Irene: at the inn, at the bridge

I spent Irene trapped at the Barkeater Inn. Getting to the Barkeater late yesterday afternoon was a little dicey, what with the torrential rains and high winds. I found myself shifting in a low gear, gripping the wheel, and hoping that the driving rain and water pouring off the mountains, into the rising gutter and onto the road didn’t suddenly sweep me into Upper Cascade Lake, which was higher than I’d ever seen.

A benefit scheduled for last night at the Barkeater went on in spite of the conditions. But road washouts in Keene Valley and Jay prevented a number of would-be guests from coming. The organizers expected 150 people. Last night’s headcount: 15.

Equipped with a generator, countless beds, a band, and the fixings for an enormous party, the Barkeater proved a pretty good place to wait out the storm. My drive back to Canton this morning, though,  was sobering. Branches littered NY 73. I spent over half an hour at the bridge next to the junction of County Highway 21. A line of cars wound down the highway, waiting for a small crew (one tractor and a few emergency officials) to clear debris off the bridge. Here are some pictures:

Road closed

log jam below the bridge

Tractor removing debris from bridge

Lake Placid Municipal Electric Department truck is the first vehicle to cross the bridge

While we were waiting, two almost-pedestrians in helmets and athletic wear crossed the bridge on roller skis. “Only in Lake Placid,” laughed Joann Reed, who writes the Adirondack Lifestyle blog. But she was serious about the damage. “This is mind boggling because we’ve lived here 25 years and never seen anything like this before,” she said. Everybody kept saying that further down the road (disclaimer: my geography of Lake Placid and surroundings is a little shaky, I am not sure if it was on River Road or Riverside Drive) the top layer of asphalt, new after this spring’s floods, had purportedly washed away. The official directing traffic, who declined to be interviewed, said that he felt bad even talking about the upset at this particular bridge–it was nothing compared to the damage in Keene.

The line of cars was finally allowed to cross, one by one.  In Lake Placid, bikers and joggers were out as usual.  The clouds dissipated as I drove west. By the time I arrived in Canton, the sky was utterly blue.

Tags: irene