There were some pretty epic thunderstorms last week but it was a new moon and the Perseids were peaking so I searched the Northeast for pockets of clear skies. A section in the Western Adirondacks appeared to be one of these pockets. I passed through torrential downpours on the way up. The forecast changed and when I exited 81 to head west at Watertown I could see a long stretch of heavy gray clouds between me and my destination as the sun was setting. Light rain turned heavy. I watched a single charge that must have been miles long light up the clouds before it connected with the ground below in four equidistant, nearly vertical bolts simultaneously. As I drove towards that electrical fence along the horizon, I wondered what my night would be like and the usual questions arose: why had I driven so far for such a short trip, what is this odd compulsion I have to sleep outside, alone in the woods and when I will I outgrow it. A lightning bolt struck less than a quarter mile down the road. The interior of my car and the forest around me flashed purplish white in its glow. The familiar thought, “Way to go, Sam, great idea,” occurred to me. It is often the only thing I say aloud during long trips alone.
In the course of forty miles, I passed through the storm and came out from under the clouds near Star Lake, NY where I packed my kayak and paddled up the Oswegatchie. There were plenty of meteors and about an hour into the paddle upriver, I saw a fireball. It was all I needed: the trip was a success. I had a fire and didn’t even need a rain jacket.
On my way back, two days later, I visited a series of waterfalls around Ithaca where some trails and parks were closed due to flooding.
Finally, I should mention that I lifted that butterfly to a branch where it dried its wings and that the orange point of light on the left in the first photo is Mars.