Odds and Ends on the way to Ithaca

It ends the way it did the first time: into the fog. 

31 May 2017 (posted 3 June 2017)

We're leaving Bar Harbor this morning. There is mist over the bay.

We load the car, check out, and drive into town for breakfast at Two Cats. On the way in, I turn into Bar Island Park.

The tide is out. It's misting a little.

Still, there are people on the sand.

I set my phone to panorama and take one last look around.

The drive to Saratoga Springs should take us about eight hours. We drive in and out of drizzle to the edge of Maine.

I've chosen a route through the Green Mountains of Vermont. It'll take us 20 minutes longer, but we want the scenery and the chance to maybe see a moose.

We're on a winding road to the top of Hogback Mountain in the Green Mountains when the sky sets up for a good downpour. I pull over and hop out with my camera.

I get back in seconds before the rain starts.

The motel in Saratoga Springs is right on the main road. It's run-down and our room smells of chlorine from the indoor pool in the enclosed courtyard our door faces. We have a late dinner at the wine bar next door. I take a picture of a street light through the leaves of a planter next to our table.

In the morning we wander the town for a few hours. Around noon Tom emails that he's leaving New Jersey. We set off at 1:20. He beats us to Ithaca by minutes.  Jack H and Dorothy have already arrived, gone for a short bike ride, and are cleaning up.

We park at the bottom of a long, steep driveway and walk up the back steps to a deck that overlooks Cayuga Lake and the city of Ithaca.

We can even see Ithaca Falls (the little white speck next to the upright beam).

Zooming in:

I can fit five people in my car if I take Miss Piggy out and put the seats back up. We drive into town, have dinner at a place that serves Indian tapas (you read that right, and it's good), and then Jack H directs me to Purity Ice Cream. While we're placing our orders, Pete texts me. He's at the house.

We do a little food shopping and drive back to the house.

Jack backs out of view when he sees me with the camera. From left to right, Dorothy, Jack H, the waterfall, Pete, and Tom:

When it gets dark, we move inside. Jack H and Tom pore over bike routes. I load tomorrow's ride into the $500 Piece of Shit so that Tom will have backup for his GPS.

The route looks hilly. "It's no worse than the Sourlands," he says. He always says that.

"I don't believe you," I tell him. I've driven around the Finger Lakes before.

Everyone else goes to bed before I do. I stay up an extra half hour. I'm blogging.