I will admit that prior to this trip — and being berated by Ms. Hipster — that I couldn’t tell you the difference between The Poconos, The Catskills, The Berkshires and the whole area in upstate New York with the lakes and stuff. It’s all trees, bugs and bikers. The bearded kind, not the spandex type. I guess we can put the Poconos in Pennsylvania, which differentiates them from these other places. It’s the weird hill country that I have to cut through when there’s an accident — and when isn’t there — on 80 when we’re driving back home from Upstate New York. Filled with abandoned resorts and some questionable politics based solely on the mostly homemade roadside signs and pickup bumperstickers.
Rather than take our chances with Northeastern Hillbillies (hill people?), we made our way to a gated community called Arrowhead Lake Community Association in Pocono Lake, PA. Now, lest you conjure something fancy-pants in your mind when you hear “gated community,” rest assured this is not that. It’s not a bunch of samey-samey McMansions set up in neatly rowed streets with well-manicured lawns and shrubs in the shape of Greek gods or whatever. Nah, it’s a bunch of ramshackle mountain homes in various shapes and sizes, conditions and styles. But certainly not fancy. They’re vacation houses, pure and simple. Within this community are actually two lakes, Arrowhead Lake and North Arrowhead Lake. The former of which is 235 acres, while the latter is 86 acres. For those of you who can’t do that conversion, 86 acres is pretty small. And 235 acres is like 2.5 times bigger than pretty small. I believe at least one of them was dug as a pit to house ice or something back before refrigeration. So, yeah.
Amongst our daily activities was sitting. Sleeping late. Eating. Drinking beers. Watching tons of soccer (both the Euros and Copa were on while we there) and generally being lazy. Because this is what you do when you’re in the middle of the woods in PA. There was also a hot tub that you can see in the photo above. That was nice. And a fire pit in which we failed to start a fire. I blame the constant rain and the condition of the wood, but maybe we just stink at make fires. But Hipster Jr. and Hipster Jr. Jr. did some fishing. We rented poles and bought a bunch of tackle and worms (both real and fake) at this shop, Pocono Boat House. They were very nice and took pity on us city slickers. I thought we were unique in our dopiness, but on our return to get some more lures, it dawned on me that another patron, Eli, and his children, Avi and Sarah, were even more NYC than us. Literally from Manhattan, slumming it in the “mountains” for the week in their big-ass Tesla. Shit, I’m more country than that. I know because I was forced by Hipster Jr. to listen to Zach Bryan for the first time. I wanted to disown him after hearing this country bullshit, but was informed it’s not country, but something else and that all the frat boys are into it. I still don’t like it and will hold it against him forever. This is not how I raised him.
As part of this “community,” we had access to “beaches.” Which were essentially some areas of sand on the shore of the small lakes. They were crowded on the days it didn’t rain. And there was little to no shade on the days it didn’t. We were not interested in sweating to death, so we demurred. There was also a pool or two. I want to say they were arrow-shaped, maybe? They were equally crowded. At least the one we went to. Again, everyone was very pleasant. And there were way less Nazi-adjacent tattoos than at the nearby water parks that we’ve visited over the years. Again, a funny mixture of city and non-city folk alike. It’s interesting how you can just tell who came from NYC and Philly and who didn’t. Whatever the case, it’s all very low-key and family friendly. It is clear that we were just blowing through based on the “locals” we saw there. You know, the folks who came with their own golf carts to get around. And generally took their time walking in front of your car while you crept along at the 15 MPH speed limit. And where less amazed by the site of deer and ducks and what I think had to be bear scat off one of the roads we walked down.
This wasn’t a trip where we did much. We watched a 4th of July parade which entailed a bunch of weird white people driving by on their decorated golf carts throwing candy at us. There was, surprisingly, no political anything in any of it. Lots of Americana, but nothing outright thin blue line or Drumphy. Refreshing. But we went on walks around the property and kayaked a bit on the lake. And did nothing much of consequence. We went and got some ice cream at a fakey Dairy Queen called Joanie & Pete’s Dairy King, which was part of a mini golf and driving range complex built of spit and chewing gum. A small ice cream was enough to feed a large bodybuilder for three days. I’m not going to complain, but it was an absurd amount of food. We got beer at a joint called Harmony Beverage, which also had a ton of penny candy and random other stuff. The kids were happy with the candy, but I must say, beer is really expensive in PA. In some case seemingly 1.5 times more expensive than NJ. Must be a tax thing.
Look, this ain’t Paris. Hell, it’s not even The Shore. It’s rustic and homey. You have to bring your own food because there is very little in the way of grub in the area. Hipster Jr. ordered a pizza from a truck outside the pool and it was… Well, there is very little pizza I wouldn’t eat, but this stuff was zoo pizza minus. “Wood-fired” my Celeste-hating buttocks. We were chock full of NJ bagels, deli meat and any number of accoutrements from home, so we were good to go. There was a pool table in the house, so we played some pool. There was an outdoor ping-pong table, so we played some ping-pong. There was what appeared to be an elaborate cornhole set in the house, but the rain and uneven grounds made that seem arduous to set it up outside. Ultimately, it was a very chill vacation. The house was a perfect match for our family and the commute was easy. There was a GameCube that mysteriously had no games, which seemed to irk Hipster Jr. Jr. a little. But she got over it. I did let the leftover nightcrawlers we didn’t use as bait go in the thick underbrush, so I feel like perhaps I also did some good. And I discovered that blackout shades really do encourage sleep. Thumbs up all around.
