Cooper the dog snatched my left sock and began gnawing on it.
“Dude,” I told him as I snatched back the sock and put it on, now damp with puppy drool, “you’re going to need that energy today.”
The 6-month-old Cooper, my wife, Gillian, our teenager and I were embarking on Cooper’s first real hike — a nine-mile trip into Pharaoh Lake in the eastern Adirondacks.
Pharaoh Lake is a good first hike for a pup. There are no steep grades and are a variety of streams for a hot dog to cool off in before reaching the big lake.
The trip into Pharaoh Lake isn’t new ground for us. It’s a hike I’ve made in all seasons; on skis, hiking and trail running. For reasons I can’t fully describe, I need a trip into the Pharaoh Lake Wilderness at least once a year.
As a kid, I remember a great council of my aunts and grandparents gathered with coffee cups around my grandmother’s table. I’m sure they assumed I was off doing something more interesting, but I wasn’t, I was listening to them. Listening to stories about our family and the residents of our little Catskills town.
During one of these councils, I became the topic of conversation. I heard that I was too quiet and withdrawn. I heard that the institutions of this world — summer camp, school and the eventual real world would overwhelm me.
Just more than a mile into our hike, the trail crossed over Mill Brook on a small bridge. Tall grasses swayed in the breeze and red-wing blackbirds perched in alders while Number 8 Mountain owned our attention on the southern skyline. Often, I daydream about that spot on Mill Brook.
Through time and with the help of others, I’ve learned that quiet people are the ones who are listening. They’re often the ones trying to make sense of the world.
Cooper waded through Pharaoh Lake Brook to cool off. Near the brook are stands of red pines that…
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