Nothing Could Have Been More Informal.
This Apology Can Be Necessary Only To Those Who Are Familiar With The
Adirondack Literature.
Any person not familiar with it would see the
absurdity of one going to the Northern Wilderness with the deliberate
purpose of writing about himself as a lost man.
It may be true that
a book about this wild tract would not be recognized as complete
without a lost-man story in it, since it is almost as easy for a
stranger to get lost in the Adirondacks as in Boston. I merely
desire to say that my unimportant adventure is not narrated in answer
to the popular demand, and I do not wish to be held responsible for
its variation from the typical character of such experiences.
We had been in camp a week, on the Upper Au Sable Lake. This is a
gem - emerald or turquoise as the light changes it - set in the virgin
forest. It is not a large body of water, is irregular in form, and
about a mile and a half in length; but in the sweep of its wooded
shores, and the lovely contour of the lofty mountains that guard it,
the lake is probably the most charming in America. Why the young
ladies and gentlemen who camp there occasionally vex the days and
nights with hooting, and singing sentimental songs, is a mystery even
to the laughing loon.
I left my companions there one Saturday morning, to return to Keene
Valley, intending to fish down the Au Sable River.
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