Thursday, 15 September. Clear, windy, cool.

Rested in place.  Intended to be a short day.  Tuesday was hard.  Went only a short ways, but the view was magnificent.  Pounding waves.  A feeling of power and immortality. Not very different than any eastern coastline, but the seas seemed darker.  The water is supposed to be warm actually.  Runoff from the St. Lawrence Seaway.  Surprised that the island is mostly built on sandstone.  I could buy a sandstone t-shirt, “Made with PEI Dirt”.  Found a specific reference that PEI was part of the Appalachian Mountain chain.  I’m within walking distance of where the author of Anne of Green Gables grew up: Lucy Maid Montgomery.  Lots of gables on houses, mostly green.  Her home is part of the National Preserve, along with 25 miles of coastline.  There is actually another book around that describes the real life of a local orphan girl named Ellen, whom Montgomery reportedly admitted was the basis for Anne.  I haven’t fact-checked that claim.

Lunch was at a very popular restaurant by attendance.  There was a line of people waiting for it to open.  Lobster roll.  Sausage bun with lobster meat and seasoning.  Local beer.  One man, on seeing my CA plate, asked “How did you tow it?”  A first.  Another restaurant has two sides; one for normal eating, another dedicated solely to “Lobster Supper”.  “Longest salad bar on the Island”.  I haven’t found a place that has live lobsters swimming around, the source of many a childhood nightmare.  Why am I looking?

Lots of “Closed for the Season” signs.  Cavendish is a popular resort area on the Island. Many golf courses and children’s parks.

Called it a day at about 3.  I’m not overly tired, but playing it safe.

The bun had a flavor to it. Lots of lobster!!

The lighthouse is now a cottage.

Wednesday, 14 September.  Threat of rain.

The plan was to make a quick ride to Prince Edward Island to beat approaching rain.  A short detour to the Bay of Fundy National Park.  The Park was shrouded in fog and cold.  It was simpler than I remember and I drove its length quickly.  Not much of a view.  The small town of Alma was also disappointing.  Unfortunately I’d arrived just at high tide, so the ocean was going nowhere.  I got the sense that, as with Alaska in May, there was a definite tourist season that I was missing.

The drive from Alma seemed to promise nothing exciting, but by following a few signs I struck gold.  Tasted blueberry wine.  The “unoaked” brand was best.  We had a good discussion about the horrible avocado wine I tried in southern Florida.

Cape Enrage was true to its name.  The tide was going out and the waves just seemed to be stationary.  It gave the impression that something was wrong in the world.  The overcast skies and very strong winds gave it a realistic tone of anger.  A tiny lighthouse that only blinked “Danger” and a small but different gift shop. Ziplines!  The drive in and out had great views of flat flood plains bordered by high hills.

Further on was a well maintained memorial of an old and now nonexistent shipyard.  They’d built the outline of a old ship.  It was difficult to imagine a shipyard in the windswept river/tidal pool.  A flood control dike changed the terrain.

The rest of the drive was fast and unspectacular, though a high crosswind made it a little too exciting and I was getting hit by little bits of rain.  The “Confederation” Bridge to Prince Edward Island is long and only two lanes, but fortunately the wind was from behind.  $17 toll charge, which I guess they’ll mail to me. I had to drive across the island to reach my lodging.  The island produces 25% of all potatoes in Canada.  The smell was not unlike Iowa’s.  Fertilizer.

Over two years ago this crazy idea to touch four corners of the continent on a motorcycle formed in my head.  Success, sort of.  I’ve still got to get home.

Odd. Seems to honor first Canadian woman to get a Captain’s license. Takes a bit to get to that point.

Blueberry wine. No grapes used. Bought a bottle.

The view from Waterside Winery.

Interesting fake chimney.

Not a very helpful warning.

It looks like a ship. . .

. . . But it’s not.

The Petitcodiac River experiences a “Bore” twice a day. A tidal surge, 8 MPH and 3 feet high. Its nickname is The Chocolate River.

Tuesday, 13 September.  Beautiful day!

The first half of today’s ride was full of towns, which slowed me down substantially.  The second half was full of trees, which touched on boring.  There was a little traffic to distract me.  Also a lot of road repairs all day.  At least six instances of one-lane traffic.

Discovered Ed Muskie’s hometown of Rumford with an appropriate memorial.  They also have a statue of Paul Bunyan and his bull “Blue”.  What would have been nice waterfalls is now mostly a hydroelectric plant though they have worked to pretty up the view.  The town unfortunately also has a paper mill.  But it’s in a pretty valley that appears to offer lots of recreational options.

Bangor has a wonderful Land Transportation Museum.  I could have spent hours in it.  An entire row of old snowplows that looked like something out of a Mad Max movie.  Sometimes a claim to fame is just a little lacking in substance: The Museum notes that it’s next to the only “perfect” cloverleaf interchange in Maine.

Getting into Canada was odd.  The entry point brings you in facing west.  There is absolutely no activity on the American side, which I didn’t expect.  Failed to get money, reserve a hotel room or fill up my tank before entering.  Lost cellular service (I’m not paying Verizon $10 a day!).   Had to find a McDonalds or other establishment.  Then had to drive an extra hour east to get a properly priced hotel.  Arrived in the dark, which I try to avoid (fear of moose, etc.).

This looks just like the statues I remember from Old Forge, NY!

I can imagine the warning being on a bathroom door.

I always thought that Ed Muskie was too nice a guy to be a politician. His hometown certainly liked him.

Monday, 12 September

Short distance, much seen.  Began with Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream. Tour was more about social change than ice cream, but it was okay. Got a tasting.  The have a “graveyard” of discontinued flavors. The production room we viewed had about 6 employees, but the process is so automated I don’t know what they did.  One danced for us.

Vermont’s state house in Montpelier is generally considered to be one of the best. I can agree. Blends into the hillside nicely and isn’t outlandishly large. It’s pretty much wide open to visitors too. I kept thinking I had walked too far into the building. At one point of walking around I remembered that I’d actually met a governor of Vermont (Hoff). I’d even gotten his autograph.  I asked a guide about him and she showed me his portrait. She was impressed by my recollection and therefore gave me a personal tour. It was well worth the visit. (Vermont’s museum is unfortunately closed on Monday.)

Barre, VT is a pretty little town, but limited parking.  A really nice statue.  There is another somewhere in town that’s a little famous, but I didn’t find it.

Route 302 is a very pretty drive. Unfortunately, I set a waypoint for Bath, NH, and Honda’s stupid GPS somehow thought the town’s center was five miles down a dirt road.  Wasted 20 minutes. However, taking the road caused me to drive through a covered bridge, so it was worth it.

The White Mountains National Forest is a fun and majestic ride. It’ll be prettier when leaves change colors.  Had thoughts of driving up Mt. Washington, but a mile of gravel and 25 MPH winds discouraged me. Besides, at 6,244 feet, it’s well below the highest elevation I’ve driven. Amazingly, the first car to reach the top was a Stanley Steamer in 1899.

Not a lot of miles driven, but the movement was mostly eastward.

Ben’s, or Jerry’s, Tesla.

The factory and gift store are filled with left leaning testaments.

Vermont’s very pretty state house.

Governor Hoff, 1963-69. first Democrat elected since 1853. Met him late one night as a child. I think I was in pajamas!

War Memorial in Barre. Created in 1927. Looks new. Barre is the self-proclaimed capital of granite.

War Memorial in Bath.

The first covered bridge. Couldn’t drive across.

The second covered bridge, which I did cross. The fine is less for driving “your team” faster than a person can walk.

Just a fountain on the side of the road in Bartlett. No explanation.

Scary stuff.

Hotel and mountain.

The White Mountain roadway.

Haverton War Memorial.

Sunday, 11 September.

Some riding but with little forward progress.  Visited some of the roads familiar to my childhood.  Old Forge was a traditional stop after camping.  Ice cream or late dinner.  Had Mountain Dew for the first time.  It’s now a much bigger town with an odd hardware store.  There’s a “Front Door” cafe with a “Back Door” Bar.  The amusement park Enchanted Forest, which once had a large statue of Paul Bunyan, is now a waterpark.  But in spite of it’s improvements, it’s still the start of potentially hundreds of miles of canoe trails.  1st through 8th Lakes, Forked Lake, Long Lake, etc.  A pretty ride.

There are a lot of lakes.  Windy day.  Slow cars.  Curvy roads.  Drove through Lake Placid with its legacy of two Olympics.  Drove over Ausable Chasm, which I (still) have not visited.  Took ferry across Lake Champlain with four GS BMW motorcycles traveling from Michigan.

Saturday, 10 September.  No Adventure.  Quiet day.

Friday, 9 September.  Staying with Curt.  He has a really great drone.  Got plans to do local documentaries with it.  Should be interesting.

Thursday, 8 September.

My high school is gone!  Torn down.  It was a pretty building.

A museum attraction called Erie Canal Village was created decades ago.  My parents contributed an old building to the cause.  Moving it across town was a big event.  The Village grew to be truly village-sized, but now, sadly, it’s a ghost town.  What makes it especially disappointing is that the Erie Canal was begun in 1817 in Rome.  In 1967 the town had a large sesquicentennial celebration, without any Canal Village. Now that the bicentennial is just around the corner, I’d assumed there would be an even larger event.  But with the Village in total decay, I guess not.

Also in my hometown is the grave of Francis Bellamy, author if the Pledge of Allegiance.  It’s nicely maintained in the city cemetery, which is a pretty nice one, as cemeteries go.  I’d never noticed before.

Lastly, in the 1960’s, largely thanks to Senator Robert Kennedy, a recreation of a revolutionary-era fort was built: Fort Stanwix.  I’ve visited about a dozen forts this year, so I can speak with some knowledge that this one is a winner.  People are dressed in period clothing, there is an education center with multiple movies, and the fort itself is excellent.  Anyone interested in the era should make plans to visit.

The drive to Chestertown to see my brother was fun, but not extraordinary. Some of the road curves that once excited the nerves are hoo hum on a bike.  Along the way I noticed that the only establishment I ever worked at that didn’t begin with “U.S. Navy” is gone.  No great loss.

This is a post office, far from any water. I don’t know why it has a light house.

The white house was donated by my parents to the Canal Village. Falling apart. Sad.

The Canal barge also falling apart.

Fort Bull was used the French and Indian War. It was just a piece of land with a gulley (moat) around it. Could find rifle balls there when I was young.

It’s interesting to me that Bellamy was a minister, yet he didn’t put “under God” in the Pledge. Congress did.

The view of Fort Stanwix as it would have been seen from the swamp.

My first childhood house. It’s much prettier today, though it’s 66(?) years old.

My second childhood house. When we went by it on the school bus everyone considered it haunted. Then my dad bought it! Built around 1872. Museums in the west brag about their buildings being built in 1880s. I yawn.

Before California became the place to go, people in New York City went north.

The wind would really make these dinky little things sway.

Wednesday, 7 September.  No pics.

Enjoyable country roads.  Small towns. Stopped by Hamilton, NY. Saw grandfather and step grandmother’s gravesite. Cleaned it up.  Was there only once before, so finding it was impressive. The Colgate University campus is so large now.  New and old buildings mixed together. For the first time on this journey (4,500 miles?) I saw a Clinton sign on a front lawn. There was a woman sweeping the front porch (how cool is that?), so I stopped and told her.  Funny.

If there is one location in Rome that holds nothing but happy memories it is The Savoy restaurant. The adjoining bar was always a mysterious darkness in my youth.  Today I sat there. Had my eternal spaghetti and meat balls. They still have a picture of my dad on the wall, which isn’t saying that much.  Lots of pictures.

Staying in a hotel. After three days in a tent, I needed some luxury.

Tuesday, 6 September.  Stayed in place.  Drove around Seneca Lake, famous for wine.

First took a morning walk along the upper reaches of Glen Creek.  Nature is much better without a press of people.  The work done to build walkways that blended with the gorge is excellent.  It helped that the rock is soft.  Overall, Watkins Glen is worth a visit.  It isn’t the Grand Canyon, but few things are.

The tour around the lake was pleasant. Most of it is done well above and inland of the shoreline, but there are spots that give a nice view.  The wineries are mostly one-hit wonders; Riesling.  The few reds I tasted ranged from bad to okay.  Prices are lower than California, so I won’t complain.  But I had several fun conversations.

Not an unforgettable day.  But it was worth the gas money.

Sunshine, filtered through leaves, hitting the creek.

A few vineyards.

My best side.

Geneva, NY, has beautiful homes!! Incredible. This is just one example.

Wineshop is an old service station.

Not a proud thing, but the monument is still up.

Have not seen a horse and carriage yet, but seen plenty of these signs.

Memorials in the east are obviously older than the west.

203 years of Sunday School!

Hector Falls. It actually continues under the road. Water out of rocks.