Day 6, Bar Harbor, Maine

We started the day with our "free" breakfast at the hotel, then drove to the harbor and managed to find a sailing ship leaving the dock at ten o'clock that had room for two more passengers. We climbed aboard with about two minutes to spare, and motored out of the harbor. When we cleared the buoys, the wind picked up and John helped unfurl the sails. He had to be reminded of why that big cross piece was called the "boom." He ducked in time, and never got hit, but it was a close call several times. I never had to duck. It went right over my head.

It was a beautiful morning, just cool enough to enjoy the sail without needing jackets. I brought along the cameras, and took some photos and videos of the harbor and some of the surrounding "cottages" and woods. Those cottages sure do look like estates and mansions to me. We were with some people from the Chesapeake Bay area, and had a great conversation about jellyfish, having shared the experience of neglecting to check to see if they were out there before swimming in Chesapeake Bay. None of us ever made that mistake twice.

There's something wonderful about being on a sailboat. There's the sound of the wind in the sails, and the sound of the water slapping against the hull. There were gulls overhead adding their raucous calls to the mix. There are fog horns and motors from other boats, and the conversations of other passengers, along with fishermen calling to each other from their boats about their day's catch; but it's the sounds of wind and water that make the biggest impression on me out there. We also saw porpoises, but they were very quiet.

We braved the wharf area, trying to find a parking place to get lunch. It was a mess of tourists (what do they all think they're doing here, anyway? Don't they know we don't want to deal with a bunch of people while we're on vacation?) We finally found a great spot away from the madding crowd and ate at a place called the Brown Bag. John had his predictable ham sandwich. I was a wee bit more adventurous with a chicken and apple sandwich that I think I'll start making at home. It was perfect on sourdough bread. Now that I wrote it down I won't have to trust my memory when I start wondering what it was I had that I enjoyed so thoroughly.

We capped off the night with a trip to the Lumberjack show. It was a good show, and lots of fun, but for me the best part was sitting next to a couple, Jeff and Dorine, probably a few years younger than us, also recent first time grandparents, from Prince Edward Island in Canada. (Yes, I got their license plate on my list when we went back out to the parking lot.) They were nice and funny people, and we exchanged email addresses and phone numbers. He's a fisherman - crab and lobster - and she's a secretary for her brother's international lobster export business. I think I'll have some sent out for Jeremy's visit. Let's see what he can make us with fresh lobster, eh? Something with cream, maybe? I'm certainly not counting calories while he's at my house, that's for sure!

Tomorrow's another big day in Maine, and since it took us so many years to get here, I don't want to waste any of it, so I'd better do what John did when we got back to the room and hit the sack. So, sweet dreams and wake up happy...

Day 5, York to Bar Harbor Maine

We decided to forsake the main highway and toll roads with their high speed limits for the exploratory Route 1, meandering up the Maine coast. The morning was too foggy to photograph the light house we stopped to see, but we could make out its outline through the mists, and watched some grizzled old guys don two wet suits apiece to go scuba diving. I imagined them checking lobster traps, but who knows?

We went back up to the boardwalk area along the beach and had breakfast with a rescue team and some locals, along with a foursome of tourists at picnic tables from a self-serve window in a little shed-like kitchen. The food was great. Breakfast included wraps, which looked and tasted a lot like breakfast burritos, and dough gods, which looked just like Indian Fry Bread. "A rose by any other name" and all that...

The woods in Maine make me think of a Robert Frost poem, specifically the one that goes,

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep"

But it's not just the woods that amaze me. The meadows are ripe with wildflowers, ferns and moss. The sheer abundance of colors and greenery is a feast for the senses. Also, I notice so many contrasts. There's an ultra-modern building mere blocks from a very old church with an incredibly tall steeple, a cemetery tucked behind it with stones too old to be easily read. The architechtural styles are varied as well, from grand cathedrals, although on the small side, with flying buttresses, to miniature libraries and court houses done in federalist style; Cape Cod homes grace the lawns next door to the gingerbread of Princess Anne's. (OK, yes. I did take a 7 unit class on history and architecture. It was one of those classes where you learn things you really will want to know for a lifetime from a professor - thanks, Mr. Bettini - you wish you could keep in the back seat.)

John was fascinated by the strobe running through the diameter of the red lights on the stop lights It sure makes the red stand out. He thinks the slit that the strobe shines through might be as wide as an inch, but would really like to measure it. He doesn't think he could get a ladder up there, and was thinking it would be great to have a cherry picker to get up there. I thought maybe Ben's friend could drive over with his crane and just joist John up with his calipers. Now that would stop traffic!

Interesting things we saw that made us wonder:

• There was a sign for Scarborough Downs. It proudly advertised "Live Harness Racing." (Now, I ask you. What's the alternative? The answer to that is rather gross.)
• New Lobster Rolls. (Old Lobster Rolls?) (Used Lobster Rolls?)
• Pedro O'Hara's Mexican Irish Cruisine. (What can I say?)

I finally found Washington D.C. and Delaware license plates today. They were at the L.L. Bean store. Figures. But I also found Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, two I'd never found before. One thing I've noticed is that no matter where you go, you always find license plates from California and Florida. I've figured out why, since I've been to both of those places, but I'm not going to say why I think they keep leaving their states. If you really know me, you know what my opinion is anyway. We can leave it there.

Day 4, Rochester, NY to York, Maine

Telling you not to laugh isn't going to help here. You're going to laugh, and eventually so are we.

I think it was 2nd grade that I found out we were going to move from Virginia to Illinois and then Idaho. I'd already lived in Michigan and Churchill, Manitoba. I made myself a promise then and there that I would see all 48 States "before I die." Of course, now there are 50, and before today I had seen 49 of them, with only Maine left to explore. So we were more than eager to get to Maine. In fact, we were so eager that we arrived a day early, and started looking for exit 7 for the hotel we were going to use for the extra night before we got out of New Hampshire. We spent an hour on Route 1, going up and down the coast of New Hampshire looking for the hotel. Finally I thought to call the hotel, and he told us to go back on the Highway 95 and continue on until we got to Maine, and then take that exit 7. Duh. It was a lot easier to find that way.

We passed through the Leatherstocking region East of Syracuse, New York earlier today, and it made me think of some of the first books I had read and loved as a pre-teen. It also made me think of one of the first contests I won as a young mom visiting Conejo Valley Days. We were passing the radio booth and the D-Jay offered a basketball for the first person to come by and answer the question, who wrote "The Deerslayer." I walked up the last ten feet and said said it was James Fenimore Cooper and handed Tighe the basketball. Boy was that kid happy.

We saw another herd of "Oreo" cows just west of Johnsville, NY, but there was nowhere to pull over to take a photo, so I'm using the one I liked from the internet.

One thing I wanted to mention was the importance of an itinerary. At one point today I hinted rather blatantly that we were approaching Cooperstown. You know, the home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame? Tighe's name IS in there as the American Legion pitcher for the year for 1992, when his team won the world series. I sure would love to get a photo of that! "Oh, look at that antenna!" he exclaimed as we sailed right on past the exit. Maybe next time I'll be smart enough to have it on the itinerary along with Niagra Falls, which we passed yesterday without seeing. John really respects the itinerary. Of course, we're still only a day ahead of schedule... and if I had fussed, he would have gone back. This way I know there will be other trips.

And finally, though not in the order it happened, we ate a late breakfast at a Cracker Barrel today, and while she was checking me out at the counter, I looked down and saw a box of pecan logs. I quickly related my Dad's Pennsylvania Turnpike strategy to the clerk. She laughed and said things haven't changed much, just gotten more technological. It seems that now the people with the EZ pass are clocked as they ride beneath the monitors with their transponders. If they pass through in less time than the speed limit allows, the owner of the transponder is mailed a speeding ticket. Now that's what I call progress.

Day 3, Elkhard, Indiana to Rochester, NY

Today we realized that somewhere yesterday we missed a sign telling that us we had passed into the Eastern time zone. That sure saved us an hour today. (Please don't argue with my brand of logic. John already tried, and it didn't work for him either.)

We went through Ohio on the turnpike, and I had memories of my Dad driving the Pennsylvania turnpike. He liked to drive fast. At that time when you got your toll pass, it would be time stamped. When you came off the turnpike and payed your toll at the other end, if you had made it through in less time than it would take if you had followed the speed limit, you were also given a speeding ticket. My dad would stop at either Howard Johnson's or Stuckeys and we'd get an ice cream while Mom got a pecan log. We'd waste just enough time to make up for him speeding. John just drives the speed limit. It's probably less stressful John's way.


At one time we were passed by an OLD Hudson automobile. It looked like it was straight out of a roaring 20's gangster movie, but my guess is that it didn't have its original engine, since it blew past us like we were standing still. Of course, we were only going 65.

Today I wrested control of the stereo from John, and we listened to the soundtrack from The Muppet Movie; Eric Clapton Unplugged; Scot Joplin; Silver City Pink, and DirtFoot. At that point (I think the Louisiana Delta Blues was too much for that Texas country boy) he pulled into a gas station and asked me to run in and get him a drink. When I came out, Alabama was playing on XM again. I had a few more tunes I wanted to hear, but I guess I was pushing it with DirtFoot.

Best Billboard so far on this trip: (Found in Cleveland, Ohio)
"Photo of Einstein sticking out his tongue;
Headline "As a Student, He was No Einstein."
Caption 'Confidence: Pass it on!'

Best Road Sign: (Found in New York)
"Seat Belts Required Next Million Miles"

Today's license plate tallies: 34 States; 4 Canadian Provinces

And finally: enough silliness about the pioneers. Today John admitted that he'd wondered every time he's seen these deep dense Eastern forests — just how did the pioneers manage to forge their trails through all those trees? I told him they just stuck to the roads...

Day Two, Omaha to Elkhart, Indiana

What a beautiful country we have, with a lifetime of sights. Driving through it is much nicer than flying over it. We entered Iowa shortly after 8 A.M., and ended in Indiana around 9 P.M. We were having a lot of fun and didn't really want to stop. It was still light, believe it or not. We're not too far from Notre Dame, but we're didn't stop.

Going through Iowa I kept thinking of that old song from the Music Man about "The Iowa Way to Treat You." (Yes, everything reminds me of a song.) If you don't happen to know the one I keep singing, my favorite lines telling of them being so stubborn....

"...We can stand touching noses
for a week at a time and never see eye to eye!
But what the heck, you're welcome! Join us at the picnic.
You can have your fill of all the food you bring yourself."

Probably tired of hearing me sing that song, John got out his GPS at the next rest stop and locked on to a satellite signal. Now he can tell where we are without me and my road maps. So much for my time at AAA, except for making a friend in there, which was worth all the time involved, as far as I'm concerned. But now John has another toy in the car. Ah, technology at work. It not only told him where we were (which the road signs were actually doing at the time) but also told him how fast we were going. Now I guess we no longer need a speedometer. There's a rocket scientist inside most every man.

Some interesting insights into my license plate game... You will rarely get any good ones before 9:30 A.M. or after 5:00 p.m. Also, you can almost always find good plates in a WalMart parking lot, but we've decided that running up and down the parking lot aisles just looking for license plates should be considered cheating. Today we found 32 states, 4 Canadian provinces, 1 Federal Government vehicle, 4 military vehicles, plus the strangest license plate we've ever seen. It said "Oneida Nation" on the top and "Turtle Clan" on the bottom. I checked the internet, and apparently this is a Wisconsin Indian tribe. Do they get their own plates now? I'm not sure how I feel about that. Conflicted, I guess.

Today we saw giant windmill blades being transported across Iowa on the longest flatbeds I've ever seen, riding in convoy. If I didn't have John along, I'd still be wondering what those gigantic wings were!

We crossed the Mississippi at 3:30, and talked again about John's wish to ride the length of the Mississippi River on the Delta Queen, an old refurbished steam paddle boat some day, like Mark Twain. John will take me along as trip coordinator or something. We do have fun together. At any rate, when we crossed the Mississippi, John and I looked at each other, and I said, it's bigger than the Platt. John raised one of those bushy eyebrows and said, "Yeah?" What else could I say, but, "What was wrong with those pioneers, anyway?"

Road Trip, Day One, Colorado to Omaha

I'll admit I'm going to tease John again some day for always double checking everything before we leave on a trip, but he knows it really gives me a feeling of security. This time it gave us both more than that. I sat in the Tahoe and waited. And waited. Finally he arrived, looking rather smug. It seems he found a plugged drain by the air conditioning vent that had already backed up but hadn't yet reached the carpeting. It would have been a disaster to come home to find the basement under water.

As we drove off, a Mama deer and her twin fawns made a dash across the road, and we respectfully stopped to say goodbye for now. I suppose they'll have lost their spots by the time we return. Darn. Oh, well. There's always next year.

We took Route 76 through Eastern Colorado through rolling pasture lands, with cattle, dairy farms, and lakes just often enough to surprise a traveler. This route isn't as flat as further south, where I've heard you can sit on your back porch and watch your dog run away from home for three days.

I spotted Manitoba license plate at a gas sation in Nebraska earlier and stopped to talk with the gentleman while John filled up the car. He said, "You lived in Churchill, eh? That's up there, you betcha." He sounded like he was from Northern Michigan. I play the license plate game. Today we found the license plate for 31 states and 3 Canadian provices. Thats pretty good.

Despite a short and beautiful lightning show that was a real treat in the sky ahead of us, we gained about 40 degrees in temperature and 40 percent humidity as we traveled from Colorado to Omaha, Nebraska. We carted the important stuff into the room (like guitar, suitcase, computers and cooler) and I immediately took a cold shower. Neither of us was hungry enough to brave the heat to find a restaurant, so John ate his last half of a sub from lunch, and I had some cheese and crackers. Since there was juice in the cooler, too, I was happy. Also, we had some cappuccino in our Oxo travel mugs - (Thanks, Pat. Great tip!) Those things not only don't leak at all, they keep drinks really hot for about six hours. They're the greatest on the road.)

I had one strange thought on the trip today - well, maybe I had more than one, but I'll just relate one. While crossing the Platte, I flashed back to a book I read a long time back - can't remember the name - that detailed the tribulations of a group of pioneers. At one point they were mightily tested while trying to forge "the mighty Platte." I don't know. Maybe they couldn't find the bridge we used. John and I didn't have any trouble at all.

I love it when a plan comes together

It's not even 9:30 and the car is all loaded except for the cooler. That electric cooler was one of the best things we ever bought for our road trips. No more ice. No more spoiled food. And we (I use the term very loosely) can cart it into our room and plug it into the wall socket there, too. AC/DC... technology at work.

For those of you wondering - and there are at least three that I should have called and didn't, my neurology appointment went very well today. I don't have to have the brain exam again for six months. A score of 12 is passing, and I got 18-23 on all tests. The blood workup to make sure my dosage on the seizure meds are correct will be in within the week, and he took my cell phone number and will call if there's a critical change, but doesn't expect any, as there have been no further seizures and the migraines are all but gone. Great news indeed. So we'll go on our trip tomorrow with no known shadows hanging over our heads.

Just so we could see what we were leaving behind, we were treated to a spectacular thunderstorm this afternoon, and it crashed and rolled while I packed. Rain slashed down, giving my yard a good soaking. I will miss those afternoon storms, especially since they usually only last about an hour or less, and they really sound so fierce, but we'll be seeing some really great stuff where we're going too, and this will be here waiting for us when we return.

More from the road.