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We're heading south. The big news
today is, Barbara's 50! The second biggest, we're back in the good
old USA! After months of french TV, no TV, Loonies, and Kilometers,
things of the USA are good to be back to. Canada was a wonderful
place to be. We'll miss it. We decided paint and flower stores must
do well, from the look of their houses and yards.
We picked up our mail at Elsworth.
One letter. Pulling into Bar Harbor RV Park, the welcoming sign said,
“Make noise, we evict you. No second chance.” We kept quiet.
I left the emergency brake on
again, burned it out. Well, maybe, there's just enough space for one
more adjustment. It's cold. In the low 40's.
At Acadia National Park, there's
lots of good views, when the fog allows. The wind will just blow you
down. A car pulled in next to us at an overlook near the summit. Two
young kids jumped out, just started running pellmell down the
mountain, disappearing into the fog. The mother went ballistic.
Though she didn't know, the mountain is a dome. No cliffs, that we
saw.
It's Sunday morning. Lots of
fantastic looking churches, but most are deserted. We decided to go
to Bangor. “Paul Bunyan Days” seemed to be over, the town was
deserted. Barbara found a gift shop, just had to see it. I leaned
against the car and waited. A motorcycle cop drove by. Then, two or
three runners. Must be some sort of small race. To make a long story
short, by the time Barbara was shopped out, more than 1000 runners,
walkers, and limpers came by me.
We went back to Ellsburg. Barbara
had a mail package from Kinley. Kinley can really do a birthday
package up right!
Passing through Freeport, we
stopped at the giant LL Bean store. I asked what time they closed.
She said, “Do you see any locks on these doors?” Seems they had
closed three times in their history. Fire, President Kennedy's death,
and for the death of LL Bean.
The highway rose slowly, then we
passed through The Notch. It was very windy there, and we could see
Mt. Washington, the home of world record winds. 230 MPH. Past The
Notch, headed down, the mountain bloomed. It's hard to compete with
Sugar Maples in the Fall.
We asked a man at a store in
Ammonoosuc, “Where can we find a moose?” He told us where to be
at daylight, we were, and the moose was there too. Barbara was no
longer mooseless!
Heading west into Vermont, we
began to see covered bridges. We decided to search for a maple syrup
farm Barbara had heard about. After we drove forever, it seemed, on a
dirt road, a farm ahead was promising. The sign said, “We're not
it. Directions, $10.” We finally found it. 40 gallons of juice
equals one gallon of syrup. There are four different qualities of
syrup, depending upon how early in the season it is taken. Maple
syrup can actually be made in Arkansas, but it is difficult to time
when the sap starts to rise, with all the warm weather we have in
February.
September 28 – We start our
longest move, through Massachusetts and Connecticut to the KOA in
Plattskill, NY. We found out upon arrival that our tour of New York
City had been canceled, the driver of the bus had quit. After a day
or so, it was now on. The driver and guide were both former New York
City policemen. We visited the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, and
were shocked when we reached the top of the Empire State Building.
Skyscrapers just stretched almost to the edge of our vision. Coming
down, we flew through ten floors in seven seconds. To me, that's free
fall. Then Times Square, Rockefeller Center, NBC – and then headed
for home. They gave a prize for the oldest woman on the bus, and
since most of our companions were old, Barbara asked about a prize
for the youngest. That idea was unpopular. New York was a good place
to see, not one I would want to live in.
At Starlight camp, we were on top
of a mountain overlooking the Amish country. Farms seem to have 20 or
30 acres. Dozens of giant hot air balloons were taking off at
daylight. They make good use of their land. We went to an Amish
Farmer's Market the next day. Shoofly Pie, fresh squeezed apple
juice. Barbara was about to take a picture of two Amish men, playing
checkers. They waved it off, no pictures. They were making a living
off the tourists, and I thought that was a little odd. We overate
chocolate at Hershey. Horse and buggy rigs were just everywhere. The
simple life has it's attraction, taking life directly from the land.
Many of their harvesting devices were familiar, from Wing, many years
ago.
We moved to Gettysburg, and toured
the battle site. So much pain and death on these fields. The last man
to fall on Pickett's charge fell right here, by these bushes. We left
out on a dreary morning, somehow appropriate. Past a statue of an
officer on his horse at the crest of a hill, past thousands of
crosses standing in straight rows. We don't want to glorify war, but
we must pay tribute to these brave men. We were glad we saw it, even
more glad when we left.
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