The Maritimes are Calling

View from Lubec, Maine

That’s Canada on the horizon, though that sounds like something far away. It’s just across the narrow bay connected by a short bridge that will bring us to Campobello Island, but first there are things to do and places to be.

Quoddy Head Lighthouse in Lubec, Maine

Quoddy Point Lighthouse. Sure, we’ve been here before, but that morning, it was foggy, and now, 17 years later, memories of the day are foggy, too, so a revisit felt perfectly in order. Then there’s the proven scientific fact that people can never get enough lighthouse experiences, well, at least people such as us.

Back at our lodge at the water’s edge, we were greeted by Jovana from Montenegro, who’s also rafted the Tara River in her home country. Our lobster benedict was a nice start, but the vibrant conversation with this temp worker really made our time in Lubec wonderful. From this tiny outpost in the Eastern United States, she’ll be leaving on Monday for a vacation that will take her to Miami, New York, and Chicago before taking the long series of flights that will return her to friends and family in Montenegro.

Mullholland Point Lighthouse on Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada

And in mere minutes, we arrived in New Brunswick, Canada, for our first lighthouse experience on this side of the border for this vacation. It is the Mulholland Point Lighthouse in Welshpool on Campobello Island.

Lubec, Maine as seen from Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada

See you later, America. From here, if you look hard, you might be able to see the Redwoods in the far distance, which is, of course, if you buy into the idea of a flat earth. Should you notice hints of familiarity with the previous image, that’s because this is Lubec in Maine from a new perspective that neither Caroline nor I have ever seen.

Ferry approaching on Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada

The ferry that will deliver us to Deer Island is arriving.

Deer Island Light Beacon on Deer Island, New Brunswick, Canada

This is the Deer Island Light Beacon. Whose dumb idea was it to build beacons? A beacon is not a sexy brand; it’s a lighthouse or nothing. Once we were off the ferry, we followed the cars that took off like a bullet, as if they knew something we didn’t know. So, instead of stopping for photographs on the island, we maintained our position and raced along with them. Good thing my fox-like instincts were working for us because they brought us directly to the next ferry crossing, which was shortly upon loading for the next crossing. [Also, on this first crossing, we were able to spot the Old Sow from a distance in the water near that beacon. The Sow is a whirlpool formed by currents and tides between these islands, best seen at specific times of the day relating to ebb and flood maximums. Also worth noting, in my opinion, is that the first ferry is privately operated and cost us $30 Canadian, while the next ferry is operated by the province and free of charge. – Caroline]

Ferry from Deer Island to L'Etete, New Brunswick, Canada

Obviously, that’s Europe in the distance. Our next landing was in the small landing at L’Etete on mainland New Brunswick.

On Roachville Road near Sussex, New Brunswick, Canada

It’s a long way to Prince Edward Island today. Whoever planned this trip was entertaining an optimism that might have been misguided or maybe just forgetful of how often we need to stop and document something or other while we crawl over the landscape. With that in mind, we decided that it was, sadly, freeway time again. One option had us driving around St. John, and the other was to stop in town for lunch; we took the latter. Lock, Stock, and Barrels, a brewpub, appeared to be as good a choice as any if we were to continue our sampling of lobster rolls, and with an upgrade of our sides to poutine, we fared perfectly well. Afterward, we rejoined the freeway, but by the town of Sussex, after 47 grueling non-descript miles (75 kilometers), we left that stupid freeway and encountered Roachville Road and the speed of travel that serves us best.

Smith Creek No. 1 Covered Bridge near Sussex, New Brunswick, Canada

Not as ubiquitous as corn, there are probably, though not exactly likely, more covered bridges than one could throw the proverbial stick at. Maybe if I had many sticks, I could throw sticks at them all, but then who really wants to create problems with poetic metaphors? Little could we have known that our detour and encounter with the Smith Creek #1 Tranton Covered Bridge from 1927 and other things along the road would add something special to our drive today, beyond all the lighthouses.

Trash collection box on Roachville Road near Sussex, New Brunswick, Canada

This peculiar roadside box plays a role in today’s adventure.

Smith Creek near Sussex, New Brunswick, Canada

Smith Creek, seen here, while not playing an essential role in the story that’s about to follow, certainly adds to the beauty narrative that the freeway was failing to deliver.

The Alston Farmhouse in Newtown, New Brunswick, Canada

This is the Alston Farm, and I wouldn’t have known that had I not been willing to stop and ask the man doing yardwork a question. You see, the peculiar box we’d seen was not the first one, different-shaped boxes, painted versions, and like right here, some houses had none. With this man in his front yard, we could confirm just what they were, though we had our hunches. Sure enough, they are trash bins, not Amazon delivery boxes.

Canadian Twenty-Five cent piece featuring the Oldfields Covered Bridge in Mount Pisgah, New Brunswick, Canada

The man we were talking to was 88-year-old Bob Alston, the friendliest Canadian we’ve met on this trip so far. True, it’s only been a few hours in Canada, but this guy will be the yardstick to measure all others. Aside from learning about why he doesn’t use the trash boxes and part of his career working for the promotion of the Sussex area, New Brunswick, and Atlantic Canada (the term he preferred over the Maritimes), he also shared a story about the Oldfields Covered Bridge in nearby Mount Pisgah, that we had already passed but failed to visit. The area’s covered bridges became important to Bob and his wife Sandra when, for several years, before the nearby freeway changed the route that would take travelers right by their home, the husband and wife were selling all manner of memorabilia and souvenirs regarding the nearby landmarks from a small shop they set up in their home.

Back in the 1990s, Canada was searching for design proposals for themed provincial quarters that were to be minted in celebration of Canada’s 125th Anniversary of Confederation, and as luck would have it, the Oldfields Covered Bridge erected in 1910 was the one chosen out of the 400 submissions for New Brunswick. After telling us about this, he asked if we’d like one of those old quarters. Heck yeah, we would, telling him enthusiastically. He went into the house and brought out two, one for each of us, so we wouldn’t have to quarrel over them.

Oldfields Covered Bridge in Mount Pisgah, New Brunswick, Canada

We turned our car around, drove back down the road, and waited patiently for the sun to find a way through the rapidly moving clouds. Another story Bob told us was that in their earliest days, covered bridges were also known as kissing bridges because they would allow young couples a moment of privacy when they could steal a kiss without anyone else seeing them. Turned around yet again, we stopped in front of Bob’s driveway and thanked him one more time for being so generous with not only the rare coin but with his time as we distracted him from his chores.

Havelock, New Brunswick, Canada

That experience and many others that Caroline and I enjoy are things that can’t be had when traveling on freeways; there is no human contact when we are speeding down major highways, and at best, we earn the anger of fellow drivers for their perceived grievances. It is, in large part, the chance of encounters such as today that make our efforts to go slow all the more worthwhile.

Caroline Wise and the Giant Lobster of Shediac, New Brunswick, Canada

I thought we’d just drive by it. I can’t tell you why I was momentarily so delusional, but there I was with Caroline by my side telling me I needed to turn around because she had to have a photo of the Giant Lobster of Shediac. While I took the photo, I was more concerned with finding an angle to reference Gilles Deleuze in the paragraph, but then I thought I’d also have to mention Jordan Peterson. While I love the French philosopher, the Canadian professor is too far off in the weeds in my opinion, lacking credibility with his bologna concept of Deleuze’s “lobster god,” representing a rejection of traditional values and a celebration of nihilism and chaos, but this is a vacation, not a moment of delving into kooks and thinkers. Instead, celebrate the fisherman who hasn’t flinched or changed his gaze in 34 years, the world’s largest lobster, and my wife, like I do.

Two women performing publicly in Shediac, New Brunswick, Canada

Every so often, we must stop for one thing or another, and so it was in Shediac. Leaving a gas station, we noticed a couple of young women who were fully set up and performing in French for anyone interested in town. Nice touch, Canada.

Waterway in Boudreau, New Brunswick, Canada

This is the southern end of Lake Boudreau on Route 133, which means we have another 40 minutes of driving ahead of us before we move from one Canadian province to another.

Moose warning near Port Elgin, New Brunswick, Canada

The relative size of a moose to a car is no joke, nor is being able to read these signs in French, though it is much easier to figure out with the English equivalent printed next to it.

View from Jourimain Island, New Brunswick, Canada

Looking west from Jourimain Island in New Brunswick, our brief eight or nine-hour first encounter with this province has been a positive and beautiful one, though I knew nothing about this part of Canada compared to its famous places such as Vancouver, Banff, Québec City, Newfoundland, and Prince Edward Island. I’d imagine that if time allowed, there would be a thousand other beautiful locations in New Brunswick that would only require people to leave the expediency of the freeway and venture into the heart of the country.

Confederation Bridge to Prince Edward Island at Cape Jourimain, New Brunswick, Canada

Speaking of Prince Edward Island, this is the Confederation Bridge that crosses the Northumberland Straight and is Canada’s longest bridge, spanning eight miles or almost 13 kilometers. We have finally arrived but are still more than an hour away from our lodging.

Sunset from Prince Edward Island, Canada

Add a couple more minutes to our travels as the epic final moments of the sunset demanded that we stop yet again. Tired and only wanting to reach our hotel, we skipped grabbing a bite at a gas station or dipping into Charlottetown, figuring the restaurant at Shaw’s Hotel would be open; it is Friday night, after all. Wrong, they closed at 8:00, and it was 8:30 when we pulled up. While I was checking in, a staff member came over and told me that after hearing about our situation, the chef offered to make us something easy, like pizza, salad, or maybe both. We enthusiastically and profusely thanked them, saying yes to a pepperoni pizza and two small Caesar salads. When I asked about the bill, they booked it to our room and offered to deliver the meal so we could unpack our car. Here we were, on the edge of the universe facing the Gulf of St. Lawrence, around the corner from the North Atlantic, and we were going to have a hot, fresh pizza delivered to a cottage in the middle of nowhere. This is a privilege.

Slow Going in Maine

Kennebunkport, Maine

Driving back into the center of Kennebunkport, we are here with nary a soul which suits us fine after last night’s crowded streets that weren’t inviting us to stop. That’s not absolutely true; we pulled in front of the Crab Shack minutes before they closed to grab a scallop sandwich. That was only possible because the 15-minute parking spots were empty. From our shared quick snack, we went back to our hotel and jumped into the photography/writing routine. But that was then, and this is now.

Kennebunkport, Maine

We were searching for the one iconic image that would scream Kennebunkport more than any other photo, but that proved elusive, so I snapped off photo after photo, and not a single one offered me what I wanted. Truth be told, I’m not enamored with this tiny enclave on the sea as there’s something that’s not us, while the Oregon Coast never seems to fail in charming us, no matter how often we return.

Kennebunkport, Maine

This rusting old anchor stuck in the mud had a certain appeal, and if I had the luxury of contemplating my words and what I’d like to say here, I might find a poetic metaphor for this representational artifact to sum up this morning in a town whose reputation seems larger than the reality of what the place is offering to my senses today.

Kennebunkport, Maine

We are moving out of town and discussing our driving plans, as deviating from my plan of no freeways might require suspension. When I was planning this trip back in April, and I saw that today would require seven hours of drive time, I likely believed or hadn’t considered that getting out at 6:00 in the morning wasn’t ever going to happen, and I admit that I’m a bit surprised at the incredibly slow pace of our travels. If we followed my original plan, we’d drive for about fourteen hours today. Leaving at 8:00 a.m., we wouldn’t be happy getting into Lubec, Maine, after 10:00 p.m., especially as we have to check in by 8:00. The dreaded freeway has become an option.

Walker Point in Kennebunkport, Maine

Silhouetted, the peninsula known as Walker Point appears in view. This is where the Bush family property is located and has been in the family since 1902. With the Texas and U.S. flags flying over the property, I’m quite certain we saw the former president’s entourage last night.

Kennebunkport, Maine

There’s something about their obvious human construct that cairns represent that speaks to me, and likely a lot of other people, on some deeper level and seems to transcend their utility of marking a place or guiding a trail. In an instant, we know that someone else is messaging us, but we typically can never know who. In antiquity, they could have been used as grave markers, and because we are drawn to patterns, especially ones that are natural to the environment, there must be a long history. Our earliest known references begin about 4,000 years ago in the Epic of Gilgamesh, continue with the Iliad and the Odyssey, and are also found in the Old Testament, specifically in the book of Genesis. Due to the temporary structures of cairns, nobody could ever hope one might last even 100 years, but in our imaginations, they seem to last forever and explore something instinctual.

German Protestant Cemetery and Church in Waldboro, Maine

Speaking of stone reminders, we are stopping at the German Protestant Cemetery and Church in Waldoboro, Maine, because not only is the place built by and used by the German community that settled these parts, but there’s also a famous grave on site.

German Protestant Cemetery and Church in Waldboro, Maine

This is not that grave, though it is an interesting tombstone with its off-kilter lean and lichen growing on it. The one that drew us in was that of Conrad Heyer, a Revolutionary War veteran who, at 103 years old in 1852, is one of a handful of people who vie for being the oldest person ever photographed around the time cameras were invented. While Conrad deserved a nice white spire as his gravemarker, it made it difficult to photograph and still be able to read the inscription. Plus, his grave gets photographed a lot, whereas this couple who were entombed nearby in the same plot and had the family name of Benthner are likely never photographed.

German Protestant Cemetery and Church in Waldboro, Maine

The German Protestant Church at the site, built in 1772 and still used occasionally, was locked, but the windows were clean enough that I could snap a few photos. It’s one of the three oldest churches in Maine.

German Protestant Cemetery and Church in Waldboro, Maine

The old part of the graveyard here is the final resting space for some of the area’s earliest settlers, along with soldiers from the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, and the Civil War.

Fruit stand in Warren, Maine

A little farther up the road in Warren, Maine, was a fruit stand where we were hoping to find blueberries and peaches. No blueberries were found, but small plums, peaches, and red pears were on hand and soon found their way into our stomachs. I should also fess up at this point that we ended up joining the freeway for 37 miles as it promised to save us an hour compared to the slower roads through dozens of small towns, and importantly, it would help us reach our hotel in time to check in, albeit just in the nick of time.

Tenants Harbor, Maine

Sure, we could have stayed on the freeway longer than 37 miles, but we had designs to make our way out to Sprucehead Island; more details about that adventure will be coming up. Meanwhile, we were tracing the coast as best we could and wasting any of the time we saved to reach Port Clyde.

Tenants Harbor, Maine

This photo, the one above and the three below were all taken in the Tenants Harbor area. Maybe we should have ended the road trip part of our vacation right here and set up here in town for the next weeks.

Tenants Harbor, Maine

The Oregon Coast might be our main happy place, but the Maine Coast is running a close second after we reach these more remote sections and remember what endeared us to this region 24 years ago.

Shore rocks at Tenants Harbor, Maine

These rocks at the shoreline at Marshall Point are likely from the Appalachian Orogeny and consist of schist, gneiss, and quartzite, all dating back to about 500 million years ago.

Seagrass at Tenants Harbor, Maine

While its name is Common Rockweed, it is spectacular in my view.

Marshall Point Lighthouse in St. George, Maine

The Marshall Point Lighthouse in Port Clyde was the reason for our detour and the therapy for enduring those 37 miles on the freeway.

Marshall Point Lighthouse in St. George, Maine

The volunteers at the lighthouse were great. Volunteers usually are when you consider that they offer their time for free and must deal with hangry tourists in a hurry to add things to a bucket list. One particular lady from the Ithaca, New York, area who lived in North Carolina a good long time and loved it before moving to Maine in retirement spoke with us about everything under the sun while still asking everyone who passed by to sign the guest register. Because of the many volunteers at our poorly funded monuments, cities and states can afford to keep these places open.

Bay view from Port Clyde, Maine

If this kind of view looks appealing to you, too, there are rooms to rent in the Port Clyde area. We’d highly recommend a visit, especially after our next stop.

McLoons Lobster Shack on Spruce Head Island, Maine

We’ve reached Sprucehead Island.

McLoons Lobster Shack on Spruce Head Island, Maine

More than 60 miles away from the nearest freeway or only about 10 miles south of Highway 1, you’ll find McLoons Lobster Shack. You should go, you must go; it’s pricey, but it’s amazing.

Caroline Wise at McLoons Lobster Shack on Spruce Head Island, Maine

We knew we’d ordered too much food, but when would we get a second visit? Caroline ordered the normal lobster roll, and I went for the Lobster Rolls Royce with twice the meat. We ordered some of their grilled clams, which might have been the best we’d ever had, enhanced by the most amazing herb, garlic, and butter sauce. The perfectly grilled, buttered bread that wraps the lobster also has a layer of mayo spread on its inner surface; as this is the traditional Maine way of serving a lobster roll, we went hybrid style with sides of drawn butter to slather over the lobster for that extra indulgence. Magnificent, but that perfection comes with a high price, and today, that was $106 for lunch, though it also included the world’s biggest whoopie pie, a New England favorite from the Pennsylvania Amish, which Caroline opted for.

McLoons Lobster Shack on Spruce Head Island, Maine

The location on Sprucehead Island for this lobster shack couldn’t have been chosen any better. From every angle, every seat, and where we parked our car among the hundreds of people who reached this location before we did, everything is beautiful and the perfect setting for amplifying the senses to enjoy a big fat, luscious, and yummy lobster roll. Seriously, it was that GREAT!

View from Owls Head Lighthouse in Owls Head, Maine

Sometimes, the name of a place is enough to entice Caroline to investigate further, and so it was with Owls Head that we’d delay our return to Highway 1, though there was one special reason beyond the name that drew her attention.

Owls Head Lighthouse in Owls Head, Maine

The Owls Head Lighthouse. No time for a visit to a museum or gift store though; we needed to push on.

Penobscot Narrows Bridge in Stockton Springs, Maine

Approaching Stockton Springs, we spotted a rare place to safely pull over to get a good look at the Penobscot Narrows Bridge that neither of us could remember from previous visits to the area. This is one of those times when the blog truly comes in handy: our first road trip down this stretch of Highway 1 in Maine was in November when the Waldo–Hancock Bridge from 1931 still stood here. Our second visit to the area saw us crossing this new cable-stayed bridge, which had opened six months before. Upon checking that old blog post, I read this confirmation of our crossing and wondered why we didn’t include a photo. I guess I didn’t feel the quality was up to standard, but upon checking our photo archive, I saw one almost acceptable photo; more importantly, it shows the old and the new bridge still standing side-by-side. That historical relevance was enough for me to update that post this morning.

Penobscot Narrows Bridge in Stockton Springs, Maine

Pressed for time, there was no chance we’d be visiting the highest bridge observatory that’s part of one of the bridge towers. Maybe on a future visit, we can ride the elevator up. Until then, we can work at forgetting about this sight so it’s new again after some more years pass.

Tracy's Seafood in Sullivan, Maine

By the narrative so far, one might think we just ate lunch, but the truth was that we needed to stop the frequent pullovers for photos and work at getting up the road. Knowing how small Lubec is, we were aware that getting dinner there was increasingly unlikely, and still basking in the glow of our lobster rolls, we felt a second lobster roll would perfectly punctuate the indulgence of our coastal Maine drive. Tracy’s Seafood in Sullivan, Maine, served our needs, and as you can see from their sign, these were significantly cheaper than the lobster rolls had for lunch.

Sunset in Lubec, Maine

Two hours later and shortly before 8:00, we pulled into Lubec, Maine, for our stay at the Inn on the Wharf. With their day almost done, especially now that their last guests were getting checked in, the young women and I spent about 15 minutes talking about the great opportunity they’d just experienced in Maine. One was from Montenegro, one from Columbia, and the other from Bulgaria. All were college students back home and were 72 hours from finishing their obligations of fulfilling the work that brought them over for the summer.

New England – A Patchwork

Sunrise in Shaftsbury, Vermont

I can’t say I’m very happy with yesterday’s perfunctory blog post. Sure, it covered that we went from A to B, ending up in C, but I think this is where, after 12 days on the road, my writing is growing sloppy. Things like the abundance of love traveling with us, the hand holding, snuggling, and non-stop smiles are not being written about. The constant state of wow and awareness of our crazy privilege is never far from mind. Our days are jam-packed from 5:30 in the morning when we wake up to 10:30 at night when we finally get to sleep, but this is how we want to spend our time, knowing that we are taking advantage of that precious commodity we’ve been allocated. Even as I write this because it’s nagging me how sloppy I feel yesterday’s post was, there’s a mist on the meadow across the street from our lodging, the sun has peeked over the horizon, and we should be out already exploring Kennebunkport while it’s still quiet and the mass of tourists we saw there last night haven’t emerged from their cocoons yet. Finding quality headspace time when the senses are working overtime is not always easy, but we know that immersion, demands, and outcomes have always proved worthwhile.

Robert Frost home in South Shaftsbury, Vermont

It is too early to visit the Robert Frost Stone House and Museum, not that I’m in any way certain we’d have dipped in if it had been open as experience suggests that we’d be viewing the inside of a house, some interpretive plaques, and a donation box near the door. While he was an important American prize-winning poet, I’ve not paid attention to his work since I was a kid.

Silk Road Covered Bridge in Bennington, Vermont

I have to say that I don’t always understand the romanticized perception of covered bridges other than the rarity of their existence and maybe what they harken back to. I suppose in our collective mind’s eye, we see the horse-drawn carriage on an idyllic winter day pulling a bucolic family over the bridge, or maybe it’s spring heading into summer, and we believe we remember the young couple going on a date, the horse galloping along the country road among the farms, but aren’t these likely reflections of our literature and more probably movie manufactured images? Of course, there’s no denying that there’s an architectural element of interest, but I have to wonder out loud how much of this is cultural conditioning. I don’t want to come off as sounding cynical, and I do love seeing the deep red contrasting colors set against the environment. I also could see them having an economic benefit from the tourists seeking them out, but I also have to think about the cost of maintenance at a time when general road conditions are not always ideal. Many, far too many, of the houses we are driving by have fallen into a state akin to hovels and yet are still occupied while Dollar Stores proliferate, serving those in poverty.

Battle Monument in Bennington, Vermont

This is the tallest building in Vermont, 306 feet high (93 meters), and it is the Battle Monument in Bennington. It commemorates the Battle of Bennington, fought in 1777 during the Revolutionary War. Had we been here after 10:00, we could have taken an elevator to a viewing point somewhere on high, but not today; we are too early.

The Big Pont on the Molly Stark Scenic Byway in Bennington, Vermont

Stopping to capture a deeper look into nature’s beauty is a driving force behind these road trips. Somehow, city and state agencies don’t consider where visitors might want to pull over to take in the sights; then again, they never took into account that bicyclists might want to share the road, and so things are too often designed for the convenience of commerce. In an evolving economy where travel, remote work, and adventures increasingly capture large parts of daily life, I don’t believe the United States is moving in a direction to cater to those needs. As we’ve been traveling over the breadth of this country, we’ve wanted nothing more than to extoll the vibrant beauty and great opportunity to witness America, but that’s not always been made as convenient as we’d wish. We need more pullouts so we’re not pulling over to the side of the road with our hazard lights flashing because we can’t fully leave the asphalt.

Caroline Wise at Hogback Mountain Country Store in Marlboro, Vermont

At the Hogback Mountain Country Store in Marlboro, Vermont, Caroline finally found the maple soft-serve her friend Christine had recommended. We were also able to grab a bottle of “very dark” maple syrup at this store on top of Hogback Mountain.

View from Hogback Mountain in Marlboro, Vermont

This viewpoint from the shop offers a line of sight looking out over Vermont into New Hampshire and Massachusetts.

Creamery Covered Bridge in Brattleboro, Vermont

This is the Creamery Covered Bridge in Brattleboro, while the one further above was the Silk Road Covered Bridge in Bennington, both in Vermont.

Brattleboro, Vermont

We are well aware that we are giving short shrift to the towns and villages we are passing through, but these places easily become timesinks when trying to find the best angles to capture the essence and charm of the place. Instead of indulging the 20 minutes or more when we should be strolling the streets of these places, such as here in Brattleboro, we typically opt to keep moving while entertaining the idea that maybe someday we’ll return to spend quality time.

Brattleboro, Vermont

The old Stone Church, also in Brattleboro, no longer functions as a church.

Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont

Instead, we traveled on a short detour to Putney, Vermont, where we found the church of Green Mountain Spinnery. I’ll explain: this ancient machine is an old-fashioned wool spinning contraption used as just one part of turning raw wool into yarn. If you are a fiber arts enthusiast, this is a nerd-nirvana kind of place.

Caroline Wise with Sally and Marley at Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont

Our tour guide to this fiber mill, Sally, on the left, was joined by Marley, on the right, who has been mastering the craft of how all of this works.

Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont

I don’t believe this facility has a modern piece of equipment within its walls. Even the spinner that rings extra water from the freshly washed wool that arrives with oodles of lanolin is from the very early 20th century, somewhere around 1906, if my memory serves me right. Pictured above is one of the carders.

Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont

Even nearly empty bobbins have a sense of art to them; I think I could have spent another hour on their factory floor exploring the nooks and crannies.

Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont

Hanging skeins of yarn ready to go to market or be returned to the person who contracted their services.

Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont

Fully loaded bobbins with plied yarns, ready to be wound on skeins.

Caroline Wise at Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont

With arms full of ten skeins of yarn, eight for Caroline for a vest she’s considering, and two for me and what will likely become a beanie. The ladies at Green Mountain Spinnery were incredibly gracious and super busy. While in the shop, another six people showed up, all wanting tours. The processes and history being kept alive here are increasingly rare, and we are truly grateful that we were allowed a glimpse into it all.

Connecticut River on the New Hampshire State Line in Brattleboro, Vermont

Crossing the Connecticut River, we are about to enter New Hampshire, and I need to find a healthy outlet for the tensions crawling up my butt, along with these drivers in New England who seem to believe that tail-gating is the proper way to encourage me to GTFO of their way. It is said that Zonies (those of us from Arizona) are distant, the Californians are flakes, and New Yorkers are plain rude, but these Vermonters and New Hampshirians are increasingly appearing to be entitled assholes. Our encounters with some, but not all, locals suggest they have social issues beyond the populations of almost every other state we’ve ever visited.

Rusty bridge between Brattleboro, Vermont and New Hampshire

This is not the bridge we crossed into New Hampshire; the new one parallels the old rusty hulk of an artifact we are walking out on.

Stone Arch Bridge in Stoddard, New Hampshire

While a footpath now, the Stone Arch Bridge appears to be just one of five here near Stoddard, New Hampshire.

Mushroom at the Stone Arch Bridge in Stoddard, New Hampshire

First mushroom in the wild I’ve seen in thousands of miles, growing out of moss, to boot. It’s a scene right out of Oregon.

North branch of the Contoocook River in Antrim, New Hampshire

The north branch of the Contoocook River in Antrim, New Hampshire, and, again, if I’m not mistaken, this river is the one that flows under the Stone Arch Bridge.

The President Franklin Pierce Homestead in Hillsborough, New Hampshire

A president you’ve likely never heard of, Franklin Pierce, the 14th president of the United States, lived on this homestead a long time ago.

Kat's Corner in Hillsborough, New Hampshire

Stopped for lunch at Kat’s Corner, just down the road from the president’s place. Kat was still there, though it was well after 2:00 when the kitchen usually closes, but she was gracious enough to feed us. We opted for the ‘Strami Burgers, ‘ which seemed unique to the area, and while she got to cooking, we could chat with her from the countertop where we were sitting. Kat is ready to retire; she’s battle-scarred from doing business in a place with too many customers demanding the kind of privilege that’s created war stories and has damaged her experience of owning this place. It’s a tragedy that after the corner shop and cafe finally change hands, as it’s already been sold, she leaves this business she’s loved for so long with memories tainted by hostility. Lunch was great, truly homemade fare for those who appreciate the love people bring to their business.

Concord, New Hampshire

Concord, New Hampshire, is a wonderfully vibrant-looking place that appears to have saved its small main street businesses. Now, if only they could take a page from Portland, Oregon, and learn something about civility. I don’t mean to imply that Portland doesn’t have its problems, some of them huge, but it is a friendly city; maybe that’s why it’s so scuffed, and this place looks like Singapore, where you are going to jail for spitting out a piece of gum.

State Capitol building in Concord, New Hampshire

This is the New Hampshire State House; some would call it their State Capitol Building, but that would be wrong here. Try it, and you’ll soon find yourself behind the glare of wicked stares and a proper brow lashing.

Side of the road in Rochester, New Hampshire

At least there are dirt roads where we could find a modicum of tranquility away from the angry, aggressive drivers and busybodies.

Rochester Reservoir in Rochester, New Hampshire

Our roadside stop was at the Rochester Reservoir, which had plenty of do-not-trespass signs, but do they really mean no photographers, or does the warning apply to would-be picnickers and the homeless who might want to bathe in these waters?

Caroline Wise and John Wise on a Maine State Line with New Hampshire

We’ve reached Maine but still have a good bit of driving before reaching our destination. This is our third visit to this state.

Looking to the sea in Kennebunk, Maine

We’ve reached the wealthy enclave of Kennebunk, which is not where we are staying. We are up the street in Kennebunkport, though that is also where the Bush family, as in the two presidents, have their retreat at Walker Point. Speaking of the Bushs, we were pulling into town and stopped at a light when a couple of women started waving to some cars, as in three identical black SUVs driven by what were obviously Secret Service agents; their passengers could have only been former President George W. Bush and his wife Laura, as nobody else in Kennebunkport this evening could possibly also be deserving of a Secret Service escort.

Sunset in Kennebunkport, Maine

It costs $25 to park at the beach. It’s a day pass, but what if you only stop for a few minutes to grab a few photos? You’d better hope that the car that scans license plates to ensure enforcement doesn’t roll by yours while you dart out to the seashore. The week pass is $103. Guess who won’t be visiting any beaches in Kennebunkport during their stay?

A Day Among The Thousand Islands

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

Obviously, we didn’t rise with the sun, though maybe we did, but we were stuck in our hotel room with me hammering at the keys of my notebook to finish yesterday’s blog. I tried my best but came up short and still had more writing to do by the end of the day. If you are getting confused about which day I’m writing about and on what day, I’m starting to have the same problem because, once again, we are hard at work shoving a few days of experience into 16 hours of activity. As soon as we were out of our second uncomfortable tiny cottage and on our way, we needed to head directly to Wellesley Island, where we met Jordan Beach of Thousand Islands Private Boat Tours. Earlier this year, when planning this vacation, I’d come across his information while looking for something more immersive than a 30-minute tour with 75 other people looking for some quick and fast entertainment. While our three-hour tour wasn’t cheap, I’ll tell you early in this post: it was nothing short of perfect.

Rock Island Lighthouse on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

You might even recognize the subject matter of this photo because just yesterday, we flew by the Rock Island Lighthouse like a speeding bullet on some very choppy waters, but today, we are on a slow and smooth cruise that is allowing us to soak up the St. Lawrence Seaway 1000 Islands experience in the lap of luxury.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

We’d have never imagined visiting this shipwreck and the lighthouse twice in our lifetimes, but here we are, two days in a row, getting out on the water as if we belong here. With the calm winds, quiet craft, and better lighting conditions, it is as though we are seeing much of it for the very first time.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

From there, the trip up and down the river took on a very different experience as we started exploring parts of the U.S. and Canadian sides of the river we hadn’t taken in yesterday. This bridge connects Wellesley Island with the U.S. mainland. [It is a toll bridge, privately owned – Caroline]

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

An image such as this may not convey a lot of information immediately, but for me, looking into the mostly calm waters moving towards a glassiness reflecting sky and clouds, I find serenity and calm that sadly is fleeting as the boat keeps moving and the surface of the river is always changing.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

There are extraordinarily ornate homes along the mainland shore and on many of the 1,864 islands that often reflect an age gone by when nobody but the wealthiest were out here building, including several luxury hotels on the local islands (one was seven stories tall!), but those all burned down.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This home sits on the east side of the island also shown in the previous photo. An arched bridge connects a smaller secondary island to the bigger one. Our captain told us that this location is often used for weddings.

Bolt Island on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This towering structure on the right was designed to be the playhouse of the former owner’s children, no joke. George Boldt, a wealthy hotelier, also designed a castle as a dedication for his beloved wife Louisa; it sits behind the trees. He spared no cost, even altering the island’s coastline to be heart-shaped because he wanted his wife to know how much he loved her. Tragically, the family never moved into the castle on Heart Island because Louisa died in 1904, just before it was completed. George immediately abandoned the project, so Bolt Castle sat empty and decaying for 70 years before the property was rescued and renovations began. Maybe on a return visit someday, we’ll take a tour of Heart Island, Boldt Castle, and its boat house, which sits on a nearby island and is accessed by a shuttle boat. This island is also a popular spot for weddings.

Bolt Island on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This is an extension of Heart Island that was purpose-built to contain the power station for the castle, allowing the structure to isolate the noise and hopefully let the prevailing winds blow the exhaust away from the home.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This was as close as we could approach the bronze statue of Tecumseh on Honey Bee Island. The channel we are traveling between the Canadian and American borders is very shallow. Getting any closer risked us running aground.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

That’s Canada on the right and America on the left. I believe you could play frisbee between the two countries. This channel is known as the International Rift.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

When you’re a poor island owner, your kids only get a tree house, not a castle playhouse like your well-to-do neighbors.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

The water is that clear.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

Originally, we were supposed to go swimming today in one of the nearby coves, but the air temperature between yesterday and this morning dropped 10 degrees, and it was too chilly for us to brave the waters.

Swimming squirrel in the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

On the other hand, here’s this heroic squirrel out for a swim. All three of us were incredulous that this squirrel was treading water. Originally, it was heading directly for us until we started talking and gawking, at which point it turned tail and headed back to the island it lept off from as it might have been considering becoming an aquatic animal.

Captain Jordan Beach of 1000 Island Private Boat Tours in Wellesley Island, New York

This is Jordan Beach and his boat, which he shared with us today, helping create an unforgettable experience.

Wellesley Island, New York

Here we are on the way back to the bridge from Wellesley Island to the mainland. This is one of the many beautiful mansions in 1000 Island Park that harken to a bygone Gilded Age.

Crossover Island Lighthouse in Hammond, New York

Not much later, we are on our way to Rouses Point, New York, on Lake Champlain near Vermont. It was only shortly after noon when we drove away from the Alexandria Bay area, leaving us plenty of time to do some sightseeing. This is the Crossover Island Lighthouse in Hammond at Chippewa Bay, which we could only see between private homes and signs that warn people not to trespass.

Cole Shoal Range Front Lighthouse in Brockville, Ontario, Canada

The next lighthouse in the river was the Cole Shoal Range Front Lighthouse in Brockville, Ontario, Canada.

Waddington, New York

Somewhere along the seaway, we saw an odd structure in the river. We spotted a dirt road shortly after that that looked like it might take us out to it, and while it did, we still couldn’t decipher what it was. Signs warning of danger and video surveillance convinced us to keep our distance, but still, we were curious. After leaving the area, we learned it was part of the Iroquois Dam.

Eisenhower Lock in Massena, New York

This is the western end of the Eisenhower Lock on the St. Lawrence Seaway. We learned that back in the day, pre-9/11 to be precise, visitors were allowed down at ground level to watch the big ships come into the lock. Today, the only viewing is done from a third-floor balcony of the new visitors center. Strangely, this visitors center doesn’t have a gift shop, though they have a great logo and would probably sell a ton of stickers with that logo on it

St. Regis River in Akwesasne, New York

Shortly after passing the St. Regis River in Akwesasne, New York, on the Mohawk Reservation, we witnessed the highest density of marijuana dispensaries we’d ever seen. Likely due to the tax-exempt status, many compete for business, but how a business model advertising $50-ounces of weed is supposed to work is beyond my imagination, especially when you consider the obvious amount of big money that has been spent to build beautiful shops that sell the dank buds. How many shops might you be wondering? We believe we counted roughly 30, maybe even 40.

Piglets for sale in Fort Covington, New York

We might have just passed right through Fort Covington, New York, without a second glance until this homemade sign advertising piglets for sale caught our eye. I believe it was their son Amos who greeted us; he was crossing the street when we pulled up. That boy might have been the most wholesome and joyous kid we’ve met in a while. His mother and father are Pat and April of Pat and April’s Pork.

Chateaugay, New York

We pass through many scuffed and battered towns which we wish could be salvaged. While some of these classic older buildings are not burned down yet and are at the cusp of liveability, they are too often turned into apartments for the poor. Small, barely functional spaces where society can warehouse the less productive. We’d love to rent one of these buildings or at least a floor if conveniences were available in town, but when the most ubiquitous offerings are fentanyl, meth, and weed, these towns are not conducive to living in. I’ve driven through hundreds of these towns and loved many for what they once represented. Today, they are a blight that begs the question, why don’t towns in such a state of advanced decay exist in northern Europe?

Dick's Country Store in Churubusco, New York

Sometimes, you think you’ve seen it all, and then somebody goes and outdoes everyone else. That’s what Dick did right here in Churubusco, New York. Dick is the owner of the Dick’s Country Store & Music Oasis, home to Groceries, Gasoline, Guns, and Guitars. Aside from the missing beer and BBQ, this is probably the most American roadside rural store I’ve ever seen. On second thought, he’d also have to offer taxidermy to round it out to perfection.

Caroline Wise bringing death in Mooers, New York

Death is a master from Mooers, New York, and her eyes are blue. She strikes you with her scythe, and her aim is true.

Lighthouses and Waterways in New York

Lake Ontario in Rochester, New York

There is often a particular dilemma when traveling, and that would be finding the time to take proper notes, followed by having enough time in the evening or the next morning to get some writing in so I don’t fall behind in capturing the feeling of the trip we’re on. That’s what’s at risk of happening right as I attempt to draft this blog the following morning because, in a mere 45 minutes, Caroline and I need to leave for our next adventure, but this doesn’t have anything to do with this photo that was taken on Lake Ontario in Rochester, New York. It was our first stop after leaving Spencerport, where we endured a miserable night of sleep on a narrow mattress, hard as a board, that had us crowding each other. We’ll chalk this up to our age-old problem of difficulty sleeping on our first night out. Waking, we were surprised by the weather as the forecast predicted something quite different than what we were seeing.

Eastman Lake on the Great Lakes Seaway Trail in Rochester, New York

We’ve joined the Great Lakes Seaway Trail in Rochester, New York; this is Eastman Lake.

Great Lakes Seaway Trail in Rochester, New York

Shady lanes with mottled lights are places I’ve dreamt of living near. Instead, we get the cinder block-lined grid of tan franchised conformity that is the dullness capital known as Phoenix. But it is precisely that kind of dry starkness that has every other place anywhere we go appear to be the greatest location we’ve visited yet. And then there is the winter. This luxurious view does not fool me because, in about 90 days, this street will be lined with ice, the trees will be barren, and if it’s not too overcast, there will be a few minutes of shadows for some part of the less than nine hours of winter daylight the region gets. Trade-offs and compromises are just a part of life, aren’t they?

Apples in Williamson, New York

By now, I hope I don’t need to share more photos of corn; that’s been played out. Apple orchards are a nice change of pace. We’ve also seen green beans, squash or pumpkin patches, and grapes along the way. Trying to be polite, standing on this farmer’s orchard at the side of the road, unfenced, we didn’t pick a single apple and only left with a few photos.

Vegetable stand in Williamson, New York

Just across from the orchard was this veggie stand, not selling apples, where we picked up a pint of tomatoes for only $3.00, paid for on the honor system.

Cornwall Preserve in Williamson, New York

We’d have ventured further into the Cornwall Preserve in Williamson, New York, had a sign at the trailhead not warned us of ticks. We have tick and mosquito repellent, but it’s still packed away in our large bag, where it’s doing nothing to deal with those pests.

Sodus Point Lighthouse in Sodus Point, New York

Our first lighthouse of the day was seen here in Sodus Point. If visitation is possible, it doesn’t matter, as we are here early in the morning.

On the Great Lakes Seaway Trail near Henderson, New York

Across the Great Lakes Seaway Trail we are making our way to the St. Lawrence Seaway, where we have a date at the Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York.

Cows on the Great Lakes Seaway Trail near Henderson, New York

There’s always time for friendly cows. Heck, we’d stop for friendly chickens, pigs, sheep, alpacas, horses, donkeys, and every other barnyard animal that wants to come to the fenceline for some head rubs.

Harbor's End Marina in Henderson, New York

Passing through Henderson, New York, on our way to the next lighthouse, the lily pads drew our attention to the Harbor’s End Marina to better admire them longer than we’d have seen them from our passing car.

Fall colors in Henderson, New York

Farther north, fall colors are starting to appear a little more frequently. If we are even more fortunate than we are already, the entire region may be experiencing a full riot of color in a couple of weeks.

Stoney Point Lighthouse in Henderson, New York

The Stoney Point Lighthouse is now a private residence with an obviously angry owner, who may regret buying a lighthouse as a home because the signs on the chain across the driveway demonstrate a hostility that lets people know violence is but a step away.

Farm near Limerick, New York

There we were, casually driving backroads on our way to the Tippets Point Lighthouse in Cape Vincent, New York. When recalculating our travel time, we realized we’d be late to Clayton if we continued on our path. So, in Limerick, we cut the trail short and beelined for the Antique Boat Museum.

Captain Gary on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Clayton, New York

We made it with plenty of time to spare. That’s Captain Gary at the helm of the Miss 1000 Island III, a modern replica of a vintage Hacker Craft. The speedboat we are on is known as a Runabout made of mahogany and was designed by the legendary George Hacker. We are on the St. Lawrence Seaway for an hour’s ride on the choppy river.

Rock Island Lighthouse in Clayton, New York

This was as close as we’d get to the Rock Island Lighthouse today.

Caroline Wise on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Clayton, New York

You may not notice it on Caroline’s left shoulder, but some water splashed into the boat. That’s nothing compared to the soaking the two people in the back got.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Clayton, New York

There’s a ton of islands out here. We were told the number, but that detail was just as quickly lost. I’m sure it was more than a thousand, which only makes sense considering the region is called Thousand Islands.

Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York

This is the Miss 1000 Island III; we were out on the water with her this afternoon.

Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York

I had to be judicious with the number of photos I’m sharing from inside the Antique Boat Museum, as with the 25 images included in today’s post, I would only prolong the amount of writing I’d need to do, which is already getting tough to keep up with. The image above was from the hall with vintage sailing skiffs, many from the Gilded Age.

Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York

Unlike this speedboat built to go fast, I was created to go slow. This separate hall was dedicated to powerboat racing through the ages.

Cape Vincent, New York

Twisting road along Lake Ontario, I should have something witty to say here, but I’m coming up short in the metaphors and words of wisdom department where I go to fetch things I’m trying to share here. I suppose one thing I should add is that should you be looking for a vacation destination, renting a house along this lakeshore in Cape Vincent, you wouldn’t go wrong.

Caroline Wise standing in Lake Ontario in Cape Vincent, New York

That’s Caroline standing in Lake Ontario near the mouth of the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Tippets Point Lighthouse in Cape Vincent, New York

Tippets Point Lighthouse in Cape Vincent, New York. At the small gift shop, we met a retired Air Force life enthusiast who was happy to tell us about the lighthouse, maintaining and restoring it, the Eisenhower and Snell Locks up in the Massena area, and even practiced some of the German he learned while stationed in Grafenwohr, Germany. The top of the lighthouse is not visitable, as major work inside has to be done, but the original Fresnel lens is still up there, so maybe one day, the work will be done to give visitors a chance to ascend the tower again.

Cabin at Rock Ledge Motel in Alexandria Bay, New York

Our accommodations tonight would turn out to be the tiny cabin of another miserable night of sleep, but instead of a narrow board, we had a slightly wider floppy sponge, apparently built by a company that guarantees back pain should you be able to endure seven hours trapped in its grip.

Sunset over the St Lawrence Seaway in Alexandria Bay, New York

After checking into the cottage, we drove up the road to the town proper of Alexander Bay to visit an ATM and get ice to replenish our supply [and enjoy a bit of ice cream – Caroline]. This was the bit of sunset we were offered here on the first full day of our vacation.

End of Solo, Start of Shared Vacation

Hamlet of Randolph on New York's Amish Trail

The eighth day of my drive is about to break me out of a solo experience and start a shared one when, by mid-afternoon, I pick up Caroline at the Buffalo Airport. At that moment, our vacation together officially begins. This morning, the day starts similarly to previous days with writing, but only some of it because I should have time up north to sit and finish my thoughts as I wait for her flight. When I woke, the rain was coming down, leaving me hesitant to take my stuff to the car, so I wrote a little longer until 9:30, a late start. This first note of Saturday was written where I had breakfast at the Allen Street Diner in Jamestown, New York, which is celebrating its 10th anniversary in business. Regarding the photo, I had just entered the Hamlet of Randolph on New York’s Amish Trail and did not want not to forget the charming name.

Little Conewango Creek in the Hamlet of Randolph, New York

The same reasoning motivated this photo, also in the Randolph, this is the Little Conewango Creek.

Barn in Little Valley, New York on Route 242

Passing through Little Valley on Route 242, I couldn’t help but stop for this barn, knowing it would trigger Caroline’s pareidolia.

Flowers on Toad Hollow Road in Little Valley, New York

The names of places are wonderful in this part of New York: I’m at the corners of Toad Hollow Road and Buelow Road, and the latter is interesting because a friend, Michael Geesmann, lives in Buelow, Germany. I saw a lot of this plant yesterday and today; I just learned it is known as Goldenrod and is a misery at this time of year for allergy sufferers.

On Toad Hollow Road in Little Valley, New York

There is no cute name for this pond, also on Toad Hollow Road, just a pleasant scene.

Mansfield Creek on Toad Hollow Road in Little Valley, New York

The waters seem a bit thin for fishing, but a nearby sign for Mansfield Creek invites just that.

East Otto Springville Road in East Otto, New York

My wishes that it wouldn’t be storming and blustery for Caroline’s arrival seem to be coming true. Once I reach Buffalo, I’ll have completed 2,540 miles since leaving Phoenix. Time behind the wheel is just under 68 hours, meaning I averaged about 37 miles per hour out on these backroads; as for fuel efficiency, the car informs me that I averaged 50.5 miles per gallon.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the Buffalo Airport, New York

And here she is, fresh off the flight from Phoenix, Arizona. With four hours in the air, she had enough time to pluck the needles from her desert-toughened exterior, leave the smell of creosote behind, and was able to find a smile after being packed in an absolutely full flight.

Caroline Wise at Bocce Club Pizza in Buffalo, New York

This being not our first time visiting the city where I was born, we knew that Bocce Club Pizza had to be the first stop here. Aside from it and coffee, there was no time for any other nostalgia of sightseeing. Okay, that isn’t exactly true. On my way in, I stopped at Schwables, a small restaurant famous for beef on weck, a roast beef sandwich served on a kummelweck roll, a roll topped with kosher salt and caraway seeds. The old men of yore who used to be the servers here are gone, replaced by a new generation (I guess it was a Covid thing), and the cloth napkins are gone, as is free water. Not only do you have to buy a bottle of water, but there was something different about what used to be the best beef on weck I’d ever had, so another chain to nostalgia has been broken. As for the pizza, it’s the same great pizza as always, and it’s almost better the next day when it’s cold out of the refrigerator. That is exactly what I’m eating as I write this the following morning.

Caroline Wise in the corn near Buffalo, New York

I thought I was done sharing images of corn, but when I realized I could enhance the natural beauty of corn by placing my wife in front of it, that was an opportunity I couldn’t miss.

Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport near Buffalo, New York

Driving down country roads on our way to Spencerport, New York, where we’d be staying at the Sleeping Bear Inn, you can’t know our surprise when we spotted a plane flying an acrobatic routine out towards the Genesee Airport. Initially, I thought it might be a crop duster, but then the pilot started doing some quite interesting maneuvers. Our first vantage point wasn’t that great, but not knowing how long the pilot would be in the area, we figured a poor view was better than nothing at all. When we realized he wasn’t going away in a minute, we tried getting closer further down the road and found some others who’d set up chairs at the edge of a small cemetery, so we joined them.

Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport near Buffalo, New York

We later learned this was the Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport.

Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport near Buffalo, New York

If watching this kind of flying wasn’t enough, Caroline received a message on Whatsapp while we stood out here: she’d won something.

Huipil Caroline Wise won from a raffle in San Cristobal, Mexico

A month ago, Caroline sent some money to San Cristobal, Mexico, specifically Colectiva Malacate, a women’s coop that supports local weavers. This wasn’t her first time joining a raffle to win a huipil, but it was the first time she WON! Later, when we watched the video of the raffle, two women were seen holding this piece up; it was as wide as the two of them. This thing is big, and now it belongs to Caroline. Naturally dyed and handwoven, it’s an expensive piece that will probably be donated to a museum at some point in our future, but after vacation, it will be sent to Caroline to enjoy. This was an incredible surprise that topped an already amazing day.

Erie Canal in Spencerport, New York

Yet another surprise for us was crossing the Erie Canal here in Spencerport, where we stayed the night.