NBNC>SBNY July 2016

Mid-summer – temperatures have been unseasonably warm- no, hot- in this region of upstate New York, which of course is perfect for the making of thunder and lightning storms. Unfortunately, for the drought-stressed farmer the rains have been breezing through quickly and leave a slight puddle.

We had have a nursery outside our motor home; a snapping turtle laid her eggs in mid-June and we are waiting for incubation to complete and will watch for hatchlings and let you know when we become grandparents again. Films at eleven.

Our daughter, Carol, and her hubby, Eric, and grandkids, Alex and Kyle, traveled eastbound mid-June to spend two weeks in upstate NY. It was a special time for us as we celebrated birthdays, Father’s/Mother’s Days, advancement to final high school years, and just spending quality time together.  One particular day the “men” ventured to Cooperstown, where the Baseball Hall of Fame stands while the “girls” shopped and giggled and shopped some more.  We day-tripped to Oswego where we lunched at the one and only Rudy’s on Lake Ontario; an extra treat was to meet up with classmates, LeeAnn and Judy. It was wonderful to see one another and all agreed that we look just like we did in 1968!  And of course we made our trek to Southwest Oswego where we shopped fresh veggies at Ontario Orchards.  It was sad when the Illinois license plate faded from our view as Carol and her family returned home, but so many more memories were squirreled away in our hearts.

As we near the halfway point of 
our stay in Sylvan Beach we have been preoccupied with the elder care of Dave’s Dad and Mom; including but not limited to end-of-life preparations, emergency room care of Dave’s Dad, which has led to the placement of both his Dad and Mom into a facility that provides enhanced care-giving and comprehensive support. The journey, thus far, has been emotional, stressful and stress-filled; heartbreaking and distressing. Dave has become his parent’s parent; a responsibility of love and tenderness, difficult decisions, disappointing experiences.

 

Each day passes into the next; a sadness holds the heart as lives become unbalanced, disrupted and changed.  The weight of the demands these past eight weeks and the burdens accompanying them launched us to step back and breathe.

And so we did.  Our daughter re-visited for a few more days and stepped back with us to about 100 miles up the road to the St. Lawrence Seaway.

When you think of Thousand Islands I’ll bet your first thought is salad dressing; that tasty addition to the top of your chilled green salad. It was in fact created on the shoreline of upstate New York’s St. Lawrence River and has graced restaurants and Seven Seas bottles since that day in the late 1800’s.

But there is so much more to the Thousand Islands than a bottle of salad dressing; it is a paradise where water is the unifying theme.  Actually, after an exhaustive count by the National Geographic Society a few years ago, there are 1,864 islands; but then if it was renamed Two Thousand Islands, look at all the bottled dressing labels that would need to be changed, and the logos on both the U.S. and Canadian borders to be reworded.

And so, with Carol aboard the rig, we leveled down at Swan Bay RV Resort at campsite 6 directly facing the shipping canal on the St. Lawrence, where 600+’ freighters pass by heading up/down river with the likes of grain for overseas markets, coal for power generation, heavy machinery and steel products.

We headed for Alexandria Bay for a full day on the St. Lawrence via Uncle Sam’s Boat Tour. At 10 a.m. we were heading downriver for a three-hour tour (no, Gilligan was not aboard) covering about eleven miles to the Singer Castle. This quaint island hunting retreat, built in the very early 1900’s is a 4-story, 28-room castle, with hidden stairway passages (for the service staff so as to be aware of wants and needs of family and guests and yet not be seen) and turrets. Owned by the Bourne family until the 60s, its name hails from the Singer sewing machine enterprise. After an hour guided tour we were water bound passing islands containing cabins not much larger than a carport and mansions that could hold the previous island. 

The second boat tour, just minutes from debarking the first, leisurely paddled us on a 22-mile round trip through American and Canadian waters. Our guide pointed out summer homes of the obscenely rich, and their even more magnificent yachts. We slowly drifted past millionaire’s row, where opulence and lavish comfort was on display from the boat docks to the spires and turrets of these sumptuous estates. We wonder if these mansion-owners sit around a campfire and roast hot dogs.

We grimaced not only at the cost of these palatial domains but then triple grimaced at the property tax New York State levies. Yet the number one reason we retired to North Carolina. 

We understood from our guide that the fresh water river freezes to a depth of three to four feet during the harsh north country winters; although snow is not as prevalent, the cold and wind are the detriment of locals.

The beauty of the day was being together as family, ooo-ing and awww-ing at the shoreline cottages and mansions moated by the river.

The Thousand Islands Bridge, a suspension bridge that provides a direct connection between the U.S. and Canada, is a beautiful bridge. As we stood on a gravel drive under its span we were awed at its girth and grace as it crosses over the St. Lawrence.

Regrettably we once again hugged our daughter goodbye as she began her trek westward.

There is so much history in this area of New York State.

Traveling the side routes to and from the region we came across pockets of Amish and Mennonite settlements.  Stands of sugar maples and stretches of golden marsh, amber poplars, and crimson sumacs, with marinas and cottages at nearly every inlet.

We traveled north toward Massena to visit the Eisenhower Locks, the seaway shipping channel locks that makes possible deepwater ships to bypass a hydroelectric dam.  Unfortunately, the locks were uneventful (ever so boring). So we moseyed to Barnhart Island to check out the camping possibilities at Robert Moses State Park. Our first impression that we would not be camping on the island is the fact that the entrance of the tunnel to the island has a clearance of 13.6’… the clearance of our rig is 13.9.  But we cleared with the Jeep and continued on.  We crossed the 45th parallel, where at this point you stand halfway between the Equator and the North Pole. 

On the way south we passed through many villages and hamlets, and cottages precariously set on the river’s edge with million dollar views.  One quaint hamlet with turn-of-the-century homes, was Waddinton, where we found a small roadside stand with New York State pure maple syrup for sale and our noses were led to the Seaway Diner & Smokehouse.  The best bar-Bee-Que since Texas. Tender, succulent pulled pork piled high with fresh made French fries and coleslaw. The environment was a lot country in décor and music, but added to the ambiance of the bbq on our plates.  If we can, we will be returning before heading on south.

Santa came down the generator exhaust and visited “The Glampers” once again in Sylvan Beach. Appetizers were shared, ornaments and gifts were exchanged and the day ended around the campfire.

Two months and several days from now we will be packing up and heading to NC. In the meantime, we still have lots of work to do and hope to enjoy a day or two of vacationing in between.

Life is Short; Enjoy the Ride