These past few weeks we have adjusted quickly to our new and
improved square footage of the motor home.
The passage in the corridor is more sizeable, the turning radius in the
galley is more generous, stretching out on the couch while watching tv is more comfortable.
All in all, it is great to have our
wheeled-home fastened, secured, and patched up.
One Sunday excursion we biked along “Clinton’s Ditch”, the
engineering phenomenon of the 19th century. Pedaling along the tow path of the Erie Canal
you cannot help but conjure up visions tradesmen and families, whose lives
evolved on floating houses, drifting along the waters from town to town. As romanticized as it may sound, life on the
canal was laden with difficult survival. A freight boat, most likely owned by a
family, was probably captained by the father and the cooking for the family and
crew overseen by the mother, while the children, if old enough, would walk
alongside the mules on the towpath to keep their pace steady. 
Because of the transient nature of packet
vessels, children were educated only as far as their parents’ knowledge. Other
traffic on the canal included packet boats and passenger vessels, as well as tradesmen
who encouraged travelers to contribute to the gambling crafts and their own
personal coffers. All along the canal on
any given Saturday night there was sure to be altercations and the occasional canaller
splashing into the canal after departing one of many taverns that lined the
waterway. Ghost footprints from the 1820s spirited up through our bike spokes as
we cycle over these tree-lined lanes while toads croak as our mile markers. Our next excursion along the watered ditch we
will plan with a picnic.
While the big rig rests under the
shade of poplar trees our Jeep becomes
our mode of travel and we find ourselves dawdling through hamlets, villages and
towns with no direction in mind, no clock to watch tick-tock, no plan to hold
fast to. One of the villages we are
learning more about this year is Sylvan Beach and its surrounding region of
Verona and Vienna, established as a strategic center during the French and
Indian War. Oneida Lake is the centerpiece of Sylvan Beach and the territory
was dominated by the Oneida Nation for thousands of years, as well as the
nations of the Onondaga, Seneca, Cayuga and Mohawk.
Because of its location on the white-sanded
shore of Oneida Lake, Sylvan Beach became a popular resort community during the
late 1800s and early 1900s; respectable boarding houses, well-appointed hotels,
cottages and restaurants were established by the late 1890s. Boardwalks,
vaudeville, a carnival-like area that offered thrilling (at that time) roller
coaster and carousel rides, trapeze artists, daredevil female high divers to
woo the crowds with their abandonment of propriety. Similar to so many
prominent lakefront communities across America, Sylvan Beach declined after the
beginning of the 1920s. Those prestigious community leaders who had vision of
grandeur and could gaze along an avenue and catch a glimpse of their
imagination achieved soon died and the visions died as well. Sylvan Beach has
been the subject in the past decade of ghost hunters who feel pretty positive
of the significant incidents of paranormal sightings. Perhaps the ghostly vestiges of those
canellers who stepped over the water’s edge on those late Saturday evenings.
Today, as we walk along the beach and the side roads, there
are ghost whispers of what once was a fashionable setting. Although most of the
original buildings became victims of fire and deterioration, some of the
amusement park still stands, albeit crookedly. The beach draws crowds of
weekend boaters who dock along the canal and enthusiasts joining the muscle car
buffs as they display their pristine rides, and craftspeople sharing their
wares on the green. A sleepy little town during the week, Sylvan Beach becomes
the reminiscent nostalgia of lifestyle and reflection of the past.
In our neck of the woods there is no shortage of eateries
that complement the amount of legal tender in your pocket. On Thursday evenings we find ourselves
deckside at Crazy Clam in Sylvan Beach to appreciate their clams ‘n cans and
receiving the service of their great waitstaff. We have also feasted at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que,
where we indulged on their award-winning bar-b-q and homemade corn bread. The
atmosphere at Dinosaur is a blend of bikers, blue collar, and business suits.
The unfortunate problem is parking on Syracuse surface streets; their parking
meter system sucks! Just sayin’!
We have dined at Cinderella’s, Eddie’s and the
Pancake House, all in Sylvan Beach. Cinderella’s is the best outta three. Farmer’s roadside stands are beginning to
show up with fresh rhubarb and strawberries.
Cornfields for human consumption were being plowed and planted when we
first arrived in May and look to be a few weeks shy of meeting the elephant’s
eye on the fourth of July because of cool and wet weather, but we are looking
forward to first harvest with a stick of butter and a pound of salt! And, of
course, we stopped into Heid’s for a coney and Byrne Dairy chocolate milk.  |
| beer du jour |
 |
| wine du jour |
Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sunday evenings we usually
gather around a campfire and swap tall tales of camping woes and wonders and
share the good, the bad and the ugly of camping. And we all agree wholeheartedly, that camping is the best, no matter if tenting or glamping
(glamorous camping) in a class A rig or 34’ fifth wheel. And we gather for "special" occasions - Saturdays- to share food and drink.
 |
| Life is Short - Enjoy the Ride |
The weeks to come will be filled with more picnics, time
with family and discovering, discovering, and more discovering
No comments:
Post a Comment