Saranac Lake: We Went to the Adirondacks Because of Some Trolls

There is a special kind of trip that begins with a giant wooden troll.

I read somewhere that the trolls we had seen years ago in Maine were coming to the Adirondacks. Enormous, slightly strange creatures built from reclaimed wood and tucked into the forest like they had been living there all along.

I sent it to Jason. “We should go.”

And then something strange happened. We just…could.

I didn’t check a sports schedule. I didn’t text grandparents to see whether someone could stay with Hadley. I didn’t calculate whether four nights away would create more work than the trip was worth.

We looked at the calendar. We found a hotel. We booked it.

Because of some trolls.

This was not a bucket-list production. No complicated international logistics machine. No reservations made a year in advance or carefully constructed route involving trains, transfers, and three different currencies.

We were throwing our bags in the car, driving a few hours north, and checking into an old hotel in Saranac Lake.

Still, I was oddly excited. Maybe too excited.

I worried I had built the whole thing up in my head, which is absolutely something I am capable of doing. My imagination can turn four nights in the Adirondacks into a sweeping cinematic event before we have even backed out of the driveway.

But this trip was carrying something I hadn’t fully named yet.

The trolls were only how we found it.

Arriving in Saranac Lake: Adirondack Charm and a Missing Lake

Saranac Lake has the kind of Main Street that immediately makes you slow down.

Brick storefronts. Old signs. Hills rising green behind town. A village green where people still gather for summer concerts. It feels worn in rather than polished, like a place continuing to live its life whether tourists arrive or not.

Hotel Saranac sits right in the middle of it all, a grand old building with a lobby mercantile, vintage mail slots, and an elevator that gave me exactly the historic-hotel feeling I had hoped for.

The room itself leaned more generic flagship hotel than historic retreat, but the location was almost impossible to beat. We dropped our bags, left the car parked, and started walking.

Our first mission was to find the Riverwalk I had read about.

We did not. We did find Lake Flower, which was lovely, although I remained confused about two things:

Lake Flower is not a natural lake.

And where, exactly, was Saranac Lake in Saranac Lake?

Travel presents many mysteries.

We abandoned our investigation and headed to Berkeley Dive, a tiny cocktail bar with a bright, welcoming interior and a small outdoor space. My drink was cold, citrusy, and exactly what the beginning of a trip should taste like.

Then we walked a few minutes to Sofia’s for dinner.

The restaurant was also tiny, and arriving early saved us. We slipped into a table and started with a light margarita and a salsa unlike the standard red bowl placed automatically on most Mexican restaurant tables. Then came queso fundido, three little tacos filled with steak, lamb birria, and tempura shrimp, and grilled octopus.

Grilled octopus. Seriously. The atmosphere did not give off pulpo vibes.

Everything tasted scratch-made, right down to the tortillas, and dinner quickly became one of those meals that is as much about the conversation as the food. Jason and I debated my rating system on the Beli app, which he believes relies too heavily on my immediate, from-the-gut emotional response.

That is exactly what a rating is, Jason.

From there we began revisiting meals from our travels, a favorite dinner game of ours. We remember places through what we ate there: the extraordinary meal that still holds up years later, the beautiful restaurant that disappointed us, the unexpected plate in a tiny room that became part of the story forever.

Then we walked back to the hotel, poured a final drink, and watched a movie.

Our quiet evenings are so perfectly lame. They are also one of my favorite parts of traveling with him.

Slow Mornings and the Trolls That Started It All

Jason brought me coffee the next morning, as he nearly always does. And, as he has for nearly thirty years, he remained slightly uncertain about how I take it.

Very light. No sugar. For anyone keeping track.

We eased into the day with coffee, scrolling, and journaling while Jason caught up on a little work.

We can set an alarm and move quickly when a day demands it, but our natural rhythm is slower. Travel is wonderful. Travel is also exhausting. Life is exhausting. Sometimes I need a quiet morning to catch up with myself before I begin absorbing another day.

Those pauses are not wasted time. They are part of the trip.

Eventually we walked to Nori’s for a breakfast sandwich and iced latte, then gathered supplies for lunch: cheddar, soppressata, an apple, sourdough crackers, and spicy maple almonds.

Then it was time for the reason we had come. The trolls at The Wild Center. I love them an unreasonable amount.

They are whimsical and strange, enormous creatures hiding among pine trees as though they belong to some parallel forest world that adults have forgotten how to see. There is something joyful about encountering art outside, without velvet ropes or hushed museum voices, especially when the art looks capable of wandering away the moment your back is turned.

There was also a trail with multiple wooden ball runs, which entertained us far longer than it probably should have.

And because the world is bizarrely small, we happened to run into my sister, brother-in-law, nephew, and future niece-in-law while wandering through the woods.

We had taken a spontaneous couple’s trip to see some trolls and still somehow ended up at a family gathering beside one.

Of course we did.

A Lake Clear Picnic With Fifty of Our Closest Friends

Afterward, we drove to Lake Clear for our picnic. So did approximately fifty of our closest friends.

The quiet Adirondack beach I had pictured was considerably less quiet in reality, but Jason and I have become pretty good at creating a little world inside whatever is happening around us.

We spread out the blanket, cut the apple and cheese, poured a cocktail, and settled in beside the water.

The beach buzzed with families, children, coolers, and all the cheerful summer chaos I had not included in my mental photograph. Beyond it, the lake stretched toward a dark line of trees under a soft sky.

And somehow it still felt peaceful.

We ate cheese and soppressata and talked about our children, our plans, and the future.

A crowded beach. A wooden cutting board. A cold cocktail. This goofball.

Perfect enough.

Hard Pivots, Village Music, and Our Closing Ritual

Back at Hotel Saranac, dining plans fell apart for the first time.

Significant staffing issues had closed parts of the hotel’s food service, forcing us to abandon the easy dinner I had planned and regroup.

I do not love regrouping.

I spend an enormous amount of time planning trips so that, once we are there, everything flows. When something changes, my brain does not immediately say, What a delightful opportunity for spontaneity!

My brain says several other things first.

But we rallied and walked to Bitters & Bones for chips and guacamole, a burger, and wings. Nothing was particularly memorable, but rallying after a hard pivot always deserves a cocktail. 

On the walk back, music drifted across the village green. People sat in folding chairs beneath the trees while a summer concert played in the center of town.

The evening softened around us.

A disappointing dinner became a walk through a charming Adirondack village, music carrying through the warm air.

Then it was back to our room. Movie. Final drink.

Some traditions form the soul of our trips. Slow mornings begin them. A quiet return to our room closes them.

Only something truly special pulls us away from either.

Hiking, Loons, and Ice Cream for Lunch

The following morning began with an alarm. An actual alarm.

Another hotel closure sent us searching for breakfast, and what we found was passable, but only just. Thankfully, the hike that followed was worth waking early for.

We had the trail nearly to ourselves, climbing through quiet woods toward broad views of green Adirondack hills. There was enough scrambling to make it interesting without pushing it into the category where I begin questioning my life choices.

My new hiking boots worked. My poles worked. My pack, glasses, and water bladder worked.

Look at me. Basically an outdoorswoman now.

After hiking, we rented a pedal boat on Lake Flower.

Pedaling around a lake immediately after hiking may not have been our most strategic physical decision, but the water was calm and the hills reflected softly around us. Then a pair of loons appeared, gliding side by side across the lake.

Two loons, paired off and moving through the world together.

Relatable.

After a hike and an hour spent propelling ourselves around Lake Flower, Stewart’s ice cream seemed like an entirely appropriate lunch.

No notes.

We returned to the hotel for a nap and reset, then wandered through town again.

This time, we found the Riverwalk. Mystery solved.

Lake Placid Cocktails: When One Door Closes

Dinner at the hotel fell apart again.

By this point, its staffing problems, dining closures, lack of housekeeping, and occasional power glitches were creating real friction. The historic details and central location were lovely, but a hotel should make a trip easier, not require an ongoing contingency plan.

Still, sometimes when one door closes, another opens onto a lake view and a very good cocktail.

We drove to Lake Placid and ended up at Top of the Park. This was a Deb-and-Jason restaurant.

A leafy terrace overlooking Mirror Lake. Thoughtful cocktails. Small plates made for sharing. Crispy wings, a beautifully seared scallop, and the kind of leisurely ordering that lets dinner unfold one plate at a time.

We sat above the water as the late-day light softened across the lake, drinking and eating and congratulating ourselves on the pivot.

Lake Placid has more restaurants, more shops, and considerably more activity than Saranac Lake. It also has more traffic, more people, and a busy energy that wasn’t quite the mood of this trip.

I liked visiting.

I was happy to return to Saranac Lake.

A Rainy Adirondack Day and My Extremely Brave Mountain Coaster Ride

Our final full day arrived rainy, chilly, and gray.

Heavy rain ruined our first attempt at hiking, but not before we crowded into Soulshine Bagel with what seemed like every other damp person in the Adirondacks.

The space was busy and warm, with the comforting smell of toasted bagels filling the room. Breakfast fueled us for a hike that the rain immediately canceled.

Excellent.

The weather calmed just enough for us to keep our Cliffside Coaster reservation.

Jason loved it. I was brave.

These are not necessarily descriptions of the same experience.

My fear kept my hand firmly on the brake while Jason later described my run as: “Sllllooooowww.”

But I did it.

The coaster curved through a mountain wrapped in mist, clouds hanging low between the trees. I saw at least some of the scenery during the brief moments when I was not concentrating entirely on survival.

Victory.

We stopped at ADK Street Eats for a hot birria crunchwrap, crispy outside and rich with tender meat inside. It was exactly the kind of warm, messy food the damp day required.

Then the rain returned and pushed us back to the hotel.

There was nothing to do but nap. Tragic.

The Hidden Mushroom World of Brewster Peninsula

By afternoon, the rain softened enough for one last hike on the Brewster Peninsula Boundary and Ridge Trail Loop.

The storm had transformed the woods. Everything was lush, glossy, and startlingly alive. Water clung to leaves. Moss glowed against dark bark. The trail smelled of damp earth and pine, the whole forest freshly washed and deeper in color.

Then we noticed the mushrooms. They were everywhere.

Tiny white caps tucked into moss. Ruffled shelves layered along fallen logs. Bright orange clusters glowing against the wet forest floor. Strange, delicate shapes pushing through leaves and broken stumps.

Once we found the first few, the hike became a mushroom hunt.

We slowed down, scanning the ground and peering behind logs, nearly as interested in finding the next strange little specimen as we were in following the trail.

A hike having a purpose helps me slow down, apparently. And this purpose was completely unexpected.

The rain we had complained about all morning had revealed an entire miniature hidden world. We would have walked past most of it on a bright, dry day, moving too quickly toward whatever we thought the point of the hike was supposed to be.

Instead, we wandered through wet woods taking an absurd number of mushroom photographs.

Honestly, it was ridiculously fun. Apparently, I may be a mushroom person.

Hot Honey Pizza and One Final Pivot

Back in Saranac Lake, the hotel’s dining issues forced one final change of plans.

This time we walked a few minutes to Rivertrail Beerworks.

The room was casual and warm after the wet forest. We ordered a soft pretzel with cheese, hot honey pizza, and a cask margarita.

Salty bread dipped into warm cheese.

Crisp-edged pizza with sweetness, heat, and melted cheese.

A cold margarita after a rainy hike.

Once again, the thing I had not planned may have been better suited to the day than the thing I had.

Change is difficult for me, particularly after I have put so much effort into creating the shape of a trip. But sitting there, tearing apart a pretzel and reaching for another slice of hot honey pizza, I didn’t feel as though the day had gone wrong.

It had simply become something else. And it was good.

One Last Breakfast Before Home

The rain followed us into our final morning.

Before heading home, we stopped at Origin Coffee Co., where the warm café felt especially inviting against the chilly gray outside.

I ordered a breakfast burrito and a Sweater Weather latte made with local maple syrup, cinnamon, and cardamom.

The latte tasted exactly like its name: warm spice, soft sweetness, and the first quiet hint that summer would not last forever.

We sat with breakfast in our hands and the drive home ahead of us.

Hadley had done great while we were gone. So had I.

Such a small sentence. Such an enormous thing.

The Creak of an Opening Door

For most of our marriage, spontaneity existed within the boundaries of raising three children.

Even our adventures required infrastructure: grandparents and babysitters, school calendars and sports schedules, permission slips and rides, and someone responsible for keeping everyone alive.

For years, “Let’s go” was the beginning of a logistical discussion.

Now our youngest is seventeen.

She has a job. A car. Friends. Plans of her own.

And apparently, she can survive several days without us.

This is excellent news. I hate it.

Parenting is full of strange victories you work toward for years and then mourn when they arrive.

Independence is one of them.

This trip wasn’t freedom exactly.

It was the creak of an opening door. Not a door flung dramatically wide. Just the first small sound of movement. A little light appearing around the edges. On one side was Hadley, stepping farther into a life increasingly her own. On the other were Jason and me, driving home with muddy boots, a ridiculous number of mushroom photographs, and all the plans we have spent years dreaming about.

It was exactly as it should be. Proof, perhaps, that we had done an okay job.

Everything we wanted.

Liberating and heartbreaking all at once.

We hadn’t planned a ceremonial first step into the next chapter of our lives. I had simply seen something silly that I wanted to see. I sent it to Jason.

“We should go.”

And we did.

Somewhere in the Adirondacks, a giant wooden troll had been the first to point out that the door was opening.

I hope this inspires you to travel, to eat, and to join me as I continue sharing my journey through seven continents and infinite foods.

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If You Go – Quick Itinerary

Stay: Hotel Saranac for its central, walkable location and historic character. Be aware that our stay included significant dining and service disruptions.

Eat and drink: Berkeley Dive for cocktails; Sofia’s for scratch-made tacos, queso fundido, and unexpectedly good octopus; Nori’s for breakfast and picnic provisions; ADK Street Eats for the birria crunchwrap; Rivertrail Beerworks for pretzels and hot honey pizza; Origin Coffee Co. for breakfast and a Sweater Weather latte.

Worth the drive: Top of the Park in Lake Placid for cocktails, small plates, and a view over Mirror Lake.

Explore: The Wild Center and its giant wooden trolls; Lake Clear for a picnic; Lake Flower by pedal boat; the Saranac Lake Riverwalk; Baker Mountain before anyone else; and the Brewster Peninsula trails, especially after rain if you are interested in discovering that you may also be a mushroom person.

Our trip rhythm: Hike, eat, nap, cocktail, repeat.