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Saturday July 16

First thing in the morning, Marcy took Max swimming in the pool. I sit on the balcony, looking at the day beginning to creep over the mountains. Below me, children are swimming in the lake, and a couple have taken out a paddle boat on the water.

Driving out of Lake Placid, we pass the ski jumps, looking strange surrounded by summer foliage. As we headed further north, the mountains began for real. Spectacular views of a line of misty mountains stretched away to the horizon to the south. South of the town of Keene, we stopped by a mirror-like lake, to take pictures.

A stream fed into the lake, and a beaver had built its dam, forming a pool that reflected everything in its surface.

The Adirondacks continued for many more miles, until it was time to head south onto I87. The freeway wove its way through valleys and over lower hills, sometimes passing mist covered ponds, such a shame that the lilies that covered their surfaces had finished flowering a couple of weeks before, and now lay, slowly turning brown.

Our road to Vermont was closed. We found out why soon, the state police had set up a road block on the freeway. After quickly looking at the faces in the car, we were waved on our way. Marcy looked at the map, and thought if we took the next exit, we should be able to get back on our route. The turning led to a little used country lane that weaved through low hills, and thick woodland. There were no signs as to where the road might lead. We passed through abandoned towns, overgrown farms, seeing nobody. Suddenly, driving round a sharp corner, a young couple pushing a stroller were walking on the side of the road. Someone must live in the hills. It was several miles to the next town; they must have been walking for hours.

At last we saw signs to the town at the edge of the state, Port Henry. According to the map, just south of there is a bridge into Vermont. It is the first bridge for many miles, as Port Henry lays at the southern edge of Lake Champlain. It is only the second bridge south of the Canadian border, so, I would have thought it would be better signposted than it was. By the time we got to port Henry, it was lunchtime, and once again we had not eaten breakfast, so, before heading out into the emptiness we suspected Vermont would be, we looked for a place to eat. Just as we were about to give up, Marcy spotted a sign for a diner, pointing down an alley. I turned, and before I was an old Pullman car, and that was the diner.

We sat at a booth, in the car, and had fresh cooked food, whilst the waitresses’ children ran around.

South of the town, we headed out on a road overlooking the lake, hoping to find the bridge. About 5 miles on, we came across a sign that read, ‘Bridge to Vermont I mile.’ So, we were right. The bridge, was a traditional box girder design, and as seems the way, the roadway was a metal mesh design, which meant that the river could be seen below. On one side of the lake, in New York, the Adirondack Mountains reached right to the waters’ edge: but on the Vermont side, rich, flat countryside spread out before us.

The change was a marked as that. Once again we were driving through fields of corn, scattered about were the occasional farm. The road ran straight, and we made good time. Soon the land began to climb again, and soon we were travelling through deeply forested hills again. We paused at the top of a pass, and the road and landscape spread out below us. A group of bikers road up the pass, and paused beside us: one showing the scuffed leathers, the result of misjudging a corner.

The Ben and Jerry’s factory proved to be harder to find than we imagined. It is near to Waterbury, but driving on of two roads showed no sign. On the third, there it was, and it was crowded. And hot. We parked up, and walked to the factory. The tour was not expensive, and we had a little wait for the tour to begin. As it was a Saturday, there was no work going on, but there were videos to explain each stage of the process.

I have to say, they laid on the ‘Ben and Jerry’s is a great company and looks after it’s workforce’ really heavily, especially considering Ben and Jerry have not been involved in the company since the early 90’s. There was sample to taste afterwards, and we bought more outside, as it was just so damn hot. A short walk away was the flavour’s graveyard, were discontinued lines are remembered. It was even too hot for Max to play on the climbing frame in the park.

We drove off, and headed east to New Hampshire. The journey was uneventful, just mile after mile of forested hills. We passed another Norwich, and many other places named after towns in England. This is New England after all. But, after the sixth hour of passing nothing but trees, it becomes clear just how empty America is.

Sunday July 17

We decided to have a quiet day, after the travelling we had done in the previous four days. Garro was having a cook out later, so we decided to see the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film. Johnny Depp was very good, playing Willie Wonka very much like Michael Jackson. Garro has moved to a trailer park that is really for older people: it has a multitude of rules and regulations that residents have to follow. Other than that, it’s a nice place. He cooked two kinds of ribs, as well as franks and chicken tenders for the kids.

Monday July 18

Another quiet day today: We went into Portsmouth to look around, and to have breakfast at IHOP. And man, was it hot? Temperatures peaked in the afternoon in the mid 90’s. By that time we had given up walking around Portsmouth, and headed back to the car, and then back to the house. Really, we could not bear to be away from the air conditioning. And amazingly, the forecast for tomorrow is to be even hotter. Trying to decide what to do, the only cool thing would be to go to the ocean, Or on it. I remembered doing a whale watching trip from Gloucester, Massachusetts a couple of years ago. Thanks to the wonder of the internet, found their number, and booked us up for tomorrow.

For dinner Marcy cooked steak tips, which were great, but did increase the temperature in the trailer several degrees. All evening we played cribbage. We set up a complicated series of fans throughout the trailer, to have a flow of air, so we stood a chance of getting to sleep.

Tuesday July 19

The fans must have worked: as I woke up cold in the morning. Noah had decided not to come whale watching, so, Macy Max and I set off for Gloucester. We stopped off at a new diner in Rochester for a hearty breakfast.

We had decided to drive through Newburyport, as there is a good flea market there. Newburyport was very picturesque, all downtown was made up of brick built buildings, and beyond the large car park was the harbour: a mix of fishing boats and rich men’s playthings. We took what turned out to be the wrong road out of town, and ended up on Plum Island, a barrier island, with a mix of mansions and clapperboard houses, set among the dunes. We found out way onto 1A, and headed south. We had to pass Ipswich, and was almost as ugly as its namesake back in England.

Gloucester is a large, thriving fishing port, and the smell of fish is always in the air. We checked in at the dock to make sure the trip was still on. Out to sea, there was thick fog, and we could hear the foghorn from a distant lighthouse. The good news was that out to sea, there was no fog, and the trip was on.

There was just time to get some bottled water before it was time to board.

We were lucky: the boat was half empty, and we were going to have a great view, if we found whales. At first it was misty; we passed out of the harbour, past old lighthouses and into open water. We heard that the whales were well out to sea, and it would take some time to get there. In fact, it took two hours, and 28 miles to get to the feeding grounds. Sure enough, in the distance, we saw the plume of a surfacing whale: a humpback.

After a short while, another two whales were sighted a mile off the prow. The botanist on board told us they were the rarest of all whales, North Atlantic Right Whales: A mother and calf, two of less than 300 in the world. Rules stated we could not get too close.

Nearby, were two more humpbacks, Coral and Ember. Ember was on the surface, thrashing about, making huge splashes in the water. Then it laid on its back, raising its fins out of the water, and then letting them splash into the water.

Occasionally, the smallest of whales, Minkes, would surface and as quickly dive again. The final large whale we saw were a pair of Fin Whales, once again a mother and calf.

The trip back was long, but cool. We were the only ones on the deck most of the time: Most of the other having retreated inside the boat. One hyperactive child ran around the boat, and was an accident waiting to happen. His father looked on, apparently oblivious. We had all caught the sun, and looked pretty tanned.

Driving back, we were all pretty hungry. So, we stopped at a nice looking place in Essex, called Periwinkles. It overlooked a small harbour, and as we ate, we watched the sun go down, and darkness creep over the harbour.