Camp Canaras has a central lodge, a merry place of varnished wood and Scotch served neat. Late at night, long after the campers are tucked in, the place takes on a ghostly, abandoned vibe.
Inside, the minor remnants of the party still remain, along with the major remnants of large animals.
Views like these almost make you forget about the elevation gain as you climb toward the cascades.
Camp Canaras has some remarkable views during day and night, but especially in the morning. There’s a weird collision of action-movie-preparation scene with rustic vibe to a boathouse; the scene captures the sense of possibility for the rest of the day.
Florida doesn’t have a monopoly on white beaches, tropical plants, and dramatic sunsets, but it certainly knows how to do a classic beach scene.
After getting some distance I’m starting to find myself missing things about Berkeley.
As a youth, I read tales of “wandering islands” on the backs of giant sea creatures. As the fog burned off at Camp Canaras, I couldn’t shake the illusion that the island was drifting closer. (Of course, Saranac Lake might make for a disappointingly small range to wander.)
Taken at the Roan Mountain rhododendron garden, this was taken a few weeks too early to capture the plants in full bloom. The density and area of this natural rhododendron garden is staggering, if you come on a day where mist doesn’t limit your view.