Goodbye Gray

After a month of mostly gray, gloomy weather I was glad to return home to Michigan. It feels strange for me to be writing that last sentence because, during certain times of the year, Michigan is infamous for its overcast skies. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy my trip. I had a good time visiting family and friends, and I saw a lot of the country I don't usually visit. It's just that I expected to have better weather for hiking and photography. Of course, there was no way to predict the remains of a hurricane traveling up the East Coast.

I was too early for the changing autumn colors, too. It wasn't until I returned home that the reds, oranges and yellows appeared. Just looking at the warm colors and walking on the crunchy leaves brightens my day.

Wandering Around Maine

About the time I entered Maine, the remains of a hurricane were heading up the East Coast and the weather turned nasty. The rainy, windy weather wasn't conducive to sightseeing or photography; most of the time I didn't even want to leave Van. It was cold and my solar panels were useless with the constant gray skies, so I camped for two nights at a commercial RV park in Skowhegan to charge up my batteries. It was a friendly little park with warm showers and a inexpensive coin laundry. It had great Internet reception, so I was able to watch a couple of Netflix movies, too.

From Skowhegan, I drove up to Baxter State Park, where I spent a few days hiking. Mt. Katahdin, in Baxter State Park, is the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. The southern terminus of the trail is over 2000 miles away at Springer Mountain in Georgia. For the last ten years, or so, I've been exploring the AT through a series of day hikes. In my teens and twenties, I thought I would like to through-hike the trail; sometimes I still do. But, while I love the wilderness experience, I know I've grown soft and too fond of hot showers and comfy mattresses. Still, the thought of through-hiking provides me with hours of excellent day-dreaming.

Mirror Lake

I found these photos while organizing some of my photo files from my Northeast trip. I'm not sure where it was located but, I'm guessing western Maine near the New Hampshire border. I wouldn't bet my life on it though. I remember driving down a little, twisty two-lane road, on a gloomy, gray day. Suddenly, I saw this unbelievable view on my left. I made a u-turn in the middle of the road and pulled off as soon as I could find a safe place to park. I never learned the lake's name so, I've decided to call it Mirror Lake.

Ever Wonder How I Wander?

When I travel, I make few plans in advance. Usually I open my AAA road map then circle my starting point and the location of my destination with a neon-colored highlighter. I then "connect-the-dots" choosing a likely looking route. Next, I take a different color highlighter and circle all of the public parks with campgrounds along my highlighted route. Finally, with a third highlighter, I circle any interesting sights or towns I've heard or read about. Also, any that interest me while reading the map. Of course, the route I draw on the map is seldom the actual route I take. I favor small, unlikely looking, roads. Often, especially if I miss a turn, I let Van decide which road to take.

I'm an extremely casual, laid-back traveler. It's probably a good thing that I'm a solo traveler, for I'm sure the way I travel would drive most people crazy. On an average travel day, I probably drive about 150 miles, but 50 could be a good day, too. I rarely make reservations and usually don't know where I'll stop for the night. When I find a place to camp for the night, I'm seldom disappointed.

Vermont's Grand Isle State Park, in the middle of Lake Champlain, was a good find. I chose a grassy campsite, in full sun so I could recharge my solar panel batteries. Then, I walked down to the lake to do a little beach combing. While scrambling over the rocks, I found a comfortable rock chair creation provided by a previous camper. The chair was in the perfect location to eat my picnic supper, listen to the waves and watch the rising moon.

The Enchanted Emerald Lake

Emerald Lake State Park was my first stop after leaving New York. Located in the Valley of Vermont, between the Green Mountain Range and the Taconic Mountain Range, it was quite a contrast to the iron and glass "mountains and valleys" of Manhattan.

Emerald Lake was a pleasant discovery and an excellent introduction to Vermont's state park system. On the morning after my arrival, I packed a portable breakfast and went out at dawn to explore the park. The campsites were on a steep, heavily-wooded ridge above an enchanted lake. The trail from the campground led me down to the beaver ponds along Otter Creek, at the base of Emerald Lake. There, I found a comfortable rock, within sight of a beaver's lodge, to sit on while eating my breakfast. While munching on a banana, a young mink stopped to check me out. He probable stared at me for a full 30-seconds before disappearing into the rushes. Later, that morning, I saw a little orange newt sunning himself in the middle of the trail.

The lake, also added a magical feeling to the morning. The nearly mirror smooth waters reflected the early autumn colors and made the reflections of the water lilies look like a French Impressionist painting. I felt the lake inviting me to stay, but...the call of the open road was louder.

Not My Typical Roadtrip

On a typical roadtrip, I like to get as far away from "civilization" as possible. The more remote the campsite, the fewer the people, the wilder the country, the better. Boy, did I make a wrong turn somewhere! This latest trip included a week-long stay with my son in New York City. I'm not saying I didn't have a great visit, because I did, I'm just saying this was not a typical roadtrip.

Van does not like the city so he was happy to stay in the driveway of good friends of ours in Katonah, about an hour north of NYC. The Stanleys have been friends of my parents since I was just a few weeks old, when my father was in the army, stationed in Oklahoma. They have a beautiful home in a beautiful little town where they very graciously offered me both a place to leave Van, but also, a cozy room and great company to return to after my city visit. They gave me rides to and from the train station, which I used to get in to the city.

Dan, my son, met my train at Grand Central Station. He taught me how to purchase and use a MetroCard, an essential to traveling the subway system, then we rode back to his apartment in Queens. He and his fiancee, Caitlin, live in a great eleventh-floor apartment with excellent views of the Queensborough Bridge, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building and a tiny bit of the East River.

My previous visits to NYC have been rather structured and supervised; I almost always traveled with someone who knew what they were doing and where they were going. This trip was different; Caitlin was out in California on a business trip and Dan was working long hours. Although we did a little sightseeing together, notably, a trip to a Staten Island tapas restaurant, most of our visiting was in his apartment before or after he went to work.

When Dan was at work, I was on my own. I wandered around the city, sometimes with a destination in mind, other times just to walk and explore. I bought groceries and brought them home on the subway. Don't laugh, I've lived all over the world, but this was a first for me. I spent a lot of time sitting on park benches, watching people and eating food from street vendors. I explored the main library and Central Park. I shopped, both for real and window-shopping, and basically, just did whatever I wanted when I wanted. It was an extremely relaxing way to visit an anything but relaxing, city.

One of my favorite activities was taking photos of the changing cityscape from the balcony of the apartment. I watched the sun rise and set over the city and watched fronts move in and out, including one which brought a tornado with it. On the anniversary of 9-11, I saw the lights on the Empire State Building change to red, white and blue, and the twin beams of light shining from Ground Zero.

I experienced the crush of the crowds, heard the constant noise of the trains and traffic, saw the towering buildings and bridges, and everywhere, saw nature. Most of what I saw just hinted at people's craving for the natural world, such as roof-top gardens and the elaborate green space of Central Park. Other nature sightings, such as the wild turkey wandering in a children's playground near the Staten Island ferries and the hawks soaring in the thermals above the buildings, spoke of the ability of wild things to adapt to human surroundings.

Most impressively though, were the great rivers surrounding the city and the skies above. The rivers travel past the same shores as they have been since before there ever was a city or people to give them names. The skies, with their roaring winds and thunder and beautiful bolts of lightning flashing from building top to building top, showed me how small even our greatest city is. No matter how intelligent or important we think we are, no matter how great our civilizations may be, compared to the powers of nature, we are insignificant. In the end, nature always wins.

Erie Entertainment

Growing up in Michigan, the natural feature dominating my life has been the Great Lakes. One of the first things a Michigan child learns in school is HOMES, the acronym for remembering the names of all the Great Lakes, (Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, Superior). Lake Superior was the biggest, the coldest and by its name, of course, the best. Lake Michigan was where you went if you wanted sand dunes, big waves and warm water. Lake Huron's shore was quieter, its water colder and that's where you went to watch the sunrise. Lake Ontario was somewhere off in Canada, and then there was Lake Erie. The smallest and shallowest of the Great Lakes, the one with the creepy name, Lake Erie got no respect.

As a kid I always thought of Lake Erie as the place where the bodies of people who had drowned in Lake St. Clair or the Detroit River would eventually resurface.

Recently, my opinion of Lake Erie has changed. After leaving Stratford, Ontario, I camped at Lake Erie State Park, in Brocton, New York. The campground was on a high bluff above a beautiful crescent shaped beach. The sandy beach had large rocks which provided perfect spots for viewing the water. As a former Michigan kid, what I was viewing was totally mind-blowing. I was watching the sun "set" into Lake Erie...a Michigan impossibility!

The sunset was beautiful and a lively wind created some nice sized waves. After a while a friendly dog showed up to play in the waves providing me with my evening's entertainment. That night as I was drifting off to sleep I was left with two thoughts: 1. I hope the owners of that wet, sandy dog weren't sharing a tent with him, and, 2. Just where do those dead bodies resurface?