It was supposed to be a quick trip for a cup of coffee, enjoying one of the first bright days of the season. But it became a day trip instead. Once we got in the car and reached the gas station, it seemed too nice a day to just grab a cup of joe and go back home. Who needed to pretend all the so-called adult stuff like getting the lawn done was the most important thing, when you had sunshine and an open road?

     So instead of the quick pit stop, we bypassed the fuel station and headed into town five miles away to pick up breakfast. Initially, we would have just called it a day there, watching the traffic and pedestrians mill to and fro, spying on their business while we remained hidden from view. It's always interesting to watch people go about their daily lives, wondering what they are doing and thinking. In its own peculiar way, it's a form of meditation as well, one where you pay attention to what's going on, rather than charging past everyone, regarding those as ants you have to crawl past in order to get your own life done. It's a way of recognizing other people have concerns, just like yourself.


     But neither one of us were in the mood to sit in an industrial parking lot. Rivers, streams, and other nature spots beckoned. So we drove around until we found the first spot that spoke to us before we settled down to eat. Somewhere quiet, where we could pretend that we were the only people around. You can indulge that illusion occasionally in upstate New York, but you still know it is an illusion.

     It was several miles away from the city when we settled on a fishing access point along the Susquehanna River. Along a lot of the rivers in upstate New York, occasionally you'll find these spots set aside for anglers, maintained by the Department of Environmental Conservation. Besides fishing, these places can be nice quiet areas for a quick break from running errands or other busywork. The ones I have seen are off main county and state highways. My guess is that the reasons might include these: the main highways were created near the rivers, where the access points would naturally be, and it would make sense to promote recreational fishing in areas where tourist and other interested parties could find them. This access point, Emmons Fishing Access Site, is located just past NY 7 on a county highway.


     The sun shone gloriously, dancing along the river in bright sequins. There was a slight breeze, just enough to kiss the waters awake. It bobbed its way downstream, toward the cities of Oneonta, Binghamton, and beyond. For a few minutes, we shared the area with a black truck, but it wasn't long before it pulled away. Then the sand lot was completely empty, and we had the entire place to ourselves.

     After breakfast, I walked down the to the riverbank with my dog Kirk. He sniffed happily away, glad to experience something different. I knew exactly what he was feeling. The river whispered past us as it went its way, happily swollen with water from the recent snowmelt, yet calm in its movements, as if it did not want to disturb anyone or anything about it as it made its way. I wondered what fish were there, lying beneath the river. Trout are big in these parts, but I'm not familiar enough with their habits to know exactly when or where they spawn, or their migratory pattern. But that didn't matter now. The river was here, and so was I. The sun welcomed all of us into its warmth, and nothing else seemed to matter.