7/5/23
Originally, we planned to hit the road toward Indiana Sand Dunes National Park, but we were too dog tired after packing, tuning up our bikes, and making final preparations. Instead, we hit up a few local breweries, and set the alarm for an early wake-up.
7/6/23
3am knocked me square in the chin, but worth the bloody lip since we arrived at the West Beach of Indiana dunes around noon, just in time to prepare a quick lunch on the stove before hiking around the area. At the trailhead, we encountered the largest wooden staircase I’ve ever seen, winding its way up the hillside to a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. The wooden walkway weaved through the woods, then spat us out right onto the beach. We later drove along the shoreline where we stumbled upon several historical homes created during the Chicago World Fair.
Later, we attempted snatching-up one of the first come first serve campsites within the park, but were disappointed to discover that all campsites must now be reserved some ridiculous 15 years in advance. So we hopped back in the car and set-up camp at a local dive resort called Lake Shore Camp.
Our tent site plopped down on the front lawn of a beat-up RV surrounded by knee-high grass, with a silhouette of a peeping cousin Eddie holding a beer in the window, or possibly an ax murderer, hard to tell. We quickly discovered that our only goal pitching a tent at this place would be to survive the night without getting mugged, stabbed, or abducted. Directly following the 8pm noise curfew, a neighbor across the road cranked up his ghetto blaster with rap music predating Run-D.M.C., responding to anyone’s attempt at asking him to pipe down with a fervent, yet horribly misconstrued lecture/rant on constitutional rights. Accompanying this chorus of mounting domestic violence was the roar of freight trains racing by at a modest 150 mph along the fence line, shaking every square inch of ground beneath our tent. We snatched a quick shower early the next morning, and high-tailed our way out of there, never looking back.
7/7/23
We drove the entire day all the way to 4-mile Creek State Park on the western edge of NY along the southern edge of Lake Ontario. After throwing our tent on the ground, we took our camp chairs and some snacks down to a huge field overlooking the lake, joining a slew of other campers watching the sunset unfold. A freighter slowly trolled along the Toronto skyline until setting with the sun along the darkening horizon.
7/8/23
Figuring out the free shuttle to Niagara Falls was a bit of a fiasco in the morning, but things really worked out well in the end. We drove a couple of miles over to Fort Niagara where we learned a ton of interesting background information regarding the French & Indian War. The very first lighthouse in America stood atop a French castle at this location where the Niagara River empties into Lake Ontario, a highly prized port of entry to America’s interior. The shuttle took us through a couple of fun touristy towns, and eventually into Niagara State Park. Sadly, the closer we got to the falls area, the more run down and decrepit everything started to look as the driver sped past boarded-up store windows, abandoned buildings, overgrown parking lots, with graffiti everywhere.
Then, the Canadian side came into view, gloating a prosperous landscape of carnival rides, monuments, hi-tech skyscrapers, beautiful picnic areas- the works. Even though we were stranded on the U.S. ghetto side of the river, the falls were still absolutely breathtaking. Most impressive of all was the height at which the river mist rose-up from the cavernous depths below the falls, brushing the faces of onlookers, and fogging-up camera lenses. Skipping past the over-priced tourist traps, we hiked around the 4 mile loop exploring the surrounding islands and overlooks.
In need of a restroom break, we stopped in at the newly upgraded Visitor’s Center, only to join a perplexed crowd at the entrance of the public restrooms. In the absence of a women’s or men’s side, an attendant came out and said that we could enter either side, at which the crowd turned back toward the entrance with even more apprehension. As soon as the attendant used the term “all gender restrooms,” people sheepishly shuffled into the biologically confused doorways on either side. Just when you think society can't get anymore counterbalanced, more social programming keeps popping-up. It’s already awkward enough sharing bathroom space with people of the same gender, well now things are getting just downright creepy.
Later, we caught a shuttle that dropped us off at the famous ‘whirlpool,’ which is technically a giant eddy, but ‘whirlpool’ sounds far more exciting for jet boat tours. A steep trail descended into the river gorge to a boulder field overlooking a powerful set of rapids that not even the jet boats dared to run. We studied the mesmerizing series of waves swell and break with frightening force, bringing back a slough of river guide memories.
On the empty shuttle back to our car, we suspected the perturbed passenger snarkily interacting with the driver must be his relative. Sure enough, a father/son combo, with the full grown son whining about how he wants a slice of pizza rather than a sandwich, then at the last minute, changes his mind back to a sandwich. His father comes back offering him a sandwich to which the son rudely brushes him off, “just keep it up there.” Awkward…
We eagerly hopped-off in the town of Lewiston, and grabbed some beef brisket and a full 16oz. pour of scotch ale at the Brickyard. Next door, we stopped in at a brewery where we saddled up to the bar with an older gentleman with a British accent and a computer repairman that kindly offered me a pour from his barrel-aged porter. When the bartender discovered that we were headed to Acadia National Park, he shared a string of hilarious stories detailing a brewery tour he experienced up that way, and the progress of his startup brewery. We laughed and enjoyed conversation for a good long while- a great way to wrap up the day at the local Cheers bar.
7/9/23
Today we drove the entire day until finally crashing at a rest area about a mile outside Acadia National Park.
7/10/23
Sherri woke-up long before me, driving us into a secluded little picnic area on an inlet located on the far NE corner of the park called Mt. Desert Narrows. After cooking our classic oatmeal & coffee breakfast, we walked down to the rocky shoreline where we heard a sporadic whooshing sound that we could not for the life of us figure out where it was coming from. After pulling-out the binocs, we spotted a loon on the far end of the cove flushing a school of fish to the surface in a thrashing frenzy. The only sound competing with the loon’s hunting expedition was the distant hum of a fishing boat somewhere beyond the surrounding foothills.
We continued along a scenic drive to Long Pond where we hiked up to the Beach Mountain fire tower. Much of the trail required scrambling around on massive granite boulders and ledges that were slicker than snot in the misty rain. Dense fog enveloped the forest, granting mysterious views of the coastline and surrounding hillsides.
Next, we tackled Acadia peak which was even more treacherous than the fire tower trail, taking us twice as long to downclimb the ridiculously steep cliffside back down to the shoreline. Heading back into town, we stopped at a small, family owned campground that Sherri had researched to ask if we could buy a couple shower passes, and the guy agreed, selling us a guest pass for $4. Just as we high-fived our way back into the car, the other lady from behind the desk ran out of the office and knocked on our car door. She told us that the new guy that just helped us was unaware of their policy prohibiting selling showers to the public, and this would be a one time deal only. We nodded politely and high-fived again as we drove to the bath house with our shady, black market $4 guest pass. After freshening-up, we set out on a quest for a lobster roll, apparently the most popular menu item in these parts, and now I know why- yum!
7/11/23
After rigging our bikes for a full day of exploring the vast network of cycling trails in the park, we rode a couple miles down a narrow county road until passing under a beautiful stone bridge- a dead giveaway that we had come upon our first carriage road. So we pulled off the pavement, scrambled up the embankment onto the relic roadway designed solely for the purpose of preserving non-motorized passage through these scenic lands. Sadly, the national park service recently amended this age-old objective, passing a memorandum that allows e-bikes of all things. Barf in a bucket! The park service’s official statement rationalizes that “electric bicycles provide expanded options for visitors who wish to ride a bicycle, but may be limited because of…” sheer laziness. I completely understand accommodations for handicapped individuals, but every e-biker that we crossed paths with was more than capable of pedaling their own butts down the trail.
We heard it said best by a kid we met atop Day Mountain, shaking his head in disgust, “Isn’t it annoying when someone passes you on an e-bike who’s barely even pedaling.” We chimed in with our two cents, arguing that the challenge of the climb is what helps you appreciate it all the more. I’ve even heard the argument from avid cyclists that e-bikes enable riders to travel longer distances without having to expend more energy. Wait a minute, so you’re telling me that you want to cycle further without having to achieve the physical fitness necessary to accomplish it- so cheap! If there’s one thing mankind should have certainly learned by now is that hard men produce good times, and consequently, soft men produce hard times. As JFK once put it, we choose to do things “not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” No grit, no growth. That’s why I made sure to cast a huge smile and honoring head nod to anyone pumping up those hills old-school style, regardless of age, fitness level, etc. Pedaling alongside the old guard, we put in a total of 31 miles- without an asterisk.
7/12/23
Today, we pedaled the remaining carriage roads in the park, putting in another 31 miles of butt-kicking climbs totaling 2,000 ft. overall elevation gain. The ascents were so brutal that we started renaming the peaks Mt. Misery, Punisher Peak, and even Mt. Death. For lunch, we pulled-off the trail overlooking a lake under the canopy of a spruce forest. While filtering some water along the shore, I noticed a massive snapping turtle swim to the surface for a closer look, then sink back down into the water to hide. What an impressive, prehistoric creature.
Upon returning to the car, we drove over to a swimming hole a few miles down the road. Perfect timing to take a dip as we caught the last few rays of sun before it faded behind the surrounding foothills. Afterwards, we drove over to our new campsite on the less visited Schoodic Peninsula, a newly developed and more secluded area in the park. While driving past the visitor’s center, Sherri noticed a sign inviting campers to a ranger presentation at the amphitheater. We quickly threw our gear into the tent, grabbed something to drink, and followed a beautifully lit trail leading us through the Juniper bushes to a massive outdoor amphitheater.
The ranger told the story of a famous shipwreck in this area- the Royal Tar. This impressive steam powered side wheeler sailboat was carrying a bunch of circus animals and about 70 passengers when the boiler engine caught fire. Several people died, as well as most of the animals except for a couple of horses that somehow managed to buck their way out of the stable, jump ship, and swim to shore where they were found grazing in an open meadow the next morning as if no big deal. Probably the most troubling part of the story was how the crewmen cowardly slipped away in the only seaworthy lifeboat, leaving all of the passengers and animals to fend for themselves aboard the flaming ship that was a result of their careless monitoring of the boiler engine.
At the close of the program, we heard the ranger mention that the Northern Lights were predicted to show up tonight. So we hopped in the car and drove up a rough double track forest road climbing up to the Schoodic Head lookout. We headlamped our way through the woods to a boulder field overlooking Winter Harbor with the entire Northern sky in full panoramic view. Not long after setting up our chairs and curling up under a blanket together, we heard another car approach. About ten minutes later, we hear a group of cackling ladies stumbling through the woods to our exact location. They were so polite, whispering to each other as if watching a golf tournament. Even though the star gazing was absolutely spectacular with a pitch black night sky, the Aurora Borealis never appeared- bummer. The girls called it quits around 12:30am, and we followed suit not long afterwards.
7/13/23
We hopped on our bikes for a third day in a row, putting in another 14 miles exploring the exterior of the Schoodic peninsula. Various pull-outs along the roadway led to vast rock outcroppings where breakers slammed into steep ledges bordering the shoreline. We snatched another wonderful seafood lunch at a nearby restaurant along our biking route. Seafood out here is simply best when crammed into a toasted hot dog bun slathered with oil, letting the fresh lobster and crab do all the talkin’- love it! That afternoon, we headed into town for laundry and a brewery featuring live jazz where we sat next to an older couple surprised to hear that we weren’t disgruntled educators. We explained how having summers off enables us to pursue our quest to explore all of America’s national parks, hence our stay here in Acadia.
7/14/23
We hit the dusty trail down to Gloucester, MA for a whale watching tour aboard the Privateer IV. While waiting to depart, a seal occasionally surfaced like a periscope, surveying the water alongside the ship. Leaving the harbor, we sighted a couple of medieval looking castles with the Boston skyline hovering above the foggy southern horizon. About 20 miles out, Sherri & I spotted the first Humpback whale. The captain earmarked its location to investigate on our return voyage. We continued on a course to explore a marine wildlife sanctuary on a sandbar extending from the hook end of Cape Cod. Since the ocean floor is so shallow there, the sun is able to penetrate the oxygen rich water, producing an abundance of marine fauna and plankton, providing an ideal environment for whales returning year after year to feed alongside their young calves.
A massive humpback named Diablo even rolled over on its side for us, slowly raising his wobbly, rubberlike fin into the air, then repeatedly slapping it down onto the surface of the water. Occasionally, as a whale was preparing to deep dive, we’d watch their hooked dorsal fin arch high above the water, followed by an enormous winged tail breaching the surface in tow. Five or so minutes later, we’d hear a volcano-like blast of mist spew from their new location as their sleek black bodies roll along the surface of the ocean in a mesmerizing display of nature’s majesty.
After returning to the docks, we put in some more driving miles toward Shenandoah National Park. As our eyes began drooping with fatigue, we attempted pulling into a couple of rest areas, only to find a bunch of creepy serial killers and a lopsided porta potty coated with some sort of sticky, sun-scorched sludge slathered around its base. Driving well into the night, we eventually settled into a Costco parking lot to catch a few winks. By this time, I could have slept inside a rusty Iron Maiden.
7/15/23
Climbing up through layers of fog into the Smokies the next morning, we eventually found ourselves looking down at clusters of clouds snagged in the rolling hillsides and cliffs. After setting-up camp at Big Meadows campground, we hiked a 6-mile loop along the Rose River. The crowds simmered down at around the 2-mile marker where the trail meandered off into the lesser traveled backwoods winding deeper into the valley.
During our return ascent along the other side of the river, a couple of guys with a dog passed us up. The one guy looked like he had been completely chewed-up by mosquitos, with open sores completely covering his arms and legs. We later caught up with them, noticing one of them digging around in the hollow opening of a tree while his buddy eyed us suspiciously, nervously chiseling bark off the tree with his knife. Tempted to ask what they were up to, my gut told me to simply smile and just keep walking. A couple minutes later, after passing out of sight, Sherri reveals to me in true crime fashion that they were likely recovering a drug drop, and the sores covering his body were probably a result of Meth. Needless to say, we picked-up the pace and didn’t slow down until reaching our campsite with worst-case-scenario panic exhaustion.
After a tandem $5 coin slot shower (a rarity at National Parks), we stopped in at the lodge where we hung a left down a secret speakeasy stairwell toward the sound of live music and clinking beer mugs (virtually unheard of at National Parks). We snickered each time the guitar player ended his songs with a ridiculously loud electric drum pad solo, budum-ching! Walking back to our campsite that night in the rain made us second guess our tent placement under a tree realizing that after each gust of wind, gigantic water droplets came crashing down onto the rainfly, making for a restless night’s sleep.
7/16/23
We drove all day until meeting up with my sister and family in Chattanooga, TN later that afternoon for a ferry boat ride up the Tennessee river. Afterwards, they took us down to Clumpy’s ice cream shop, a local favorite. I ordered a big whopping scoop of strawberry rhubarb crisp- yum!
7/17/23
My brother-in-law Ron took us on the ultimate tour of Chattanooga, starting with a beautiful drive to the top of Racoon Mt. where we learned about the local state-of-the-art power plant. Using excess electricity from the power grid during evening hours, massive turbines pump water from the river 1,000 ft. straight up through the center of the mountain to a massive reservoir. Then, during the prime daytime hours, they pull the plug on the reservoir with a gargantuan ball valve the size of a two-story house, sending all of that water careening back down the 1,000 ft. drop, spinning the turbines in reverse, creating enough electricity to power the entire city and surrounding towns for dirt cheap- what a brilliant feat of engineering.
We then drove up to another peak called Lookout Mt. where we stopped at a quaint little souvenir store called Mountain Memories. After perusing around in the store for a while, a charming little old lady pops out of a hidden closet door to greet us. Come to find out, her grandfather is the one who actually discovered the famous Ruby Falls, the tallest and deepest underground waterfall in the U.S. located just down the street. As we started inquiring more about her grandfather’s story, she eagerly grabbed our arms and led us upstairs to a back corner displaying maps and artifacts, time warping us into the past as she retold the heroing tale.
Her grandfather started doing cave tours, but was denied access to an existing cave network along the railway due to WWII security reasons, so he purchased property on the hilltop directly above the caves, and drilled down through solid limestone attempting to create his own access tunnel. While drilling one day, he uncovered a completely new vein packed with mud. Curious to discover where it led, he and his crew cleared mud for days, returning home each evening with bloody gashes that Ruby’s mother stitched-up herself. Eventually, they busted through to an enormous cavern with a waterfall cascading down a 145 ft. drop, carving its way deep underground, which remains one of the city’s most treasured scenic gems. What an experience hearing that story directly from a primary source- Ruby herself.
7/18/23
We drove back to Racoon Mountain, and ripped through some of the mountain bike trails we learned about the day before. I was pleasantly surprised to find classic mountain bike trails littered with roots, rocks, and ledges- nature’s terrain. I say that because recently, so many trail systems completely excavate the terrain away, leaving wimpy, clean shaven, flatbed surfaces that you can practically rollerblade down. The best trails in the world simply follow game trails, obstacles included, capitalizing on animals’ extremely specialized instincts, navigating the lay of the land, daily conquering miles and miles of territory. A trail called Small Intestine led along a ridgeline overlooking the river, eventually connecting with the switchbacks of Grindstone trail climbing all the way up to the Visitor’s Center. I lowered my seat a smidge and plunged back downhill all of the way back to the car full speed ahead.
That afternoon, Philip & Emily invited us over for dinner and a swim, even though a thunderstorm kiboshed our plans for the pool. Instead, Philip & I found ourselves picking through a storage bin full of miscellaneous electronics, and pulled-out an old Sony PS2 game station. Sherri asked if he owned Star Wars Battlefront, to which Philip gleefully began jumping up and down. We fired-up that PS2 and had an absolute blast playing through a few levels together.
On our return journey home, we took a pit stop in Kentucky to spend some time with Jim, Caroline, and the girls. They took us to a fantastic outdoor botanical garden where we hiked through different forest areas showcasing a variety of tree species, along with massive wooden statues posing as guardians of the plant world.
We reluctantly stopped at Gateway Arch National Park, suppressing our frustration of why this historical monument is now classified as a National Park. Regardless, the air conditioned underground museum was a welcome experience while traveling cross country on a blistery day. We found it strange how extreme the security was for this place, with metal detectors and the works. Sherri & I took turns hanging-out with Mia on the grounds outside while the other snooped around in the museum exhibits.
