Not at home
On a cold, windy, very dark autumn evening, I stepped ouside with the dog. We scared a few dozen ducks, based on the vocalization. And it confirmed thst we weren’t in our own front yard.
Our travel plan has been changing over the last couple of days. After loading stuff into the RV, we checked in with the kids. They, unlike us, have priorities (jobs) and it was clear that a sudden parental visit would not mesh. We can handle clarity, and so this morning I reverse packed, before we set off.
I had a whimsical suggestion. What if we just drove around all day, and returned to home base tonight. Do some needed errands: purchase DEF at CT; tour the National Park, check to see if my two elementary schools were still there post-hurricane. We did all of those things, but the need to “get away”, over the bridge and along the highway, remained. And so, here we are.
A three-province day. Now, in a campground buffeted by breezes, we’ve eaten most of a delivered pizza. The dog shared in. With some artificial heat, we’re bringing the place up to a skeepable temperature.
Along the way, we visited the “other” ferry terminal. The big lot is now used by local campers. The office is abandoned. The train station is gone, along with the engine shed and the last steam-era artefacts. Makes me feel sad, to see more of the important places from my youth gone for good. My children have seen some of those places, but they won’t have any reason to remember going forward.
Tomorrow, we’ll tank up and cross the causeway. Have a little CB time before winter. Not for the “tunes”; we’re early. Just a bookend to summer.
