Homeward Bound

WE LAUNCHED THE LONG WAR canoes on the St. Regis River, at the put-in just above the low dam in Keese Mill. The river is quiet here and the color of iced tea and we had it all to ourselves as early summer bugs—both physical and metaphorical, blackflies and the on-going pandemic—kept crowds at bay. Yes, I wore my mask, as much as I could.

Our destination was the marina at the south end of Upper St. Regis Lake. A short five-mile paddle, with fine views of the mountain and famous Great Camps along the shores. There were about a dozen of us, mostly military veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan and the late Cold War. For the outing, some had traveled from Tupper Lake and Malone, and some from New York City and Maine, and though members of the group had jumped out of planes and driven tanks and sailed enormous blue-water ships, it was clear from the start that few had spent much time in a canoe.

Brian MacDonnell, owner of MAC’s Canoe Livery, based in Lake Clear, provided the boats. Brian is a serious canoeist, the long-time organizer of the annual three-day “90-Miler” race, but our outing was a much less intense affair. Brian and Jack Favro, another guide, steered the boats between lily pads and past palatial summer homes clad in patriotic bunting