Life on the Road

“We’re in New York” conjures in most minds images of our ungainly apartment-on-wheels navigating crowded, trafficked streets, surrounded by yellow cabs and irate urbanites.

We are not in that New York this month. We are in the other New York. They call it “upstate,” but in reality, this New York represents more of the New York we’ve seen than the urbanoscape of New York City.

We’ve been in Warrensburg, NY for the last month. Warrensburg is up Interstate 87, just inside the border of the Adirondack State Park. When you look at a map of the state of New York, there’s this big “forehead” of space in the north. About 90% of that is the Adirondack State Park. On maps, it’s a green patch bordered by Interstates. In reality… it’s much the same, and more.

Rivers flow through this whole area, from the tiny Schroon River to the great Hudson (both of which intersect at Warrensburg). Lakes abound– Lake George is a finger reaching up to almost touch Lake Champlain, at the historic Fort Ticonderoga (celebrating the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Carillon in the French-Indian war this year). Running parallel to I-87 is Route 9. This Route 9 makes us nostalgic for the Route 9 of Santa Cruz, and it serves much the same purpose. It directly connects the smaller towns along I-87, forming a Main Street corridor, for those of us who would rather take “the scenic route” (and still get there!)

This is an area known for boating, canoeing, swimming, fishing, hiking, and, in the winter months, skiing. It’s the kind of place where you can float down a river in an inner tube on a hot day.

Aesthetically, the town of Lake George reminds me strongly of the Wisconsin Dells. The main drag is crowded with souvenir shops and restaurants, none of which has done a good job of branding. There are multiple theme parks in this deceptively small town, and you can’t throw a golf ball without it going into the windmill at one of the many many mini-golf locations.

But how can you not love a town that still has a wax museum (and horror-themed mini golf)? How can you not adore a place that features a small-town atmosphere, funded by big-town money? How can you not adore vacationing where the cost of your trip can be limited to an inner tube, some tennis shoes, and a soft-sided cooler with lunch? It’s not Disneyworld, and it’s not New York City, but it genuinely delivers what I remember as being a “family vacation.”