On the Charlotte, VT to Essex, NY ferry across Lake Champlain
Essex, NY plays the part of small town America
On the shores of Lake George
Your blogger at the wheel
The American Road, just as imagined
I made it as far as Cooperstown, NY today; arriving too late to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame. I decided to overnight here and visit it in the morning. My effort to find a room for the night online failed for lack of signal, so I bowled up at what seemed to be the town’s grandest hotel. There was no room at that inn, but the receptionist kindly introduced me to an even grander, where I have a rather splendid suite for the night. I can’t live at this standard for 60 days, but it is a pleasant treat.
Today’s run was pure pleasure. The sun shone and I drove with the roof down all day. The crossing of Lake Champlain by ferry was fun and educational. Two fisheries officials crossing the lake with me stopped by to admire my car and ended by explaining their work.
They are trying to re-establish salmon on spawning runs disrupted by development around the lake. I couldn’t help thinking a private charity or university would be better suited to employ them. Does government really have a mandate to assist salmon in spawning? The gentlemen themselves however were friendly, knowledgable and dedicated to their humane (piscane?) task. I enjoy enthusiasm in others, on any subject. And a man who loves his work is as interesting as one who hates it is tedious.
The drives along the shores of Lakes Champlain and George were tremendous. The road was narrow, winding and often wooded. The small communities along the way were sleepy and peaceful looking, with a wide variety of housing from shack to McMansion. The European approach of setting minimum standards for housing is supposed to protect the poor but actually leaves them homeless or hungry because they pay too much rent.
Route 20 was my tour exactly as I imagined it on my balcony in London. The road stretched out ahead – as good as a French or German motorway in parts, yet a “scenic by-way” here. The little communities looked like good places to live and I felt I was connecting with the “real” America. Everyone I spoke to today was friendly and interested in my tour. I am sure there’s some truth in the dire warnings I received from both American and European friends about the risks I face. I shall continue to be careful, but up to now my positive view of America and her citizens is only strengthening.
As I did not pack sun-block, I shall fit right in with the rednecks when I reach those parts of America. Roof-down driving on the highways of Springtime America is cool and refreshing, but the sun still burns. Here in surprisingly swish Cooperstown (which I had previously only heard of in a baseball context) I look a little out of place right now. Not that I let it bother me as I sipped my frozen margaritas on the terrace.
My pleasure was only slightly dampened by hearing a mother forbid her children to wander where people had alcohol. What was that about? Is secondary drinking a problem now? The march of the puritans continues, alas. As far as I am concerned however, for now, those dogs may bark but my caravan moves on. But not before I have tried to learn the mysteries of baseball tomorrow.
The Last Ditch by Tom Paine 
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