On Weller Pond
We had two 13-year-olds and a 12-year-old with us, so the kind of undisturbed vistas provided by Weller Pond were not matched by the company. But who cares anyway? We ate beef jerky on the ride up and the kids argued with each other in the back of the truck, and when we got to camp we all laughed about the gas-station bathroom in Watertown that smelled like the insides of a dead cow. Not every trip has to be about aching silence and introspection.
A family friend invited us and said this campsite was the best in the Adirondacks, tucked way back in the corner of the pond connected to Middle Saranac Lake. We came in motley, one boy and I crossing Middle Saranac and Hungry Bay in a canoe, the others crossing more efficiently but over a longer distance in a Lund loaded with supplies. It was a lesson in rough-water canoeing for my oldest and for me—his lesson focused on keeping his bottom
