From Biathlon to Books at Lake Placid
When E and I pull into the Lake Placid biathlon shooting range, it is eerily quiet. There is not another car in sight. No rifles. No biathletes. We thought that we would be doing a photo shoot of a winter biathlon event, the sport that combines cross country skiing with riflery. A quick call to the local athletic development office confirms my worst fear. There is not an additional shooting range here in Lake Placid, New York; the event has been moved to Fort Kent, Maine, and no one has bothered to tell us.
We decide to make the most of a bad thing. Luckily, we were here earlier this year to cover the summer biathlon, which was organized by the local biathlon organization, and we know a little about the town. Lake Placid, of course, was home to the 1980 Winter Olympics. This is where we saw the “miracle on ice,” when a team of upstart American ice hockey amateurs beat the vaunted Soviet juggernaut. Seeing them win on television is such a vivid memory to me. I remember Mike Eruzione and the other “college kids” raising their hands and hockey sticks in triumph. It is hard to believe that it was more than 20 years ago.
From our last visit, we know that there is a charming secondhand bookstore on Main Street called With Pipe and Book. My brother-in-law Tom, a bibliophile and pipe-smoker, would be in heaven here. The slats of the hardwood floor creak wonderfully under the heels of your boots, and there is bin after bin of books, a section of antique maps and several display cases of pipes and tobacco. There is also a walk-in humidor for cigars. A brown and white cocker spaniel nuzzles up to me; he is two weeks new to the store. He follows me to the back of the store, where I learn that there is a covered porch laced with books that I failed to see on my last visit. It leads to an upstairs porch, and upper floor, where I browse through biographies, literature and business books. I hear squealing and laughter from downstairs. (I later learn that my new canine friend has stolen a bagel from the bag of one of three college students who have wandered into the store.) On the way out, I toy briefly with the idea of buying a thriller by Daniel Silva, but the urge passes out of my system. I successfully leave the store emptyhanded. My wife, who thinks that I am too good at stockpiling books in our apartment, would be proud.
After warming ourselves in With Pipe and Book, we wander down to the town library, which has a public path you can use to gain access to Mirror Lake. We see people skating and walking across its frozen surface. Incredibly, there are also two dog sled teams. I don’t know enough about dogs to know what kind they are—or if they are even “proper” sled dogs. One of the team leaders pauses to talk with a gathered gaggle of children after each pass. I am too far to hear what they are saying, but I watch them through my camera’s zoom lens as they gesticulate and talk to each other. They have an easy familiarity, and I wonder if they are related, or whether the sled team leader is simply enjoying a chat to educate them about her sport.
A skater goes speeding by. A father and his two children pass on skis. I have borrowed a digital SLR from E’s father. I fumble with the controls, as I put it through its paces. The sky is heavily overcast, and there is a light snow dusting the lake, so it is a good chance to work on my low light picture-taking skills. E and I take turns taking pictures of each other. I then dutifully follow her from store to store on Main Street. She has been a good enough sport not to complain about this assignment that has fallen through, so I am not going to complain either. In Lake Placid, you can try out many of the old Olympic venues. Whiteface Mountain and its ski slopes are nearby, but on this trip, we are going to have to make do with shopping for the height of our physical exertion.