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Published: October 9th 2009
October 9th 2009 My final crash... Leaving Washington I was even more concerned about almost crashing the car. Not because of spectacular views but because I was heading to New York where I had been warned of spectacularly bad driving. Oh joy....
After taking a wrong turn out the hotel, Pamela led me on an Easter Egg hunt through the northern suburbs of D.C. Detours are rarely something to frown about; you can end up in the most interesting of places. Or you can end up in Maryland. And then Delaware. And then New Jersey. Now the latter is something to write home about. I had expected dockyards - you know the kind where Jimmy goes swimming with concrete shoes? - factories pumping putrid fumes, and - considering this is the most densely populated state in the US - people living on top of one another. As it happens, New Jersey actually lives up to its moniker,
The Garden State. In an attempt to avoid one of the many toll roads running into New Jersey, I took a random exit off the freeway. And found myself back in North Carolina. Mile after mile of fields harvesting roses, chrysanthemums, lilies,
The group
Gill, Hazel, Meghan, Heidi, Bronwyn, Steve, Gilly, Juan, Stephen, Alan, Douglas. (Patrick is camera-shy and I don't know where Billy disappeared to...)blueberries, cranberries, eggplant and cabbages. Having pottered around the gardens of Jersey for a while, I inevitably headed back to the freeway. The New Jersey Turnpike. I thought that was cool for some reason. It was exceptionally cool when, about 15 minutes from my destination, I almost crashed the car. Seriously, they should give you some warning. You see, I'm driving down the road (well, I wouldn't be driving on the sidewalk, would I?), and head over a bridge. Or maybe more of a flyover. When what would appear but the New York skyline. Just like you see in the postcards, in the movies. They really should put up a sign saying 'be prepared, incredible view ahead'. I really hope it is the last time this happens. Nonetheless, a spectacular, memorable moment in my life.
Friends and acquaintances Having seen the city skyline from a distance, I decided I had seen enough. No, wait a second, I desperately wanted to drive right in and start exploring. But instead I stopped in the 'town' of Secaucus, NJ. It's one of those situations were each town has extended into one vast metropolis and it's difficult to know where one settlement finishes
and the next begins. Still, the hotel address said Secaucus, so by george, I was going to Secaucus. Why, you may ask? Well, this was the 'gateway hotel' for my 11-day group trek through New England which was to begin the next day. I have never gone in for such group activities - sharing close quarters with a bunch of strangers? No thanks. But I wasn't about to go out camping and hiking by myself and who knows, they could turn out to be nice people?
My roommate turned out to be Gill, a lovely woman from Carlisle. Fortunately for her, she arrived at the hotel just after I had finished emptying Betty Boy, sorting through all my belongings and repacking the car. Any earlier and she would have been wondering what on earth she had signed up for! Having shared a room the first night, Gill and I continued to share a tent throughout the trip. Neither of us snores so we figured we should stick together 😊 ... As for the rest of the group, the expected mixed bag of young and old, serious and laidback, active and passive. Primarily from England, the only foreigners were Heidi,
a bouncy 22-year old Aussie, and Juan, a Spanish mountain goat. I have never seen anyone scale a peak with such ease. Everyone else melted into a blur of unknown names and faces. That wouldn't last long...
New England, old England The itinerary ran something like this: two nights in the Green Mountains of Vermont, two nights in New Hampshire's White Mountains, over to Baxter State Park in Maine for two nights, a further night in Acadia National Park, Maine, before heading down to Boston for two nights. Reality followed the plan. Except for the weather. Nine days of rain. They don't call this England for nothing! On top of the rain, up in Maine it was also absolutely freezing. Perfect weather for exacerbating the cold which I must have picked up in Washington. Fortunately the group turned out to be a walking pharmacy and I spent most of the trip in a over-the-counter drug-induced haze.
This being a hiking tour, our main activity was sunbathing on the beach. Or not. It was too cold and wet for that. I wish I could give you some detail of where we went, but as I wasn't driving I didn't
take much notice. And I was sleeping or laughing the whole time. Lenox, VT, sticks out in my memory as they were having what looked like a really awesome street fayre as we drove through. Bennington, VT, was the nearest town to our first campsite and home to a very funky moose parade which completely surpasses the cow parades of Europe in terms of coolness. Climbing up and along a damp Franconia Ridge in New Hampshire was the pinnacle of my hiking experience as the following days found me too bunged up to do much more than unzip my sleeping bag.
My morale hit rock bottom in Baxter Park, Maine. Miffed at the prospect of missing out on an amazing hike up Mount Katahdin, I also disagreed with our guide, Stephen, about the prospect of spending the day sitting in the van waiting for the rest of the group to return from their trek. After my display of remarkably restrained stroppiness, Stephen gave in, dropping me and Bronwyn in 'town' to sit in the dry, warm Appalachian Trail cafe to eat soup and check our e-mails. 45 minutes later, he picked us up. Hey, it was a major feat
that we managed to escape for that long! And then, golly gosh, things made a dramatic turn for the better. On our way to pick up the group we found some trees. Hundreds and thousands of beautiful trees. Just as you expect from New England in the fall. All three of us being keen photographers, we spent a good hour snapping just one section of one road. Twenty minutes was dedicated to one tree!!!!!! I have to say it was the best tonic for my cold. I was so psyched, so incredibly happy. Just a camera and a few leaves. Amazing stuff. Thank you Maine! Or maybe it was all the drugs? Either way, at that moment I fell in love with New England.
Hysteria hits Whilst the weather may not have been up to much, the company turned out to be fantastic. From a group of twelve I was bound to get on with at least one person, right? Fortunately there was more than one. Over the first few days a triumvirate evolved: me, Gilly and Patrick. With Heidi and Bill for good measure. What a funny time we had. I have not laughed so much or so
hard for a very, very long time. A plot emerged to fly me back to New Jersey, pick up Betty Boy and rescue Gilly and Patrick from the farce of cooking, eating and sleeping in such deplorable meteorological conditions with such... compelling company. Not sure what happened to that plan, but it gave us plenty of reason to giggle loudly and at length. Resigning my role as driver for a few days was undoubtedly a relief, but left me - and the rest of the group - at the mercy of our tour guides, Meghan and Stephen. Certainly they were as flexible as their timetable would allow them, but I have to confess to being entirely used to making my own itinerary and timetable. Completely selfishly. Following rather than leading came as quite a shock to the system. Which led to another relatively stroppy outburst in Acadia. Rather than driving around the National Park in the dark, I insisted on being dropped in the island's pretty main town, Bar Harbour, so I could use the internet from the confines of a nice, dry, warm cafe. Ah, civilisation. But only for an hour as the cafe closed. Hmmm, maybe not so
civilised after all. After spending a relaxing hour sat in the park and then on the harbour wall watching the boats come in, I decamped to a nearby pub where, miraculously, my lovely new friends Gill, Gilly, Patrick and Bill were standing at the bar having just arrived back from the drive. It's a hard life!
'Oh, say can you see...' Boston was the last stop on our tour. Just one full day in the city. But what a day! We started with a baseball game at Fenway Park. Meghan wisely suggested that we might not want to stay the full three hours the game may take. And Gilly and I didn't. Once we had eaten the requisite hotdog, drank the required beer, listened to the National Anthem (which I think was the best bit!), heard a little kid scream 'let's play ball', our enthusiasm and concentration waned. In reality, baseball is a boring game. It's hard to tell when they are playing or what is happening. Most people were far more concerned with eating, drinking and catching up with their friends and family. Definitely one game to watch from home next time! Ditching the ball game, Gilly and
I went in search of shops. And we found them. And helped the economy recovered. Or at least Gilly did. Best of all, we found a Wagamama's for dinner. What a joy! With full bellies and empty purses, we headed back through the city, past the original Cheers bar, wound our way through the glorious Beacon Hill (thank goodness the shops were shut or we may never have emerged) and on to the new Cheers bar. What a dive! On the off-chance you ever find yourself in Boston, please avoid this establishment. But at least they mix a good martini 😊
And it is was back to New Jersey. It was a funny trip - awful and fantastic at the same time. Camping simply isn't for me. Please everyone, remind me of this the next time I suggest I want to spend my nights under canvas. I like beds, pillows, showers, baths, hotels with restaurants and bars in them. And gyms, and swimming pools. And did I mention beds? Yep, call me a snob but I like to sleep in a bed. The weather didn't help, but even in warmer climbs I wouldn't have enjoyed it. But you cannot
beat the falls colours for beauty or Gilly and Patrick for exceptional company. All in all, the good most definitely outweighed the bad.
Bye bye Betty Now for the sad news. Betty Boy is no more. No, I didn't write him off in a crash, but sold him to Hudson Honda of Secaucus, NJ. It was time. I only have a few weeks left and didn't want to be stuck with trying to sell him at the last minute. I had fooled around with the idea of shipping him back to England but with all the ludicrous import duties and taxes it was more profitable to sell him 😞
So, instead, please say hello to Clive, my rental car. His name is Clive, but his stage name is Juanita. Compared with Betty Boy, this guy is small. And SOOO close to the ground. I feel like I'm sitting on the tarmac. And please let me tell you about the radio. Obviously last driven by a bit of a boy racer, the bass is turned up to the max. The whole car shakes, quakes in fact, when the radio is on. And without a car manual I have been
unable to turn the darned thing off. In Jersey no-one paid any attention. Having driven out to the eastern tip of Long Island, namely the distinguished Hamptons, stopping at traffic lights, the neighbouring cars all turn to look at me and Clive. Its's hysterical.
As is the thought that on Saturday I'm signed up to run a marathon. Hahaha, hehehe. I think the joke's on me.
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Amags
non-member comment
Thank you!
Thank you so much for persevering with your hike, inspite of your awful cold. If you'd given up, we'd never have had these wonderful photos, nor the images of you living under canvas and having stroppy-fits in the parking lots. Sorry to hear that Betty Boy has gone (hope you got a good deal on him), to be replaced by Clive/Juanita with the pounding bass. I hope you soon find out how to turn it off. Good luck with the marathon on Saturday, and have a wonderful time in NYC! I'll be sad when your trip is over, because there will be no more 'jennyintheworld, USA 2009' epistles to read. But it will be good to have you home, and more accessible on the phone. God bless and take care! love AMags xox