We get to the car, transfer the boat and all my stuff to it and say lengthy goodbyes. With everything packed in and strapped down, all that seemed left for me to do is to drive home. But there is one thing I really want to do....
Not too far off course is the little hamlet nestled in the Adirondacks where, on that frigid day last January, the wheels were set in motion for this adventure. I feel a strong urge to pay a visit just to put a feather on the cap of this journey. So off I go into the winding roads until I get to the same store that was so quiet in the winter but now is animated with busy summer traffic. Instead of knee deep snow there is ankle high grass, the Moose River is liquid, languidly flowing through the green valley. In the rack where I found Cruise-eau sits another boat, waiting for someone else's adventure.
I find one of the salesmen who sold the kayak to me, and I ask him if he remembers me. After pondering a bit he says, "Oh yeah, you wanted to do that thing with a bike. How did it work out?"
"I just did it."
The trip started with wings and needs to end with wings, and this bar that looks like an airplane crashed into it seems like an interesting enough place to find them. It is!
Not in a particular hurry to get home, I shun the interstate and take the scenic back roads that wind through the Black River valley, which was once the route of a feeder canal that brought goods to and from the north central part of the state via the Erie Canal. Its locks now lie in ruins along the the length of this road. Had the canal building era not ended so abruptly, the Black River Canal could have gone all the way to Ogdensburg!
Over the bridge and into the border, there is no line up to enter the True North this time. I pull up to the booth and the customs officer asks me if I am bringing anything back into Canada and if so, its total value. I tell her the token dollar amount of the odds and ends I got along the way.
I could have said, "Memories, lots of great memories, and they're priceless."