanks Ross and Aria, best steaks ever) and then drive to Little Rock, Ark and then drive home across many a flooded river because apparently it's been sprinkling while we've on the road.
Summary
Miles traveled: over 5,000
Best Part: Shenandoah for me, Smokey Mountains for Fred
Worst Part: Black flies, evil, evil insects
Avg. Price for Gas: $2.50 (cheapest price we've ever paid)
Next up? Hmmm, not sure. Anybody have ideas?
