Travel Day

I woke up at 5am to the sound of lapping water.  Kind of a soothing sound, but I didn't recall that sound last night.  As it started to grow light a little after 6am, I could see the lake through the mist, with little waves being driven onto the beach below our campsite by the stiff wind that was blowing.  Not the sea-of-glass that we paddled around in last night. The hills on the other side of the lake were shrouded in mist, the start of a very gray day. I also started hearing another sound: rain drops pattering on the roof.

Time to move on.

We were somewhat allowing the weather to help with the decision on whether to stay or go south and what better way to make use of a rainy day than to make it a travel day.  We set our sights on the Catskill Mountains.  If the weather was nice we probably would have stayed a day or two more.

I guess you could call us fair weather Friends.

I've always had somewhat of a fascination for the Catskill Mountains.  Maybe it's the unique name.  The Catskills were named by early Dutch settlers.  A 1656 map of New Netherland names one region as Landt van Kats Kill, the word kill meaning creek.  The Cat part of it is a bit of a mystery.  The Dutch are great at naming things.

Knowing this, some of the signs in the Catskills begin to make more sense.  Seeing the sign Westkill on a bridge over a creek is just the name of the creek, not some mysterious location perhaps named after an infamous serial killer.

Perhaps part of the fascination is the book I read in the fourth grade.  My Side of the Mountain tells the story of a 12-year-old boy who runs away from his crowded New York City apartment and lives off the land in the Catskill Mountains.  He raises a falcon who becomes a hunting bird for him and has all kinds of adventures there in the mountains.

To this farm-boy who could see the Cascade Mountains from his bedroom window, that kind of life was just the epitome of cool.

We didn't hurry this morning.  With the rain drumming on the roof, we had a leisurely breakfast of pancakes and bacon and then started driving south.

Google maps pegged the drive time at about 3.5 hours, if taking Interstate 87 through Albany.  Taking state highway 30 instead would add another half hour.  Like good shunpikers, we avoided the Interstate and opted for the additional drive time.  It will probably take us quite a bit more than that anyway.

Highway 30 goes right through Amsterdam.  More evidence of early Dutch settlers.  City names like Amsterdam and Rotterdam.  The downtown of Amsterdam even has a little hint of the tall, narrow buildings squished together like its namesake in the Netherlands.

We stopped in Amsterdam for supplies.  An Aldi grocery store located right on the highway made it super easy for groceries, and a Walmart just across the street completed the supplies requisition.  We then stopped at Riverlink Park right on the Mohawk River to make some lunch and go for a walk.  They have a beautiful park right on the river and we spent a little time walking the river.

Back on highway 30. Deb wanted to stop by the Old Stone Fort Church, a Revolutionary War history site along the road.  This is one of many Revolutionary and Civil War points of interest in this area.  History buffs could spend weeks here.  I slept through most of my history classes so some of this is lost on me.

The church and several buildings across the road have been made into museums and we browsed through their large collection of stuff dating back to those two wars.  It is rather fascinating looking at how those wars were fought and the weapons that were used.  Also in this museum sits the oldest fire engine in the United States, and honor probably worthy of being added to our World's Greatest collection, if we expand the definition of Greatest.

Just a few hundred yards up the road is a farm and produce stand that advertised cider donuts.  It was about snack time anyway so we stopped for a donut.  They also had corn there but ninety-five cents per ear seemed a bit steep to extend the corn-eating season.  We left with no corn.  A couple miles down the road was a small stand with some produce, including corn.  For fifty-cents an ear, we extended the corn season for two more days.

Highway 30 goes through some of the most beautiful areas.  It winds through narrow valleys with small towns and picturesque farms up against a backdrop of wooded hilltops.  Highly enjoyable and definitely preferable over the Interstate.  There's also almost zero traffic.

It's also curvy and can be a little hard on the RV at times.  Going through a traffic light, we sailed through on green and didn't realize until too late that the cross road had a significant crown to it.  We weren't quite airborne but probably fairly close.  Aside from hearing all the dishes and everything rattle around in the cupboards, I saw the kayak and bike rack in the rear camera lurch forward, probably coming close to smacking the back of the RV, and then whipshawed back, snapping the stabilizer strap.  No damage to the bikes or kayaks, but they were now wobbling back and forth rather severely.  I pulled off into a gas station and knotted a section of strap in to stabilize it until I could get a new one.  That's the second time I've broken a strap on a bump like this.  I probably should redesign the rack to prevent this.

Farther down the road, we stopped at Minekill Falls.  Another one of those kill names that makes more sense now.  Short but steep hike to the bottom and we were rewarded with a beautiful cascade of water at a place that probably doesn't see a lot of traffic.

Finally arrived here at the campground at almost 6pm.  Nine hours to do a four-hour drive.  That sounds about typical.