As we rowed across the lake, I began to dream about all that this beautiful guide boat has seen in its lifetime, a lifetime more than five times that of my own. In those moments I traveled back in time: A lantern at the bow guided our way. Underneath a hound rested after a long day of flushing grouse. We sat upon a glorious bounty. The creel was full of brook trout and the pack basket filled to the brim with fiddleheads and morels. The stars danced all around us as they reflected in the water, wiggling with each ripple. Swollen brooks bellowed down the mountain walls and poured into the lake. An overwhelming sense of purpose took hold. As we rounded the last corner our destination came into view. The windows of the camp glowed with warm candlelight and smoke curled out the chimney. Soon these old leather boots would be off, freeing my sore feet. Just need to toss a couple logs in the stove and do it all again the next day. Oh, to be an Adirondack Guide.