To me, being up on that mountain was paradise. It was heavenly to be without the noises and smells of civilization. The richness of the oxygen in the air was impossible to miss. Being in the lush jungle made me feel healthier than ever! The scent of flowers was everywhere! Every basic necessity of life felt like a luxury. Breathing became a difference experience. The native fruit and coffee was unlike anything I could have imagined tasting! That pure of an environment combined with my intense sensitivity must have been what it was like for Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden.

(Click images for full view.)

Before having gone to Panama, I was told there exists a place where I would be accepted. Now decades later I know why it’s the most remote areas, non-conformed to modern society. Aspies think differently. So do those who are not civilized. Civilized societies are supposedly advanced and more polished. Advanced and polished are subjective terms. I’d rather say societies change.

After learning about Aspergers five years ago, it makes sense to me how I’d fit in a lot better among a highly foreign culture than one I’m native to. The inhabitants of the area where I stayed on Volcán Barú relished my company. Even though we spoke different languages, acceptance was clearly communicated. My favorite memory of the people there is the sound of their laughter. It was contagious and deeper than any I’ve ever heard before.

Normally when others are laughing and you’re not, it’s insulting. It’s a sign you’re being laughed at. But, it’s not always insulting when you’re being laughed at. An example of this was when I was learning to speak Spanish from a translation book I brought with me on this journey. A young school girl sat beside me as I read out loud what was in Spanish from my book. It was my first attempt at speaking Spanish. There were native adults within hearing distance observing what I was doing. Rarely were they not observing me.

As I was verbalizing Spanish for the first time in my life, laughter began to roar around me. I had no idea what was so funny. I got told it was because I was shocking everyone (including the guy who told me this). They didn’t expect me to sound exactly like someone indigenous to their culture. If I was not seen and only heard speaking their language, they’d never know I was a foreigner. I thought I had said something incorrectly which provoked laughter. It was the opposite. After I began laughing, they’d laugh even harder.

Being there provided a lot of opportunities for joking around. When down in Boquete, a phone was given to me to take back up the mountain. The guy said, “Give me a call when you get up there.” Lines for electricity or rapid means of communication didn’t exist where I stayed. Nor did roads past a certain point. It was primitive, as in dirt floor, grass covered huts. The only building not like that was the rustic cabin constructed after my arrival. I didn’t ask for special treatment. It’s what others wanted to do for me.

The women wanted to wash my clothes. People wanted to give in every way they could. They didn’t want me doing anything for them other than to stay there and not leave. They knew I loved horses, so one was brought there for me to have. Someone had even carried a toilet up the mountain to bring to the cabin I was staying in. That too was off-beat humor sending everyone (including myself) into stitches of laughter.

When I left though, it was with painful tears. It still saddens my heart to be gone from there. At least I have my memories of what once was. A special time is something that can never come back to the way it was once it’s gone.

Wikipedia’s info on Volcán Barú –

The Volcán Barú (also Volcán de Chiriqui) is the tallest mountain in Panama and is 3,474 metres (11,398 ft) high. It lies about 35 km off the border of Costa Rica.

Due to its height and Panama’s relatively short width, it is possible to see both the Pacific Ocean and Caribbean Sea from Volcán Barú’s peak on a clear day.

Volcán Barú is a dormant, but potentially active volcano just south of the Continental Divide in the western Chiriquí Province. It is surrounded by a fertile area of cool highlands drained by the Chiriquí and Caldera rivers. The towns of Volcan and Cerro Punta can be found on its western side, while Boquete is on the eastern flank.

The occasional fall of hail or ice pellets has been reported on the summit, where the minimal temperature can be below 0°C (32°F) and the formation of frost is frequent during the dry season.

The last major eruption of the volcano was about 500 AD. There are reports and some evidence of a minor eruption around 1550 AD. However, in 2006, an earthquake swarm occurred underneath the mountain, raising fears that it could erupt sometime in the future with explosive force.

Wikipedia’s info on Boquete —

Boquete is a small town on the Caldera River, tucked into the green mountain highlands of Panama, in western-most Chiriquí Province, about 60 km. from the border with Costa Rica. Because of its altitude, some 1,200 metres above sea level, its climate is cooler than that of the lowlands. Its scenic location, temperature, and natural environment make it extremely popular with Panamanians, and attracts tourists from all over the world.

Some of its landmarks include nearby Volcán Barú, a dormant volcano and, at 3,475 meters, the tallest point of land in Panama. Hikers enjoy a relatively easy hike up and over the volcano, along the Sendero de los Quetzales, which runs from Boquete up to Cerro Punta and Volcan, on the other side of the volcano. Boquete is well known for its coffee, judged to be among the finest in the world. The Caldera River runs through the town, a river that has shaped much of its form.

I began my drive around 12:40 p.m., Monday, October 10, 2011. I got home at approximately 6:50 that evening. That 6 hrs. and 10 mins. of driving was part 2 of my vacation for this year. Part 1 was when I Wandered West on a day trip to the Cannonsville Reservoir. It’s doubtful there will be a part 3 to vacationing in 2011 thanks to the lousy economy.

Monday’s excursion took me past the Ashokan Reservoir and through Boiceville. One mile and 720 feet past the Onteora Mountain House (96 Piney Point Road) is where I turned around to head back home. That day, I didn’t know this Bed & Breakfast resort is the summer home of Richard Hellmann, the mayonnaise mogul. It’s located on a promontory overlooking the Esopus Valley; surrounded by 250 acres of forest preserve.

During my years growing up, I spent time exploring the Boiceville area with my cousin while she lived on the north-east corner of Center Lane and Piney Point Road. We’d trek through the woods (along the train tracks) to the Ashokan Reservoir (starting at 3 a.m.), swim day and night (and ride the rapids) in the Esopus Creek, go Trick or Treating on Halloween around her neighborhood, ice skate (at night) on a nearby pond, and ride bicycles to Woodstock. I’d like to return there again to reminisce our mid-60′s bike route on Piney Point Road, Cold Brook Road, Wittenberg Road (Rt. 45), and Rt. 212 (Tinker Street) into Woodstock.

Upon returning to the reservoir, I relished my first slice of mushroom pizza I got from Winchell’s Corner Restaurant. I made sure my little Rascal got bits of that delicious crust. It was a simple day; just me and my dog. If I had not gone, I would have had to endure listening to my dog bark every time someone walked past my house. It would have been often, considering that Monday was a Columbus Day holiday.

What did get on my nerves was the sound of tractor trailer trucks off in the distance on the highway along the reservoir’s north shoreline. It was as if the trucks timed themselves to come one at a time so that there wouldn’t be more than a few minutes of occasional quiet. If the highway wasn’t there and the water level was high enough to hide the rocks all along the shore surrounding the entire reservoir, then maybe I could actually enjoy padding around.

(Click on images for expanded view.)

Of course my little Chi-Poo Rascal came along for the ride. She stayed tucked inside the bow of the boat. Going against the wind was a little splashy when hitting the waves, but she stayed nice and dry.

If New York State allows other Hudson Valley Reservoirs to begin permitting steam-cleaned kayaks (it’s being considered for next year), I may consider paddling the Alcove Reservoir.

While I was on vacation (except for the stressful parts; e.g., motorcycle madness and thunderstorms while far out on a large body of water), I felt enjoyably alive for the first time since childhood! The area I live in, and have spent most of my life growing up in, is nothing like it used to be. Generally and straightforwardly speaking, those who have grown up and live in areas further north than a latitude of 42.66 (longitude 73-74 W) in New York State, are friendlier and nicer people (especially the women). I’ve found that to be true even in the northwest region of Maine. I’m not the only person who thinks so either. My husband’s friend, who has traveled often to these areas, also has this same experience.²

As soon as I’m back in my community, I recognize a lack of a welcoming spirit. When it is seen, it looks phony. In the north, people sit on their porches and wave to everyone passing by. They will freely open up and talk about themselves, along with showing genuine interest in the lives of newcomers. So, naturally, uptight people are a depressing thing to come back to.

Besides leaving behind the more pleasant attitude of those in the north, the clean air, quieter surroundings, and laid-back relaxed pace — all of which had me sleeping properly unlike I can remember having done once upon a time many decades ago — are also left behind. What I did bring back with me was a sunburn, poison ivy, and an infected ankle (from a cut done by hitting a rock underwater). While I was up north, those things didn’t bother me… probably because the daytime temperatures ranged between 60-72 degrees Fahrenheit and it wasn’t humid there. Being hit with the horrid heat and humidity (common for being further south and at a lower elevation level) exasperates whatever is already going to irritate the nervous system.

I knew about the outdoor skin cleanser Tecnu, but was too late in getting a bottle while up north for it to do much good against urushiol. A poison ivy wash that’s way better (and much more expensive!) than Tecnu is Zanfel, but I didn’t even know about it until a week later, which was the first time I ever used it (and it does work!). I think the itch and pain from the poison ivy and sunburn kept me from realizing my ankle was in pain from being infected and was swelling. I began taking doses of Colloidal Silver and also applied it to the cut. The swelling left by the end of the next day and the cut proceeded to heal. Besides those products I’ve just mentioned, a camping first-aid kit should also include: band-aids (maybe some butterflies too), a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, antiseptic cream, sunblock, a tick removal spoon, tweezers, insect repellent (preferably Deet-free, like White Mountain‘s), and bee sting cure (Baker’s Venom Cleanser – a neutralizer for bee stings). You can do minor surgical procedures without a doctor!

Adding to the unpleasantries of being back, what I described enduring on the 4th of July, every bit of good that vacationing did for my health rapidly became undone! All I have left is my photographs to confirm to myself that I did at one time, not too long ago, feel alive and looked forward to another day. Now I’m back to working seven days a week at trying to keep from becoming exhausted from things like insomnia, sensory overload, and social isolation. The most depressing aspect of all this comes from learning how the horrible economy, along with an excess in human population (especially dangerous foreigners³) increasing and disrespecting nature with trash, is already showing signs of destroying what little beauty is left in the wilderness areas I (including my children and grandchildren) might have another chance to someday visit again.

¹I went on 3 trips in other years past, but they were not vacations. During those trips, I was working just like I do when I’m home. Work is to exert oneself by doing activity directed toward a purpose or out of necessity.

²Someone I once knew, who traveled around to different parts of the world throughout most of his life, told me that no matter what country it was, those who lived in rural areas were much nicer people than those living in urban ones. That was my experience also when I was in Central America in 1980. The “primitive” natives living on Volcán Barú in Panama were the civilized ones. Those who lived in the cities were nasty in comparison.

³My native “rural” community I continue to live in has it’s own fair share of malicious creeps too that have victims either speaking up years later or never reporting what they’ve gone through. I näively spoke up once about a horrible life-threatening incident I endured when I was young, to the detriment of my own life, and learned to never do that again.

These photos begin at the furthest end of the pond (southwest) from the main campsites. They reflect my journey back with Rascal. She wasn’t anywhere near as interested in looking around when we were going to the other end as she was when we were coming back from it.

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

Please tell your friends and family, who like to camp and/or boat, about Taylor Pond! As they say, “Use it or lose it.” If people don’t use this campground, those who love it (and would or could fall in love with it) will lose it.

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

The above is towards the southwest.

The Catamount Mountains are in view.

The bench faces southwest.

My kayak is pointing north.

While on the same spot as in the second photo above, here I’m now facing south.

These three loons were at the opposite end of the pond from the main campground.

The above photo was taken in a southern direction.

This shot was aimed towards the northeast.

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

All these last photos are from site #5; another very remote site that’s also only accessible by boat or by hiking in. It’s the only site that has a brook close by.

I can’t imagine anything sounding better than the brook that flows past this site, except for maybe the subtle addition of hearing the wind blowing through the trees and a loon off in the distance!

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

These next couple of photos are from site #3; that’s only accessible by boat or a long hike. It’s very remote.

Site #3 is on a hillside and is probably one of the smallest areas for putting up a tent.

All the rest below are from site #4; another very remote site that’s also only accessible by boat or by hiking in:

Site #4 has lots of open space and room for a big tent. It’s the only site on the west end of this 4 mile long pond. After getting there, the wind and waves become calmer.

The Taylor Pond Campground might not remain open if there are not enough campers to provide sufficient income for New York State to keep it open.

The reason the entrance to that campground could not be known by someone who was never there before is because it was closed when I went past it before. The sign wasn’t up. I remember thinking that dirt road had to be it, but I didn’t go on it because I thought it could be someone’s driveway. So when I saw it was open this time by and the sign was up, I was excited! I had read about this campground in the New York Camping Guide and its description fit exactly what I was searching for! The photos on the DEC’s webpage for it don’t quite reflect how it looked when I was there. During my stay, the grounds looked less traveled. There were no RVs around. Only one tent was seen up. All the other sites were vacant.

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

I chose site number 19. It has its own private little nook on the shore; an ideal spot for my kayak.

Here’s Rascal just before she slipped off the kayak (for the first time ever) into the water. Her leash and harness help me to fish her out of the water quickly. Since then, she lost her desire to sit out on top of the pointed curved end at the bow.

I was informed by the guy who operates a private campground at the nearby lake (Silver Lake) that waves at Taylor Pond can exceed heights of 4 feet where the depth reaches 90 feet due to the pond being at the base of Catamount Mountain (visible in the photo with Rascal).

The main camping area is at the east end of the pond. Almost always, there is a fairly constant strong wind coming from the west.

The photo above was taken around 11 P.M. I’ll never forget how beautiful it was to go kayaking in the moonlight, especially when having the entire 4 mile pond all to myself!¹ A bat happened to like following me around that night. It kept swooping down a couple of feet over my head. It’s all part of the wonderful experience of being out in nature to enjoy the wildlife.

Earlier that day, a loon (pictured above) was following me around the pond. I didn’t realize it until I looked behind me and saw it a few feet behind my kayak. On Moosehead Lake, people on shore reported seeing beavers following me as I was kayaking during the thunderstorm that was also following me.

¹All the other campsites were vacant, which was another treat!

(All shots are enlarged by clicking on them.)

Since the weather was rainy throughout New Hampshire, it only seemed worth staying for one night of rest.

What could be more welcoming than seeing a “Bear Alert” sign upon arriving into the White Mountain National Forest?

I didn’t have my camera with me when I went to sooth my poison ivy itch in the brook of cold water nearby, that emptied into the creek which was also close by. If I had it with me, I could have taken photos of the fresh bear tracks (claws included) coming up the bank towards the camp area. The rain was on and off, but mostly on while I was there.

All the way across Vermont, it mostly rained. The ideal crossing to get across Lake Champlain and into the northern Adirondack region was by taking the Grand Isle Ferry.

I had no idea that while I was riding on this ferry and taking these pictures that an earthquake was being felt on both the west and east side of this long lake. The epicentre was approximately 56 kilometres (35 mi) north of Ottawa, Ontario. The quake was of a 5.0 magnitude, which is considered to be moderate. The effects were widely felt, because of the earthquake’s depth (estimates of which vary between 16.4 kilometres (10.2 mi) and 19.0 kilometres (11.8 mi)).

It was at this same ferry crossing location on January 30th, 2009 when one crashed full speed as coming in to dock. A ferry sure is heftier than a kayak. Every time I see water like this, I want to get in my kayak and explore (except when I know a thunderstorm may be coming!).

Even though this post is probably boring, it seemed worth including. Without it, a void would exist between my telling about being in Maine and then coming back to the Adirondacks again.