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Lauren had been asking to go backpacking with me for the year since I met her, and the four days without classes in October seemed like an ideal time. Lauren unfortunatley left one of her fleeces behind, which made staying warm during the hail, snow, and freezring rain we experienced on day two a challenge (even with my extra fleece). We hiked in from the Upper Works trailhead, and pitched a tarp at the Flowed Lands after it got dark. The next day we hiked to the other side of Avalanche Lake and back, and secured a spot in the closest lean-to to the register at the Flowed Lands. A middle-aged woman and her guide allowed us to use their stove in exchange for our excess food since our wisper Lite was broken. On day three we hiked out over a fresh dusting of new snow. Below is a poem Lauren wrote about the trip on the ride back to Ithaca.

hungry as a Hippo,
hop, jump,
and a skippo.
We're on the Upper Head Trail,
an the mud makes our boots flail.
It's gonna be a good trip,
a good trip,

A dam,
at Colden,
the water,
it's holden,
We're on to see the lake and the pass
Avalanche water as calm as glass,
We're gonna have a good day,
a good day,

Peanut butter,
and crackers.
our snackers.
moss like a fairy tale,
rose petals make your mind sail,
It's been a good day,
a good day,

in the morning,
at sunset,
it's storming,
wake before dawn for an early start,
cold to the bond but warm at heart.
We've had a good time,
a good time,

The lean-to,
was a blessing,
all of us,
with a common string.
Keeping us warm from the cold air,
Rob shared his vocal flair.
It was a cozy night,
a cozy night,

4.5 miles,
to the Hyandai,
mixed emotions,
I can't lie.
The warmth and food the awaits us,
but out here life is free of all fuss.
It's hard to leave,
hard to leave,

Little lessons,
of backpacking,
your voice,
I can hear ring,
From tarps to leave-no-trace,
the 7 D's to claim your space.
I learned so much,
learned so much,

Into the Wild,
some life quotes,
Shell Siversteins,
insightful note.
Let the white flags overhead fly,
The mountains might be my perfect high.
Life is so good,
is so good,

The mud,
on our boots and feet,
Our backpacks,
no longer neat.
The pain in our hips and backs,
Sure signs of teh Adirondacks,
It went too fast,
way too fast,

The memories,
and our smiles,
our laughter,
over the miles.
I cherish the time we've spent,
all my worries to Hell I've sent.
It was a good trip,
a good trip,

Next year,
the same road,
we'll carry, the same load.
The Adirondacks couldn't have been better,
No words can express, not even this letter.
This weekend was perfect, wonderfully perfect.