Loud Beeps and Low Bridges

Another late start, nearly forty dollars in road tolls from Pennsylvania and in darkness we found our highway exit for Evangola State Park in New York located about an hour’s drive below Niagara Falls. I had asked the friendly toll booth operator if he had been to the park and he replied in a thick New York accent, “only about a thousand times”. He gave me some local insight about the park along with some loose directions and we were on our way. With Google maps leading the way we headed towards the campground. After a twenty-five minute drive from the toll booth, we arrived at our third road block. Our directions had taken us on a rural two lane road with a train trestle passing over. As we approached the underpass, thankfully there was a sign listing the clearance at twelve foot five inches. The problem being, the Windryder stands at twelve feet seven inches. With no room to turn around we were faced with another challenge. It was around Nine o’clock and dark. Not the type of darkness where you can still make out houses but Vegas hotel room dark.  With our hazard lights flashing we considered our options.  Should I have Laurel drive while I climb up the ladder on the back of the coach to spot her as she attempts to make it under the overpass? Problem is if we get stuck we are in a dangerous spot in the dark having to detach our truck so we can back the Windryder out. The other option is take a right hand turn up a narrow one way road and see if there is a turn around. Gavin and I dawned our head lamps and walked up the road to find a church parking lot with room to turn around.

With the map showing an alternate crossing another ten miles away and closer to the State Park we headed back through the darkness to the main road to again try and reach the campground. About five minutes underway we spotted a strange light floating above the roadway. As we approached we discovered an electronic sign displaying gas prices. I had never seen a private sign like this located directly above a public roadway. After passing a gas station / truckstop and a small town, through a round-a-bout we made our turn and again in the distance we noticed more strange lights floating above the roadway. We struggled to make out the lights thinking it was the same thing as we experienced a few miles back. To our dismay we realized that the train crossing was an overpass and was located between us and the floating lights. We were looking at the floating lights in the distance hovering between the roadway and the bottom of the underpass. There were no reflectors or lights on the bridge above only a sign that read “Clearance twelve feet”.  We were approaching the bridge quickly as I dropped it into low gear to stop.  With about thirty five yards to spare I pulled off on the shoulder, barely the width of our coach and came to a stop. While the road was an extra wide two lanes there was not enough room to turn around without unhooking the truck. So I again put hazard lights on and jumped out to unhook. With intermittent traffic whizzing by it was not the safest spot to perform the task. Once unhooked Laurel drove the truck and followed me in the RV with the kids back to the truck stop we had last passed. I parked out of the way across a large parking lot from the gas station to reattach the truck and figure out our next step.

Not ready to give up, Gavin and I jumped out to ask a local for directions and see if we could find a route that took us over the train tracks. All the routes on our maps and Google looked to go over the tracks but we learned the hard way that was not the case. As we approached the doors of the foodmart / gas station we realized the lone girl behind the counter was probably not our best option for directions to the State Park. We were looking for someone dressed in camouflage or at the very least looked like the outdoors type. As we walked in we noticed a guy pumping gas in a convertible mustang so we took a chance on him first. From a distance he looked to be an intimidating character. Standing tall and fit he sported a wide and long jet black mohawk worn straight back falling to the middle of his shoulder blades. Approaching him in the daytime would have been a bit unnerving as even from a distance he offered up a “Don’t mess with me” vibe. But at night and in a completely unfamiliar area it made it all the more unsettling. Upon approach we found an intense looking Native American Indian feeding his steel mustang horse. Being in New York and we being the obvious tourist, I expected a brush off but was thankful to discover a gentle and soft spoken man who readily offered assistance. As he spoke I kept fighting distractions in my head that made it challenging to make mental note of his directions. I kept thinking we were somehow in a strange scene of a Quentin Tarantino movie. With the bright fluorescent lights of the sparsely populated service station surrounded by darkness in the middle of nowhere with only the lone car passing by every so often. I kept glancing across the large parking lot at our motorhome to somehow anchor myself. As he continued, I couldn’t help but think the directions sounded very similar to what the guy at the toll both had told us. Right then I realized we had made our initial turn too soon. We should have continued another four miles before turning. This would have carried us over the tracks from the start and we would have avoided all the low bridges. Thanks to Google maps we had made the turn before the tracks. Now we had to back track for twenty minutes and drive over the tracks and then back another twenty minutes or more to get to the State Park

As we headed back we decided to continue on towards Niagara Falls instead of backtracking to the State Park. We found a Walmart several miles ahead to park for the night. We headed there and found an out of the way spot far away from the store that was open twenty four hours a day. We pulled up next to another RV, fired up our generator, had some food and got ready for bed.

Fast asleep then rudely awoken to a LOUD BEEPING noise a short time later. It sounded as though we had parked next to the loading dock and they were running the forklifts reverse beeper through an amplifier. After little to no sleep I asked SIRI to find me the closest State Park. Five miles away I found a state park offering day use only. With the family asleep I fired up the rig and headed there to try and get some more shut eye. Too early for even a ranger the gate was open so I pulled into the lot, parked out of the way and crawled back into bed. Fast asleep I started hearing a faint beeping sound. What the…could I possibly be dreaming? Did the constant beeping from the last six hours permanently invade my head? I fought it off and went back to sleep with the beeping fading in and out. When I awoke an hour and a half later to let the dog out I discovered I was less than fifty yards from a construction site where the back hoe was operating with a reverse beeper. AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

After a terrible night sleep we took our time getting on the road. We were close to Niagara Falls with very few budget friendly camping options nearby.  We decided to blow up our budget on a resort style campground named Branches which is located on Grand Island, ten minutes from the falls.

 

The campground is more developed than we prefer offering a family friendly facility with everything from zip lines to putt, putt golf. Since it was late in the season most of those play options were closed. The rain moved in slowing the kids down on all the activities but didn’t stop us from taking the longest hottest showers to date. No drought here.

The next morning offered cleared skies and temperatures in the high fifties and low sixties for our visit to the falls.

A perfect day here we were told. As you cross the bridge from Grand Island you can see the mist from the falls rising through the air at the Canadian border.

The kids couldn’t believe they could see Canada from where we were. With miles of road construction around the falls the detours luckily dropped us in the closest parking area. We were super excited to get on the Maid of the Mist to get up close and personal with the falls.

Going Down

With a two hundred foot elevator ride down to the water we dawned our blue plastic rain ponchos waiting to board the Maid of the Mist.

 

With a spot on the upper deck next to the rail we shoved off into the gorge marking off another experience on our bucket list.

Finally seeing the falls in person made us wonder why it had taken so long to visit. We were all getting more excited as we pulled into the horseshoe and the mist enveloped the boat. The blue rain ponchos came in handy as we eased into the roar of the falls. My only hope was the ship’s captain had better visibility then us. The roar of falling water increase as we neared the impact zone. It became difficult to hear the person speaking next to you.

As easily as she floated in, we floated out with the current and the foggy mist changed to blue sky. The roar may have subsided but not our excitement. The experience offered a welcome adrenaline rush. We all found it hard to wrap our heads around the fact that millions of gallons of water have been flowing here year after year for centuries. All while our home state is suffering through a severe drought.

Back safely on land we hiked around, took a bunch of photos and had lunch at the top of the falls on the New York side.

While the New York Side is a State Park, the Canadians have exploited their side by building a Vegas style strip complete with casinos. A strange dichotomy to say the least.

We felt our full day visit wasn’t complete without getting even closer to the falls to experience more of their power. Once again we took an elevator two hundred feet down to Cave of the Winds. Dawning yellow ponchos this time we traversed the stairs and walkways to the base of the falls.

Laurel and I tried to make sure we were water tight, however our boys took the opportunity to experience the falls in all their glory. With ponchos on they stood in the impact zone and got soaked. They would take turns allowing other tourists to stand in the sweet spot but filled the empty space at every opportunity.

It looked as if they jumped in a pool with their clothes on. We all took turns getting up close and personal with the falls. It was hard to tear the boys away. Thoroughly soaked we headed back to the top to dry out and make our way back to camp. Driving over the bridge we took one last glance at the mist rising from the gorge knowing we wouldn’t be back for some time to come.

Later that night through Facebook we discovered my cousin Gary who lives in Georgia had coincidentally visited The Falls that same day. I was so disappointed we didn’t know so we could connect. We haven’t seen each other in years. We’ll see you late February or early March Gary.

That evening the kids and I rode bikes around the campground to explore. Aside from ninety thoughtfully planned beautiful acres of camping they also offer small cabins for rent. Most of them sit around the large manmade lake. The lake is large enough to paddleboard around in about fifteen minutes and has an island with a pavilion which is accessed by a grass covered bridge. They were planning a bonfire that night with hot cider and pastries on offer. We arrived for the lighting having dressed for the cold although we would soon find out it was not as cold as things to come.

As the fire lit up the island we met a handful of other campers, the general manager and one of the owners. We found out the owners had all been looking for a family oriented investment and had purchased the property only seven years ago. The general manager, a builder by trade was hired on at that time to develop the campground. The owners, all Christian by faith have placed their hearts into the place and you can tell from the time you enter the park. After learning about the history of the property and chatting with some other folks we retired to bed for an early travel day in the morning. Before we left the bonfire I asked the GM if he could recommend a truck stop close by where I could get air in my tires and he said I could swing by the shop in the morning on the way out.

Next morning we were up and out early and swung by his shop to top off the air in the tires. Come to find out there was a screw in the rear right tire of our truck which was responsible for the under inflated tire. Before I had the rest of the coach tires topped off the GM had plugged the whole in the truck tire at no charge and we were soon on our way looking forward to the Adirondacks.

Mentor Ohio

Ohio was on our list of stops from the start of our planning as Laurel has extended family in Mentor. It didn’t register with me until my sister reminded me that her husband is from Cleveland and one of his sisters lives in Mentor. We made our way to our next campsite, Aunt Wally and Uncle Bill’s. They live on a beautiful cul-de-sac and offered us a spot in their tree lined, long and narrow driveway. With power hooked up we were set.

The family all came together for a dinner out at local spot. Great times were had by all as everyone caught up.

With the never ending load of school work looming over us we spent the next day, all day at the local library. The kids worked hard to get caught up on studies while Aunt Wally spent the day preparing a traditional Thanksgiving Dinner. The meal and great company made me wish we would be coming back in November. A HUGE thank you to Aunt Wally and Uncle Bill for their hospitality and perfect campsite. We appreciate you making us all feel like part of the family. After a couple night’s stay and a long goodbye we were off to Niagara Falls.

A late start and late arrival seem to be our modus operandi. We focus most of our driving on roads less traveled which tend to require more time to get to our destination. This being no different, Aunt Wally recommended we drive through Geneva on the way out of Ohio. The route heads toward the coast of Lake Erie and passes through a few wineries and B & B’s.

Once off route 90 heading toward Geneva we stopped for propane as I like to keep our fuel topped off. Unfortunately our propane tanks are not the ones you can exchange at the local hardware store. They require finding a filling station which can be a challenge in itself. In our quest for fuel we soon felt as if we had entered an episode of the Twilight Zone. The spot we found was up on a hill not far off the road. The driveway was dirt and gravel filled with holes large enough to eat an entire wheel off the Windryder. The large propane tank and fueling station sat in the middle of the sloped driveway between the large metal building and the road. I carefully pulled our rig up the drive and around the large propane tank so we sat between the tank and the main building. As we pulled up into the driveway I noticed two girls on the other side of the building. They were smoking cigarettes whilst sitting on top of the cage that housed the five gallon portable propane tanks. Once parked I walked around the rig and up to the building looking for someone to help fill our tank. There were two service bays open on each end that ran the length of the building front to back and were large enough to drive a semi-truck through. I spotted a fellow at the other end of one of the service bays and when I went to get his attention he stepped out of view. Rather than walk the length of the service bay I turned and headed toward a narrow hallway that went through the lower part of the building to the side where the girls were smoking. I stepped inside to discover a steep and narrow stairway leading up to the office. The two girls came in the hallway from the other side to ask what I needed. I told them I was looking for help with the propane and before they could answer,  a tall, lanky mustached Vietnam vet looking biker appeared next to me at the base of the stairwell. I couldn’t tell if he had walked up behind me or had come down the stairway as I spoke to the girls. Toothless and tattooed they offered their assistance with the portable tanks. The tattooed biker spoke over them to let me know that there would be someone up front to help me and when finished to come upstairs to the office to pay the bill. As I walked back to the rig it crossed my mind to just drive off as the vibe was straight outta deliverance. As I came around the end of the coach I met “The Gas Man” as he called himself, face to face. The Gas Man looked like had been working on trucks for a week without a proper scrubbing. He had no teeth, skin of leather and wore saggy jeans and a cap that looked older than me. I got everyone out of the coach as a safety precaution while he filled the tank. Friendly enough, he showed me how many gallons I was going to be charged for and sent me upstairs to pay.

As I summited the tall and narrow staircase there were a variety of options from which to choose. Step forward to the vacant office area and ring the bell with a sign above it that said, “ring bell at your own risk” or turn left to walk into the full bar with pool tables and a juke box, or wander the other hallways until I found someone to take my money? As I stuck my head in the empty bar I thought of my family’s wellbeing and turned back toward the “Ring bell at your own risk” option. But Before I could turn all the way around, a road weathered biker woman seemingly appeared out of nowhere and asked if she could get me a drink. I said I was looking to pay for propane. She yelled down the hallway to Dale to come get paid. Dale was obviously the owner as there were signs posted all over the office that read, “No One borrows Dale’s tools, don’t even ask” and “If you pay anyone else you haven’t paid Dale”. He took the longest time to show up to ask if I was paying by cash or credit. He must have seen the California plates as his propane price was a dollar more per gallon than anywhere else we have purchased propane. Without question I paid the bill, thanked him and made no haste in getting back to the coach. Not one of the characters were to be found on my way out. The theme song from Twilight Zone played in my head as we entered the roadway.

Glad to be out of there, we headed up route 20 north from Geneva towards Pennsylvania. After thirty or forty miles we came to our second “Road Closure” of the trip.

The first gave us warning however this one was a surprise. With enough room to barely turn around without unhooking our truck we made our way back a few miles to a cut off we identified through Google maps. At twenty-five miles per hour we headed a few miles through a rural, forested neighborhood that took us to the shore of Lake Erie. We continued on that road until we reached Presque Island State Park located on the shore of Lake Erie in Pennsylvania.

Presque state park is on a seven mile long peninsula extending into Lake Erie and offers day use only so we needed to find a campground. Luckily, just a fifteen minute drive away we found an affordable site across the bay from the state park. Through some beautiful old neighborhoods with tree lined streets and a number of houses baring full Halloween decorations the drive was a treat. That is until we got closer to our destination at Lampe Campground. The drive into Lampe Campground takes you along the shore of Lake Erie in front of the ferry and shipping terminal, nice enough. However, then you take a left at the waste water treatment facility and continue a mile down a broken concrete road until you pass the concrete manufacturing plant. At the roads end take the only possible right leading into parking lot, continue across the large lot and take a right through the gate into another parking lot. Continue through the abandoned parking area until you reach the entrance on the left. Once through the gate there is a small well-manicured campground with paved back in spaces. There are no large trees on the grounds, only a bath and shower building in the middle. The entire campground is shaped like a peanut in its shell and not much larger. It is surrounded by a waist high chain link fence with grass in between the sites. It was empty with only four of forty spaces occupied by campers.  As we rolled through and evening was giving way to night we decided to look for another option. We have learned when the vibe is not right to move along.

With darkness falling we found Sara’s, a private campground that we had actually passed on the way out of Presque State Park. Sara’s Campground is divided by the road that enters Presque State Park. Half of the park is on the shores of Lake Erie sporting private lake front beaches and the other half is on the other side at the base of some cliffs and behind a few eateries. There is a theme park built upon the cliffs above the park with a wooden rollercoaster actually dropping below the cliff on the lake side just above the campground. I can only imagine the added chaos the rollercoaster adds in the summer with the clackety clack of the cars and the people screaming as it drops below the cliff above the campground. After speaking with the groundskeeper I came to find out that Sara’s is a summer destination and is packed from June first to Columbus Day. Holiday weekends see tent camping on the beach with barely enough room to walk in between. So glad we hit it in the off season.

The campground was started in the fifties by the current owner’s father. The second generation has expanded the grounds to offer seasonal spaces where people leave their RV’s year round and have built decks around them as well as cottages and tent sites. The grounds are well kept and the semi-permanent sites are all well maintained. For Two thousand twenty five dollars per year plus the cost of your camper you can have a second home here for the duration of their seven month season. It includes beach access and all the cable, sewer, electricity and water you can use. He must do well as the maintenance guy said he recently spent a couple million dollars in reloading the beach with sand.

 

With Laundry and schoolwork done we headed out for a bike ride through the state park and around the peninsula.

After a refreshing eight mile bike ride exploring we headed out in the afternoon towards Niagara Falls.