The weekend promised the coldest temps of the trip dipping into the teens and twenties. We wanted a campground with electricity to get through the cold snap. After a trip over one of the roughest roads we had experienced and deep in moose country we arrived in the dark at Moose River campground.

Located in a small valley just a few miles from the New Hampshire border. We only had a couple nights here as they were closing for the season. Moose River is a private campground owned and operated by the same couple for the last eighteen years. Located in a small valley the setting was picturesque and the facilities were definitely “Charming”, meaning “old”.  There was room for improvement to the facilities as the shower house was not insulated and small. Along the way I have learned to be grateful for a good shower facility and blessed with a great one. Many tend to be adequate. Moose river falls into this category. Evidently their reason for not making any improvements to the property is due in large part to the tax consequences of adding any additional square footage. So they made the original 1950’s buildings as nice as they could, meaning new paint and shower curtains. After speaking with both owners on separate occasions I realized they were running a total sham as they told me there has not been a moose spotted in the immediate area in over a decade. And you call this place moose river? Well I never! All kidding aside, they were nice enough and the campground was nearly vacant. Plus we were happy to have a budget friendly spot to park it for the cold snap. It got cold snowing over night.

Another empty campground.

Our view of Moose River.

After a few days here waiting out the coldest weekend of the fall, we knew it was time to go as they had shut the water off due to freezing pipes and they were closing for the season. With temperatures warming up and a ton of schoolwork to do we headed just over the border to Bethlehem, New Hampshire and stayed at Apple Hill campground.

Bethlehem is a small town with the municipal building, police and fire department, library and post office and only coffee house within a half block of each other.

Tonka Terrace

Apple Hill is another private campground with no improvements since the seventies and I use the word improvements loosely. They stay open year round catering to many full time residents and people coming up to ski and snowmobile nearby. The price was right for full hookups and was beautifully set in a dense forest of maple, alder and pine trees. It was difficult to read the vibe as it had many full time and seasonal trailers with very few rules for how people to maintain their campsite. It was not uncommon to see a carport constructed of two by fours and plastic sheeting.  I was reluctant to take pictures of the local residences as it seemed it could be grounds for getting shot. While heading to our campsite to settle in I had to wait for a guy to move his truck and trailer out of the road. The truck was idling with no one around so I got out to see how long they were going to be. As the fellow came out of his trailer he was friendly and offered much information about the safety of the campground, it’s residents and owners. He settled any hesitation I had of this backwoods location with backwoods residents. We always listen to our inner voice and bug out if we get a bad vibe from any location. While I didn’t get a bad vibe from the place it certainly had it’s own back woods personality. Think Deliverance without the theme song, just total quiet.

Operated by the same family for the last twenty seven years, they looked like they put just enough time, money and energy into the place to keep it going, nothing more. The family was nice and left us alone unless we needed anything. We hunkered down to get schoolwork done and grades turned in. The temps were coming out of the twenties as it started warming up over the next few days.

New Hampshire offers beautiful country and I was itching to get out on another significant hike with the family. Due to our school work load, it took three days of focused schoolwork before I was able to sneak away early one morning and go on a solo hike. I received info of a nearby trail from the owner of the local coffee house. At first light I headed to a nearby peak with our dog Charlie for a short, steep and vigorous hike.

Only a mile from the campground, I followed the coffee house owners directions and parked on the road in front of a couple very old wood shacks and walked up the dirt road between them. I tried to be quiet as it was obvious people lived here and it was early. There was a sign giving the okay to hikers to pass through their property only a few feet from their front door. The path turned steep quickly and was a dirt road blanketed with pine needles and fall leaves. As I headed up, I continually made my presence known as this is bear and moose country. A wild life encounter with my full cup of coffee in one hand and and leashed dog in the other would be interesting I’m sure. The road twisted up the mountain every so often intersecting a path of power lines overhead.

I reached the top to find an acre sized summit crowded with a fenced off section of radio antennas, an old three story building that seemed part observatory, part command post and part residence and a camper with pine trees painted on the side in an effort to have the white corrugated siding blend into the forest.

My curiosity of the setting didn’t have to wait long as there was a sign posted describing the property. For over one hundred years the facility had once been a popular tourist destination charging people to come to the top to experience the Eastern view which was expansive and remarkably beautiful with the fall colors. Twenty five years ago the new owner opened the road up to the public for free. As I made my way around the building and directly through the front yard the landscape opened up to a remarkable vista.

You could literally see for miles and miles and miles, oh yeah! A little “The Who” reference there for those of you still awake. The view was expansive and center stage was the White Mountains and Franconia Notch State Park home to the Flume Gorge hike I wanted to share with the family. The morning light was not what I had hoped for picture taking but I drank in the view and breathed in its enormity, thankful for this moment of solitude. Just the dog and I.

While the sign on the structure alluded to a vacant property there were tomato vines growing just inside a bank of south facing windows at ground level indicating I was most likely not alone on top of this mountain. As I made my way back down the path I thought about all the people who had made this very same hike and looked out at the same vista knowing that each one experienced it differently in their own way just as I had. Every now and again I shouted “hey bear” just to make sure I didn’t have any close encounters. I would have preferred to allow Charlie to run off the leash but the coffee house owner recommended him tethered just in case I ran into any property owners.

I arrived back at the campground to Laurel and the kids just waking up. The kids had most of their homework finished but Laurel was under the gun to get grades turned in. Since I have figured out a way to get out of that part of home schooling she sent the kids and I to Franconia Notch State Park located in the White Mountain range, to hike up the Flume Gorge.

Franconia Notch State Park has been a wilderness destination since the late 1800’s. At the visitor’s center, information outlines a history of preservationists and opportunists who have supported and exploited the area. The Flume Gorge is a deep and narrow passage carved through granite and stone. There is a wooden pathway suspended along the sides and during heavy storms the Gorge fills with a torrent of water making the pathway impassable on foot.

Franconia State Park hosts miles of hiking and biking trails in every direction. The Flume Gorge path is a three and a half mile loop weaving along the base of Mount Liberty and Mt Osceola through colorful forests and covered bridges.

 My favorite covered bridge is built on top of a tree that fell across a gorge after it was struck by lightning bridging the gap fifty feet above the stream.

Investigating a narrow passage called Wolves den they prodded me until I shimmied through the narrow passage and out the top.

On the way into the park, a ranger had let us know he had passed a bear earlier that morning. He reminded the kids to look all around, even upwards to take in all that the park had to offer. Despite my interest in seeing a bear I think the kids were too noisy with excitement on the hike for any wild creature to stick around.

Birds and squirrels were the only animals brave enough to get near the kids. There were also two older couples visiting from Louisiana that had no fear of the kids and engaged them while we all looked across the colorful landscape from a viewpoint high on the mountain.

They had made the trip to view the fall colors and like us were in complete awe of the natural beauty. The hike had enough vertical terrain and distance to tire the kids out. So it was back to the campground to give Laurel a break from grading papers.

While settling back in I struck up conversation with a fellow camper named Joe who turned out to be from the area. A former Marine, he stood five foot, eight with the stature of a boxer and a distinctive New England accent. Turned out he had boxed in the Marine Corps. Recently retired he and his girlfriend had rented out their house nearby and were full timing it in their RV. Joe had spent his thirty year career driving logging trucks in the mountains of Vermont and New Hampshire. He was a “tough as nails” sort of guy but kind as they come. During his logging career, he had twelve rollover accidents in fully loaded trucks due to icy logging roads. I suggested he is lucky to be alive. He agreed but seemed to shrug it off as just being a job hazard. He said he knew of other drivers that were not so lucky. His history of surviving these potentially deadly accidents just seemed to solidify his tough persona.

Through our conversations Joe offered insight into the local area, the economy and the state of New Hampshire. Each time I was outside I had hoped he would be around as he was easy to talk to and I enjoyed hearing about his life’s journey and knowledge of the area. He has three sons all of which he put through collage and professed it was an utter waste of his money as not one of them is pursuing their major. He felt as though college for his kids was just Dad paying their way to party for four years. Since each kid he described seemed to be productive and financially stable in their life I reassured him that he had made a commendable investment in their future. Coming from the poverty stricken area it was no small feat this man put his three sons through college.

I had not seen Joe for a couple days, turns out he had put together a family reunion down at the cape in Massachusetts. He had arranged for his entire family to be present as he had a plane fly a banner across the beach asking his girlfriend of eight years to marry him. He told me all about his weekend as if I was the buddy who couldn’t make it to the event. Knowing we were leaving in the morning he offered words encouragement reassuring me this journey we were on was a great thing. As we departed, I couldn’t help but reflect on the time I had spent getting to know this character. I will always appreciate the honest connection I had experienced.

As we headed east we were treated to a beautiful road winding through colorful forests and small ski towns.

Destination, Acadia National Park in Maine. We were in touch with our New Zealand friends. They were arriving in the area earlier in the day and were scouting out places to camp.

Lake Placid to Vermont to Ben and Jerry’s

Hard to fathom, but our drive from Lake Placid to Vermont was even more beautiful than our drive through the Adirondacks. The landscape was in full color and every turn offered a more beautiful vista than the last. We often found ourselves nearly moved to tears at the natural beauty surrounding us.

Route Nine brought us to the edge of Lake Champlain and through some old and beautiful waterfront towns. We once again were to connect with our New Zealand fiends and had arranged to meet them at the Ben and Jerry’s factory in Vermont. As we drove through the southwestern side of Vermont the landscape opened up to rolling farm land. Every nook and cranny of this route was filled with one breathtaking view after another. While we soaked in each and every one it proved difficult to get any pictures as the road was narrow and we couldn’t slow down enough or turn the rig around to capture the moment. The memory of witnessing some of the most beautiful countryside during the most beautiful time of year in nearly perfect light would have to suffice. This short stretch of road has remained an absolute highlight of our trip due to the sheer natural beauty.
We pulled into Ben and Jerry’s parking lot to see the Kiwi’s rig. We were super excited to catch up with them again. They were waiting in line with our tickets in hand, so we made no haste to catch up.

With a fun tour and free ice cream under belt we sat down to figure out where to stay the night. Our first choice was Smugglers Notch State Park however there was only one space available to accommodate the size of our rigs. Plan B was to call a cider mill located five minutes up the road and find out if it would be okay to park our rigs on their property for the night. A quick call and we received the okay to park on their land and made no haste in getting there.

When we arrived, we discovered a wine shop on the same property. Everyone poured out of the rigs to check out the Cider Mill. Once the dads circled the wagons we headed in to catch up with the rest of the crew. However, we got sidetracked by the wine tasting adjacent to the cider mill. Being forward thinkers and knowing our girls love wine, we had the foresight to choose a few bottles to accompany our communal dinner later on. We closed the tasting room down and headed across the parking lot to the cider mill to catch up with Laurel and the kiddos.
While we were tasting wine, Laurel and the six kids were receiving a tour of the facilities from Paul, the owner. He showed them the cider press, the bee hives and the solar farm. We didn’t know who had the better time. Walking back across the lot to our campsite to start dinner we kept giggling at our good fortune to be in such an amazing spot together. After a fantastic dinner, the kids retreated to our coach to watch a movie while we drained a couple of bottles of wine over great conversation. It was a pinch yourself moment that makes life so special.

The cold night gave way to a frosty morning. Old man winter reminding us that we shan’t get comfortable in anyone place for too long.

But things warmed up so we decided to stay locally at Smugglers Notch State Park as the Kiwi’s were off to visit some old friends nearby. We called the park and they had one spot available to accommodate us.

Smugglers Notch State Park

Smugglers Notch State Park offers up one of my top three favorite camp sites of our trip. Intimately set on a steep slope in the mountains just below Stowe Ski Resort and the Notch, hidden among a dense and colorful forest, there are only twenty or so sites in the whole campground. No hookups, so you must be completely self-contained. We squeezed into one of the sites towards the top which offered plenty of room once we were in.

Most of the campsites are for tents with only three or four able to accommodate a coach our size. The weather was breezy and partially cloudy with intermittent rain showers. Daytime highs in the fifties and night time lows in the thirties told us winter was upon us. But it seemed to be holding off long enough for us to enjoy this beautiful alpine setting.

We took a short drive up and over the Notch towards Smugglers Ski resort. The drive snakes through a steep and twisted canyon of rocks protruding into the roadway with colorful trees overhead. With a sign at the base of the pass reading “No Semi’s or RV’s” we were stoked to be in our little truck. Some of the turns were tighter than those of Lombard Street in San Francisco.

We were looking for the trail head to Sterling Pond as we were told by a local builder this was a neat hike suitable for the family. With map in hand, we found the trail head leading off the summit. The builder said it was about an hour and a half hike; hour up, thirty minutes down. We realized we were not prepared for the hike due to the weather and time of day. It was a bit late, so we decided to better prepare and hit it the following morning after checking out of the campground. Instead, we checked out the ski resorts and headed back to camp.

The wind kicked up, and the rain began to fall. In any other circumstance I would welcome snow but any snow or ice here would present a huge challenge to safely move the Windryder.
Morning gave way to a release of fresh alpine smells from the night’s rain, gusty winds and light periodic showers. It was fall in the mountains highlighted by the wash of colorful trees. I would have liked to stay here for a week as the setting was perfect and overwhelmingly beautiful. I cannot emphasize enough how immensely beautiful this area is at this time of year. Everywhere you look was picture postcard beautiful.
Taking advantage of the window in the weather to hike to sterling pond we headed out that afternoon so we regretfully checked out of Smugglers Notch State Park and parked the rig in the Stowe Ski Resort parking lot while we took the truck up to the notch.
Thankfully we were prepared for a variety of weather conditions with food and water for the short hike. The trail starts right off through the steep rocks offering several do not fall zones where we all had to be focused on the climb rather than the scenery.

They gave way to a challenging trail taking us through all types of terrain and weather.

After a solid climb we relished our time at the summit in a warming hut at the top of Smugglers Notch Ski Resort.

As we sat looking out the window at the beautiful landscape the snow flurries moved in. It was time to head back. Three and a half hours later we had completed the hike. We had pushed the kids out of their comfort zone, but they pressed on, and their tiredness gave way to a surge of confidence and a huge sense of accomplishment. I am super proud of the whole crew as this hike was to become a confidence booster for hikes to come.

Once safely back in the Windryder and ready to press we did not want to leave this most beautiful part of the country. We headed to the eastern edge of the Vermont, New Hampshire border where we would spend the weekend under our first dusting of snow and close down yet another campground.

I was looking forward to this leg of the trip as I am a big fan of the winter Olympics and have always wanted to visit Lake Placid and the Adirondacks. As we made our way east across upstate New York we amassed over fifty dollars in tolls to drive on their expressways. Little did we know, the route that lay before us would be worth every penny. Leaving Utica up route 28 we started our climb in elevation from the western side of the Adirondacks. A recently paved, two lane road offered a smooth ride. With each passing mile Mother nature’s display of colors became more abundant. Colorful trees erupted across the landscape like a Fourth of July fireworks finale exploding in the sky. With each dip and turn we would discover a view more beautiful than the last. It became apparent that we lucked into perfect timing to experience falls display of color.

As we pushed further into the Adirondacks we started looking for a campground. State Parks are first on the list but most of them were already closed for the season. The first private campground we came across was booked solid for the Columbus Day Weekend. For good reason as every site was picturesque, set under colorful trees and green pines. With darkness approaching we continued on to Eighth Lake State Park.

As usual we arrived late to find they had already closed down one section of the campground. However we were in luck as we scored the last available site. The campground has several loops and we were on the first loop closest to the bath house and entrance. While we were close to these facilities our site was private and extremely quiet.

Click on the photo to enlarge.

Blanketed under large trees, with leaves proudly showing their colorful display, we settled into our site.

Once night falls, it’s dark up here. Without the bright lights of any big city nearby, it’s “Can’t see your hand in front of your face” dark.  We started a fire and I prepared a dinner to remember in a cast iron skillet over the open flames. With temps in the forties at night it was cool but not too cold.

Did I mention it’s dark up here? Not only is it dark, it’s quiet too. The only other sounds that night were a few other campers chatting near their fires. There is no electricity, hook ups for water or sewer or cable tv at any of the campsites. You need to be self-contained. The focus here is on nature.

Since we were in bit of a rush to find a campground the night before we decided to wake up early and drive back to where we first noticed the leaves really starting to change color to get a better look. We didn’t know when we would get to experience such natural beauty again. The drive was longer then we remembered coming in but worth the extra time as we were able to stop and drink in every view point that we seemed to wiz by the previous afternoon.

The kids grew tired of us stopping frequently for photo opportunities. We off set their boredom by taking a train ride through the Adirondacks. It was a treat to get off the road and see a bit of the forest from a different perspective.

Night fell quickly and the darkness beckoned a campfire so we could once again prepare dinner in a cast iron skillet over the open flames. One of our best meals to date.

With our late start to the trip we have been closing down campgrounds with nearly every stop. This was no different. It was a holiday weekend and we felt fortunate to have a campsite. We stayed for one more night until their last day of operation for the season and headed out early in the morning for Lake Placid. The early morning light offered glorious views of some the most colorful landscapes I have ever witnessed. The natural beauty was overwhelming literally taking my breath away. I again stopped many times that morning making the trip into Lake Placid take much longer than it should have.

Lake Placid

This would be the start of the budget breaking campgrounds as all of the New York state parks have closed for the season in this area. The only campground open was a KOA “Kampgrounds of America” which offer all of the amenities anyone could ask for which is exactly what we are trying to avoid. However with no other options available we decided to stay here so we could check out the area the following day. The area offers an abundance of hiking options and of course the Olympic venues which many are currently used by our Olympic teams for training. Rain in the immediate forecast offered incentive to get homework done and take advantage of the windows in the weather to get outside to hike around.

Since the holiday weekend had come to a close over one hundred twenty campers had checked out of the KOA that day so we had the campground nearly to ourselves.

The facilities cover over eighty acres and front a beautiful river. Not letting the wet weather dictate our day we went for a short hike along the river in the rain. Again the views were beautiful and we were the only ones on the trail. Charlie had free run the whole way.

An hour and a half later we got back to dry out. The rain was moving out so we headed into Lake Placid but not before we venturing off on another short hike along another river and a visit to White Mountain Ski resort.

I’m such a ski bum I even have to visit the ski resorts when there is no snow.

Forever a fan of the Olympics, especially the winter Olympics I looked forward to again experiencing that familiar Olympic pride. In the late nineties I lived in North Lake Tahoe and spent my winter days at Squaw Valley, home to the 1960 Winter Olympics. I always felt and still feel privileged every time I pass the Olympic torch entering that valley. Lake Placid was no different, that first glimpse of the ski jump towers hovering over the fall landscape brought on a wave of nostalgia and Olympic pride.

We rolled up on the ice rink where in 1980 the greatest hockey game in Olympic History was played.

The doors were open and we strolled in like we owned the place. Found seats behind the goal and watched local college girls run drills. While it would have been beyond great to watch that 1980 game in person it was pretty cool sitting next to the ice and checking out all the tribute banners lining the arena. We must have sat there for nearly an hour with no one ever bothering us. With evening approaching we checked out the rest of the town then headed back to KOA for dinner and a couple games of giant chess.

Mirror Pond

Kinda obvious

Pictures of people taking pictures

I would have like to stayed another day but we have to keep moving east to stay ahead of old man winter. Next stop Vermont and the Ben and Jerry’s factory tour.

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 roadblock. 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 taking 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 / truck stop 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 had two extra wide 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 food mart / 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, 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 that his 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 backhoe 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 clear skies and temperatures in the high fifties to 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 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 hole 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.

Skipping rocks

Charlie loving the freedom

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.

Source: Sterling State Park & The Henry Ford

Source: Sterling State Park & The Henry Ford

Driving down 75 we arrived at Sterling State Park located on the shore of Lake Erie below Detroit. The state park is home to a variety of migrating bird species including hawks and eagles. Many birds were arriving during our stay. The drive in takes you along a tree lined road one half mile to the main entrance.

From there it’s another mile to the campground, passing through inlets and estuaries. Nary a soul to be found. We were greeted by Ranger Joe manning the tiny guard shack deep in the park and seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He checked us in and sent us off through the dark to find our site. Since we arrived at night we didn’t get a lay of the land until the next morning. The wind had increased and was a consistent thirty knots. Nowhere to hide from the wind as the entire campground is flat and exposed to the shoreline of Lake Erie. There is a coal plant located directly to the south with steam billowing sideways into the atmosphere reminding me of Smokestacks in Huntington Beach during a Santa Ana wind.

On further inspection there is a nuclear power plant just to the north with Three Mile Island style reactors imposing over the landscape.

We finally found the perfect spot to meet all of our energy needs. “Coal on the left of me, Nuclear reactors on the right, here I am, stuck in the middle again…” A bit daunting to say the least. However, I found great comfort when I was told the reactors were temporarily shut down for refueling…Blah.

Located within striking distance of Motor City, we had little interest in taking the kids on a tour of abandoned downtown but we did want to visit The Henry Ford. Ford is a presence here to say the least. Our thirty-minute drive to Dearborn, home of Ford, was dotted along the way with manufacturing facilities. Domestic cars are king here as the most abundant imports on the road are Hyundai and Kia. Ford has a massive campus here which surrounds the museum facilities. Their Design, engineering and R & D divisions are but a few of the buildings surrounding the public portion of the campus which offers the Henry Ford Museum, The Greenfield Village, Factory tour and IMAX theater. We took the advice of Ranger Joe and the weather, so we split our visit into two days.

Rain was on the way, so we spent the first day outside walking through
history in Greenfield Village. Upon entering we were greeted with the most impressive collection of working Model T’s I have ever seen. I couldn’t help but wish my parents were with us as they would have greatly enjoyed and appreciated the experience. My dad would have especially enjoyed the automotive collection.

Henry Ford preserved a huge chunk of the American experience here. He had the money and foresight to preserve a piece of our nation’s past by moving period buildings and homes of industrialists and history makers from their original location and reassembling them in Greenfield Village. For example, the structures from the entire Firestone family farm was moved from its original location and reassembled here. It is a working farm consisting of pastures, apple orchards, barn buildings, animal pens and family home. It was reconstructed here in the early 1900’s with every original stone and board. Upon walking into the Firestone family home, the aroma of bacon filled the small kitchen. There were three women in period dress preparing a dinner of ham, potatoes and apple pie for all the farm workers.

They were using period utensils and cookware which made the task of preparing a meal for nine people all the more labor intensive. But what a great reward as all of the food was harvested on the farm including the ham. The women answered all our questions about the meal, home and Firestone family in addition to offering a narrative of their daily life.
There are way too many structures to describe but a few stand outs are Ford’s workshop where he developed the Quadricycle, his first self propelled motor car and the prototypes for what would become the Model T.

Thomas Edison’s workshop where he and his team created the first electric light bulb that functioned well enough for sustained use.

The courthouse where Abraham Lincoln made a name for himself as an attorney in the early years of his career.

and the Wright brothers bicycle shop which housed many of the tools used to build their plane.

Each structure carefully reassembled providing the experience of walking through the original. Each building had an oral historian on site to paint a picture of its history and the life within.
Henry Ford went to great lengths to reassemble the structures to replicate the original as closely as possible. In fact, the courthouse where Lincoln worked was one of Fords favorites as Ford greatly admired Lincoln. We were told he had the dirt beneath and surrounding the original building transported to Greenfield Village so the structure could be reassembled on its original dirt foundation. In addition he had the plaster from the interior walls ground into powder so they could reapply it when they refinished the interior walls. It was humbling to experience the space where he honed his skills.
The following rainy day was Parker’s Birthday, so we spent our time in the museum. Ford greatly appreciated history, machinery, manufacturing and invention. The museum offers a wide display of his interests. From automobiles and farm equipment to industrial machinery and trains to furniture and domestic artifacts.

This is a piece my parents purchased way back when and is still a fixture in our home.

Stand outs for me are the Model T Ford blown apart displaying the simplicity of that first production car.

The Presidential limousines.

The actual chair Lincoln was sitting in when he was assassinated.

and a massive coal powered locomotive with three or four passenger cars attached. Imagine a space large enough to fit a locomotive almost two stories tall and the length of a city block.

A few of my favorites;

We recommend The Henry Ford as a must see for anyone visiting the Motor City. We exhausted the kids walking around but not enough to slow down their excitement as the ride home was filled with conversations about our day and the anticipation of celebrating Parker’s birthday. We stopped by a market on the way home and picked up a little cake and ice cream to celebrate our eight year old’s big day.

The next morning the rain had passed but the wind was still howling, only slightly less. I was up early and took the dog for a walk along the shore of Lake Erie.

I was saddened to see the garbage all along the shoreline. The constant winds and the tidal surge that came at the height of the storm left all kinds of discarded debris.

At home, our family has a practice of picking up three pieces of trash every time we leave a beach. My three pieces hardly made an impression here. After Charlie chased a gaggle of geese in the water until he was soaked we made our way back to our site to pack up and head out.

Next stop Mentor, Ohio.