to New England
with Buzzy, Dianne, and Cheyenne Crowe
reluctant Spring and inclement weather have developed in me a severe case of cabin
fever. I have found in the past that a mental road trip is just the thing to help
with the symptoms. So, if any of you need a little relief from said fever, let's
put the top down and turn the radio up for some crusin' through New England (via
some ramblings about the trip Dianne,
& I took in June/July of 2004). Just let your mind go and feel the
wind in your hair and the sun on your face. Just let go and come with us....
begin our journey by visiting some old time favorites, the Cape Hatteras National
Seashore and the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We make a stop to see for the first
time the Wright Brothers National Memorial at Kill Devil Hills just south of
Kitty Hawk. We learn that the monument that stands atop Kill Devil Hill marks the spot where
the Wright Brothers flew their gliders before attempting powered flight. From the
monument one can gaze to the other end of the memorial and see the four stones that
mark the distances of the first four powered flights. At the time we are here,
those first tiny steps filled with such portent took place 100 years (plus six
day our adventure continues with our first crossing of the
via the Bay Tunnel/Bridge. It is early morning, and like a rabbit coming out of a
hole, we emerge from the tunnel to find a parking area with a breathtaking view of
the Bay, just beginning to awaken to the sun's touch. The waters of the Bay look
like a sleepy soul stirring beneath some vast blue blanket. I look to the east and
wave a good morning to TCO, then we are on our way again.
late afternoon, we find ourselves looking at the Statue of Liberty from the
side (I have been told that the Statue is actually in
New Jersey, but I do not know if that is true). We are looking at the Statue through a
circle of flags that are flying at half-mast in remembrance of Ronald Regan. The
scene finds and plucks that patriotic string inside me, and it resonates throughout
next day we "do" Cape Cod and Plymouth Rock, but we have to bypass
this time in order to make it to
at a reasonable hour.
is in the town of
the next day that we begin to feel the flavor of
. We walk the waterfront by the tidal river, and explore the shipworks at the east
end of town. We see a number of classic
churches, and we eat dinner at a restaurant with a terriffic view of the twilight
next day we explore the coast and find some great lighthouses to photograph. At the
end of the day we find a postcard cove full of lobster boats lying still at ebb
tide, their reflections sharp in the last brilliant rays of the day's sunshine. We
have dinner on a little pier in the cove where the lobster boats deliver
lobsters that, a few minutes later, we are dipping in drawn butter at a picnic
table on the pier. Corn on the cob and cold beer make things just right. An endless
supply of paper towels allows us to forgo the daintiness required when eating
lobster in a restaurant. We pursue our meal with gusto.
our travels resume the next day, we are greeted with a gray day, shrouded with
mist. We visit a lighthouse on a cliff near
and watch an angry sea throw itself in tantrum after tantrum on the unmoved and
unmoving rocks below. Later, we find a perfect little lighthouse sitting in a fog
bank at the end of a short pier, patiently repeating its warning with the
surprisingly deep voice of its fog horn.
up the coast, we operate out of
for the next three days. We spend a lot of that time in
. Being first-time tourists (and unapologetic about it), we visit all the
popular spots, including Otter Cliffs and Thunder Hole. I enjoy the contagious
excitement of all the other tourists, although there are not really that many when
compared with other parks we have visited. The sights are incredible. A sea of
dazzling blue competing with the sky for depth of color; each quite capable of
causing sensory overload. The green trees and gray-black cliffs add a beauty that
also spend some time hiking to less-frequented spots. I climb a steep granite
outcrop, the sun becoming warm and insistent on my back. I am rewarded with a view
that makes me forget my toil. There is a turquoise crescent of a bay inviting
explorers to a wide sandy beach, but, for the moment, there are no takers (to the
delight of this lone observer).
make the drive up
and see the town of
and the endless expanse of the ocean. There is a fair breeze blowing, and several
times I am seen doing the old tourist run and stoop to recover my wayward hat.
take our evening meal on the main street of the quaint little town of
Bar Harbor. We sit on stools at a table beside an open window and eat humongous burgers and
fabulous fries while listening to a live show of Jimmy Buffet music. Now this is my
idea of a vacation.
the dewy coolness of the next morning we happen upon a field of lupine, deep
purple and pastel coral, carpeting a gentle hillside. The flowers ease us into a
day that will later find us standing next to a postcard-perfect lighthouse on the
easternmost point of land in the
The end of this day we fulfill my oft-ridiculed quest to find "The Boy With
The Leaking Boot" fountain in
Maine. This fountain has watering stations for people, dogs and birds. It looks quite
dandy in the late afternoon sun.
next day we cross the top of
and head back down to see the middle and western parts of the state. In the
early evening, we watch a moose standing contentedly in the clear waters of a pond,
enjoying a meal of tender greens while the sun chases down the horizon.
finds us holed up in a cabin in a wild part of
Maine, knowing no one for a thousand miles, but being quite happy in our universe of
three. There is connection here.
next morning we look across the lake and see that the mountains that had settled in
for the night by the fire of sunset awake to find blankets of cotton clouds tucked
under their chins. We sit on the porch of this little cabin and let the pure, fresh
air awaken our own senses.
we travel through
we see where the "Old Man of the Mountain" used to be, and we celebrate
the Fourth of July with the locals of
. It is inspiring to hear the sounds of freedom echoing from the mountains. We
take the obligatory drive up
Washington, but we also follow roads less-traveled. We find covered bridges; and we find
waterfalls rebuking the heat of the day in cool voices with their wonderfully wet
we find a sun-mottled, shady lane so serene that we slow to a crawl and finally
stop completely to fully enjoy the experience. We visit more covered bridges and a
Revolutionary War monument that is 300 ft high. The park Ranger allows
to ride with us on the elevator up to the observation level. We see four states (or
so they tell us).
trip home takes us through the Catskills and the Blue Ridge (via
) mountains. Along the way we talk about the little moments that add up to
life...like the three of us sharing monster twist ice cream cones at a road-side
eatery in rural
while the locals smile or laugh at us. We are a little sad to see our trip
end, but we are already anticipating the next adventure. I hope you will come
with us again next time.