| Summary | |
| Owner | MITOC Gallery Administrator |
| Creation Date | 2004-09-18 11:10:52 UTC-0400 |
| Description |
Intercollegiate Outing Club Association Conference a.k.a. Fall Lake George Date: September 26-28, 2003 Location: Lake George, NY Participants: Philip Meier, Guido Festuccia, Samantha Sutton, Andrea Clark, Elizabeth Hubbard, Hrishikesh Deo, Bryant and Richard Vernon, Kim (Last Name?), Rayona Young, and Me (Alyssa Danigelis) Author: Alyssa Danigelis Neil Grabowski of RPI gave me a clue that was supposed to help me with the annual Fall Lake George trip: FRS 14-24. I had no idea what he was talking about, and I didn?t figure it out until much much later. On Friday morning I got little work done. In fact, I got negative work done, turning out this beauty of a sentence: ?We once thought of Mars as a dessert, but now we need to think of it as a frozen tundra.? (Please don't tell my editors!) I frantically called every car and truck rental agency in the area, surprised to find that the only place renting vehicles with hitches is U-Haul, which would have been at least $500, not to mention a bumpy ride. So I stood outside the MITOC boathouse around 5 p.m., with no hitch and no trailer for the canoes, and looked fearfully at the Jeep. I wondered how on Earth I was going to fit two canoes on it, especially since none of the car racks I got seemed to fit. Night fell and everyone came, including two other drivers who quickly established that there was no way canoes could go on their cars. We had 11 people total. Then Phil arrived and saved the day with his enthusiasm and knot-tying skills. He pointed to the floor and said, ?Ok, imagine this is the roof ? We put two wooden beams on the roof of the Jeep and secured them to the parallel built-in roof rack. We hauled foam padding and all the webbing we could find out of the equipment room. Samantha, Andrea, and Liz managed to get the Economy Hardware staff to open their locked door and sell them rope. I asked Phil if he thought we could fit a third canoe on top of the other two, pyramid style. He said, ?Let?s just get these on securely before we think about it.? A couple of seconds later I rephrased the question. And then I asked a few more times. Finally, the canoes were almost secure. Everyone else had run off to get subs to bring back for dinner. Guido continued tying knots. I didn?t know what to do about the trip, glancing at my watch as 8 p.m. came near. The IOCA web site said that they had run out of canoe rentals at the island so we didn?t have a Plan B. Phil suddenly turned and asked, ?Are you in a canoe-carrying mood?? I dashed into the back room and we hauled the third canoe out, stacking it on top of the two others. (Just call me Alyssa ?Safety? Danigelis). After we secured it that?s how it stayed (just about) until 3 a.m. when we rolled into the parking lot of Bolton Landing on the shore of Lake George, NY. En route we hit frightening fog and I managed to go the slowest I?ve ever gone on the highway. At about 2 a.m. it looked like I might actually pass a car! But then the driver woke up, saw the canoe-laden Jeep and shot off at 80 mph... Bleary-eyed RPI folks greeted us, kindly informing us that we were the very last group to arrive and helped us throw our gear into their motorboat. We attached glow sticks to ourselves and the canoes, piling in four, four, and three to a canoe. Everyone?s butts got wet and we shouted when we hit waves in the dark, but it was an exhilarating kind of yelp. Uncreative at 3:30 a.m. we chanted ?Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!? to push on. At Turtle Island we numbly signed in and stumbled along with our gear, searching for campsites in the dark. I found what I think was Hector?s usual spot on a peaceful mini-peninsula and spent way too long setting up one of the relatively new Trango tents. (I?m embarrassed to say just how long; I need some dignity as a deskworker). Morning came and Hrishi saw me emerge from the tent, rubbing sticky contact lens eyes. ?This place is beautiful!? he shouted. ?I didn?t know it was going to be so beautiful!!? In the early morning light it was indeed beautiful with a few clouds passing overhead, water looking remarkably pale emerald green. About 200 people had gathered for the annual Intercollegiate Outing Club Association event, many coming from RPI and a slew from around the Albany area. We ate our sad excuses for breakfast (note to self: bring a stove and good stuff to whip up next time) and then a bunch of us hopped in canoes, teaming up with a friendly crowd of Northeastern University students to search out some cliff jumping. A little rain fell, but passed through and the sky opened to reveal its blue underlayer. The water was certainly colder this time than it was last year! If any of us wanted to wake up, this was the way! We all jumped in, proving our mettle. The paddle back gave us a chance to study the fast-moving sky and take in the fluffy fog surrounding the lower part of the surrounding hills. It was as if we were in Asia or perhaps a Tolkien tale. A lot of people remarked on Hector?s absence, musing that they had hoped he'?d appear. I can?t help but think that the peninsula was free because everyone expected him. At least we made it there to tell everyone he had escaped to France! Dinner was excellent--RPI did a superb job with the huge barbecue, fresh corn going on the grill and also coming steaming out of a boiling pot. The rain held off for the entire contra dance. Contra dancing is totally wasted on third graders! It?s a ton of ridiculous, whirling fun. Around midnight the rain came and steadily grew harder until it was time to wake and then it tapered off. By the time we stood around the canoes and contemplated leaving, though, the rain was a bone-soaking curtain. A guy wearing waterproof military fatigues confided that we should wait until it let up, pointing to the choppy whitecapped waves around the island as proof of how difficult it would be to navigate. However, Phil?s canoe had already gone out with him in it donning a huge black garbage bag cinched at the waist for a poncho and a tinfoil hat. (Earlier as he looked like he was doing some sort of Japanese ceremony as he meticulously folded his tent while we stood around watching). The rain drenched us straight through. Two of our folks thankfully got rides back to the mainland in RPI?s powerboat, shortly before the police ended up stopping the powerboat because of some problem with the boat?s lights. I decided we had to launch into the water. ?I might as well be naked!? Andrea shouted as rain filled our canoe. Liz and I tried our best to keep the canoe in a straight line, fighting off currents, boat wakes, and wind. Our arms burned, I felt an asthma attack coming on, and Andrea was handicapped by having to sit down in the canoe, but we cheered when the shore came into view. Apparently Phil?s boat had been cruising along ahead of us when he lost his tinfoil hat and Hrishi convinced them to turn around and retrieve it. By the time the albuterol kicked in, our crew had the two boats back on the Jeep?s roof. We shivered and tied the remaining webbing. On our return trip, a car drove along side us, its passengers waving and pointing at us. Guido from the back seat smiled and nodded at them, thinking at first they were just impressed. Then we noticed that I forgot to put the gas cap back on and the cap was flying around, attached by its cord. Oops! At a toll a large van pulled up next to us. The driver looked up at the canoes and down at us before giving me a grave nod of approval. Toll collectors, who must see everything, all seemed amused by our enormous load. Guido has the photos to prove that we did it so keep your eyes open for Jeep's next advertising campaign. :) Phil, Guido and Rishi were piled in my car the whole way there and back, good-natured enough to put up with my out-of-tune singing to the radio and my white knuckled driving through torrents of rain. But nothing beat Hrishi?s heartfelt rendition of ?Piano Man.? He later asked me when I would be doing another trip and I just laughed. I'd like to think I'm usually more organized than this! It turns out that Neil Grabowski?s clue was the channel of his two-way radio. In years past Hector always called him at 1 a.m. en route to Turtle Island and would shout in a high-pitched voice, ?Neil!!! We?re stranded in the middle of the lake!!! Come saaaave us!? But I think arriving at 4 a.m. shouting ?Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!? was needling enough. --Alyssa |