After an energizing hike to Owl Lookout, we drove towards the nearby village of Lake Placid, planning to explore and have dinner. A couple miles out of town, we saw the tower of a multi-storied ski jump, looming above the trees. Part of the Olympic Ski Jumping Complex, this jump and its slightly shorter sibling are still used for competitions and training. Open despite COVID, we decided to visit the complex.
The last time we were in Lake Placid was September, 1979, the fall before the region hosted the 1980 Winter Olympics. At the time, there was a flurry of ongoing construction to complete the multitude of arenas, complexes and tracks required for the games, including two state of the art ski jumps. The jumps we saw from the road were indeed those constructed for 1980 games. However, in the forty ensuing years, we learned that new more challenging requirements for the sport necessitate the regrading of the landing hills in 1994. In 1980, aerial jumpers, nicknamed the ‘flying squirrels’ had to land either a 70 or 90 meter jump; since the mid 1990s, the stakes have been upped to 90 or 120 meters.
We took a gondola, dubbed the Skyride, to the base of the jumps to get a bottoms up view of the ramps down which the skiers glide. Besides tourists, this gondola carries athletes, coaches, officials, equipment and visitors from the lodge during practices and competitions to the jump towers.
From the base, we took an elevator inside the tower and then a series of outside metal steps to the top of the 120 meter jump; even with a fence in front of me, I got butterflies in the stomach looking down the ramp to the ground below. Granted there was no snow to ‘cushion’ the drop but this gave me an appreciation for the courage of the daredevils who take up this sport.
From the sky deck of the jump, we had a magnificent view of the high peaks of the Adirondacks, blanketed in evergreens, with only their rocky tops devoid of vegetation. Below in the clearing was the farm of famed abolitionist and underground railroad conductor, John Brown, who settled in Lake Placid to teach freed slaves the nuances of farming in the late 1800s.
Training takes place at the jumping complex year round. The Freestyle Aerial Training Center on site allows athletes to practice their airborne maneuvers in summer by jumping, then landing in a deep pool of water. Much to our delight, two teenage athletes were training with their coaches. We sauntered towards the pool to watch practice.
Practice is intense. The aerialist must first climb the wooden steps in ski boots, skis over shoulder. Then, donning her skis, she sidesteps up a ramp to the top of the jump being careful that the backs and tips of her skis stay in contact with the wood so she does not slip on the plastic surface.
The ramp has a plastic coating that simulates the slipperiness of the jump’s icy track. The athlete then positions herself on the plastic, skis pointed downhill, uses a forward leaning posture to push off, hurtling down the ramp, prepared to execute her aerial maneuver under the watchful eye of her coach.
We saw a variety of aerial rolls and flips with the goal of a graceful plunge into the depths of the pool. Ladened with skis and boots, the athlete finds a rope to maneuver herself to the pool’s edge, removes and hands her skis to an attendant and with some assistance, hoists herself out of the pool, still booted. Over and over these two young athletes repeated this procedure. As we watched, the young boy landed in a painful belly flop, hard enough to elicit tears and cause the pool attendant to jump in the water to help him. But after a brief respite to pull himself together, he gathered his skis and began the arduous climb up the steps to try again. You have to respect the grit and determination of these competitive athletes and the dreams that motivate them to practice, fail, pick themselves up and practice again until they successfully master a skill.
After touring the Olympic Ski Jumping Complex, we headed to downtown Lake Placid. A notable tourist destination on a mid-August sunny afternoon, the town was packed with people, not necessarily the ideal setting during a pandemic. But every person wore a mask, the restaurants and businesses were adhering to social distancing and hygiene guidelines and people were giving each other space. Searching for a place for dinner, we found Smoke Signals, a famed bbq restaurant with a gorgeous outdoor patio on Mirror Lake – with an hour to kill before restaurant opened for dinner, we walked to the small municipal park on the lake.
Ironically, downtown Lake Placid is not actually located on the famous lake that shares it name, but rather on Mirror Lake. Twenty times smaller than Lake Placid, but equally beautiful, the serene blue surface of this lake resembles a mirror, reflecting images of the surrounding town. Popular with kayakers, paddle boarders, paddle boaters, no motorized boats are allowed on the lake, further adding to its calm and ambience.
After a short detour for an ice cream cone while enroute to the park (after all we had an hour till dinner and had hiked all morning), we found a spot on a concrete wall near the water’s edge. The park was full of picnickers enjoying a meal, families with children wading in the shallows, people like us sitting on the wall soaking up the sun and scenery. It was easy to forget we were in the midst of a pandemic that had sickened hundreds of thousands of Americans, killing over 170,000 by mid August.
But New Yorkers who had been hit hard and early by the pandemic, were very cognizant of COVID’s consequences. We watched as a paddle boarder approached shore, pulling up her her mask as she beached and returned her board to the rental kiosk.
As I munched my ice cream cone, enjoying the activity on the lake, a duck came ashore, edging closer and closer, anticipating some dropped crumbs. Hating to disappoint him, I threw a few bits of cone his way. He gobbled them up, then followed a family with small children sharing popcorn from a cardboard carton as they walked. Quite the opportunist, he snapped up the trail of kernels left in their wake.
We walked over to Smoke Signal’s BBQ for dinner, getting in line about 15 mins prior to its opening. We just missed getting seated on the patio, so we ate inside at a socially distanced table, enjoying some fantastic brisket and ribs. Leaving with full stomachs and a carryout carton, we drove along Mirror Lake back toward our lodge, appreciating the reflections shimmering on the surface of this aptly named mountain lake.
