Thursday, August 6, 2015


Final Photos


     It was the "Unknowns"---the hundreds of "Unknowns" with  brick-shaped, granite markers and a number---like maybe 251 or 310. That's all that's left to note their existence.They were mostly young lads---many having been misled about the value and length of what was to be a 620,000+++++ casualty bloodbath.  Chaps with their lives ahead of them--- but now lost in the vast expanse of time. What I'm talking about is the mammoth Civil War cemetery at Gettysburg.  Can't seem to shake it the feelings it gave Ann and me.     
     Left Gettysburg KOA early, this AM and made it to Salem, Virginia's La Quinta Inn, bought a 6-pack of Miller Lite and headed for the pool. It was just 2:00 PM, but too far from the crib to do in one day (by our standards).
     Some stream-of-conscious thoughts from this EGG trek up through Pa., upper N.Y., New Hampshire and Maine are: 
     The old, old buildings and churches and graveyards---huge graveyards because so much time has passed and  so many people have up and died. The            old, old homes, and skinny streets, and lush, lush flora---due in great part to the record amount of snow melt. The beautiful  wildflowers---many the same as down south, but healther-looking. The lack of tacky billboards, the cool, clear air; the seeminfly endless forests in more places than I had imagined; the large numbers of churches---some 200 yrs or more old---all painted white, with neatly groomed yards; the stretches of awful roads---expanding in the summer, and then buckling up in the sub-zero winter.  Met a nice fellow from Vermont who went through 8 chords of wood " I ran the furnace most mornings.  Had about six weeks of -25 below."  Then, there was the very dandy haddock burger up in northern Maine at Beales---a feast in a big basket, with fries, tarter sauce and a side of purple cabbage slaw---all eaten right next to where the lobster and fishing boats dock up and  the sea breeze was a- puffing and everybody laughing and stuffing their face.    
     Home to the crib manana---(knock on  the simulated wood bedside table here at La Quinta.)
     Here's wishing you peace and happiness.
    Oh yeah, perhaps you'll want to check out The book, Oh, Nelly! , was just released. A second book will be coming out late this fall.     

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Assorted Remaining Pictures

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania & Misc. other Stuff

     On the Interstates. Whoa unto us. Tks. to Dwight Eisenhower's Interstate Roads Program, for the most part, they get from point "A" to point "B" quicker than the red roads. Seems like we take the red roads to a destination and the Interstates home.  Humm....
     Last night, in N.Y. KOA, way the hell down many, many twisted, "Blind Curve" roads--- my horror being a  dead end road with no place to turn a trailer around. This is the firery pit for a trailer'er. But there it was. And there was a  hardy, 18 year old Croatian fellow with a chain saw, cutting a stump next to our site. Having driven 4 hrs., I wanted to rest a bit, have a suds, and chill. It had a happy ending... and it led to our meeting the 
owner of this, and other  
 KOA's, a here and there...the whole works. BUT he was dying, and addicted to morphine. A  handsome, charming, 49 yr. old fellow with a beautful wfe and children. It all stems from three, simultaneously ruptured discs in his spin, which led to a wire mesh around the discs, through-bolted with ss bolts. The morphine (doctor's orders) has rendered his colon disfunctional. The upshot is that he's dying & he's trying to fathom what this is all about.  Alas......
    At KOA, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Going to see what this is all about. Both Ann and I having kin who fought in the Civil War. We were a couple of hrs. away, and couldn't pass it by.
    My Great Aunt Jenny B. Crane, who lost her fiance during the siege of Richmond and intentionally remained a widow, thereafter put it, "I was 18 years old before I learned that damn Yankee was two words,"
     I'm going to try to put a bunch of non-published  photos from Acadia and assorted other sites during early stages of trek home.


Saturday, August 1, 2015

Arthropods for Dinner

We had a great lobstah at Ruth and Wimpy's .  Wimpy looked just like the Wimpy from Popeye.  ( remember).
We choked down, bibs and all.  Felt only a little remorse.

Pictures from ff-forty blog


     "Yep..., pure lobster meat is $44 a pound; crab meat, $55."
     "Gemme a hamburger steak and fries,"
     "You get another side."
     "Don't want another side. Double-up  on the fries."
     The waitress rolled her eyes and moved from the Harley, hamburger steak dude to us and we ordered lobster dinners and beers.  The dinners were $23, each dinner, and came with clams,  mussels, and an ear of corn.  Ate outside. Nice breeze, cool, clean air breeze, cold beer, and great food  ----apart from the fact that they'd put rubber bands on the poor little red bugger's claws and boiled him alive in a steaming caldrun not far from our table.
     Gems from an Arcadia nature museum:  a Raccoon is a Procyon lotor; a Red Fox, a Vulpes Vulpes
     Sewer pump alarm switch problem here at Lamone St. Pk. Twelve midnight and the alarm fires off. Sounds like the prison- break alarm at Attica Penitentiary. Fellow in another trailer said he had flashbacks to Nam---expected to hear "Incoming...Incoming!!"
     It seems that the pump and switch are antique; and the service rep "had to go backto the office and do some research." That was a week ago. The seasnal volunteer is telling me this the next day. A rather glib fellow who looked like Robert Duval, the volunteer says, "Yeah..., the switch ain't the half of it.  The mower is the only thing that's working." About this time a 50ish woman with platinum blond,big hair storms up and says,"Exc-u-u-u-se me. The doornob on Womans' Shower #2 needs some spray---some of that WD 4-44, or whatever you call it. It stuck and I had a panic attack."  She storms off with the same gait as upon arrival.
     The volunteer renders a prolonged, deep sigh and says, "See what I mean? Just how much do they expect from a volunteer?"
     "How 'bout a cold beer," I say.
     "Can't. Gotta go turn on the sewer pump switch. It's on manual, now. Somebody's gotta do it every 4 hours or we'd all be up to our waists in sewage. Like I say, just how much to they expect from a volunteer?"
    Ann and I looked at each other over breakfast. It was that look you get when it's time to go home. It's a subliminal thing.....a feeling You know it's time to return to the nest. We've thoroughly "done" Arcadia National Park. I reckon the next batch of pictures will speak for themselves.....