Introduction

Yes, it's another trip; which means another journal. I just finished the journal from last summer's trip too! Oh well, this is something I want to do (I think).

This trip came very suddenly. On Friday, June 30, I went to school around 3 in the afternoon (my usual arrival time) and Sergio said he was going to go to Boston tomorrow. Dr. Guinan said, "Brian, you should go with him. You two should go together. It would be fun."

I looked at Sergio and Guinan and said, "I've never been to Boston." Sergio and I talked seriously about what he wanted to do. He was thinking about a week to 10 day trip seeing New England and parts of Canada. That sounded good to me, but I wanted to be sure he did, in fact, want me to tag along. I said, "If you want to do this alone you would tell me, right?" and he replied, "It's just the opposite, I don't want you to feel like you have to come." So it was final. We began planning for our trip and I called Linda and Tom at about 7 that evening, figuring they would be home from work by then. They seemed enthusiastic, as always, but it's nice to have that extra reassurance since we were inviting ourselves to their house for a night.

Sergio went home around 8 PM and we planned to leave around 10 tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, I had already made plans with Dan Griffith to talk with him about my cross-country trip last summer since he was leaving for his trip in a week. So we talked about places to go and things to do as I packed and did laundry. It was hectic since I had to get everything together, do laundry, and sleep before morning. Needless to say, I didn't get too much sleep, but this never seems to bother me on the first day of a trip. I went to bed around 4:30 AM and got up three hours later, ready to see New England.

Getting There

Berwyn, Pennsylvania—Marlborough, Massachusetts

Luckily, I still had the endless lists that I made for last summer's cross-country trip, so I used those to gather things around the house that I needed. Sergio picked me up around 10:30 AM in the 1983 Chrysler E Class, the car I used to drive. I had my doubts about the car but Sergio said he just had the oil changed and the car was looked over for anything obvious, so that made me feel a little better.

We proceeded up the PA Turnpike Northeast Extension (PA 9) till just past the Lehigh Tunnel, the tenth longest vehicular tunnel in the U.S. Once at this tunnel, the serious mountain ranges begin which are much larger than the dinky foothills that we're used to. We got off the turnpike and headed east on US 209. It was a cloudy, humid day. If the Sun had been out it would have been a hazy, miserable day. This road took us toward Stroudsburg, about 25 miles away. It started out nice; we saw an owl sitting atop a telephone pole. However, after a while it became more congested and by the time we hit the Saturday afternoon traffic in Brodheadsville, we had had enough. So we got off the "main drag" and turned on PA 715. This road took us near Effort and Appenzell, PA. It was a nice road, many trees and very scenic. The plan was to take this road to I-80 east which we would use to cross the Delaware River.

Once over the river, the first exit is for the this park so we went to the Kittatinny Point Visitor Center at the southern end of the park to get some information. The obvious question: What does the name Delaware Water Gap mean? The gap is a point where the river cuts through the Kittatinny Mountain Range, a carved out notch in the mountain range. The mountains here are covered with forest and the occasional outcrop of rock. It was still cloudy and some low lying clouds were visible hovering over the mountain tops, not a very picturesque day.

Unlike most recreational areas that surround rivers, this one was not put in place to compensate the public for damming up the river. Originally, it was to surround the Tocks Island Reservoir. Land around the proposed dam site was purchased (not without hostility); however, in 1978, Congress designated this section of the river part of the National Wild and Scenic Rivers System, which protects it from development such as dams. The Tocks Island Dam project was finally deauthorized in 1992. Also protected is the stretch of river above the park, the Upper Delaware National Scenic and Recreation Area. This means the Delaware is safe from development from Hancock, NY, near the northern PA border, south to I-80. It has been said that the Delaware is one of the cleanest major rivers in the Northeast. This is because it was never used for industry as many of the other rivers were (and still are). There are no major cities on the river until the Trenton/Philadelphia region.

We walked through the visitor center, down a staircase that took us to the banks of the river, and stepped onto the floodplain. It was muddy but grassy; the river was narrow and shallow. Tree-covered mountains are on either side of us; it is quite beautiful. We drove north on a road that hugged the river on the New Jersey side. It passes through the Worthington State Forest which is a plush, deciduous forest. Wherever a sliver of sunlight is able to make it to the ground, ferns cover the area. Otherwise, the floor is clean, not overgrown with vines and thicket, but very neat and clean; just not enough light to support a lot of plants.

We drove about two-thirds through the park and had enough with the road conditions so we made our way east to pick up a more traveled path. We got lost in the poorly marked roads in the atlas but eventually found a road that was on the map. On our way out of the mountains, of course, we had to go down. The brakes didn't appreciate this too much and at the bottom of the hill began to smoke a bit in protest. We pulled off the road and got out of the car. I was fairly sure that it was nothing but as Sergio said, "Let's go see the fire." We were parked in a very nice area alongside a river and near an old one-lane bridge we had just crossed. Upon inspection and a short cooling off period we continued on.

I was getting concerned now because it was almost two in the afternoon and Sergio wanted to see the coast of Connecticut and Rhode Island but I didn't want to arrive at Linda and Tom's really late, so we had to figure out a plan. We decided to go a little further into the middle of Connecticut and then, based on what time it was, figure out what to do.

We exited the park at Peters Valley Craft Village. I don't know the significance of this tiny village but it is very pretty and looks old fashioned. We found our way to NJ 560 and took it to US 206 and Tuttles Corner, NJ. We turned north and in less than 10 miles we were back in the park and crossing the Delaware again. Of course, another toll had to be paid. We arrived in Milford, PA and were lucky enough to have arrived on the same day they were having their outdoor sidewalk festival. Basically, people set up booths and fill them with the junk they made in their spare time and people in the town fill the sidewalks and streets gawking at it. US 6 goes through the town and in order to conserve time we took US 6 west two miles to get to I-84 quicker. Once on I-84, it is eight miles to the Delaware River and instead of crossing into New Jersey this time we would be in New York outside of Port Jervis.

I-84 basically goes east-west above New York City passing about 10 miles north of West Point. We stopped in Lake Carmel to eat some lunch at a bar which serves food, but it was obvious that most of its revenue comes from the bar patrons. Dartboards and other bar apparel are strewn about the place.

Before long we were in Connecticut and passing through Danbury. Then it was Waterbury and after this town we got off to get gas and pick up something for Linda and Tom. We got them a little Norfolk Island Pine and then we were on our way east toward Hartford, the state capital. Before long we would be in Massachusetts and on the Mass Pike (I-90), as it's called, and at Linda and Tom's via I-290 north to Marlborough, MA. We got to their house around 7:30 PM and relaxed, talked, and ate dinner. Tom cooked hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill in a light drizzle. We both were in bed by about 11 after planning what we were going to do tomorrow.

The Freedom Trail

Boston, Massachusetts—Pownal, ME

We woke up at a decent hour, before nine at least. We all ate breakfast and took some free advice from Linda and Tom as to how to go into the city, where to park, and what to see. We found our way out to the Mass Pike and proceeded east into Boston. We ended up parking in a lot sandwiched between buildings off Providence Street, a stone's throw from the Freedom Trail and only $5 for the entire day (Sunday is the day to come into the city).

The Park System is well organized in this city. The Freedom Trail is a red, Oz-like line painted on the sidewalk that you follow throughout the city which takes you to most of the historic landmarks in the city and in Boston National Historical Park. We first headed for the Boston Common, which was not at all what I pictured. I always pictured the Common as being filled with trees and very shady. Instead, it is wide open with yellow trampled grass. The Common was purchased in 1634 by the city of Boston for military training and cattle grazing. We didn't see any cattle today.

We visited a small information center here and continued on the trail. It was hot as hell out and the air was stagnant. We walked in the State House looking for something to drink, at least I was. This was built in 1795 and is a large brick building with small pillars and a gold dome on top. Not much to see inside, only the indifference of the rent-a-cop sitting in his glass cage reading his paper. There are war memorials placed in every available space around this building and the neighboring commons.

Next was the Park Street Church and the Granary Burying Ground. Here are the graves of the five victims of the Boston Massacre as well as Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and many others. Some have simple slate gravestones, others, elaborate tombs or memorials. Many of the stones and tombs are in dire need of restoration, some have essentially fallen apart. Soon after is King's Chapel and Burying Ground so named because King George III and Queen Anne presented gifts to the church in colonial times. The chapel is private (private = $) so we didn't go in, but the burying ground, the first one in the colony, is not.

The next major stop was the Old South Meeting House. This was built in 1729 and was the largest building in Boston. When town meetings grew too large for Faneuil Hall, the meetings moved here, the most famous being on December 16, 1773, when the new British tax on tea was discussed. After this meeting a group of men dressed as American Indians went to the docks and threw all the British tea into the harbor. Britain retaliated by closing the port of Boston, the largest and most relied upon port in the colonies.

The British became more defensive and felt the need to flex their political muscle. They had been trying to get the colonies to pay for the protection that they provided from the Indians and the French. They attempted to pass legislation through Parliament which either imposed duties on goods coming to America or insured British control by, for example, forcing Americans to quarter British soldiers. The first of these was the Sugar Act in 1764 and the final was the Prohibitory Act of 1775, an act that placed an embargo on American goods and attempted to stop American shipping. By this time the colonists had had enough. In the mid-1760s the members of Congress protested in writing. By the early to mid-1770s the protests became more reckless and focused, such as the Boston Tea Party. Each of these Parliamentary acts was causing the colonists to become more hostile toward the British and protests, violent and non-violent, were on the rise. So it is here at the Old South Meeting House where the patriots, or treasonists, depending on your point of view, would meet in secret to discuss the British problem.

The Old State House was built in 1713, and was the center of colonial government in Boston. It sits on what is now a busy city corner, but there's a wide cobblestone alley where people can listen to the colonial era music being played or watch the soldiers dressed in colonial uniforms march in rank. Next to this building is the site where the Boston Massacre took place on March 5, 1770, further weakening relations between Americans and British.

The Freedom Trail next leads to Quincy Market and Faneuil Hall. The market was full of people either shopping at the many shops, eating food bought from one of the many restaurants, or walking through, which is what we were doing. There were so many people that it reminded me of one of those pictures of blood moving through vessels. For those just walking through, the name of the game was to follow the mob. There was outdoor entertainment and many people were walking around giving away small trial size boxes of Clusters cereal. They had on these silly hats with a squirrel on top, I wanted one badly. Faneuil Hall is where the meetings of the townspeople were held and the protests towards the British actions voiced.

After walking under highway I-93, we were in the North End; the Italian section of the city. In this section is Paul Revere's house (private), the Old North Church, the Paul Revere Mall, and Copp's Hill Burying Ground. Paul Revere's house is the oldest house in Boston, built about 1680. He lived there from 1770 to 1800. Paul Revere took part in the Tea Party and made the historic ride out to Lexington and Concord on April 18, 1775 to warn the militia that the redcoats were coming. The following day the first battle of the Revolutionary War was fought beginning with the "shot heard 'round the world."

Up a few blocks is the Paul Revere Mall and the Old North Church. The mall is full of trees and the shade felt nice. There was a breeze once in a while but if you were out in the sun, it was hot. The mall is a long courtyard made of brick, a wide brick walkway and brick walls about 10 feet high. Behind these walls are people's houses and apartments, which are also red brick. Along its walls are quotes by famous Bostonians and sitting in the middle of the courtyard is a statue of Ben Franklin, who grew up in Boston. Looking up above the walls, I could see people's shaded windows and some even left their laundry strung out to dry. There are also small, well-kept gardens in some of the remote corners of the courtyard. I remember thinking this wouldn't be a bad place to live. At the end of this courtyard is the Old North Church. This is the oldest standing church in Boston built in 1723. As we were walking around to the front, a female priest walked out of the front doors into the bright sun. Sergio said he was taken by surprise, he was not used to seeing female priests. Up the street from the church is Copp's Hill Burying Ground. This cemetery was started in the 1660s and in the 1770s used by the British as an emplacement for the cannon that fired upon Bunker Hill.

Following the red-striped road, we walked over the Charles River and into Charlestown, heading for the Charlestown Navy Yard. It was cloudy out now and I was hoping it wouldn't rain. There was a lot of action in the area, I figured it was for the Forth of July weekend, but who knows, maybe it's always like this. On one side of the yard was a revolutionary war re-enactment troop marching, playing songs, and shooting muskets now and then. On the other side was the modern Navy band playing Anchors Away and other navy tunes. The two groups seemed to be in competition with one another. The Navy had its portable recruiting office (tractor trailer) sitting in the middle of things, air conditioning pouring out of its doors.

We walked into the USS Constitution Museum and looked around at the free information they had but there is a fee for the museum. We walked outside and headed for the water and the ships. We walked out to the World War II Destroyer USS Cassin Young. This ship is part of the park and people can just walk right on, which is what we did. We toured the deck, the sleeping quarters (crammed like sardines), the kitchen, the laundry, communications (all hi-tech about 50 years ago), the Captain's office and quarters, and other parts of the ship. The entire time I was wondering how people lived like this for months on end. There are anti-sub torpedoes and depth charges on deck and forties big band-type music blaring over the loudspeakers.

Next we decided to get in line for the USS Constitution. This was a fifteen minute wait, but was well worth it. Our tour guide was a character. He told us that this ship is still commissioned in the US Navy and it is the oldest commissioned ship in the world (it was completed in 1797). This means that the crew lives on the ship and are naval officers whose primary duty is these tours. Our guide was from the south and liked audience participation. He was dressed in the uniform of the 1800s Navy, white uniform with powder blue stripes and a black, wide-brim hat. He told us many facts about the ship, its voyages, and the people who served this country on her decks.

The ship has three decks: the Spar Deck (top), the Gun Deck, and the Berthing Deck, and below these is the Orlop or the Hold. Its mainmast height is 220 feet, the ship's total length is 204 feet, and it could reach 13+ knots. Unfortunately, the ship was in dry dock being renovated so we could not appreciate the complete USS Constitution, all of her masts had been taken off. The colonial crew consisted of 450 navy, 55 marines (those men over 6 feet tall), and 30 boys. The boys ran the gun powder from the lower decks to the Gun Deck and performed other similar tasks. The boys either volunteered or were given to the Navy by their parents who received their first year's income of $96 for incentive.

The ship never lost a battle. It guarded our trading vessels in the Mediterranean against the Barbary Pirates of northern Africa and outsmarted the British in the War of 1812. It got its nickname "Old Ironsides" because the British cannons that fired upon her hit the side and bounced off into the sea. Our tour guide told us other facts from his fund of useless information. Why the bathroom is called "the head" in the navy: the bathroom on the ship was at the head of the ship, off the billet head. Sailors would have to climb out to the tip of the ship where a tiny hole was awaiting. Imagine this in rough seas, or even calm seas. Why are marines called "jarheads?": In those days you were a marine if you were over a certain height. These men would constantly jar their heads on the low beams of the deck above, thus, jarheads.

After the informative USS Constitution tour, we moved on to the Bunker Hill Monument. This provided us with a nice walk through some of the old neighborhoods of Charlestown. This is an old, well-maintained residential area. The houses are very nice, probably very expensive too. By the time we arrived at the hill, which, by the way, was called Breed's Hill not Bunker Hill, a demonstration had just ended. Shots were being fired as we arrived. The hill is covered with grass and atop which sits a small visitor center which is adjacent to an obelisk monument; 294 steps, no elevator. Neither of us felt any desire to climb to the top on such a hot day.

We were resting for a minute or two when a ranger came out with maps in hand to tell us about the Battle of Bunker Hill and what Boston was like 220 years ago. He told us the dramatic story of the soldiers who defended Bunker Hill. With only enough ammunition for one or two volleys, the Americans on the hill were watching the British surround them by moving troops through Charlestown (west of the hill) and by ship to the shore thousands of feet away southeast of the hill. The troops in Charlestown ran into resistance from the residents, but this would only delay the troops, not defeat them. The troops from the ship began marching, 4 to 6 in a row and hundreds in each column, toward the hill on the morning of June 17, 1775. The Americans, who had spent the night fortifying the hill by digging redoubts, were waiting for the troops to get close enough. They were commanded, having only enough ammunition for one or two volleys, to hold fire until they could see the whites of their eyes. They did just that and took aim on the British ranks. Because the British were so close, the American troops were able to take out a considerable number, forcing them to flee. The British retreated and both sides regrouped. The situation was desperate for the Americans. With no ammunition left they were shooting anything they could get into their musket, including small rocks and buttons. Eventually, the Americans were forced to retreat and only after the war was the influence of this battle fully realized. Yes, it was a loss for the American troops, but the Americans had weakened the British forces in Boston and destroyed the notion that the British, the most powerful force in the world, were unbeatable.

The ranger was quite informative and wanted to take his watch off but promised he wouldn't. If he did, he thought he might be there all day, and he probably would have. He was trying to keep it under 15 minutes but I think we were there for about 25 or 30 minutes. Now we were at the end of the trail. We walked through Charlestown to get back to the bridge to take us over the Charles River. Charlestown looks like a tight community. The firemen were sitting outside the immaculate looking station with the trademark dalmatian. Although the houses were built in the 1800s (the British burned Charlestown so everything is 19th century here) they look as though they were recently built, since everything was so clean.

We got within a block of the car and decided that it would be smart to get something to eat in town before we hit the road. We walked back to Quincy Market and got a sandwich. Finally, I found where they were giving out the free Fresca. All day long I'd seen tons of people walking around with cans of Fresca, all over the city. I didn't think Fresca was that popular, I mean nobody drinks that stuff. After seeing all the free Clusters cereal that was being given out, I figured they must be giving Fresca away somewhere. Well, we finally found the Fresca people. We grabbed a few, got some food, then grabbed a few more. Sat in the large square near the market and ate on a park bench. After a quick rest we were off; we still had a lot to do today.

We found I-93 and jumped on north, out of Boston. Then we took I-95 north into New Hampshire. New Hampshire is very quick on the highway but just so you don't forget it, the state makes sure you stop for a minute to pay for the 15-mile New Hampshire Turnpike. The last two miles of the state are free.

Finally, we arrived in Maine. This drive isn't taking as long as I thought it would. Not to be outdone by New Hampshire, Maine has a little turnpike of its own. It's 100 miles long but we would only stay on 50 miles till Portland. There we would stay on I-95 while the turnpike continued north to Augusta. Maine was nice; a lot of dense forest. No trashy barns with vines exploding out of the collapsed roof or sun-beaten blue school busses sitting in tall grass with the trademark white spray-painted "FOR SALE" in the two front windows. Won't see that up here.

We finally arrived in Freeport. Why, you ask, were we heading for Freeport? Our plan was to camp this week, but we had no tent. We came to Freeport because that is where the L. L. Bean factory store is. We were going to buy a tent here and use it for the rest of the week. By the time we entered the store the sun was on its way down; I'd say it was about 7 or 7:30. After doing a little shopping, looking at all the different varieties, I decided to go with the tent we bought last year. Picked up a thermos too.

We headed for the Bradbury Mountain State Park to see if they had any space. We took ME 136 north and followed the signs to the park. The signs led us onto a dirt road where we saw the Blueberry Pond Campground. I drove in and when the woman there said they had space, we both sighed with relief. I could see the two of us driving around in the dark looking for a campground all night. This place boasts half acre sites, not bad. It is heavily wooded around here and the frogs (both tree frogs and water frogs) were welcoming us with quite a concert.

I settled up with the owners and called home; today is Dad's birthday. By the time I returned it was just about dark and the trees surrounding us didn't help matters. It's a good thing I bought the same tent because tonight we would be setting up the tent in the dark. Had a little trouble sleeping tonight; I could hear an owl far off in the distance. I've never heard this type of owl before; I'd better stay inside the tent tonight.

Acadia

Pownal—Acadia National Park, Maine

We woke up today to a nice morning. Clear, sunny, and cool. We showered, packed, and were off to Acadia. Rand McNally let us down a bit here. There are too many roads here and the map is too small. We were driving around trying to find Route 1 and it seemed like we were driving in circles. Eventually we started in an easterly direction and came to Lisbon and a sign for ME 196. We found this town on the map so we were able to find our way back to US 1 by driving south to Brunswick and I-95. Not the most direct way to do it but I knew we couldn't get lost this way.

We were actively seeking out a place to eat breakfast but there was nothing. We were in Bath and Woolrich: nothing. Finally, we came across Wiscasset about 20 miles later. This town is here for the tourist. Clearly it was once an fishing town but now it has been cleaned up and transformed into one of those quaint Maine coastal towns. The town sits on a hill sloping into a long inlet. We decided to park the car and walk around; there had to be a place to eat somewhere in this town. We happened to park right in front of a small restaurant, but it was packed. The whole town was packed actually. Since it was the holiday weekend, a lot of people were traveling and in New England, Maine is where everyone vacations, Maine is vacationland after all.

Route 1 was so congested in this tiny town that they had a cop directing traffic at the one big intersection. We decided to wait for a table inside the restaurant since we saw no other places to eat. The place was so hectic and understaffed that we were waiting a while for our table to be cleared. It finally was and we were probably in this place for an hour just for a late morning breakfast, but we weren't in a hurry. You had to feel sorry for these people, they were working really hard to keep the place from utter collapse. This must be the only place in town because people were waiting outside on the sidewalk for a table. The woman who waited on us also bussed tables and was a hostess all at the same time, and she was able to remember everyone and the order in which they arrived.

We left town and crossed the long bridge over the inlet. Went through many small towns that still relied on fishing for survival. It's nice to see these among the majority of towns along the coast that are here for tourists. Once we got to Rockland, traffic was getting sluggish. These were tourist towns; B&Bs are everywhere. By the time we got to Camden we decided to take a detour. We picked up ME 105 to ME 235 which paralleled US 1. These were beautiful roads, at times completely shaded by the thick forests. We were back on Route 1 in Belfast and continued north to Bucksport and then Ellisworth. By the time we were in Ellisworth, the traffic was stopped by a series of lights. This is where the turn-off for Mount Desert Island and Acadia National Park is. The traffic was sluggish throughout this road, which is the only way onto the island and to the park, unless you want to take the ferry from Nova Scotia.

There are two types of parks in the National Park System. One type is designated for the historical events that occurred there, the other for the uniqueness and beauty of the land. Many of the parks in the east are of the first flavor; while the West is known for its nature preservations. Acadia is a rare gem in the Northeast. It is a park designated for the preservation of the land and nothing else. I like these parks because usually when you drive into them the scenery changes dramatically to a beautiful, majestic place. Would this be the case for Acadia?

We took ME 3 to the Visitor Center and arrived around two in the afternoon. This place was packed with people; thank god this is the last full day of the holiday weekend. Hopefully everyone will be going home tomorrow. We only had one mission at the center; to look into camping options, hoping the park still had room. As of 1:30, Seawall Campground had 40 walk-in sites open. This was good but it was now going on 2:30 and the campground was on the other side of the island, about 15 miles from here. We decided to drive down there and check it out. We could only hope that there would still be openings, I didn't want to pay the prices that the privately-owned campgrounds were listing. The funny thing about this park is that it is in patches around the island. The entire island isn't owned by the park. There are towns, houses, and businesses everywhere all crammed on the land not owned by the park. So the answer to the question I asked above is no, there is no dramatic change in scenery here; the entire island looks similar whether it's part of the park or not.

The only roads that would get us to the Seawall Campground were ME 233 to ME 198 to ME 102 to ME 102A. We arrived at the campground to learn that there were sites left, so we took one, No. 99. All of these sites are walk-in; we took one that wasn't too far from the car. We had planned to see this side of the island today and the other side tomorrow. So we set up camp in the mosquito-infested forest and took to the road.

We first visited the site for which the campground is named: the seawall. The seawall is just what it sounds like, a wall of rocks shielding a lake behind it. However, it is not a shear vertical wall but a strip of land, all rocky, no vegetation, that separates the lake from the sea. This seawall is wide enough for the road to pass over it and people to park their cars on it. We parked here and walked on the rocks to the sea. The entire coast was rock, no sand here. I took my shoes and socks off and walked out into the water. Sergio had put his hand in the water and didn't seem to think it was too cold, but I knew my feet were freezing, the type of cold that is painful for a few minutes before you get used to the temperature. I told Sergio to take his shoes and socks off and join me in the water. He was reluctant at first but eventually took the plunge. I could tell by the expression on his face that he experienced the same bone-chilling temps that I did. There were several types of seaweed in the water and tons of tiny snails in little, tiny shells. One type of this seaweed is called Rockweed and has air bladders all over it to keep the weed floating near the sunlight. The stuff feels like rubber. Nearby was an Asian family frantically picking a certain type of seaweed which looked like grass. I don't know what they were going to do with it but they were collecting it in large piles.

We moved on, continuing our tour of the western half of the island. We stopped at the Ship Harbor Nature Trail. This is a 1.5-mile trail through the forest out to the water and Ship Harbor. The forest is like the rainforests of the Northwest. Moss hangs on everything and trees grow by any means necessary. Many trees that had fallen down due to storms would begin growing through one of its branches rather than the main trunk. The branch would become the new trunk. There were a lot of red and white spruce and apple trees. The apple trees were once part of a farm here before the land was donated to the park between 1916 and 1929. The trail is really beautiful, but the forest is not quite as thick as a typical forest; I guess because it lies near the ocean. On our way back we found a tiny shoe for a baby, a little sneaker sitting in the middle of the trail. I carried it back to the parking lot and luckily caught the woman who was about to go search the trail for it. She was overjoyed at the sight of this three-inch long sneaker.

We continued on our journey and went through Bass Harbor and Bernard on ME 102. Along this road were houses and trees, not too much for extraordinary scenery. The ranger at the campground told us that a guy spotted some seals off Indian Point so we tried to find this place but the maps we had were not good enough to tell us the name of the smaller roads so after a while of driving through the woods on these back roads we came back to route 102. Oh well, next time perhaps.

We decided to find a place to eat since it was dinner time by now. We filled the tank at a gas station and asked if there were any restaurants nearby that are cheap and wouldn't care about how we were dressed. They weren't too helpful and as we drove into Southwest Harbor, the only large town near the campground, we didn't see too much. We looked at a few places but they weren't right; either too expensive or too formal. I thought we would have to return to the Seawall and begin picking seaweed, but finally we settled on a nice place off the main road. I don't remember the name of the place but it was pleasant and our waitress was very nice. She knew a lot about this area and when I asked, "Do you live here year 'round?" she replied, "No, I'm not that crazy!" So she was an extended tourist and had a lot of information about the many things to do in the area. She liked the ferry to Nova Scotia. It's a 6 hour ride with a stocked bar, gambling, karioke, and what sounds like a raging party. Well, this was not on our agenda so we passed on that. Dinner was nice and the beer tasted great after a long day in the heat; my face was already beginning to turn rosy red from the sun.

I thought it would be nice to go to one of the lighthouses around sunset. So after dinner we headed for the Bass Harbor Headlight. This is a rocky point on the southwest part of the island where the lighthouse is located. Of course, all the headlights are automatic now, no one is needed to run them each day, but it appears as though there are people still living in the house adjacent to the light. A lot of people had the same idea we had and were out hiking on the huge granite boulders that stand between the forest and the sea. Some were just sitting on the rocks, some were setting up tripods for the pictures that may someday make the postcards. We left before it was totally dark. The sun had already descended below the trees so we decided to head back to camp. Keep in mind, any time that we've spent outside the car today we've used most of our energy fending off the hoard of mosquitoes that fill the air.

Once back at camp we did a second coating of bug spray and did a lot of planning for the next few days. The mosquitoes in this place are unbelievable. Tonight we basically ruled out Fundy National Park in Canada. I would like to have gone there but it really wasn't feasible timewise. I slept much better tonight with the cooler temps. They say it may go into the upper 40s tonight (that's about 5-10°C).

Independence Day

Acadia—Quoddy Head, Maine—Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada

Today we woke up knowing we wouldn't be getting showers. On top of this, the sinks in the bathroom are the type that don't stay on unless you keep your hand on the spigot. The only good thing was that the water was so cold that it made up for the inconvenience. So a sponge bath would have to do, and it does do the job. I mean you do feel significantly cleaner after washing your face and arms and dunking your head under the water. The thing I hated was after you cleaned up you have to spray the bug spray all over, otherwise you're breakfast for these guys. I love that lemony smell early in the morning. Then on top of lemons is the beach smell of suntan lotion, it just makes you want to go wash again.

We headed for Bar Harbor for a little breakfast. There was something going on in town today for the holiday. People were beginning to line the streets with their chairs and it was looking like there was going to be a parade. We drove around looking for a parking place and finally found one on the outskirts of town. We followed everyone else toward town and came to a point where we both smelled food. We turned around and there was a restaurant there on the corner. We went in and they miraculously had a table for us. We sat down and our waiter, who was obviously not from this country, eventually came. He didn't understand anything I was saying. I had to point to the item I wanted on the menu. It was funny. I asked him where he was from and he said Spain. Sergio told him he was from Italy and the two spoke to each other in Italian for a bit. He kept asking us if we wanted bagels, "Begls? You want begels?" Took me a few times to figure out what the hell he was talking about. The service was slow but not as bad as the place in Wiscasset. All the people working were running around frantically, sweat pouring down their foreheads. I asked the host what was going on today and he replied, "Everything!"

Like clockwork, as soon as we paid our check, the music started in the street. The Bar Harbor Forth of July parade had begun. We joined the people crowding the sidewalks and watched every group known to man in Bar Harbor drive by. This was the first parade of this kind I'd seen, or, at least, remember seeing. People driving by at five miles per hour throwing candy and spraying water on you. The Shriners were stealing the show though; they're supposed to be very big in Maine. They came in waves. First was a group in go-carts. They formed large loops, continuously driving around in circles and skidding around coming only feet from the onlookers. Some people vacated their ring-side seat for fear they would get skid marks on their shins. The next group came in miniature tractor trailers and miniature boats. Then back to the stripped down go-cart but now they had a car with a track on top of it for the go-carts. The go-carts would drive up on top of the car on this track then down the other side, the kids liked it I guess. Our Spanish waiter from the restaurant kept rushing out to take pictures of them.

In between the Shriners were other local groups; the police, fire department (including the bagpipes), ambulances, park rangers, little league teams, restaurants, radio stations, drama clubs, bars, retail stores, men who still drive Model As and Ts, men who play five instruments at once in the bed of a pick-up truck, the usual supply of clowns, and, of course, the beauty queen to head the parade. I don't remember who they had for this parade, maybe Miss Maine or Miss Acadia or perhaps, Miss Mount Desert Island, who knows. This parade was true Americana, something which both Sergio and I had never experienced before. This all reminds me of a joke by Dennis Miller: The Russians have their May Day parade where they roll out the missiles and war machines. Probably, like us, they only see clips from our celebrations, which is why they probably think our biggest threat comes from a 50 foot floating Underdog balloon.

After an hour we decided to walk to the end of the street. Once we arrived there I could see our car a block or two away and the end of the parade was just turning the corner. It was about 11:30 by now so we headed for the car; it was getting hot out and I could feel the sun beginning to do a number on me.

We headed for the Park Loop Road and Cadillac Mountain. We started up toward the summit, stopping along the way at a few overlooks. These are unique mountains because they are not covered with forest. The plants that do live on these mountains are small shrubs at the most. We explored one of the points on the side of the mountain before reaching the top. We walked over the granite surface sitting for a moment far above Eagle Lake. We could see the entire island from up here, trace out its extremes and find all the other islands that lie next to Mount Desert Island. We finally made it to the top of the 1,530 foot summit, the highest peak on the U.S. Atlantic coast. The view from the top was similar but now we could see the other side of the mountain and the town of Bar Harbor, where undoubtedly the celebrations were going on as we gazed from high above.

We walked around for a while but had spent so much time hiking around the lower overlook that we took a look and left. The view was nice though. To the south was the ocean and the many small islands that shelter Mount Desert Island from large waves. In every other direction was Maine; forest with the occasional mountain popping up out of the glacier-flattened landscape.

Our next stop was at the Precipice Trail, a trail leading up to a cliff that makes up Champlain Mountain. The trail was closed because of the return of a rare species of bird. The Peregrine Falcons have taken up residence on the cliffs of the mountain and the park service doesn't want anyone disturbing them. In the parking area is a sign with all the information about the birds one might see in the air around the cliff. They are shown in silhouette so you can recognize them in flight. We saw the falcon and several other birds, but not the Bald Eagle, as advertised on the sign.

We kept going on the loop road, eventually making our way out to the eastern coast of the island. Stopped briefly hoping to see some puffins or seals but we only saw the always present Herring Gulls. They were harassing the people who were having a picnic on the huge granite boulders that are the beach. The seagulls even approached us with hopes of a treat. One was standing on a rock just below us making noise, trying to keep our attention. He wasn't getting anything from us so he took off into a large, graceful circle landing next to us 10 feet away from where he took off. His patience wore quickly though, so he flew away.

We continued on and drove the rest of the loop back to the Cadillac Mountain and the Visitor Center. We weren't staying the night in the park so it was time to get on our way. We drove out ME 3 back to "the mainland." Once in Ellisworth, we continued going north on US 1?anything to get away from all the people. We were heading along the coast to the eastern-most part of Maine. The traffic was thinning out finally. Once we got to ME 138 we slipped off 1 for a bit and headed for Lubec and Quoddy Head State Park. This is the eastern-most piece of land in the lower 48 only to be outdone by the tiny islands in the Aleutian Island chain in Alaska that cross the 180th meridian.

We decided to head for the park and check it out. We parked the car and walked a bit on a trail that runs along the edge of a cliff that is high above the water. This area is just as beautiful as Acadia, if not more. It is more isolated and really gives you a sense of the end of the U.S. A long island can be see in the distance but it is part of Canada, everything east of here is Canada.

The water is strange here. We really are in the Bay of Fundy and not too far from here, so says Rand McNally, is the largest whirlpool in the Western Hemisphere. What this means, I don't know, but I do know that the water does not flow like a typical body of water around here. The water seems to flow without direction, as if it is not moving. There is also an extreme difference in tides in this region.

We hiked along the trail for a bit among the moss-covered forest overlooking the clear blue water and the dark granite. This was a beautiful park but, unfortunately, no camping. So we went into Lubec to look for a place for dinner. We ended up in an older section on the edge of town, a piece of the town that the town has forgotten about. Clearly, no one but those who live here uses the roads in this part of town anymore. Only fisherman occupy the old, dirty houses along this road. The water in the small bay that separates the two countries is the back yard for those on the east side of the road.

Again people were lining up alongside the road. We decided to eat in a tired, old place that was empty when we walked in. The young woman told us to sit anywhere. It was like entering these people's dining room. A few of the locals were in and out in the place, smoking and talking about the things people talk about in this part of the world. We ate and I asked the waitress/host/daughter of the owners/cooks what was going on in town tonight. She said there was going to be a Shirttail Parade and fireworks later. The sun was low in the sky by this time and with only two options for camping in the area we decided to try the one in Canada since I overheard the locals talking of a forest fire in Dennysville, which is where the nearest park with camping is in Maine.

We drove back through town but the streets were already lined with people and closed by the police. The cop asked me where we were going and I told him we wanted to get to Canada. With the parade slowly making its way toward us he radioed ahead to another cop and then told us to drive on through. I thought it would be funny to drive slow and wave to the people but these cops probably don't see enough action to get away with just a roll of the eyes, they would have probably taken us downtown, which, by the way, is only half a block away from wherever you are in town.

So we passed without incident over a bridge and into Canada. I need only show a form of ID but Sergio has to go through the whole interviewing and stamping the passport routine. We were looking for the Herring Cove Provincial Park. The province, by the way, is New Brunswick, and the island we were on was Campobello Island. The island is small; 10 miles long, and 3 miles wide. It is also in the Atlantic Time Zone, so it was now an hour later. It would be odd to have sunset at 9:30 PM and darkness finally set in around 11 at night, but I suppose they get used to it.

We found the park, registered, unpacked the stuff, and put up the tent. We wanted to see the fireworks tonight. It turns out that Lubec and Campobello have joint festivities. From June 24 to July 4 both towns participate in frog jumping contests, a dart shoot, bingo, lip-sync contest, beauty contests (for men and women), beautiful baby contest, watermelon and blueberry pie eating contest, and many other activities topped off by the fireworks in Eastport, Maine which are scheduled for tonight.

Once darkness set in we headed over to the western part of the island to see the fireworks. We were one of the first there and sat on the rocky beach, they don't have sand around here. The sun was going down over the eastern parts of Maine. The bugs were annoying even with the bug spray. By the time the show started the beach was filled with people and kids running all over the place. Fires lit the beach and dogs roamed around. The show lasted a while and it was getting cold, it was no longer shorts weather out here. We were looking to go after about an hour but someone parked our car in. No one seemed to know whose van was blocking us but all were sympathetic.

Eventually Sergio was able to wedge the car out with the help of another person but some old lady was blocking the way in the parking area, which was actually the Deer Isle Ferry parking area. We eventually got out as soon as everyone else decided it was time to go home. We went back to camp and hit the sack. Heard more owls tonight. This would be the first night of my life I've spent out of the United States, interesting thought.

Downeast to Aroostook

Campobello Island, New Brunswick—Aroostook County, Maine—St. Jacques, New Brunswick

Today we planned to explore Campobello Island a bit. The island is very scenic with many trails. Besides Herring Cove Provincial Park, there is also the Roosevelt Campobello International Park. There isn't much to do in Herring Cove so we cleaned up and headed for the Roosevelt Park.

This was the vacation spot for Franklin D. Roosevelt. He came here every summer as a child until he developed polio while he was here in the summer of 1921. He came back a few times after that, but not as often as he once did. This park was established jointly by Canada and the U.S. in 1964. The Roosevelt's cottage and the cottage next to them have been preserved and you can tour the entire cottage. The inside of the cottage was nice, there was a tour guide in every part of the house. These tour guides were helpful, they knew all the details from the daily workings of the house to pieces of furniture and who sat on them. However, they were extremely robotic in their presentation, as if they were reading off an image of a notecard in their brain and were being forced not to deviate from its script.

We decided to check out the park drives. This is an area that covers the southern portion of the island and is where the Roosevelts once drove carriages through the woods to go swimming and picnic among the trees. Those who owned the land after the Roosevelts logged the land for pulp. Although the trees are growing back, it is a young forest, not like the forest the Roosevelts knew. The gravel and dirt roads through the forest today are close to the way they were earlier in this century. We took the Cranberry Point Drive to Fox Farm, a place where people used to "farm" foxes. Then we went on Fox Hill Drive which passes two hills of huge, moss-covered boulders. We went to the southern part of the island down Liberty Point Drive. There was supposed to be a trail that went by a huge bog but I saw nothing. Instead, we walked on the rocky beach, again, no sand. Collected a few rocks though. Beautiful, smoothed rocks of all colors, from pure black to pink to white with spotty black specks. All were the same; rounded, worn, and approximately the same size, about golf ball to softball size.

Soon it was time to head back and drove out Liberty Point Drive to Glensevern Road, an old logging road that's wide enough to land a small plane. We left Campobello Island over the FDR Memorial Bridge and entered the United States with an instant gain of an hour. We ate in a restaurant outside of Lubec on ME 189. It was good food and good service. It would probably be the last place we would see fresh lobster since today we would be driving north away from the coast.

We got back to US 1 and headed north along the St. Croix River separating Maine from New Brunswick. The towns along the road are farther and farther apart now. Calais, ME is a big town and pretty much the last large town near the coast. From now on the road would straighten and flatten a little. The towns are a bit more industrial now and less B&B tourist-type towns. Logging trucks frequently roll past doing 70+ miles per hour.

At Houlton we met up with I-95; where the eastern interstate starts. Get on here and it'll take you to Miami, but not today; we kept our northerly route up US 1. Once away from the remnants of I-95 development, the road became quite scenic. Before, the road was a little hilly, and there were trees lining the sides of the road. Now it was a bit flatter and farms began popping up. They grow a lot of potatoes up here, who knew? The towns looked nicer and we actually saw some people. Mountains could be seen in the distance, towering over the otherwise flat horizon.

At Mars Hill, we shied away from the large towns of Presque Isle and Caribou, ME and took the more direct US 1 ALT. This continues on a straight path north directly next to the Canadian border passing through the smaller towns of Fort Fairfield and Limestone eventually meeting back up with US 1 in Van Buren, ME. Riding along the St. John River, we could see Canadians doing the same on the other side. This river begins in the northwest part of Maine and flows down through New Brunswick to the city of Saint John, the largest city in New Brunswick. It wasn't too long till Madawaska, ME where we would cross the river into Edmunston, New Brunswick. This means we were back in the Atlantic Time Zone again, not that it matters much.

Now that we were in Canada and Sergio's interview went well with the men in customs, we needed to find Trans-Canada 2. It took a bit of driving before I convinced myself that we were going in the wrong direction. We asked a couple, who were pulled over on the side of the road next to a recycling bin, where this road is. It seems as though people speak French up here before English. We were on route 2 for a bit, and within minutes saw the park we were looking for; Les Jardins Provincial Park. This is on the tiny sliver of New Brunswick that is between Maine and Québec.

We went to register and were met with a "Oui?" to which I replied, "do you have any open campsites?" This park is very open; not too many trees. In the east is a mountain or large hill and there are hills to our west but the park is in the valley. It lies on a river that drains into the St. John. There are pine trees that have been planted but other than that, no other original forest. Once we found our site (No. 107) we got out of the car and sat in the grass for a while.

It was getting hot and we were both very tired. The sun was on its way down now and I couldn't wait for it to fall below the horizon. The bugs were again nipping at any exposed flesh they could find. These were professional bugs too. We sprayed with the bug spray and left it sitting out, ready for action. Came back later to find the top of the can and the nozzle were covered with bugs, dying in the liquid residue of the spray. Was it suicide, like the beached whales? Eventually, after sitting in the grass for about an hour, we started setting up the tent and once the sun was far enough down, we were able to sit at our picnic table which was not protected by the shade of the small evergreen trees.

I was relaxed now after the long drive. The people next to us had the RV, the kids, and the dog. They had awnings, a gas grill set up, and were nice enough to provide the park with an Elton John concert blaring from their stereo. The French language seems very loud to me, perhaps it's just the people up here. We both were too worn out to regroup and go get something to eat so we ate some Ritz crackers and called it a night. It was getting hotter now and this made it hard to sleep. I was trying not to think what it would be like tomorrow morning when the sun hit the tent without any trees to filter it. Recalling past experiences, I knew it could get hot enough inside to bake bread.

Québec City

St. Jacques, New Brunswick—Québec City—Oka, Québec

This morning we woke up and took showers. Talked to a man in the bathroom who accused me of bringing the heat with us up from Philly. He was from as he put it, "the civilized part" of Ontario. We left and went north on Trans-Canada 2 looking for a place to eat breakfast.

We crossed the line into Québec and soon found a place to eat. The heat was beginning to set in and it was evident that it was going to be a hot one. This place was a nice, clean restaurant but had that generic look of a dentist's waiting room. The food was good and not too expensive. Our waitress was a timid, young girl who spoke French before English but had no problem taking U.S. currency. She gave us an exchange of ten U.S. dollars to 13 Canadian dollars. Now that we were out of New Brunswick, we were back in the Eastern Time Zone and it was now 9:30 not 10:30. I told Sergio to look at the clock hanging on the wall behind him knowing he would be surprised. He looked back at me with that "this is crazy" look once he saw it was not 10:30 but 9:30. He didn't understand the strange time zone boundary we've been crossing for the last couple days, it's definitely not the straightest line.

We continued driving and stopped at an information center. The guy in there gave us some info on Québec City and Montréal. We kept going on this overcast, hazy day. Passed through the town of St.-Louis-du-Ha! Ha! and St.-Honoré-de-Témiscouata on our way to the St. Lawrence River. What is it with the names up here? We turned southwest on Route 20. This is like an interstate and is not much for scenery. From Rivière-du-Loup, where we got on the highway, it was about 120 miles to Québec and 260 miles to Montréal.

This road basically follows the south side of the river, although the river is too far away to be seen. It's also very flat here and the unusually warm temperature doesn't make it any better. It's green but it's so hazy today that colors appear dull. Before long we were in Québec City. We crossed the river on Route 175 and drove northwest into the old part of the city.

The old city is a small part of Québec City sandwiched between the St. Lawrence and the St. Charles Rivers, similar to the way Pittsburgh, PA is sandwiched between the Monongahela and the Allegheny. The topography in Québec City is quite strange. Most of the city is elevated from the river on a plateau. The banks of the river are wide enough to support a whole section of the city which is somewhat isolated from the "downtown" section found on top of the plateau. The old city is on the very edge of this plateau and uses the high cliffs as part of its protection. The sides of the city opposite the cliffs are surrounded by walls built in the 19th century. The old section is fortified on all sides and on one end of this fortification is the Citadelle, a star-shaped fort built between 1820 and 1850. Obviously, these fortifications were built when the city was first founded; there is no need for them now, although you never know the way Québec is today.

We parked on Avenue Laurier next to the Drill Hall and the Parc des Champs-de-Bataille. This park was the site of a battle between the English and French armies in 1759. We needed Canadian coin to feed the parking meters so we went into the Y, which was right across the street, where we got change. We began walking into the old city, walking through the gate that provided an opening in the fortifying wall. The gate was like something you'd see in Busch Gardens, Williamsburg except there were no huge wood doors, since the street shared this passage as well. Passing through the gates was like walking back in time. While there were cars driving around and horse and buggy tours, the streets are now much thinner and the buildings are older, smaller, and more like an old European city than something you typically see in North America.

We walked straight for the Château Frontenac and the outer perimeter of the walled city. This side of the perimeter overlooking the river has the advantage of the cliffs that elevate the city from the banks of the river. Once out to the immense palace, there is a boardwalk that traces along the cliffs. The weather was so hot that the heat was just billowing off the worn planks of the wide walkway. The painted wooden railings overlooking the river were too hot to rest your arms on without being burned. The refreshment and ice cream carts were making a killing today.

We took our obligatory pictures of the château and got off the boardwalk; the heat was wearing me down. The château was completed in 1893 and named after Count of Frontenac, governor of New France. Now it's a hotel and holds on to its historic roots by giving tours; we didn't go in to see how much the rooms were. Around the château is a small square with trees and statues. Everyone on the streets was huddling in the shade of the trees or of the buildings.

We walked into the ice-cold, air-conditioned post office and Sergio sent some postcards back to Italy. We then headed for the car, walking through the narrow streets and inhospitable heat. We eventually made it back to the car after passing a park where people were swimming in a public pool, it was tempting. Once we arrived back at the car, we took some of the water we had left and sat down at a picnic table in the shade in the park beside the car. We rested a bit and then figured out how we were going to head toward Montréal and where we were going to sleep once we got there.

Now we had to drive 253 kilometers or 158 miles, this time driving along the north bank of the St. Lawrence. We drove out of the city the same way we came in, but this time took Route 540 out to Route 40, a straight shot down into Montréal. Unfortunately, this was an interstate-type road but we had a lot of miles to cover so this was probably best. The sun was low in the sky when we got onto the by-pass (Route 640) around Montréal. Montréal is on a large island and north of this island is another island which is the city of Laval. We were above this island heading for the closest campsite on the map; Oka Provincial Park.

We were driving along on Route 640 (I would consider it to be about rush-hour) when all of a sudden a loud noise hit the back of the car. I looked back to see the rear window totally shattered. We pulled over and listened to the window divide into tiny pieces; cracking and splitting again and again. It was obvious that the window was not going to survive long; as we drove away tiny pieces of glass would continuously fall into the back on top of all our stuff in the back seat. We got off at the next exit and looked for a place to get a temporary fix. We stopped at a gas station in Laval and I went in to the cashier but she didn't speak English so Sergio turned on the French and I think she recommended some other places to go.

We drove down the road a bit to another gas station but they had nothing that would help us. They told us to try a glass shop a mile or two further down the road. It was after 6 PM now and I was worried that stores would begin closing. This was the case when we got to the glass shop so I figured the Wal-Mart that we passed might have something to cover the window. We ventured into the mammoth store and Sergio found someone to cut us some clear, thin plastic, the kind you buy from the fabric section. With that, and some duct tape, we went out to the car and sized up the situation. There were many stares and one comment from woman who first spoke in French but then translated her question in English asking, "Did the sun break your window?" One more reminder of the intense heat and humidity that they seem to be unaccustomed to up here.

After a thorough, air-tight, water-tight tape job, we made our way back out to the highway and toward the park so we could get some food and sleep after this long, hot day. We arrived at the park (without incident) and got a campsite. This park is more of a recreational park than a natural park. It sits on the banks at the head of the Ottawa River which feeds into the St. Lawrence River, so the main activity here is swimming, but there is a lot of biking too. There are a ton of campsites as well. We were in the "Les Dunes" section with probably a hundred other groups.

It had just rained here and everything was very wet. While driving up the road these tiny, gray frogs kept leaping out of the road. I was afraid we would squash one. We set up our tent and unpacked some things. We were in a fairly thick coniferous forest and there were evergreen needles everywhere. The sky turned gray and threatened us with rain. Once we got the stuff unpacked we went to find something to eat. We drove to what seemed to be the central meeting place for all those staying in the park. They had a small snack bar where we ordered but then found out that they didn't take US currency. So we counted up our Canadian funds that Sergio had collected and were still a dollar or two short, so we tried to explain to these girls behind the counter that we would just pay the difference in US dollars but they had no idea what we were talking about so this kid behind us overheard the conversation and translated to the girls. They were making money on the deal so I didn't see how they could refuse, even if they put their own Canadian money in the register and took our US money home to exchange themselves. So for all our trouble we purchased two grilled cheese sandwiches and two cokes.

By the time we sat down the rain had begun and it was coming down hard. The cafeteria where we were eating was full of people now, since it was raining. All kids too; mostly teenage and pre-teen. The absence of parents makes me believe this is one of those places that parents come to vacation with the kids and end up taking a vacation from the kids. The power went out a few times and sent the place into hysterics, kids screaming, the usual kid stuff.

As we were finishing, these two girls approached us and started talking in French. So Sergio started talking to them. The conversation was short and I asked him what they wanted and he replied, "They wanted to know where we were staying." I asked him, "You didn't tell them did you?" He said he told them the right section but not the campsite number. So sure enough, the two girls were standing in the road just at the turnoff of our camping section. I don't know what they teach the kids up here because these girls were young, I mean very young, like between ten and thirteen. It always boosts your ego to have pre-pubescent girls trying to pick you up.

At any rate, we drove right past the girls standing in the road and hit the sack. Tomorrow we will see Montréal.

Montréal

Montréal, Québec, Canada—Lewey Lake, New York

This morning the tent was still soaked from last night's rain. We tried to get all the water, pine needles, and dirt off before we stuffed it into its bag; not a pleasant thing to do first thing in the morning. Once we packed everything up, took showers, and cleaned up, we walked to the beach via a trail through the woods. It was a small beach that was being cleaned for the day's visitors by girls going around picking up trash. There were many trees near the beach but a forest could not develop with the amount of people walking through the area.

We walked back to camp and started for the city. We took Route 640 to Route 15, the Autoroute des Laurentides, which heads southeast into the city. It was morning rush-hour so we encountered a bit of traffic on our way. Picked up Route 40, Autoroute Metroploitaine, then got off on some street that looked like it would take us into the central part of the city. We ended up parking next to a park again, I think it was Lafontaine Park. There was a row of cars parked inside a line of cones, I don't know if it was legal, but we had no problems.

We started walking toward the center of town. I didn't know what there was to see but I think Sergio had a few things in mind. We walked along a primarily residential street with a separated miniature street for bicycles between the road and the sidewalk. First time I'd seen something like this. There are separate street signs and lane lines for this mini bike road. We had a small map of downtown in the tourist guide we picked up. So far we hadn't made the map yet, the park where we left the car was not on the map which made me worry a bit.

Soon though we came upon Saint-Louis Square, which is in the top corner of our map. We continued walking around downtown past the many shops, restaurants, and the few skyscrapers of Montréal. We ended up walking into a closed-off part of a busy street. The Montréal Jazz Festival was underway and there were people everywhere. There was a lot of security and they searched Sergio's bag, perhaps we were going to blow up the Jazz Festival or something.

We went into a church that is sandwiched between the modern office buildings of today. It is a very old church, although I don't remember when it was built, but it's probably at least 100 years old, possibly more. Inside there were many visitors and there was this guy going around making conversation with everyone, telling us about the history and future of the church.

It was trying to rain, some sprinkles were beginning to come down. Within ten minutes we were standing under an overhang of one of those grand old department stores watching the pouring rain. It was getting crowded fast as we watched people get wet running through the pouring rain. We waited quite a bit for the rain to let up. Once it did we kept on walking around the downtown area but we didn't get too far before it began to pour again. This time we were next to the World Trade Center of Montréal.

We sat outside the complex for a while, but the rain was not letting up, so we ventured in and found a section of stores and restaurants, like a mini mall. We sat on a bench and waited it out. We had eaten some of the snacks that were left in the car while we were driving in, not exactly a meal but something to give us a little energy in the morning. By now, the restaurants were very tempting but to tell you the truth, I really didn't feel like dealing with the foreign language or currency, so I figured I'd wait to get some food.

Eventually we left, and, although it was still lightly raining, we made our way back to the car. Stopped in another church, they were playing the organ and the rumbling could be heard and felt outside on the street. By the time we reach the car we probably will have walked about 4 or 5 kilometers.

We rested a bit in the park next to the car, it was very pretty with a lake and a lot of green everywhere. Once we got going we followed the signs to the Pont Jacques Cartier Bridge which passes over the Parc des Iles, a recreation park with a casino, amusement park, and a geodesic dome encompassing a biosphere. Once over the bridge, we headed south on Route 15 for the border; Montréal is only about 40 miles from the New York State border.

The terrain is very flat and there was a front coming through. We were driving through the frontal boundary and while Sergio was driving I saw 4 funnel clouds. I made him pull over on the side of the road to see for himself. They looked like a tube coming down from the cloud deck tapering to a point at the bottom. They swirled around and around. All the ones we saw died out after a few minutes but by this time they had grown quite long. This was the first time I'd seen anything resembling a tornado and for Sergio, who was hoping to see a tornado while in the States, this would probably be as good as it gets as far as tornadoes are concerned.

Finally we made it to the border and encountered the typically bitchy US Customs officer. Back in the ol' US. No more trouble talking to people or buying things. Christ, I've been out of the country for a few days and I'm missing it already. We were so close to the famed Dannemora, NY that I had to stop and see what this place is like, take some pictures for my grandmother who did some of her growing up here about 70 years ago. She wants to go back so badly that I thought perhaps some pictures might quench her thirst.

Canadian Route 15 turns into I-87 in New York State and we stayed south on this until Plattsburgh and NY 3. We did not go into Plattsburgh but it probably would be a nice city, being on Lake Champlain. We drove west on NY 3 until NY 374 which goes to Dannemora. This is a very rural area with miles between the small towns. Dannemora is a nice size town with much of its population working in the Clinton Correctional Facility. This, in Grandma's eyes, is the world renown Dannemora Prison where riots occur every other week and stories of heroism and tragedy still prevail (only family members will see the humor here).

We parked the car and with camera in hand walked "the main drag." The main drag is short and consisted of the jail on most of one side with its high, white, castle-like walls, complete with guard towers and all. After the walls, which are about 5 feet from the street, are other prison facilities like the greenhouse and administration buildings. I walked around looking for old buildings that may have been here in the 1920s. One was a small house that is used by the prison now. I was on the sidewalk taking aim with the camera when a guy in a pickup truck rushed up and got out asking me what I was taking a picture of and why. I told him what I was doing and he said that I couldn't take pictures on state property. If I wanted to cross the street and take one from the gas station I could do that, but not on state property. This didn't seem to make much sense to me but we walked across the street and took the picture and watched our step from now on.

I also took a shot of the Dannemora Town Hall, a tiny box of a building that houses the local government, the library, the town court, and the town nursery school. Took a few more shots of some select buildings and left. There is a lot of what looks like 30s or 40s era construction in the town. There was one crowd of people outside a local bar where some guy was talking to a group of people from atop his tractor that was parked on the sidewalk.

We left Dannemora and headed back to NY 3 which would take us farther into the Adirondack Park, the largest state park in the country. The boundaries of the park are basically a large circle, about 140 miles by 120 miles. The farther we drove into the park, the fewer people there were and the more mountains and lakes appear around each bend. We stayed on NY 3 through Saranac Lake and past Santa's Workshop in North Pole, New York, would have liked to have seen this one. In the town of Tupper Lake we picked up NY 30 south. We decided to take this road to its end, very close to the Pennsylvania state line. However, we wouldn't make it that far today.

We stopped somewhere and ate dinner in an Italian restaurant, but I don't remember which town or what the name of the place was. The food was good and that's all that mattered, although I think we were a bit underdressed for the place. The towns are very far apart now and they are much more oriented towards tourists with a lot of hotels, cabins, and boat rentals. They were doing the oddest construction on this road. There would be a small section of road that was unpaved and had a lot of holes and ruts because of all the rain, then the pavement would begin again and for a mile or two it would be fine, but then another unpaved section, just long enough that if we didn't slow down the car would have probably fallen apart.

It was beginning to get dark because of the overcast skies. The clouds were very low, hovering above the lakes and mountain tops. It looked like it could begin raining at any moment. We kept passing campsites that were marked in the atlas. Eventually, we stopped at Lewey Lake which is 12 miles south of Indian Lake, NY and 12 miles north of Speculator, NY.

We chose a site that looked level and set up camp, we weren't too picky at this point. All the sites on the lake were, of course, taken. The only problem with our site was that there was no grass. Just dry mud since I guess it had rained here a lot in the last day or two. With our payment of 12 bucks, we also received the "How to protect yourself from Lyme disease" and the "Black Bears and Public Campgrounds" pamphlets.

Once we set up camp, we walked (only about 100 feet) to the lake's edge. We stood there and watched the water, clouds, and a family of ducks swimming around us. The air was still and it was very quiet. The clouds were down below the level of the mountains and we watched them move in front of the tree-covered hills. It was going to rain very soon.

We walked back because it was sprinkling a little and it had been a long day and we both wanted to get in the tent and lie down for a bit. It was too early to go to sleep so we talked a bit and in an hour or so we were ready for some sleep. Before morning, it would rain hard while we would remain dry and warm, however, everything had that soggy feeling.

Going Home

Adirondacks, New York—Catskills, New York—Berwyn, Pennsylvania

We woke up this morning to a wet, dirty tent. I was glad this was the last morning we would have to fold up a wet tent. The rain was so hard last night that dirt was all over the bottom portion of the tent, but at this point I really didn't care too much, I would be cleaning the thing in a day or two. We got the big pieces off and stuffed it in its bag. Today would be a day of driving, which is fine with me, I sometimes prefer this, depending on where one has to drive, of course.

We packed the car and left. We were probably on the road around 9 A.M. Not far from the campground we saw a group of wild turkeys roaming around on the side of the road looking for food. I drove past them but then turned around and went back to find them. They were too far into the forest to get a good picture so we just watched them as they went deeper and deeper into the woods. Continuing on NY 30 south we passed through Speculator, Wells, Northville, and Cranberry Creek. This is an old town with large shade trees and old architecture. A lot of old people walking the streets, a very quaint town. By now we were at the lower end of the park where the mountains are not as high and they are farther apart than they were in the heart of the park.

It was still a bit overcast today but the sun was trying to peek through the clouds. The area south of the park is mostly old towns which, because they are close to the New York State Thruway (I-90), have expanded beyond their original size and charm. NY 30 becomes less and less populated the farther south we drive and more and more farms pop up. The road is still curvy but is rather flat with the hills off in the distance.

Soon we were near the Catskill Mountains and Catskill Park. The road took us from the start of the East Branch of the Delaware River near Grand Gorge and followed the river all the way down to its end. The river makes up the border of the Catskill Park and about halfway along we crossed it and entered the park. While we remained in the park the road did not stretch for more than half a mile before taking a sharp hairpin turn. At one point, with all the turns we were making, I was convinced that we had made a loop; my sense of direction was totally off by now.

We crossed out of the park and continued to parallel the river, every twist and turn. Eventually we came to NY 17, basically an interstate-type road. We took this west for about 10 miles and got off in Hancock, NY. We spotted a Subway sandwich shop so we got some lunch. It was about 1 or 2 in the afternoon at this point with only one state left to travel. We found our way to the bridge that crosses into Pennsylvania and joins PA 370. We were in Wayne County and took 370 to PA 171. This area is hilly and there are many trees. We turned on PA 247 west in Forest City hoping to cut over to I-81. Unfortunately, the map and the road signs were not to clear and somehow we found ourselves on a different road marked PA 247 east. We were heading back into Forest City. So, rather than try that again, we continued south on PA 171 into Carbondale and US 6.

Carbondale is an old town with many Saturday afternoon drivers out. To top that off, there was some kind of fair going on and the traffic was backed up a bit, nothing major though. Finally, we cut over on PA 107 to I-81 and took it south toward Scranton and Wilkes-Barre. This put us on the PA Turnpike and it was a straight shot home from there, about 3 hours.

The sun was out and it was a beautiful day by the time we got home. It was about five or six in the afternoon and it just so happens that we were having a little family get-together that evening. Linda & Tom and Brian & Courtney and their better-halves were over for dinner and we walked in the door, without showers, and after sitting in a car all day with no air flowing since we couldn't open the windows with the plastic rear window and the fan in the car worked only when it wanted to (which wasn't often). It was cool outside though and the humidity was gone. We got all my stuff out of the car and Sergio went home, probably to get a decent shower, which is exactly what I did.

Conclusion

So how much did this journey set us back? Not too bad, would have been much better if we cooked our own food but we had no stove so that was not an option.

GAS	96.11
LODGING	65.60
FOOD	123.88
FEES	20.55
TOLLS, PARKING	17.90
PHONE	2.65
TOTAL	326.69

The gas isn't too bad considering the gas mileage that the car gets (low). The trip was about 2,130 miles (about 3,400 kilometers) and the Chrysler held up very well for the distance we drove it. In the beginning, when the brakes were smoking at the bottom of the hill, I had my doubts, but all turned out well in the end. Not too bad money-wise either. Only about $150 each (with 1 U.S. Dollar = 1,500 Lira this comes to about 225,000 Lira), can't beat that for a week long trip. I guess the weather could have been a little nicer but everything worked out in the end, as it always does. And, now that I have a tent, I can take trips like this whenever the time and money are there, which is what I always look forward to doing.