Just Across the Borderline

American and Bridal Veil Falls

American and Bridal Veil Falls

This morning is a late one – the moisture in the air caused Caleb to toss and turn in his bag causing more droplets to rain down from the tent ceiling which in turn got Piggy wet enough to start drying herself off. This should’ve been enough to get me up early, but 6:30 am would have to do. I stumbled over to the shower located amongst the RVs and got out still feeling dirty. Caleb was quicker than I and already back to the tent shaking excess water off before rolling it up.

I decide to put on jeans, instead of my usual tights attire for this trip, on my birthday. I’m not wearing them to look fancy, but they feel unusually rough on my skin that has gotten used to elastic material. I’ve successfully made another rotation around the sun. Today will be my 9,862-nd day celebrating life on Earth. To make this one a little more memorable than others I will be crossing the border, again, to set foot under 750,000 gallons of rushing water – otherwise known as Niagara Falls, the first American state park.

view from Maid of the Mist

view from Maid of the Mist

Exact numbers may be hard to find, but it’s easy to tell that millions of people cross this border each year, hence why there are now four bridges to aid with traffic and of those millions we are but two that are here to see twenty percent of the world’s fresh water flowing over the three falls located between New York and Ontario. The border agent on Rainbow Bridge inquires about our plans to stay for the day only. We just spent a week and a half in Canada and we are here for the falls.

It’s partly morning fog, but mostly the mist from the falls that we are driving through as we make our way over the bridge. I figure we will try to park as close as possible as all the other cars seem to have done in the sun, but we need shade for the dogs. We drive around for a while and end up in the Fallsview Casino parking garage. Just being near the falls could be enough for me – so much water, rocks, and mist – so much beautiful action.

I’m grateful that the International Joint Commission was able to come to an agreement about not removing the sloping mass of rocky fragments from the bottom of the falls. And that the falls are able to power hydroelectric generators and still put on a good show. The falls have only been stopped twice – once in 1848 due to an ice dam, and the second time in 1969 by engineers and scientists that tested the rocks and river bed for aesthetic purposes and anti-erosion methods that would be worth the cost and keep the tourists happy.

Cave of the Winds stairway in front of Bridal Veil Falls on Goat Island

Cave of the Winds stairway in front of Bridal Veil Falls on Goat Island

Luckily the project was deemed too expensive and wasn’t what the people wanted then – or now. It has taken over 10,000 years for the falls to erode almost seven miles. I’m sure they will be just as pretty in the year 12, 542 regardless of what cities the mist decides to cover – or if the falls get tired and quit flowing they will still be in the history books as a world wonder and the power plants would have to find a new source of energy, but for now the water flows at a pace that keeps a balance between visitor funding and local industry.

We find an information booth that only sells the Adventure Pass – admission to Journey Behind the Falls, Maid of the Mist, Film: Niagara’s Fury, White Water Walk, and two days of bus transportation. It’s a great deal if you plan on spending all day at the falls (which is totally possible) with another day or two to explore the surrounding attractions. I recommend a bike to cover the 31 miles from Fort George to Fort Erie. Our time here is limited due to our foot speed and having a week left of our trip to drive over 3,000 miles.

onboard the Maid of the Mist

onboard the Maid of the Mist – by Caleb

From the booth it’s a 15-minute walk to the Maid of the Mist. Our $40 gets us a 10:00 am departure, an elevator ride, a blue plastic poncho to wear, and a boat ride with anywhere from 300 – 600 other passengers past the American and Bridal Veil Falls and into the mist of Horseshoe Falls. It’s windy, wet, and scenic. What’s not to like – the woman with the two feet of curly hair that decides my face is the best place for her head mess. Caleb quickly switches spots with me (a few inches can always make a big difference – referring to his height) and my smile comes back.

The closer we get to the middle of our tour the denser the crowd gets, like a concert when the headlining band takes the stage, to get more pictures. People take turns and soon our six minutes are up. Total ride time is about 30 minutes – and I’m caught between time freezing so I can enjoy the moment longer and time flashing in a second to where if I didn’t have the pictures to prove it I might almost believe I wasn’t even there. Being able to add another item to my Building A Sandcastle list has built up an appetite.

We stop at a fast food place within the Maid of the Mist shopping plaza for a veggie burger and poutine to share. We take our quick meal to a table with two chairs and a view of the falls outside the large window – how romantic. I’ve had some delicious cakes and thoughtful gifts before, but starting a tradition of experiential birthdays is definitely more memorable. Full of carbs and gravy it’s time for our Journey Behind the Falls. Unlike the Maid that offers rides from both countries, this one can only be seen from Canada.

view of Horseshoe Falls from the Journey Behind the Falls upper viewing platform

view of Horseshoe Falls from the Journey Behind the Falls upper viewing platform

From one ride to the next is another 15-minute walk. These tickets are $36 and get us a yellow poncho, an elevator ride at 11:00 am, and a tour through tunnels about 150 feet below ground level and equidistant from the falls. Making our way to the elevator we see pictures and signatures of famous visitors, such as The Temptations and Tom Skerritt; and information about the ice boom, a series of pontoons cabled together and anchored to the river bed, that helps prevent ice accumulation that can interfere with the hydro-electric water intakes and cause flooding and damage to property along the shoreline.

We decide to read the fact placards as we make our way between Cataract Portal and Great Falls Portal, a distance of 650 feet, and save the viewing platform for last. People aren’t so patient – photo bombing us and squeezing into the spot we occupied before someone else gets it – and I understand. No amount of media can prepare someone properly for the amount of beauty seen and amazement felt once they arrive to a place so many want to visit and that they were able to afford.

Puck political cartoon of 26th president

Puck political cartoon of 26th president

The viewing platform is two levels. On the top-level I get a special feeling of awe as I stare at both sides of the falls and consider the power of water – to give and take life, to supply energy, and a place for sports. Making our way downstairs I pass a boy in his 20s carving his initials into the rock while his friends take pictures. The damage was already done and he wanted to carve deeper. I wasn’t sure of a language barrier, but it seems I made myself clear to him and all the others around us too scared to confront someone ruining this park for future visitors. Then I noticed all the names that have been carved before his.

We reach the You Are Here! sign located below the Table Rock Complex on the second level of the viewing platform. There is a lot more mist down here. As soon as we are back upstairs I begin to take off my poncho to keep me from sweating. We spend some time in the gift shop looking at the eight-foot moose named Murray, trying on hats, admiring the sculpture of pink Portuguese marble, and buy a shirt to commemorate our day in Canada on my birthday.

Our last snack was two hours ago and I’m hungry again. We stop at Cold Stone Creamery. The ice cream specialist hears a mention of birthday and reaches to grab me a scoop. I tell her instead to get us peanut butter cheesecake ice cream with KitKat candy pieces and strawberries in a medium cup. The daylight hours are half over and we plan on returning to the falls for the evening lights so we decide to tour Buffalo for a while – which is why I called my dad last night for some ideas. We return to the States via the Lewiston-Queenston Bridge.

Handel's Messiah written in the hand of Beethoven

Handel’s The Messiah written in the hand of Beethoven

First on our list though is the Theodore Roosevelt Inaugural National Historic Site, one of the oldest homes in Buffalo, on Delaware Avenue. We walk in just in time to join a group on a tour. Our guide takes us back in time to the days leading up to the death of President McKinley and Roosevelt riding in from the Adirondack Mountains to take the oath of office in the home of Ansley Wilcox on Sept. 14, 1901.

We were filled in as if we were in the moment and the people still in the room figuring out what to do and what to tell the country. The city of Buffalo was in the middle of the Pan-American Exposition, running from May 1st to Nov. 2nd. We learned about the carpets, wallpaper, woodworks, portraits, and the books on the shelves – not actually belonging to the house, but good literature that could’ve been found up to the historic moment.

kitty on West Ave

kitty on West Ave

We take turns reading aloud written Morse code messages from the Western Union Telegraph Company with 21,000 offices in America at the time – that now has over 500,000 locations around the world. Upstairs are displays that show the connection between things the way they were then and now – presidents to parents, a room of macro-shots of items from the Pan-Am Exposition, another room with political cartoons, and a presidential desk where I practiced approving or vetoing bills.

On the way from one place to the next, we planned to walk to Santasiero’s (restaurant recommended by dad), I call my mom after receiving a birthday text message. We don’t talk long as I notice a Karpeles Manuscript Library Museum, one of two within a half mile of each other. We get to see sheet music with the handwriting of Mendelssohn and a sales agreement for Polonaise in A-Flat Major by Chopin along with other pieces from the Romantic period.

At the corner we are stopped by a man in his van. Tony pulls over to get out of the lane to give us recommendations on art and music things to see while in the city – and that we were fine with. It’s when he started talking about politics and such that I was more than ready to eat. A few blocks later we realized how far this walk was – not long on the legs, but that we would see less if we tried to hoof it all. I kept walking towards the restaurant while Caleb went back to get the car.

All Nations House of Prayer

All Nations House of Prayer

Each house is unique, each pet is cute, each kid is loud and playful, and their parents curious and kind. We are in a college neighborhood so I’m easily confused for a local if not a university transplant. Twenty minutes go by and I worry that Caleb will not find me and have trouble doing so because of the one-way streets. I hear him asking if a couple had seen me as I come running up to the car, ”There she is!” A few turns later and we are outside Santasiero’s that advertises spaghetti and roast beef on their sign.

I feel like a dunce when I think the place is closed. I just didn’t pull the airtight door hard enough. It may be warm outside, but once we are through the second door the temperature drops and we take a seat at the bar. It’s a small, family business with a simple menu and cash-only policy. We order a half-spaghetti and a half-eggplant parmesan and get bread with butter and water with lemon while we wait. For dessert we drive to Fowler’s Chocolates in Tonawanda – paternal grandmother’s favorite and she gifts some to my dad every Easter.

Engine House 26

Engine House 26

I am overwhelmed by the pink on the walls and the milk, dark, and orange chocolate with different fillings. We buy a double-decker variety box for me, a triple pack of bars for Caleb, and some cubes of dark chocolate with orange sponge candy inside. I would’ve bought more, but we were afraid of it melting or the dogs eating it. With enough sugar to last three days we drive south again to the corner of Tonawanda St. and Progressive Ave. to a firehouse with my 2nd great uncle’s name, A. Kurchhoff, carved into a concrete sign on a brick wall for painting the building.

The sign was posted in 1894, so I know there is no chance of meeting him, but there’s something neat about seeing the work of my ancestor and imaging what life was like when he was alive. The front is beautiful and the windows dark, but the back addition leads to a door with men in lounge chairs inside. I knock. They are humorous and kind and more than willing to show me the chipped paint that remains under layers of new paint.

sky over Love Canal

sky over Love Canal

We get an official tour by Lt. Weitz whose father was a captain here. He shows us the lounge where they watch the news, the kitchen where they cook, the lockers where we talk about the TV drama Rescue Me, the tool bench with clothes on it, a fuel dipstick from the 1900s, the bedrooms with maps on the wall, the pole hole – sexy in film and dangerous in life, the foot of space in the dropped ceiling, and of course Engine 26. We learn that the locks were removed because the truck is keyless and that intersections have numbers that match key-boxes located around town, so that even when a business is closed a fireman has access.

We thank the guys for their generosity with our intrusion into their evening, though perhaps they too enjoy the history of the place and sharing that with inquiring minds. Now it’s time to visit my great aunts, Lillian and Ann, that live across the street from each other on Delta Road. Unfortunately no one is home and we ride off towards a beautiful sky and the Love Canal – a fenced-in memory of a “… failure to exercise a sense of concern for future generations” by dumping toxic waste in a residential area.

awaiting the lights on Niagara Falls viewing platform

awaiting the lights on Niagara Falls Observation Tower

With Dad’s recommended tour, on short notice, of things to see and eat in Buffalo complete we are ready to head back to Niagara Falls to see the water lit up when the sun goes down. We don’t feel like crossing the border again so we park by the Niagara Falls State Park and get to enjoy a bit more of the river before the falls. There are trees touching the swirling, rushing water and I hop down on a rock to join them. The birds begin to fly as the skyscraper lights come on.

Walking along the fence my pictures could give the impression that I’m in the river, but I don’t want the lights in my eyes, so we will look for a different spot. We walk to the Niagara Falls Observation Tower where a crowd is starting to gather on the far side of the elevators so we set up closer to land. As we stood there mid-conversation I for some reason took off my ring and we spent some time discussing how Caleb would go down, 282 feet, to fetch it if I happened to drop it – I put it back on and the show started.

Niagara Falls at night

Niagara Falls at night

The lights start off white and slowly fade to shades of red, purple, yellow, and blue and will stay that way until midnight, but not us. We are in need of a coffee for the road and a warm bed for the night while we dry out our tent. We find a coffee shop nearby and I order something tall with lots of sugar and caffeine. The walk back to the car is relaxing – a little too much in fact. I thought we would sleep somewhere south of Buffalo to be closer to home in the morning. But we are able to find a room under $100 at the Economy Inn in Tonawanda and we take it.

We were driving down the street to check with the competition, Budget Inn, when I spotted a skunk. I parked the car and crossed the street. I didn’t want to scare it, obviously, but I wanted a picture. Well, I got one of a black blur in tall green grass. Totally worth it to risk smelling like ass until we found industrial size tomato sauce cans to bathe with, but I’m sure the manager wouldn’t have allowed us in. No refunds, No pets. Room 106 for $61.46. While Caleb filled out the form I could see the man’s wife in bed in the next room and hear the movie she was watching. It feels weird bringing in the tent and leaving the dogs in the car, but I need sleep and no pet fees for unauthorized guests.

Posted in Animals, Birthday, Camping, Education, Family, Food, History, Media, People, Photography, Places, Travel, Water | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

In New York, The State That Today’s History is Made Of

Hudson River

Hudson River

Last night and early this morning didn’t involve much sleep. I woke at 11:00 pm to pee, at 1:00 am to rain and calf cramps, at 3:00 am just because, and finally at 5:30 am after an interesting dream with me involved with a sci-fi group of sex and murder. Then I had the choice to drive the wrong way on a one-way road and quickly exit the park or drive past the other campsites and along Laurel Lake – of course I chose the latter. All the other campers were parked in the close vicinity of the shower, amphitheater, and nature trail.

Through the morning fog with a crumb donut in hand I drive past a layered cemetery and a personal greenhouse before reaching the Empire State sign. While waiting at a stop light in Troy a man pulls up beside us and lets us know that we are far from home – farther than he thinks – as he sees the Montana plate on the back of the car, but are living in San Diego. He used to drive semi-trucks to the woods of the Big Sky Country. He wishes us a good visit and the light turns green.

weapons of war

weapons of war

I love the old architecture, and closed-in porches of wood and brick, of the cities of the Northeast – there is much history – and probably just as much lead, asbestos, and rusted pipes that make up the homes and businesses of the area. Then there’s the countryside and a barn with the year 1892 on the roof seen on our way to Mechanicville along the Hudson River that offers a beautiful reflection of the sky above it, the plants growing beside it, and the railroad track that crosses it on the north side of town.

Still north is the town of Stillwater where a blockhouse was built in 1927, for the 150th anniversary of the Battles of Saratoga, according to the detailed drawing by Thomas Anbury. It was the original visitor center for the Saratoga National Historic Park for over 40 years and we are headed to the newer one on a hill in the trees past the water fountain with the Notice: Water contains sodium in excess of 20 mg/L and should not be consumed by people on severely restricted sodium diets. The FDA considers anything sodium free if it contains less than 5 mg per serving.

 

the Freeman Farm

the Freeman Farm

Inside the museum are cannons, battlefield models, long musket rifles, and cufflinks from the American and British soldiers. Also on display is a leather pouch made of porcupine quills and other animal hair carried by the Oneida warriors that helped fight against the British. There is a driving tour that travels nine miles and has ten major stops by farms, forts, houses, trails, plenty of monuments, and a burial site.

A volunteer ranger, after putting away his liquid lunch, lets us in the Neilson House. Inside are two writing desks with papers, a candle, scissors, and inkpot with feather-ended pens; foldable beds made of wood and rope; shoe boxes and a chest; a fireplace with wooden stools; and up the ladder – more room for sleeping. It’s a beautiful place and I don’t want to imagine it covered in bloody bodies, but people have yet to figure out a peaceful way to share when religion, politics, money, land, and power are involved.

desk inside the Neilson House

desk inside the Neilson House

In the field is a little green spiny thing growing and either covered in dead leaves or dying itself. Its brown seeds are attached to a mass of thin strands – like a hair sample in the dyeing section in the beauty store – that will help carry them in the wind. Greatly contrasted is an orange caterpillar on gray pavement. We enjoy the grandeur of the park and its war memories – and being one of the most decisive battles in American and world history – but also the little things that make this place more unique to us.

Eight miles north is the Saratoga Monument in Schuylerville overlooking the National Cemetery and though we don’t know anyone in there personally we still find it worth looking at the extravagance of some of the tombstones and memorials left to remember someone who made a difference – or had a lot of money. Others have been buried with less decoration and had their effect on the world too. We are here to appreciate that – and to get to the top of the 155-foot monument which just happens to be closed today.

Saratoga Monument - by Caleb

Saratoga Monument – by Caleb

Maybe a bit upsetting, but I can’t expect every building I visit to open just for my arrival. I’m grateful that with fewer visitors the site is better preserved, then again, bones and flowers can’t do much damage above ground. We drive west to see the giant ballet slippers, brick and stone churches, and painted horses of Saratoga Springs. We stop to pick up dinner in Fonda at Sorrenti’s Pizzeria before getting on Hwy 90 and driving past Utica, Syracuse, and Rochester to find a campsite for the night.

We watched two boys keep on eye on SpongeBob SquarePants on the TV and their feet on the booth and tables while waiting for our pizza, mac-n-cheese bites, and garlic knots that we would eat on the road. The sunset is seen through fields of future groceries and we arrive at Darien Lakes State Park. California camping may cost a lot for tents, but at least the sites aren’t as strict.

sunset on a farm

sunset on a farm

Once in the little wooden booth the ranger informs us that we have a long list of questions to answer about our home, family, car, pets, and plans. Then she requests a proof of the dogs’ rabies vaccinations – are you fucking kidding me?! Ok, calm down. Luckily I needed them for entry into Canada and happen to have them with me. There needs to be more informative websites and brochures for these kinds of things. It was already after 8:00 pm, we wanted to get up early, and didn’t feel like sleeping at a KOA or hotel.

Seven dollars in randomly assessed taxes and a list of rules longer than my arm – and we have a primitive site for $19 – complete with basketball court and BBQ with boombox. I stayed in the car to talk with my dad for 25 minutes while Caleb got approached by two camp host ladies, that made Sparky bark, and then set up the tent. Pets aren’t allowed anywhere, not even the parking lot, and we have to carry their bag of shit out of the park with us – I hope they can hold it. We are still going to sleep with smiles on our faces. We had an excellent day and have a birthday to celebrate tomorrow – mine.

Posted in Camping, Food, Forts, History, Military, Photography, Places, Travel | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Mainly a Morning in Maine

cadmtn

By the lovely sunrise gods I am woken in the shadow of night. I stumble on the path through the trees to the fluorescently lit restroom. Once my mission there is accomplished I am suddenly more alert and feel like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. I hurry back to the tent and shake my husband awake. I ask him to tell me the celestial hour, but he is unable to because of a malfunctioning cell phone device. We rush to the car to my dead cell and I turn the key into the ignition. The little clock on the dash shows the time to be 4:30 am. No time to waste – I throw the car in reverse.

The other vehicles on the road seem innocent at first, but then I start to notice that they are all headed in the same direction – to the top of Cadillac Mountain. Panic sets in as we near the climb and I start to see dawn. I wanted to be there already and some slow person is taking their sweet time driving me absolutely berserk, for a split second, and then we are in the parking lot. Where did all these cars come from? Once we find a spot on the rocks a guy turns to us to join in our awe and let us know that some crazy couple decided to ride their bikes up here – and they still beat us to the top.

dilmnt

It is only 5:00 am when the sky begins to turn different shades of gray. The crowd begins to grow as the orange in the distance brightens the sky and highlights the fog covering the islands below. Forty minutes later and people are still filing in. It’s only now that we realize this peak is larger than we thought (and we will find out the parking lot is too). There is another side crowded with people and cameras. Behind us a couple brought foldable chairs and all the ingredients for a bowl of cereal.

In front of us, the only child present starts to play some cellphone game until her mother realizes the annoying sound is coming from beside her. Peace is restored and we go back to scanning the horizon looking for the bright ball of light that is due to bring life, energy, heat, and reflections to the plants, water, and faces of earthlings. 5:50 am the sun is spotted in the clouds and six minutes later it will begin to peek at the clouds, islands, eyeballs, and lens’ staring back.

photo by Caleb

photo by Caleb

It’s so pretty – and not just because I’m on a mountain in a state for the second day or because I’m partial to sunrises. It’s so mesmerizing that even though my pupils are starting to burn I find it hard to turn away – must aim face and camera at sun – enjoy moment as much as possible before going blind. But ten minutes later and the moment is gone for most people which is good; it gives us the freedom to move around and not block others’ views. There is fog and shadow, pink and yellow, and sun-kissed rocks.

It’s moments like this that I feel our love grow (though it may also grow when we see an unhappy couple – good comparison point) and am glad I have found someone to share this morning with – even if he only has one good eye to see it, he has given his whole heart to me and to nurturing the simple pleasures in life, which for this occasion is: a sunrise, holding my hand, giggling in conversation, kissing my sun-touched lips, and laying on the ground with me to get a flower photo from a different angle.

schooner

Margaret Todd in Bay Harbor

Now 6:30 am and the sun is moving up in the thick clouds. The view has changed dramatically in the last hour and a half and I enjoyed every second of it. We are now one of the few left gazing around longingly and reading the plaques about the location, one of which tells about the Frenchman Antoine Cadillac for who the mountain is named for his possession of it in the late 1600s. He would later go on to found Detroit in 1701 and inspire the name of the luxury car company that was founded 201 years later.

The drive down the summit road was much more relaxing. I made a memory with my husband and am now able to cross something off my Before Eternal Planking list. And I can’t forget to get a passport stamp for another national park visit. At Sieur de Monts Spring: The Heart of Acadia National Park we get to walk around the same area that Mr. Dorr fell in love with and purchased in 1909. I like that the garden is divided into different areas – wetlands, forest, and Caleb’s favorite – the bog ‘of eternal stench’ based on what plants are found in those regions.

ylowed

We haven’t forgotten about the dogs and go back south to pick them up. They were asleep in the tent when we got there. North of Bar Harbor is another visitor center – Hulls Cove. We stop in town first to see a guy repainting a building white; a giant lobster holding an ice cream cone; a schooner, the Margaret Todd, with four flags flying – American, Maine, New England, and Philippines; the rainbow of apartments above the shops below; and more offers for seafood and dessert. I can tell why fishermen love this place.

Somewhere near Saturday Cove we stop for sun, sand, shadows, splashing, seaweed, snapshots, and Sparky sprinting. We park by the road at the site of an apple tree, but the fallen ones and those within reach are rotten. We find a bakery, Borealis Breads, in Waldoboro where we get a garlic-hummus sandwich on rosemary bread, to split, a loaf of three-cheese focaccia and a cranberry-walnut log to go. Our next jaunt out of the car is at the Androscoggin Swinging Bridge connecting the towns of Brunswick and Topsham.

androbrdg

I saw a landmark sign and a parking lot big enough for five and turned around to get a look. The bridge was erected in 1892 of wire rope. It’s a good thing we didn’t get the dogs out of the car because Caleb wanted to test the bridge’s swinging ability. One side is a busy street with businesses and the other leads into a neighborhood with a walking path. Only six more rivers to cross, three other bodies of water, and we find ourselves accidentally on the toll road in New Hampshire.

We pay $4.00 for that mistake and take the Greenland Rd exit and follow that south to Historic Exeter where there are some nice two-story buildings: an old theatre, a curtain shop, a Szechuan restaurant, and an antique store. We don’t notice much more before entering Massachusetts where the border town has their Soles of Haverhill Shoe-labration on display. We see the ones in front of the firehouse and church. We admire the architecture of Lawrence before making our way to Lowell – our destination for today.

Pawtucket Canal

Pawtucket Canal

We park in front of the visitor center – or as close as the street will allow to the entrance – knowing that Lowell National Historic Park should be closed. We are in luck though as we catch an employee leaving work at 5:30 pm. She has forgotten her keys, but waits for security to let us in for a map and a stamp. We can still do the walking tour of the canal system, peek in the windows, and meet some of the locals.

There is a work dinner or birthday party going on in Market Mills Park where the Homage to Women sculpture is dedicated to the nineteenth century mill girls. There is a sign posted on the fence designating the area as a Busk Stop: Public Performance Space with rules available at Lowell.org. All the people nearby are too busy eating cake to entertain us. As we turn to leave we notice a kid in the street sitting on the handlebars of his bike and peddling backwards, perhaps because there is no tire on his rear wheel.

Lower Locks

Lower Locks

We walk through the UMass Lowell Inn like we own the place and find that the back door leads directly to the Lower Locks. I like how the build of a space, and the materials used, can give a different feel to a place. I’m standing in a state that helped build the U.S. to what it is today and in a city that once prospered with six miles of canals powering ten mill complexes with ten thousand looms. Working conditions might not have been great, but business was booming for a hundred years until competition closed the mills.

For someone visiting today, with a strong imagination, I can still hear the water powering the turbine, that generates electricity into the looms, and employs the workers for 12-14 hour days. I can hear the women in the windows and the men’s shoes on the street. I can see the smoke rising from the power house smoke stacks and the end of a man’s pipe. And in front of us, no fantasized imagery is necessary. We get to watch ‘the boys’ feed the ducks while the father and older brothers, uncles, or friends fish – a heartwarming scene.

willow tree in Lowell, MA

willow tree in Lowell, MA

I don’t know the uses of the Boarding House Park 150 years ago, but today people can be seen stretching, climbing stairs, riding bikes, drawing with chalk on the sidewalk, and admiring the layout, colors, and history integrated into this area. I also enjoyed looking at the contrasted skies, gray sculptures, Lowell Five Cent Savings Bank, and all the signs telling me what not to do – don’t enter this street, don’t park in front of this gate, and don’t use wheeled, non-motorized, transportation on the sidewalk – though I think it’s implied that I don’t drive on it either.

We drive halfway across the state to Erving State Forest where we will camp near Laurel Lake at campsite 4. The park seems a little empty – no ranger or other visitors in sight. It’s dark and a little moist while we are setting up for dinner and sleep. Caleb airs up the beds and I heat up the broccoli soup that we have with focaccia bread. Only in the Northeast can you drive across three states, watch the sunrise, visit a garden, play at the beach, walk around a historic district, and camp in seclusion.

Posted in Camping, Events, Food, History, People, Photography, Places, Plants, Travel, Water | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Parlez-vous français?

U.S. Border Inspection Station - Coburn Gore, Maine

U.S. Border Inspection Station – Coburn Gore, Maine

Another early morning and with nothing left to do at camp we were gone before 5:30 am and facing another cloudy morning. Breakfast is at the border at this little known place called ‘the back of the car cooler with sandwich supplies in it’. Now we are feeling excited – a new province and a language we don’t speak; though we are having luck guessing the directions est and ouest and the common sign sortie that lead to off-ramps.

We were bienvenue’d through Ottawa and through most of Montreal. We would’ve missed it had it not been for the near empty gas tank. We stopped in Brossard on the east side of the St Lawrence River. Caleb recognized the shaped street lights from the YouTube show Epic Meal Time and was thrilled. Then we get our chance to share a conversation with someone – a gas station attendant. Luckily I knew the routine – pump then pay or come inside, show your card or leave it with the attendant, pump gas, then return inside for card – because the exchange was hilarious.

Flagstaff Lake

Flagstaff Lake

Caleb walks up, “I need gas.” And the lady replies, “French only, but perhaps I know English. Ha ha.” And I start laughing. I can’t contain myself. Caleb says something else just to check her response and she squeezes her hand together like pumping gas. I told Caleb to go. Then we watched him pump gas. She might’ve been able to read English because she wanted me to write something on receipt paper, but I wasn’t able to understand.

Caleb wanted to give the poor lady a hard time (not to her face) but for not knowing English when she lives less than an hour from the States. I told him it’s just like us living five minutes away from Mexico and not fully understanding the full Spanish language yet; though it is easier to read and write than to speak. We see a large store across the parking lot that reminds us of REI. This one is called SAIL. I’m anxious to get inside and meet more of the locals and Caleb says we need to shop – so over we go to wait for them to open.

acadiatent

While doing so I admire their store hours and think about how close the French words for the days of the week, ending in di, resemble the Spanish words for the same, ending in es. We look at a tiny basket that has been left outside and think of the fun and pain we could have standing in it, but I’m just as quickly distracted by the beautiful flowers they have growing near the building. The doors open and I am all smiles. The store is four times the size of the outdoor outfitters we have.

There are mostly sleeping mats, sleeping bags, hiking bags, coats and tights, kayaks, fishing poles, and shoes. There were plenty of people working there to help us bilingually – it just flows from their mouth so naturally – damn cheap public American schools. We have no problems checking out and are soon back to enjoying road signs – a car and a tractor colliding, a car sign and a deer sign colliding, a man strutting sign, and the most confusing of all but most honest – what looks to be a beaten child left for dead with the words ‘attention and infant’; it means if you don’t slow down you will kill a child.

suntree

Amongst all the signs we pass one worth stopping for – Parc national de la Yamaska, with a no sign for shooting and picking up turtles. Something else they should add to that sign is their no pet on park grounds, in vehicle or not, policy. We try another park and they turn us away too. And to cheer us up we buy pickled cheese noodles from a local farmer that sells random things in a roadside shack. Yum. And we are just in time for crossing back into the States at the Coburn Gore border inspection station.

We forgot the stamp coming in so I don’t want to forget it leaving. The inspection officer lady makes fun of us, in kindness, and I’m happy to have my second cancellation. Now to drive across the state, skip Bangor now so I can bang him later, and get to Acadia National Park to the Seawall Campground at the south end of Mt Desert Island. We see an American flag on every other power-line pole near Eustis, but that doesn’t help with the language barrier – though mine was a sign error. I walked into a bank thinking it was a visitor center with a toilette, but was able to find one at the grocery store down the road.

suncloud

We stopped in Kingfield for the simple Main St. and stayed to look at the Herbert Grand Hotel, the colorful buildings across the street, and the old church across town. We reach the island before 6:00 pm and are lucky enough to get a spot in the woods for $14 – Loop D, site 61 by 6:30 pm. We are glad to have made it this year as a walk in because next season will be reservation only. We head just out of the campgrounds looking at Cranberry Isles to the east and the sunset to the west.

Back at camp I heat up some soup while Caleb sets up the tent. The ranger told us earlier that due to our distance from Cadillac Mountain, the one lots of people visit annually to watch the sunrise at 1,531 feet (the highest point on the east coast), that we should leave camp at 4:30 am to get to the top in time with all the traffic expected. Even so, I wanted to enjoy the rest of the evening. We went to the parking lot, a better view, to watch the moon and stars – romantic and educational – Caleb had a telescope as a child with a sky map.

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Above Average: Over 500 Miles

blue

For the two weeks that we’ve been on vacation we’ve had a hard time going over 400 miles daily and only achieved it twice until yesterday when we covered 556 miles. We knew we had to drive just as much today, if not more, because we had given ourselves two weeks to get to Maine and just as long to return. Today is the 16th day of our trip and we still have a province and a state to cross. And because of our time predicament we will take the early morning slow, enjoy it, and try our best to not get too sidetracked during today’s drive.

The ranger assured us last night that the beach was the perfect spot to watch the sunrise. I thought that odd because it’s exactly where the sunset was, but figured it would still be pretty to see the colors develop in the sky over the water. Well, that moment never came. We stood on the beach, swatted at the mosquitoes, danced in the water, and tried to keep our toes warm by digging them into the rocks. Once the sky got a lighter blue I decided it was time to take a shower.

I can always appreciate a good washing, as I’m sure the people who encounter me throughout the day can as well. I thought this would be a simple three-minute ordeal and we would be on our way. The nozzle was like a water hose in diameter, but a fire hose in strength which I hoped would keep the mosquitoes off. I ended up playing whack-a-mosquito with their bloody little bodies all over the walls and others attacking me while I dance and get soap in my eye – partially clean and mostly wet I put my clothes on.

We stop in Batchawana Bay at the Voyageurs’ Lodge for breakfast and gas. We look for something quick. Caleb gets an apple fritter. I get an oatmeal bar and a fig pastry. They weren’t impressive, but we were fed. After father and son filled the tank and wiped the windshield we were on our way to Sault St. Marie to get the oil changed at Jiffy Lube where the customer service was fantastic. Then we made our way to the Wal-Mart and Home Depot parking lot to purchase things and borrow tools.

road sign

road sign

I forgot about the ‘No shirt, No shoes, No service’ policy. I had no problem in Wal-Mart, but they didn’t have what we needed, so we went next door. One of the employees expressed concern about my toes being smashed without shoes on. Well, someone told the manager, so I went to the car, put my soggy shoes on again, went back in, and then we were done and ready to go. I suppose a little trouble was needed to keep the trip balanced. Everything has been so perfect – even being asked to leave a store for the first time.

Driving along the Trans-Canada Highway we see, what seems to us, an exorbitant amount of horse and buggies carrying Amish and Old Order Mennonites. It’s not that we haven’t seen them before, one or two at a time, in Pennsylvania or the other many states that they call home. It’s that Ontario is the only province with Amish and there is either a sale at Jacob’s farm or it’s… Monday? I revel in the thought of joining them in the simplicity of family and community. And then I get back to driving my gas guzzling SUV down the road with my exhaust in their horse’s face.

Somewhere between Sault St. Marie and Sudbury are some trails that take visitors past fenced in mine holes – totally not as interesting as we thought. We pulled over and put on our hiking boots because the trail was washed out. We let the dogs go ahead of us and when Piggy fell into one of the pits, after I could get the majority of my laughing over, I called her back so we could return to the car. No point in drowning the blind dog in muddy water over a mine we can’t get stuck in, but it might’ve been awesome.

We stop in Verner to buy some cheese noodles in a jar, then in Sturgeon Falls to stretch our legs. We drive through North Bay to Mattawa where we will stay along the border, following the Ottawa River, of Ontario and Quebec until Pembroke where the road splits. Dinner of mac-n-cheese with tomato is had in a parking lot in Cobden in front of their welcome billboard. And sleep will be had at the campgrounds of Fitzroy Provincial Park. We did it. We managed to drive 564 miles today and wear ourselves out. Sleep comes easy tonight in our moist and sandy tent.

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