Adirondack Audacity

by L. R. Smolarek

  I can’t even get into my car;; the keys are in the house. In desperation, I try wedging the handle of the hose under the windowsill in a vain attempt to pry it open. No luck, closed up tighter than a drum. In utter and absolute hysteria, I start beating the hose handle against the window, but to no avail. Constructed of high tech security glass, the windows are shatter proof to prevent vandalism. The house is miles from any other residence. Peering fearfully at the darkening woods, I don’t relish the idea of running barefoot through miles of wilderness roads, clad only in a towel.

  Oh, boy, I’m really starting to get cold, I can’t stop shivering and my teeth are chattering. Ummm, think Ellen, think. You’ve taken survival courses, what did they teach you……. Nothing!!

  Making a shelter out of sticks, doesn’t work well in a pine forest without a hatchet. Very little scattered branches and leaves needed for building materials. I’m going to die, Oh, sweet Jesus, I’m going to die of hypothermia. Vic is going to kill me, even if I’m dead, he’ll resurrect my corpse and kill me again for being so stupid.

  First rule of survival; don’t panic! Not working, I think I just ran in a circle chasing my tail. How much time has passed? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Judging from the darkening sky…..a half hour? There must be something I can use to get warm. The boathouse!! Maybe some of those old smelly clothes. I think I saw a gas tank; maybe I can start a fire. Matches, I don’t know if I saw matches. But I have to look, I’m desperate with cold.

  Without the aid of a flashlight and relying on the meager moonlight filtering through the trees, I pick my way gingerly down the path to the boathouse. Reaching the building, I realize I padlocked the door. I can’t believe I locked this stupid building full of worthless junk. It’s all trash. Just because the owners locked it, doesn’t mean I needed to lock it too. From what? The raccoons!!

  Shivering with cold, I squat down and twirl the dial, trying to remember the combination numbers. Just as I hear the tumblers click into place and release the lock, I hear a twig snap behind me. Wheeling around to see what creature wants to eat my frozen carcass, I’m blinded by a sudden flood of light. Screaming in terror, I throw my hands up shielding my eyes against the glare of a spotlight……. And my towel slips to the ground. And I’m standing butt naked with nothing but what God gave me, caught in the glare of a search light, screaming hysterically.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am.” I hear a disembodied voice calling from the dark reaches behind the light. “Lady! It’s okay. It’s the Police! We’re not going to hurt you.”

  “ The police?” My mind frantically wonders. What the hell! How in God’s name did the police show up?

  “Here, you dropped…..ahhhh…….your towel.” Another voice comes from the dark. Good Lord, how many of them are there? I see the towel, but before giving it to me, the shadow of the man stands up, and settles back on his heels, as if enjoying the view. Jerk!

  “Give me that!” I snatch the towel from his hand. “Put down the light, you’re blinding me.” I yell through chattering teeth. I’m shivering convulsively with a mixture of cold and fear. “Who are you?” I demand, not sure if I’m relieved to be rescued or embarrassed at being found in such a ridiculous situation.

  “Old Forge Police, ma’am.” the first voice answers, as he lowers the blinding light away from my face. “The security alarm at the house was tripped and a call came into the station. We came out to investigate a burglary.”

  “Hey Frank, give her your jacket,” says the second voice in the dark. “She looks like she’s freezing. Just look at the goose bumps on her, she can’t stop shivering.”

  Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s my goose bumps the two of them are looking at, oh hell, what does it matter, I’ve reached a new level of mortification, just give me the jacket before I freeze to death.

  “Ma’am, what are you doing out here?” The voice named Frank asks as he hands me his jacket.

  “Do I look like I’m committing a burglary?” I snap at them, trying to slip my arm into the jacket without losing my grip on the towel. One strip tease a night is enough. I wrap my arms around my body, holding in the warmth, inhaling the faint scent of the man’s aftershave. Smells like my father. Old man cologne.

  “No, Ma’am, you do not,” replies the police officer in a calm even tone reserved for soothing raving lunatics. “But Ma’am, the alarm has been tripped and we’re not aware of anyone in residence. Usually the owner contacts us when the house is rented. We have not received any communication as to the occupancy of the house.”

  “My husband and I are renting the house from the Bellamys for the summer.” I say through chattering teeth. “I can’t help it if they didn’t contact you.” I throw back at him. I’m tired, hungry and convinced I’m turning into a human Popsicle. “Listen, I went for a late swim and accidentally locked myself out of the house. Pleaaasee, help me get in, I’m freezing.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am. We don’t have the authorization to open the house without the owner’s consent. We have access to the code for the key pad, but first we need to contact the owner.”

  “Seriously?” I ask querulously, now I’m getting riled up. “Are you insane?” I stomp my foot and point an accusing finger at them. “Do you really think I decided to come out here and try to break into a house not wearing any clothes, and carrying no weapons or tools? I just happened to be wandering through the woods naked, so I could break into a vacant house and steal a new wardrobe.” My voice raises several octaves, I’m on a roll…… and nothing is going to stop me. Fueled by fatigue and numb with cold, I launch into the two police officers.

  “Do you two narrow minded, small town, Barney Fifes really think that is what I was doing? Really! Do you have nothing better to do than harass a freezing woman locked out of her house? Is your small town life so pathetic this is how you get your kicks on a Monday night?” Oh, please…..someone gag me now….anything…. shut me up…..but I keep on going… “If you lived in the real world, away from this two bit backwater town, you’d be arresting criminals committing real crimes, rape, murder, gang warfare, but no, you are so pathetic for excitement that bullying a defenseless woman is your idea of entertainment. Just how stupid can you be?!” Apparently not as stupid as I am at this moment….. freezing, naked women do not insult their would-be rescuers. First rule of survival.

  “Excuse me! What did you just say?” Asks the incredulous voice of the one named Brian.

  “I think the little lady just called us Barney Fife, living in a two bit back water town,” says the second cop. “Maybe we should leave her in the cold, and go up to our warm patrol car and investigate what’s really going on here. Excuse me, ma’am, I’ll be needing my coat back. It’s getting a little nippy out here, wouldn’t you agree?” His hand reaches for the coat. I slap it away.

  “I think that was assaulting an officer. Don’t you, Frank?”

  “Absolutely Brian, boy howdy, when the sun goes down in these here mountains, a body sure could freeze to death. We, country bumpkin cops, don’t want to catch our death of the cold. So little lady, why don’t you just wait here, all bundled up in that little towel while we figure out the situation. Sometimes these matters can take hours to straighten out. I know you big city types don’t mind waiting around. After all, you come up to the mountains to get away from all that hustle and bustle, so why don’t you just sit back, relax and enjoy the view. We’ll call you when we have the information, might be tomorrow morning. Will that be fine with you? We hate to inconvenience you with our small town investigation process.”

  This was just too much for me at this point, in horror I feel myself burst into great heaving sobs of frustration. “No, no, I’m so sorry. Please don’t go.” I cry. “I’m freezing. Please don’t leave me here to die.” A moan escapes my blue lips, as I clutch the jacket with a death grip. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just so cold; I wasn’t thinking straight, my brain is frozen. I love Old Forge.”

  “Well, seeing as how you put it that way.
Am I to understand that was an apology?” The taller one asks.

  “Yes, yes, please, please, help me get into my house.” I plead, vowing to never take my clothes off again or venture into the woods after dark.

  “We did swear an oath to be servants of the people. Be a shame, leaving the lady out here on a cold night.”

  “Let’s go up to the patrol car. We’ll contact the station and access the files for the entry code.” says Officer Frank in an amused voice. The two of them clearly enjoying my discomfort, if I wasn’t so desperate I’d go after them with the baseball bat discarded on the “to be” burned pile.

  “I don’t think she was really breaking and entering, do you, Brian?”

  “Na.” says Brian. I swear one of them snickered. This is not funny. The taller one presses the button on a radio attached to his shirt, reporting into headquarters their location then nods in my direction. “We’ll put her in the patrol car with the heater on while we clear this up. There’s a blanket in the emergency kit she can use.” After what seemed like an eternity, the Bellamys were contacted and clearance given to open the house, along with profuse apologies for the inconvenience. Apologies my ass.

  Once I was deemed no longer a threat to the security of the North Country, Officer Frank entered the security code and the house miraculously opened.

  Calling out my thanks and good byes to the police, I dash up to the stairs for a hot shower and the warmest snuggly pajamas I can find.

  Imagine my astonishment when descending the stairs wrapped in a fleece robe; I smell coffee brewing and the distinct crackle of a wood burning fire in the hearth. A rush of warm air rises from the furnace ducts followed by the smell of bacon sizzling on the stove. Who’s here?

  I peer cautiously around the corner and see the two policemen sitting around the kitchen island holding steaming mugs of coffee. The island is set with three place settings, and a mug of coffee waiting for me!

  “We didn’t want to leave until we were certain you were okay.” Officer Brian comments holding up his mug. “So we helped ourselves to your kitchen, we thought you could use some hot food.”

  “For me?” I accept the hot coffee with gratitude. “You are my heroes, you probably saved my life.”

  “All in a day’s work for us, narrow minded small town Barney Fifes, ma’am.” Frank chuckles.

  Over sunny side up eggs, hot buttered toast and a steaming mug of coffee laced with brandy for me; the next hour passes in a pleasant exchange of apologies for the misunderstandings perceived by both parties. We laughed over the hilarity of my situation while not underscoring the dangers of hypothermia in the North Woods. The officers good naturedly poked fun at me, claiming I was the first woman in fifteen years of service they almost arrested wearing only a dragonfly necklace.

  Unable to keep my eyes open as exhaustion settles in, I assure the officers I no longer need their services, and send them forth into the dark night, to save more damsels in distress. This damsel, after locking the door, shall head straight to bed with dreams of the alarm code swirling in her head, never to be forgotten, again.

  Chapter 41 Splash! “You what?!”

  “Ummmm, you know, what I just said.”

  “I know what you just said.” Vic’s voice sounds grim

  coming through the phone. “And I can’t believe what I just heard.” “It’s no big deal, over and done with, let’s forget I even mentioned it.”

  “Forget!” Oh boy, now he sounds agitated. “Forget! How the hell do I forget my girlfriend almost kills herself by skinny dipping on a forty degree night, gets locked out of the house, and if that is not enough, she’s found by the cops, naked, half frozen and nearly arrested for assaulting an officer.

  “Oh, that cop was such a big baby, I just slapped his hand away, he wanted his jacket back and I was cold.”

  “Ellen!” Now I know he’s really mad, he never calls me, Ellen.

  “What!”

  “How the fuck did you lock yourself out?”

  “It’s not my fault!”

  “So you’re saying some woodland creature came along and locked the door on you.”

  “No!”

  “Enlighten me.” His voice low and flat, I can feel the volcano about to erupt. Suddenly, I’m thankful for the thousands of miles separating us.

  “I was hot from cleaning the boathouse…”

  “Cleaning the boathouse?” His voice sounds exasperated, and I hear him heave a sigh that sounds like a moan. “Go on, I won’t even ask why you were cleaning the boathouse.”

  “It was filthy.” I say defensively.

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was….”

  “Anyway, I was hot and tired and the lake looked so inviting, I wanted to take a swim.”

  “And forgot about the timer for the locks?”

  “Y-yeah, it’s not my fault, stupid idea locking all the doors and windows.”

  “And you forgot the code?”

  “Yeaaahhh……..I threw Cyrus in the house, grabbed a towel and forgot about the code.”

  Thunk, thunk, thunk…….and nothing but silence on the phone connection.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, fearful of the answer.

  Thunk, thunk, thunk…………..

  “Vic?”

  “I’m bashing my head against the wall.”

  “What! Why?”

  “Because how could I have been so stupid as to leave you and Cyrus in the middle of the woods and not expect you to find trouble.”

  Thunk, thunk, thunk…… “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

  “I resent that.” I say, defensively, knowing fully well I don’t have a leg to stand on.

  “I’m coming home.”

  “No,no,no! I can do this, I have the code memorized, everything is fine, no need to worry.” Famous last words.

  “You know, I’m not getting any younger. My father had a weak heart and I think I just had three heart attacks.” Jeez.

  “Ike was coming up for a visit, he can come early. I’ll feel better if someone is with you.”

  “No!” While the idea of someone staying in the house with me is attractive …….the last thing I need is the incredibly hot Celtic Warrior Cowboy, who will be bored, moody and brooding following me around like an overprotective nanny. No thank you.

  “Please, promise to be more careful.” He pleads.

  “Absolutely.”

  …

  Saturday, the day of the kayak clinic with Josh dawned cloudy and overcast. Temperatures hover in the high fifties. Armed with my camera, lunch…… and a watch, my stomach is aflutter with nerves at the prospect of seeing Josh again. A swing by the bakery for a dozen cinnamon buns and I’m on my way to the river.

  A flotilla of brightly colored kayaks bobbles along the water’s edge. A few people are kayaking up and down the stream, practicing their paddling skills, eager to start the day’s adventure. The rest of the boats remain lined up on shore, patiently waiting.

  Jogging down the launch ramp, a quick glance reveals an eclectic group of people, mixed ages, physical characteristics and a host of probable personalities. Josh takes a moment to introduce everyone. Two middle-aged men dressed in hiking gear, listen intently as Josh explains the kayak route. Engineer types, all fact and no fiction.

  George and Irene Irish, recently retired college professors, confide their eagerness to learn the basic elements of taking good pictures. They look the part of retired academia, lean to the point of thin. Routine and proper decorum defining their lives, most likely breakfast consists of oatmeal and yogurt, lunch, a turkey sandwich on whole grain bread, the indulgence of the day is a tumbler of scotch on the rocks enjoyed while relaxing on their veranda overlooking the manicured garden of their one acre home…. I like to make stuff up about people. They have a trip to South America planned in the fall, where they hope to climb Machu Picchu and bring home some amazing photos. Brag bait, they call it. “Most of our friends scoff at the idea of retirement.” Irene said. “We want to show them
there is life after retirement, in fact, a very adventurous life.”

  “Keep the bow pointed downstream.” Josh instructs as we push off from the shore. “You can paddle, but also use the paddle blade as a rudder.” I set my paddle to water and the kayak follows the river as it meanders through cattails and reeds, the current slow and lazy. A kingfisher calls off in the distance and we pass a blue heron, its body still, standing in knee deep water, silent, watchful.

  At our first stop, Josh explains the differences between contemplative photography and conceptual photography. Rather than focus on the conceptual discipline of photography where the emphasis is on visual texture, color, and play of light, he encourages us to focus on taking pictures that appeal to us, looking at life from a different angle. Don’t worry too much about technique, he suggests.

  The next half hour is spent wandering through marsh grasses and combing the shoreline for just the right angle. Instead of capturing pictures to share a view with the world, take pictures to inspire meditation and

  contemplation.

  My personal favorites on the trip are Dick and Midge Hamish. Slightly overweight, dressed in matching jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers, they look like a pair of oversized twins. And they don’t have a clue about photography or kayaking….and could care less. Their children bought them a camera and the class for their fortieth wedding anniversary. But they’d rather tell jokes than take pictures and after almost rolling their double kayak, they launch into a series of jokes about canoeing. As Dick talks, Midge passes around a Tupperware container filled with the best oatmeal cookies, ever. I’m a sucker for homemade cookies……I love this woman. When I decide to let myself go, this is how I want to be….plump, happy……with a cookie in my hand.

  Completely unashamed of the fact that less than an hour ago, I polished off a cinnamon roll with Claire, I unabashedly ate one, okay two, and…stashed a third cookie in my pocket for later. Hey, a girl has to keep up her strength.

  Watching from the edge of the group, I notice two younger women, hugging close to Josh’s kayak and hanging on every word he says. It’s difficult to decide who has the bigger crush. The local librarian trying to conceal the fact she wants him. Or the beautiful leggy seventeen year old girl……..who hasn’t quite mastered the sophisticated art of seduction. And she is beautiful, face it, it’s difficult to find a seventeen year old girl who isn’t gorgeous. It’s part of the master plan to tempt stupid young males away from the lure of sports and beer. Her name is Veronica and she takes his advanced placement biology class. Long chestnut brown hair caught up in a twisted knot at the base of her neck, and soft brown doe eyes. She dragged her equally long legged, skinny stomach, beautiful girlfriend with her. And in