Time to Go West!

11,231 Miles, Time to Go West!Nice drive out of Banger, after pushing out the blog, if I can write at night, until visibility and the words all meld together. The next morning I clean up the mess, try to edit, get pictures ready, copy & paste, highlight, upload pictures, then post the thing, then run. Am I getting the story? There are lots of other notes, thoughts, viewpoints and pictures, when I get back home, I hope to add those to this story of travel. Please read though all misspellings, misunderstandings or confusion I may cause, on the fly blogging, at its finest... Traveling back, going west is liberating, I will be traveling to totally unknown areas of the country, and I have never explored the Northern Route. Can I find home-cooked meals, not ones from the back of a truck in the northern regions.
Leaving on Route 2W, out of Banger, I will be on and off this road until I get to Washington State.
Watched the movie Grizzly Man, it’s a fascinating story of Timothy Threadway, he lived with the Grizzly Bears for 13 summers, watching, studying, filming, bonding, then trying to be a bear if he could, he pushed the envelope, love him or not, the thing became bigger than him, and he put himself in greater and greater danger, greater the risks, greater the reward, he was eaten, as well as his girlfriend by a Grizzly, he died doing what he thought was best, you be the judge, what makes us do the things we do, wander, explore, indulge in our own cleverness.
Western Maine, Oxford County, they just had a Bicentennial in 2005, America’s only Oxford County, evidence of native inhabitants date back 11,000 years, later, at the time of the settlers, the Pigwackets lived along the Saco River, and the Amarascoggins lived along the Androscoggins River, with waterways and trials being by-ways between them both.
Then early settlers carved farms out of pine, fir and spruce lowlands and hardwoods uplands, early farmers brought in oxen to do the heavy clearing. Most homes were one room log cabins with oil-soaked paper windows. Soon wide spread stonewalls skirted paths from fields being cleared, of all too common granite rock, and there are rocks everywhere, Rocks & Roots.
Early settlers relied on each other, utilizing special skills each had to trade for goods and supplies. A tough live, life in New England, with its heavy snows and cold winters to hot humid summers.
Onward, though Newport , by a Wal-mart, Always low prices, Skowhegan, following the Kennebec River, then Farmington, back into the hills, pass the Purple Haze Gift Shop, even a town called Mexico, to Newry, a quick tour up Rt. 26N to the Sunday River Covered Bridge, lots of covered bridges though out New England, then back to the Sunday River Brewery for a Black Beer BBQ Burger with bacon, cheddar cheese and Black Bear Porter BBQ Sauce and a 420 IPA brew, the best meal I have had leaving the coast. Their beers: Sunsplash Golden Ale, 4.5%, Sunday R. Lager, hops and malt from Germany, 420 IPA at 5.75%, then Black Bear Porter, malty & hoppy with coffee overtones 6.0%, they also serve Knuckle Ball Bock from Portland, Maine, not bad, and the food, great burgers and lots of BBQ selections, Pulled Pork, Beef Brisket, ½ Chickens, Baby Back Ribs, Beef Ribs, St. Louis Ribs with a Mustard Base Sauce, and a Bourbon Marinated Sirloin steak, serious stuff.
Then on to New Hampshire and the White Mountains, turn South on Rt. 16, this is ski country, some ones else's vacation paradise, I drive pass the Auto tour of Mount Washington, I maybe back, $20 a pop to drive to the top, stopped at a store for beer, ice and firewood, 200 beers to choice from, $8.99 for a mixed pack: Anchor Liberty Ale, Smuttynose Portsmouth Lager, Sea Dog Porter, Black Fly Stout, Sierra Nevada Porter and anew one, Tuckerman Pale Ale with English & Belgium Malt, four domestic Hops, then Dry Hopped, so the beer can finish in the bottle. Not Bad for this weary traveler.
Down to Glen, take Rt. 302 to Crawford Notch State Park, its raining, thunder and lighting, too.
Later, time for a quick evening hike to Ripley Falls, a nice 100ft. It runs more down the rocks then falls over them, still nice, quiet time sitting on a rock by my lonesome in he woods.
At the bottom of the road, a fellow wanderer, a bearded hiker named Jeremy aka Orangeman, he left March 10, and he is hiking the Appalachian Trail solo, you can find his journey on www.trailjournals.com, search for “Orangeman”, he needed a ride to a bunk some 3 miles up the road, my camping stuff is out of the car, nice to be able to give him a ride.
Back to Camp, raining again, while reading in the car, I hear my ice crest outside making noise, no more than 5 feet away is a Black Bear, no food, just beer in the cooler, my photo journalism teacher is going to be pissed, no picture of Jeremy, no picture of the bear, instead I get out, wave my hands, remember show no fear, these words from Grizzly Man, the bear goes behind a bush, just looks at me, leave me and my beer alone, will he be back?
62.9 mpg/ 199.3 miles traveled

Nice Morning, cloudy, no rain, drive back down Rt. 302 to 16N to Mt. Washington, $20, up the 6288 foot mountain, Skate loves mountain roads, the Native Abenaki people had two names Agiocochock “Place of the Great Storm Spirit” and Kadoak Wadjo “ the Hidden One”, some of the first settlers to go up around 1840 were Ethan Allan Crawford, he even guided Daniel Webster up, then in 1853 the Tip Top House was built, it still stands, they feed people and there were bunks, too. A Carriage house was built in 1861 and the World’s first Cog railroad came up in 1869, some grades are at 34 degrees, it was called “Railway to the Moon”. Mt. Washington can also boast to be the oldest hiking trial in America 1819, they also do weather research up here, on April 12th, 1934 the highest wind ever recorder at 231 mph, a low pressure system over the NE had actually passed though, then backed out, the system circulated counterclockwise in the Northern Hemisphere, and with this storm, a big wind came from the SE creating this big wind, barometric pressure was 22.82, lowest recorded on the summit.
A great ride up and down, no mountain to view, I am in the clouds, no guard rails, tight corners, and everyone lived today.
The Cog Railroad was fun to watch, come up and descend, they use coal, let the pressure build, and then off it goes. Or down or up.

They used to take mail, and even a newspaper, some time ago, on a Slideboard or “Devil’s Shingle” down, using a handbrake to slow it down, some folks went to fast and would fly off the tracks, some 3 deaths and several injuries later. No more Slideboard. Only pictures remain.
Off the mountain back up Rt.16 to Rt. 2 then Rt.16N, Berlin, lumber mills, I travel along the Androscoggin River, in days past, Boom Piers were constructed in the river, man-made islands used to secure a chain of boom logs, these islands still exist, shattered up the river for miles, then on to bouncy Rt. 110 to loop the top of the White Mountains, into timber country, then take Rt. 3 to Lancaster and Rt. 2 again into Vermont, gentle rolling hills, farms, cows, maple syrup, though St. Johnsbury, then on to Rt. 15 pass Waldren and the Cabot Creamery, Wardwick and the Buffalo Mt. CO-OP to Hyde Park, then down Rt. 100S though Stowe, a hopping arty place, to the Ben& Jerry’s Ice Factory, on to Waterford, turn right on to Rt. 2 again, a few miles, camping at Little River State Park at Mount Mansfield.
56.6/217.4 miles traveled

Little River State Park, this is a hidden gem, in the hills next to the park, there are old ruins of the early settlers, a history walk here is a journey though time, miles of stone walls, cemeteries, cellar holes and orchards give evidence of life over a 180 years ago.
Joseph Ricker broke ground on Ricker Mountain in the early 1800’s, three generations lived their lifetimes on this once-productive farm.
Most homesteads raised a couple of pigs, three or four milking cows and young cattle, a horse or ox, sheep, chickens and a vegetable garden for grains, such as rye, oats and barley, corn, peas, potatoes as well as nut and fruit trees.
Timber was the “main industry” and by-products: soaps, tannic acid, building materials, maple syrup and sugar helped them make ends meet and survive.
A heck of a hike up the hillside, early morning, I was soaked in warm humid sweat before getting to the top, bugs, lets say, when you shoot a picture, do not inhale and keep moving and swatting.
Whole families lived here, generations tried to make a living, they did so until about 1925, it was hard work, let the idiot who ‘works hard’ do this to survive, he won’t be able to earn his keep.
Old stonewalls line trails, fruit trees and day lilies stand evidence that someone once lived here.
3 sawmills operated on Stevenson Brook,
they even had a school, the Ricker Mountain School, the school closed in the late 1800’s, due to a lack of pupils, then reopened in 1908, but finally closed, forever in 1921.
Each family had its own cemetery, there family plot, three different locations within a mile of each other, generations of folks, some lived long lives, one woman lived over 100yrs and a couple of months and tragically many small stones for children, and mothers commonly died giving birth. One cemetery is surrounded by White Cedar, uncommon to these forests, also known as “arbor itae” (tree of life) to give life to the dead.
A great hike back, drizzle the last mile, nice under the canopy, with the sound of river water, and drops of rain to start the day. Lots of mushrooms, red, yellow, pink, light brown, to many to count, lush forest, some older trees, maples lined the old pathways, now weeds fill in the gaps, brush obscures the past, hidden. Wander I must, back to Route 2, for a bite in Waterford, it’s a downpour now, has Oregonman cursed the NE, must the rain follow me.
West on Rt. 2 slowly though Burlington, around the college, to Grand Isle on Lake Champlain to camp for three days.
Next up: Foods, arts and entertainment of Burlington & Vermont
59.4 mpg/113.5 miles traveled

The Maine State of Mind

The Maine State of Mind
July 18th-25th, 2006
Arriving in Old Portland, attracted by the deep, sheltered harbor, English settlers first established themselves on the Portland peninsula in 1632. One of the nation’s oldest Atlantic seaports, Portland has a long maritime history. The struggling town was first called Falmouth and was destroyed twice by the Native Americans, how dare they!
On the dock we go, the Harbor Fish Market as fresh & local, the boats come, delivery right to the back door, Lots & Lots of seafood joints to choose from, as well as some fine Italian places, their menus looking enticing, Gritty McDuffs, Sebago Brewing, a couple of feel good pubs, I wondered around looking at menus and the boats in the harbor, a hot day, so what do I do, go eat Pizza, not just any pizza, the place, it’s Flatbread with a couple of hand-made stone ovens, the fire is in the center-back, with a shelves on each side for pies, and fire-roasting vegetables, they use local food, all organic, too! Even Maine Root beer, made with cane juice & spices, yummy.
Some of Maine’s beers: Geary Seasonal Ale, Atlantic Brewing, Shipyard Export Ale, Casco Bay Riptide, Smuttynose Shoals Pale Ale, Magic Hat Seasonal, Allagash White Ale, PeaksOG Pale Ale, Shipyard Thunder, Sebago Brewing Boathouse Brown Ale, Atlantic Brewing Blueberry Ale. The Other Portland has some beer, homeys.
In the evening I go to check out the city after the rush is over, a nice fun downtown, down Commercial Street and the side alleys, and watching women walk on cobblestones in heels is a hoot. The firemen are sitting out, the dog too, I’m checking out a 1804 lighthouse, the first ones were wood, they normally did not last long, the fireman and me we talk, they notice I from Oregon, they hear the other Portland hopping, it is, it is, they say their economy is down, the fish have been taken by larger commercial interest, and large foreign fleets, the small guy has a harder time here, the States strategy is tourists, even says so on the license plate, the Vacation State, so summer folks down up or down, I’m confused. The fellows in the bar I talked to go to work in other states to make ends meet.
East Coast folks look at you, but don’t say anything, until you get them in a bar with a pint in their hand.
When ships sailed from Boston to ports in Maine (which are to the east of Boston), the wind was at their backs, so they were sailing downwind, hence the term 'Down East.' And it follows that when they returned to Boston they were sailing upwind; many Mainers still speak of going 'up to Boston,' despite the fact that the city lies approximately 50 miles to the south of Maine’s southern border. Contrary to what some non-Mainers may believe, "Down East" can be best described as any point on the coast between Ellsworth and the Canadian border. At times, it is sometimes jokingly referred to as any point east on the coast from the speaker.
Down East I go, north on Highway 1N, slowly though Freeport, it’s against the law here to not let a pedestrians pass, have you ever seen the movie “Deathrace 2000”, how much is a shopper worth? Lots of potters here, and they eat, Lobster Rolls, every inlet and harbor has little stands, packed with all wonderful food things, Lobster, Fish & Chips, Clams, Shrimp, it’s all good.
Through Bath, Montsweag, I stop in Ducktrap for a Lobster Roll and Fries, and Coleslaw, damn good, less coast than I imagined, there are lots of Hwy 1 that’s inlands, farms and wild blueberry, this state’s famous for it’s blueberries, into Ellsworth, where I need to get on Hwy 3 to Acadia National Park, I spy a billboard, it say David Bromberg, I park quickly, he’s been on my mind for a while, he has resurfaced after a break, I buy a ticket, it’s the next night, I am camping just 20 miles away, thank you sweet Jesus!
On to camp, I have always wanted to see this place, set up, and then off to explore the coast before sunset, beautiful, good to hear the waves and smells of the ocean, then back to read around a fire, the next day all over the island, down on the dock, mail boats are going out, there is a boat to Little Cranberry Island in a half hour, the best money I could spend, the highlight of this area was this little island, with a Fisherman’s CO-OP and a small year- round community, 12 kids in a K-8 school, two teachers, vehicles even come over on boats, quite industrious, nowhere on the east coast is there a more tranquil or beautiful setting, diverse shoreline, cranberry bogs, the Native peoples used still exist, you can not leave the island without being deeply moved by it’s beauty, serenity and peaceful coexistence with nature. The chef was on the dock’s getting specials, The Islesford Dock is the name, save some time for chow. You can’t get closer to the source!


Cadillac Mountain has magnificent views all around, each coast, the fog was moving in on Bar Harbor, from other area completely covered and other areas clear, here you can be the first person in America to see the sun come up, enough exploring off to town, time to do the wash and catch Mr. Bromberg, his wife and band, the Angels open, with David too, then he comes back, he is rich in music history and skilled as any player, he wailed, sang great some blues, country, his voice was strong, he can play damn near anything, he did speak about his isolation and disappointment with the country, and what we do in it’s name, a Democracy should stand up to the challenge of being Democratic.I paided for fun that night, it rained big time, and you have to pick your spots to break down camp the next morning and quickly, too.
Off to Cobscock and Lubec, the most eastern point of the U.S., 3,478 miles of coastline and 63 lighthouses.“The Lighthouse Keeper’s Lament”
O What is the bane of the lightkeepers‘s life
That causes him wry, struggle and strive,
That makes him use cusswords, and beat his wife?
It’s Brasswork.
What makes him look ghastly, consumptive and thin,
What sobs him of health, of vigor and vim,
And causes despair and drives him to sin?
It’s Brasswork.


Cobscook State Park, you camp above the bay, the muddy flood is all you see then, slowly, the narrow channel begins to fill, then in a couple of hours the tides filling the bay some 20 feet twice a day, great clamming, don’t get caught.
Rained both nights, first night a drizzle, not bad, still outside with a small fire, the second, the wind blew and rain came in buckets, read my book in the car, and then listened to Diana Jones sweet songs, before retiring to my tiny tent.
Take Rt. 189 four miles to The Lighthouse at Quoddy Head has been operating here since 1808, a sweet elderly woman Leona McBride, volunteers here, used to live in Cape Cod, lots of folks have moved down here, too crowded there. The lighthouse is the easternmost lighthouse in the US, early on its light and fog cannon warned mariners of Quoddy’s dangerous cliffs, ledges and rocks.
The only place for breakfast here is Murphy’s village, all locals and some of us, good breakfast, with Fried Dough, like fry bread, but they put sugar and cinnamon of these.
I take a look at the harbor at Lubec, great little harbor, a few shops, B & B’s, the tide rushes out like a river, the fog shrouds small islands and fish vessels, Canada is 100 yards away, Roosevelt Campobello is here, the summer home(s) of F.D.R., he also had land on Mt. Desert Island that his family gave for Acadia National Park.
Back on the road I pass Bold Coast Smokehouse, specializing in cold and hot smoked salmon, and wicked good smoked salmon pate and smoked trout pate, also.Saint Croix Island
Take Route 1 north, heading to Baxter State Park, looking to kiss a moose, up the Passamaquoddy Bay to Calais, in 1604, was the beginning of French America, they lasted the winter on this small island, then moves to Port Royal, there are nice statues commemorating their arrival and struggle. What would we be like today if the French controlled the early settlements?
Inland on Rt. 1 to Topsfield, take a left to Rt.6, into timber country, like rural Oregon, at Lee, take Rt. 168 to Famous Rt. 2 for 3 miles then Rt. 157 to Minninocket then, up Rt. 11 to Pattern, home of the Lumberman’s Museum into Baxter State Park, it’s a wilderness park on Rt. 159 for two days of camping here, still some rain, feeling mightily alone, as far from home as I can go, saw one moose, deer, birds, time to read, stay up late looking at stars, finished the Kite Runner, cried, then for a hike up >Mt. Katahdin, path to stream to rocks to boulders, half up, pass the tree line for quiet time, do I need more quiet time, it’s just what I needed to recharge, thinking about the solitude, quiet moments to view the wonders of the wilderness.
Mission Accomplished, as far east as one can go, and to see Maine again, lands cheap, four full seasons, independent folks, only flooded with visitors in the summer months, local rags in the café in Patten, All Maine Matters, a conservative Fishing, Farming, and Forestry paper, as well as a Christian Conservative paper the Record, the culture wars as they are called need to be fought here, to change America, we must engage issues at a local level, the rural folks are so isolated, unless we truly identify the real issues, like the economy of each area, the past and present influences, these folks will continue to believe that someone is out to change their world, same old scare tactics, these people are deeply patriotic, and influenced by a few, people in the larger city need to get out, not just drive by and say “how beautiful”, buy a coke and leave, like Oregon, the rural struggle hits hard, both Portlands need to realize, the rest of the state is different, there value’s were built and stayed in these communities, change will come, but we need to engage and be clear with our message.What does our America want to be?
Leaving, heading south on Rt. 11, Maine ranks behind New Jersey and ahead of Louisiana for the worst roads, don’t drink too much coffee, down past Brownville and Milo, 15 miles of American Flags on each telephone pole, start here, talking you city slickers. Then Rt. 221 to Banger, for a night at the Holiday Inn, nice big bed, check e-mails, call friends, oh boy!
Heading West today on Rt. 2!!!
Portland to Aradia
57.8 mpg/ 159.3 miles traveled
Acadia to Cobscook
60.8 mpg/ 132.2 miles traveled
Cobscook to Baxter
58.2 mpg/ 123.8 miles traveled
Baxter to Banger
61.5 mpg/ 142.3 miles traveled

Pint to Pint

Pint to Pint, in New England
Waking up on a hot, hot day in Greenfield, after putting most of my rant down on paper, before 4 days at Grey Fox. The passion of the mind, anger, love, desire, purpose, the things that drive our brains, completely our own, what rides we take, write it down before it slips away, never ever quite getting the whole feeling, only pieces, distance remembrances of a thought. A seed, a weed, a flower, then harvest the mind. Greenfield, Mass, finished Sunday’s drive with a pint at People’s Pint, downtown, Celtic music in the corner, a regular jam, casual chatter, couple my age laughing, looking, talking, discovering each other, you can see it in their faces. Nice.
Ploughman’s board of Vermont Cheddar, apple, sausage, bread. Great beer, nice little haven here.
Off to see Shelburne Falls, a little hamlet back down the road traveled in on the day before, Bridge of Flowers, they have taken an abandoned trolley bridge, and filled it full of flowers, exploring the town, easy walking around, smelling flowers, checking out the candle shop, Mole Hollow Candles, too hot to make the big candles, they will droop otherwise, then Pot Holes, this town is famous for it’s potholes, there are falls here too. In the pass the Native people called them Salmon Falls.
Leaving Greenfield, take 2W to Shelburne Falls for a look, then 2E, 20 miles of construction & cones, 202N, by Lake Denneson, though Winchendon, traffic says “thickly settled”, then 136E, another Greenfield, New Hampshire, stopped to look at the cemetery, then check-out the bakery/ café, café closed, lovely elderly lady has owned this place since 1952, lots of stories here, pass New Boston to 13N, then 114S to 101E around Manchester, big road,to a small road 27/107N to county road 156 to Pantuckaway State Park.
61.5/ 142.2 miles traveled

Pantuckaway State Park, camping on this hot day, never cooled, it’s 5pm, set-up the camp, my chair, beer & a book by the lake, life’s a bitch!
Reading the Kite Runner, the need to escape into a book, non-historical please, a great read, found myself putting on more & more bug stuff to continue to read into the night, I am pissed at the author, half-way though, his writing is excellent, description of his home and family fine, then his friend, what happened to him, will the author get a backbone.
The bugs come in waves, as the night air shifts, the temperature changes, a new group arrives, the juice is doing the trick, and I read until after midnight. Why does everyone go to bed so early when camping?
Leaving the next day, headed for Portland, Maine, the other Portland, early I leave spotting a man, by himself, fishing in his boat, on the lake, with the mist still lingering, the still, quiet morning, solitude.
Leaving, take 156N, it turns into 152N, then 202E, by Ayers Lake, logging here, trucks too, just like home, and the smell of the forest, like home too!
I drive into the heart of Rochester, stopped at the Busy Bean, an internet café, poetry monthly, neat area of town. Heading out, a little lost, my first instinct was right, on to Rochester Road County Rt.236, thinking it will take me out of town, it does. Take a wrong turn, it’s fun, now I cross into Maine on a side road, small bridge, that was easy, then 9E, horse farms, flat land, take 4N though Alfred, then to Gorman, take 25E into the heart of Portland.
Finishing my day at Gritty’s Brew Pub, at the bar, talking to locals and watching the Red Sox, 2 pints: Original Pub Style, a light copper ale, then Black Fly Stout, the finest stout, west of Galway.
59.2/ 126.8 miles traveled

Heading “downeast” from here, a full Maine report after 6 days camping in the wilds of Maine. What’s a Black Fly?

Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival '06

Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival 7/12th-16th
Getting in late afternoon, light drizzle all day, then heavy rain while setting up my tent. It stops, when I do. Meet the neighbors, Nina & Aaron, his brother Chris and Zoe, I do the walk of the site, set out my chair on a spot on the hill over looking the main stage, first come, should have been here a week ago. Some Kerrville folks here, too. Looking forward to unwinding and independence from my mind. Praise good music and folks. Late night, cruising the campsites, listening, mostly friends playing, meeting up with each other from where ever they are from, I do come across nice pickin’, stand-up bass, hot mandolin player, two fast guitar players, along comes a grey haired dad and his 12 year old son, the boys strumming chords on his guitar, all the musicians welcome the young man into the circle, and the dad with a banjo sets the place on fire. Delightful first night, music, beer and new friends, up a little past midnight, falling asleep with music in my mind.
Thursday, Hit & Run, from Colorado, standard tradition bluegrass, crafted original tunes, finishing with ‘Mabeline”, then Cadillac Sky from Ft. Worth, Texas hot group with two national champions, hot mandolin player and singer, groups on it’s way to big, Hot Buttered Rum, missed them, yet heard lots of cheers, Mollie O’Brien & three gals from Uncle Earl, heavenly harmonies, Tim O’Brien & Molly O’Brien, brother & sister, family voices with good tunes, Red Stick Ramblers, from SW Louisiana, packed the dance floor, heads bobbing, got all of everything out of me dances for a couple of hours, Austin Lounge Lizards, missed them, saw them in Kerrville, finishing the first night was Railroad Earth, hot, hot, hot, starting off at 11:15pm, playing late into the next day, great jam band from Jersey, great balance of power, moving well with each other in & out of songs, even better with a double scoop, mint chip and chocolate in a waffle cone.
Friday, Day 2, starting off with Chatham County Line, fun young group from North Carolina, the Master’s Stage provided shade and intimate listening, the Song Swap was impressive with Jeremy Garret, his inspired country music, Jimmy Roger style, the boy can tell a story or two, then a Banjo style workshop with Bill Keith, master musician, Danny Barnes from Seattle, Larry Gango from Montana and Abigail Washburn from Uncle Earl, a big hit with her voice and Banjo style, ‘round peak’, old mountain music from the hills, and off to the Dance stage, it was hopping all weekend, Magnolia, Lil’Anne & Hot Cayenne, with dance lessons from Michelle Kaminsky had everyone and me on the floor, back to the Main Stage with the Gibson Brothers doing Louvin Brothers material, then Del McCoury Band, always wanted to see him, he did not disappoint, they finished with “When I am 64”yu know the Beatles song, and Bela Fleck sitting in!, not finished yet, Jerry Douglas with drums and electric guitar, he is a master dobro player, with his own eclectic brand of bluegrass, jazz and interpretation, the closing act, was some of the best music all night, Tim O’Brien’s Cornbread Nation with Bela Fleck, Pat Flynn, Darrell Scott and really, really good fiddle player Danny Driessen, hot fun into the late night, early morning.
Saturday,Day 3 Abigail Washburn, with Bela Fleck on banjo, Casey Driessen on fiddle and Ben Sollee on Cello start our day, with original music in English and Chinese from her album ‘Song of the Traveling Daughter”, she will be going to China this fall and lead the first US music tour of Tibet with the Sparrow Quartet including Bela Fleck, one song sticks out, “I got the key to the Kingdom, and the world can’t do me no harm.” A standing ovation to start this day, then the Red Stick Ramblers get the main stage, even sporting ties, after two great nights on the Dance Stage, the Abigail again in the Master’s Tent doing songs in Chinese, Jordan McConnel of the Duhks from Winnipeg. I have heard this band is up and coming, then King Wilkie, young, energetic, then a nap before the Big Night, Larry Sparks & The Lonesome Ramblers, I could be in this group, he worked with the Staley Brothers then formed his own in ’69, he remains true to the best tradition of Bluegrass, then always great Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder eleven time Grammy winner, Chet Atkins once credited Skaggs with “single-handedly saving country music”, a headliner at most venues, he began playing mandolin at 5 with Bill Monroe, then at 7 with Flatt & Scruggs, with his help and others, now a new generation of musicians around America, is keeping Bluegrass alive, I know in Portland that we have allot of excellent bands, check out bubbaguitar.com for more information, then Mountain Heart, have a distinct, dynamic sound, one of the new super group, they move in 7 out of song together, like a dance, building each song with a rich texture of varied sounds and style, yeah, it’s time for Steve Earl & the Bluegrass Dukes, I am sooo excited joining him Tim O’Brien, Casey Driessen, Darrell Scott, Bela Fleck and others, how much fun can I have today, I have died and gone to heaven, mostly doing his older stuff, fine by me, ‘Slow Train’, his politics, words, a man that speaks his mind, go man go! Two Standing Ovations. Steve for President ’08!!!
Sunday Morning, awake, I am not in Heaven, so time to catch the Sunday Morning Gospel show with Dry Branch Fire Squad, established in 1976, they are the long time host band here, playing traditional, old-time and gospel, fueled with musical vision, biting cultural commentary of the band’s leader Ron Thomason, his dry wit, slow delivery and stories were funny, sad and his scent of humor starts his Sunday. He talked about Death with Dignity, the War, God, his Farm and Friends, a truly good man. He said “if we didn’t have the Government, how would we know we were doing things right”. Time to take down the tent, get ready to go deeper into to Northeast, where accents are getting thicker, traveling South to NE, quite diverse changes in voice. I start my day going the wrong way, who cares, listening to ‘like a fox on the run’ yes.
Heading out on Rt. 3 to Ancram, a good breakfast needed after 4 days camping, then North on Rt. 22, beautiful NY country drive, hoping to stop in Pittsfield, Mass., for the night, then though Copake, then take 295E, then Rt.41N for a moment, then RT.20E into Massachusetts, Pittsfield, I drive around for about a 1/2 hour, this town does feel right, onward then, where to go, pass Dauton to Rt.8n to Savoy, 116E to 8A north, this road following the creek, small blacktop road to Claremont, on the Mohawk Trail, lots of kayaks on the Deerfield River, pass Shelburne Falls, and the Bridge of Flowers, sounds like a place to go, I go by, returning the next day, with views of three states to the north to Greenfield, this feels right, I shower, shave and publish my rant, where did the angst go? It’s on paper, still. The mind is a magical thing!
Greenfield, I asks a local where to go for a bite, he says Bill’s is good, been around a while, it looks OK, but up the block is the People’s Pint, local, home-made beers, a music circle playing Celtic music, I order the Ploughman Classic with Vermont x-tra Sharp cheese, apple, sausage and bread, along with a couple of pints, Pied IPA, then Farm Brown Ale, they have hand crafted soda, and cider, a beer called Poet’s Seat Pale, and lots of good desserts too, Strawberry-Rhubarb Crisp, Lemon Cheesecake with Wild Blueberry-Port Sauce, sounds good, it is.
A great way to start my journey though the NE, on my way to see a Moose, at the top of Maine.
60.1/133.1 miles traveled

a Rant & two Rides!!!

Gettysburg, Pa. to Tabernacle, N.J. July 8th
Take Hwy 30E, out to Gettysburg to York, then Hwy 74E, then 372 E, Heart of Amish Country, though Bethesda and Buck, down Hwy 41 E to Route 1 N, pass Brandywine, 322 E to the toll bridge, south of Chester, into NJ, continue on 322 E, though Glassboro to Williamstown, then 532 N,Wharton State Forest, take 206 N, to 532 E to Tabernacle, and my sister Valerie’s house.
60.1 mpg/ 215.8 traveled
Leaving Gettysburg, site of some of the one of the worst losses of America lives our nation has ever experienced, how many souls live here, now even my own sister lays here.
Heading East , though York, large older red brick buildings and factories, downtown feels dated, you can smell blue collar sweat, honest bustle, watch out for delivery trucks, and signs for highway routes, most important. Cutting under Lancaster, into the Heart of Amish County, towns like Blue Ball, Paradise, Intercourse and Bird in Hand.
Where large Farms, using old ways to farm and live. I think an Amish farmer could use a plastic knife and still have a magnificent piece of property.
An aside-This country was divided, diffences of values, ideas, economic and racial issues tainted the country. We are still getting over a civil war that spit this nation. Are we headed to another civil war, based on ideals, worship the way I see it, or go to hell? We can’t have it both ways.
Behind an Amish Buggy, going 15mph on a small back country road that raises and falls, quick turns at the edge of some ones property, we slow down admiring the past , we have tolerance and reverence, yet can we do the same behind a vehicle of rainbow decaled, or long haired freaks before country performers thought it looked cool. I cut my hair.
Heading to Jersey between Philadelphia and Chester, slipping into Jersey, and then taking the back roads to see family and a new Grandchild Gianna.
She has curly blond hair, blue eyes, light olive complexion, dad’s Italian, she is a joy, able to function independently, observant, confident, an easy fit for my daughter Anna, a single mom now.
In Tabernacle, home of my sister Valerie and family, where the deer outnumber the humans, I have a half a day, time to go to Philly to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, I start my tour going though a screening, I take a picture, told to delete the shoot, it’s a digital, easy, no so with film, told to take my hat off, I was even told to lift the hat, to provide a better view of the inside of hat.
The Liberty Bell, freedom rings, is this Liberty, are we a free society, we take risks because of our freedom, yes. Because the government can not do their job, without making everyone guilty and then proved innocent, that is backwards. This makes us safe?
The place Ben Franklin made famous, the state that was tolerant of many religions, some still florest, and our future is not imposed on them. Where is our freedom of thought and movement, we must be vigilant, all citizens, that is our job. Again the government is taking something away, sheep we are.
What a show, low wage worker with little pay or formal training, without skills to evaluate a true threat, going though routine. Broadway America, the Musical with song and dance and frisking, even a steamy midnight show, touching and cavity searches anyone.
“Proclaim Liberty throughout all the land onto all the inbitants there of.”
A tradition of Protest, like John Brown’s raid in 1859 although usual for its attack on a federal installations part of a long tradition of protest and dissent in America. The United Sates was born in protest. In the years before the American Revolution, colonists spoke out against the laws and politics of England. Eventually they rebelled with violence and war. With the ratification of the Bill of Rights in 1791, the Constitution on the United Sates guan teed Americans the rights of free speech, a free press, the right to petition the government, and the right to assemble peacefully.
Americans frequently use these fundamental rights over the years, citizens of the country have organized demonstrations and rallies to oppose politics and champion causes. Often controversial and some times violent, these protests have laid the foundation for political, social and economic change. Today as in the past, Americas often exercise their first amendment rights. Right On, what are we afraid of, now?
Then off to see Independence Hall, decisions where made here, debating each issue, with weight on every decision, with thoughts of a new country, to be born and fathered by these men. We must take time today to listen to diffences, explore new ideas. America is asking the world to be Democratic, please practice at home. When being patriotic is to scorn at those that dissent. We are a nation born from protest, Revolutionaries, any other names one could call these people. A modern day word?
I take a picture of the front of an old building, nearby a guard tells me, no pictures, this building as been here over 350 years, cancel the PBS documentary, Independence Hall, no DVD will be made. Inside the same drill, no belt, lift my hat, scare me drill.
We must be safer.
Then into the courtyard, I did not look for cameras, yet. I wonder, long line, I love history, does anyone know why this place is so special, I go into one of the holy places of history. We get 15 minutes of talk about general stuff, please follow the guide at all times, and we do! 30 guards to one guide. I am learning.
Upstairs on the ______floor (classified), we see where great minds created the rules and guidelines for America.
Later privately I talked to the guide saying, it did not feel right, too much security, he said we should be in the streets angry, I agree. Privately.
Because of religious extremists from another country, our friends, did a horrible thing, kind of like Hurricanes did to the South, an unplanned disaster, not enough propaganda, yet we should turn our heads away, please let me see what’s under your hat.
Leaving Philadelphia, on the speed line, over the Delaware, over Camden, half the city is boarded out, in my view out the window of the train, for a long as I have been coming here, it’s been that way. Fix this, too.
Fuel for a rested mind, it takes me a day to write this, get the angst out. The taste of conformity.
Leaving Jersey the next day, I get the one finger salute from a concrete truck driver, I am uneasy driving here. In Jersey as a youth, before Oregon and a better brain, I would drive fast, test me, and go ahead. No more, I have slowed. I wave nicely to the driver, another bird, take care, I am leaving. Cars get in front, don’t look back, running up high speeds for short stretches, look I am in front of you. This is helping me leave, I will miss family, and this place of my past.
Maybe, I will learn.
July 12th
North on 206, right though the heart of Trenton, pass restaurant row, ethnic eateries, even Carolina pulled pork and Fried Chicken, connect midtown to Rt. 31N, the nicest road I have been on in Jersey, the state with the worst roads I have experienced, they don’t fix them, just patched, then pass Pennington, Washington, to Buttzville, to Rt. 46 to Columbia, the Delaware Water Gap, most impressive, where the Kittatinny Mountains have given way to eons of steady persuasion by the Delaware River, this famous notch has long been a landmark, not only for natural splendor, recreation, and gentel farmland. The Old Mine Road , the oldest commercial highway in America, which follows an aboriginal trail along the Delaware, believed to be 8000 years old. George Washington’s solders used the road and John Adams and Ben Franklin were frequent travelers. During the mid 19th Century, parts of the Old Mine Road became links in the Underground Railroad, now the Appalachian Trial goes by breathtaking overlooks, sublime glens and ravines, rugged outcroppings, a glacier lake, ancient copper mines and a pheasant drive up & out of Jersey.
Lost for a minute or two, not sure if I am in Jersey or Pennsavania. North 521, foothills, back on Rt. 206, pass the highest point in Jersey- High Point 1803 feet, then to Montique, north on Rt. 521 into New York, then Port Jervis.
In New York, take 209N to Kingston , following the Basher Kill and Roudout Rivers, though towns of Godeffray, Cuddebackville, Stone Bridge to Kingston, 28E, then 32N across the mighty Hudson River on to Rt. 9/199E to Red Hook, past Lafayette to Pine Plains, to Rt. 82N Ancramdale, then Rt. 3, Overlook Mountain Road, onto the Rothvoss Farm, home of Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival, July 13th-16th.
59.2mpg/ 233.7 miles traveled
I am better now.

Five States in an Hour

Leaving Winchester July 6th
What does Chester in town’s name mean?
Slept in, its 11am, beautiful morning after a few rainy days.
Take Hwy 50/17 east, thought I was going to take 11N, oh well, pass Southern BBQ joint, vegetable stands, farms and migrant workers on the Lord Fairfax Hwy. into West Virginia, another surprise, passing Charles Town in rolling hills and small mountains to Harpers Ferry, I know less about this place then I should or have forgotten.
Time to explore.
Harpers Ferry sits where the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers meet, with bluffs surrounding this picturesque town. The history of Harpers Ferry has few parallels in the America drama. It is more than one event, one date, or one individual. It is multi-layered, involving a diverse number of people and events, decisions and actions that influenced the course of our nation’s history. Harpers Ferry witnessed the first successful application of interchangeable parts, the arrival of the first successful American railroad, John Brown’s attack on slavery, the largest surrender of Federal troops during the Civil War, and the education of former slaves in one of the earliest integrated schools in the United States. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Meriwether Lewis, John Brown, Robert E. Lee, J.E.B. Stuart, Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, George Custard, Phillip Sheridan, Abraham Lincoln, Frederick Douglas, W.E.B. Du Bois and many others.
Most inspiring to me was the abolitionist John Brown, he believed he could free the slaves, and he selected Harpers Ferry as his starting point. Determined to steal the 100,000 weapons at the arsenal, the US Armory and Arsenal was established here in the 1790’s, Brown was to use the mountains for guerrilla warfare, and he began his raid on Sunday evening Oct. 16, 1859. His 21 man self-styled “army of liberation,” which included three of his sons and five free African-Americans, seized the armory and several other strategic points. Thirty six hours after the raid began, with most of his men killed or wounded, Brown was captured in the armory fire engine house, also known as “John Brown’s Fort”, when US Marines stormed the building, brought to trail at nearby Charles Town, Brown was found guilty of treason against the commonwealth of Virginia, conspiring with slaves to rebel, and murder. He was hanged on Dec. 2, 1859. John Brown short lived raid failed, but his trail and execution focused the nation’s attention on the moral issue of slavery and headed the country toward civil war.
So many important events happened here, the Civil War was profound and disastrous effect on Harpers Ferry, because of the town’s location on the strategic Baltimore and Ohio Railroad at the end of thru Shenandoah Valley, Union and Confederate troop movements were frequent, the town changed hands 8 times between 1861 and 1865.
The Niagara Movement, a cornerstone of Modern Civil Rights, is celebration it’s 100th year on August 18th-20th, 2006, they held their first meeting on American soil in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia in 1906. At the dawn of the twentieth century, the outlook for civil rights for African Americans was at a precarious crossroads. Failed Reconstruction, the Supreme Court’s separate but equal doctrine (Plessy v. Ferguson), coupled with Booker T. Washington’s Accommodations policies threatened to compromise any hope for full and equal rights under the law.
Harvard educated W.E.B.Du Bois committed himself to a bolder course, his appeal for civil rights, he acted in 1905 by drafting a “Call” to a few select people. The call had two purposes; “organized determination and aggressive action on the part of men and women who believed in Negro freedom and growth,” and opposition to “present methods of strangling honest criticism”. The movement was born.
So much history and change in one place, Harper’s Ferry ignited change throughout its history, I am overwhelmed, impressed by, humbled and in awe of this place.
This has to be one of the most important places in American History.
Leaving Harper’s Ferry for Gettysburg, what was it like, living in this region during the Civil War, a couple hours drive by car, the stories these hills could tell.
Taking the back way, back into Virginia for a couple of miles, cross the Potomac River, though Brownsville, attempting to stay close to the Appalachian Trail as possible.
Right on 40E , called the Old Natural Pike, then Hwy 17, small road, going south, not north, hard to tell, a few miles one way, then back again.
Rolling hills, small mountains in the distance, you can tell where towns or hamlets are, by the steeple tops of churches poking up though the trees.
17N all back country, crossing Middle Creek numerous times, cooler down by the river, into Smithsburg, the Dixie Eatery, roller coaster ride, farm town of Letters burg, right turn 418E into a big open valley.
Now Pennsylvania, five states in an hour: Virginia, West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, and then Pennsylvania.
16E, the Buchanan Trial, pass Red Run Grill, says, Carolina Pulled Pork, straddling the Mason-Dixon Line, sweet corn for sale, my goal this morning was to get to Blue Ridge Summit, only a few miles up the road, turn north on 116N, Frontier BBQ at the Jct. then North to Gettysburg, home of my sister Donna’s final resting place, there is lots to see, reenactment this weekend and 15,000 bikers for a rally, rumble, rumble, rumble.
But it’s time for family and remembrance.
Next up: Amish county and the trap door into Jersey.
58.5 mpg/ 120.7 miles traveled