After waking up in New York, and taking all the well wishes our comrades offered, we are heading out to touch Lake Erie and get on the road. Home is getting closer, and I am ready to be there.
After a frantic google search trying to find my new bestie – Tim Hortons, I settle for gas station coffee. Moose and I come out to this.
Stella and Marley decided they needed to see more of the marina we parked by. I am still suspicious of the adorable small child laughing, and missing a large part of her muffin. I think she fed the convicts. Well, if that’s they only thing that breaks, we are in good shape right… yaaaaa, cause that’s what’s make this blog interesting.
We do our best getting them to stop pretending they are in a horse trailer, and get started through New York. Now the teenagers have a friend that had previously moved back to New York a few years ago. We reach out, and make a plan to meet for lunch. We get going on toll roads, find Tim Hortons, and are making great time. Now as we pull into the town we are meeting in, it is clear these roads were designed a LONG while ago, and have not been widened since horse and buggy times. There was a stop light that had 5 lanes of traffic feeding into it, 1 way traffic, lights that all changed at the same time, and what seemed like a demolition derby course in the middle. I am still not sure how I managed to make it through in 1 piece. There might have been a couple ‘hopped’ curbs, some cussing, and a pedestrian that will likely look twice for the rest of his life, but we make it and I have my first (and last) charbroiled hot dog. It is definitely an acquired taste.
As we are talking, their friend offers to let us take the Danes to his moms house so they can stretch their legs too. This is a huge blessing as all the rest areas are very crowded, and it is not as easy to let the danes do their business without having everyone ask if they can pet them. The yard is fantastic, and as soon as we get into the back yard, everyone dropped the leashes and let them RUN. The ground was just damp enough that the danes paw prints looked like mountain lions had came into the back yard and wrestled WWE style. As I am admiring a little water feature in the middle of the yard, SPLASH. Marley ends up over her head in a Koi pond. It used to be a swimming pool that was converted. We decide it is time to head out before the rest of the dogs figure out they can swim too. It is always odd for me to apologize for traumatized fish, and surprisingly, this wasn’t the first time I’ve had to do it.
We are now racing the sun, trying to get as close to Maine as we can before loosing sunlight. Tomorrow should be the big day of crossing that state line. The roads in New York are horrible. In my opinion, it is giving Indiana a run for its money. Everyone swerves to miss pot holes, and when Moose does it, it looks like the R-Pod is dancing down the interstate. With the sun fading fast, we decide to camp at Shodack Island State park for the night. I would like to say that getting there was half the fun, but it was more tight traffic, sudden exits, and white knuckle driving. I will be surprised if I still have a steering wheel after this trip.
Pulling into the park however was breath taking. It is an island on the Hudson River. Beautiful views, and a very well maintained campground. As we are registering our cars, the question of pets comes up. Now, I had called and confirmed earlier in the day that YES they allowed pets, and great danes were fine. NOTHING else was said to me about it. Kathy does advise us to hurry up, as there were only a couple spots left. Thanks Kathy. She might have forgot to tell me a few details, and exaggerated the “couple spots”. Most of the park was empty. Now the person in the window is NOT Kathy. Imagine Mooses surprise when he is asked about pets – Yes. How many – 6. “ohhhhh no. we only allow 2 smallish dogs per site”. Wait… What?!? Nononononono. I called! …. now Kathys counterpart is pretty chill, and asks innocently enough “well, are they small dogs?Maybe as long as no one complains, we can see what happens”. Moose now has a dilemma. He has a moral compass that doesn’t allow him to lie, but it is too late to find another location for the night. This man never once breaks eye contact with not-Kathy and says “ya, we have a yorkie”. Never offers anymore info, and is not questioned further. At this time I am thankful the broken camper window is on the other side of the ranger station, and climb back into my car. When we reach our campsite Moose tells me, that if we are questioned about the dogs, they now identify as Yorkies. As I am trying to keep a straight face, Baby Elliott with his impeccable timing, BARKS. He didn’t get the memo. We stand guard to make sure no one is going to evict us, and move the cars to look like a compound the FBI would want to raid. If no one sees them, no one will complain. That’s our motto.
We get their tents put up, start unloading the cars, and Moose tells me that the slide on the camper is acting weird. It doesn’t want to work at all. While myself, oldest male and Moose start working on the slide, our fears are confirmed. It is flat out broke. It has came completely off the track. Now it will no longer slide out on its own power, and worse, it will not lock in place when brought in. Moose is trying to get a fix for the slide, and I send the kiddos down to play at the park. It is not looking good. Upon removal of the front cabinet under the sink, we can see that one of the tracks has completely separated from the frame, and punched through the lower part of the slide. Now, remember, the 200lb yorkies are still in their gazebo, and being watched by the oldest male. Moose is under the R-pod, covered in sweat and touching base with his inner sailor, I walk to the park to get the littles. That is when it happens. The Great Yorkie escape of 2019. Sure enough, Stella led them out like a teenager sneaking out of the house after curfew. Have you ever tried to catch a dane, while not drawing attention to yourself or dog, while pretending they are overweight yorkies? It is not a task for the faint of heart. We only lucked out since it was right after “quite time” started, and the other few campers had already gone inside for the night.
By this time, I am done. Fork in me, done. I am trying to figure out how to move all the danes into the cars for the remainder of the trip, and push the R-pod into the river Captain Sully style. I forget that I am fortunately married to the best Moose ever. He has A PLAN. It involves car jacks, ratchet straps and prayer. Hell, we have done more with less, and it is actually a really solid plan. Last part of the plan… Make it to Maine tomorrow. No excuses. We all agree to THE PLAN, and head to bed.
As I am laying there thinking about this leg of the adventure, it dawns on me… New York is officially my ‘New Mexico’ of the east. We knew that eventfully there would be a state to take the title… Might as well be a “New” state. hahahahahaha. see what I did there. 🙂
From Sun to Snow 