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Moreau Lake State Park was a geographic choice but turned out to be a true find post-Memorial Day weekend. Situated at the foothills of the Adirondack mountains, the 4100 acres has a non-motorized boat lake where kayakers and fishers may be found, and 20+ miles of hiking trails. It's also a bird conservation area and I can attest to plenty of woodpeckers here. My first 3 days were lovely for hiking, relaxing, and even a short, hilly bike ride. The last 36 hours brought heavy rain, a few tent puddles, and tailgating for meals, but all good. It was warm, peaceful, and the air was fresh. Mother Nature even offered me a few hours of dry weather my last morning to pack up the homestead before hitting the road.
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It's been an extremely long six weeks, yet I'm holding on to a vision of greener (sunnier? warmer?) pastures ahead. While holding my breath, I made it safely to Pennsylvania, and with much support, the Element is back on the road (a valve job). The weather was inviting; much eating, walking and chatting occurred daily; and I was able to say "so long" to friend, Scott as he hit the road for another season at Yellowstone. It was also quite good that I'd arrived four days earlier than planned, as I left four days earlier and fit in a visit with friend, Barbara in Rochester. We caught up but neglected to take a photo. Much to my surprise, it was also the first time I saw the Erie Canal drained. I've always pictured it as a winter sport site as the Canadians enjoy on the Rideau Canal. Learn something new... In no time, I dropped into Ithaca, New York for a "Could I live here?" perusal. The first few days were sunny and spring-like with a rapid turn for what has been nearly a month of cold, gray, rainy weather. How cold? The heat has been on where I'm staying. How gray and rainy? I'm reading my 11th book this weekend. I've barely been able to bike, though I can walk the hills to the Cornell campus without a second thought. Within a week, I knew that Ithaca was off my list and weather isn't the only issue. While I'd camped at nearby Treman State Park last fall, this was my first visit into the city so my expectations were delusional. Indeed, it's a college town, but there is Cornell on the hill and there is Ithaca with Cayuga Lake, which seems to be the draw to bring the Cornellians downhill. Otherwise, it is two very separate worlds. For me, living downtown feels like living at the bottom of a fishbowl surrounded by a traffic circle that must be crossed to enjoy the lake. Ithaca is working hard on its traffic issues with e-bike and car share rentals, an active bike-walk advocacy group, a bus system, and a walkable downtown, but don't even ask me about parking. There's limited bike infrastructure so I didn't feel safe sharing the road with drivers from around the world, and city streets have potholes that feel like sinkholes on a bike. Alas, there is a very pretty bike-walk trail along 8 miles of the lakefront with an unpaved connector for another eight. At this point, I've biked 600-700 miles less than normal since arriving north on March 30th, and I can say that my body, mind and soul are none the better for it. The lakefront has offered a scenic view that alleviates the claustrophobia of indoor life and the day upon day of gloomy weather. Thankfully, Ithaca is a literary town with a marvelous library, an incredible biannual book sale, and as luck would have it, a free writers conference in the spring. All of this not only saved my sanity but introduced me to a wonderful Ithacan who has spent decades writing and creating spaces for writers. So, where is the Silver Lining?
While weather has become noticeably different in the past five years, I've still been able to navigate through it. For the past three years, I've been in the Mid-Atlantic, the Northeast, and Canada for early spring through early fall with little impact. This led me to believe that a home base north was feasible while continuing to enjoy the international travel still on my list. So, many thanks to Mother Nature for giving me a reality check these past six weeks of cold, wind, snow, gray skies, and rain, rain, rain. My planned summer travel has now become a question of "Could I somehow spend summer here?", and I'm back to the drawing board. "What does home base look like?" as I plan to continue to travel for a few more years while aging in place has become an issue for the not-so-distant future. What a surprise to step off the Auto Train in late March to peak Cherry Blossom season and temps heading toward 80 degrees. An easy transition for me weather-wise, though driving the Beltway was still quite a scare. In just a couple of hours, I landed in Frederick, a small city in Maryland that I’ve day-tripped to in the past. With a central-based room, I was able to bike and walk toward mountain views, Baker and Carroll Creek Parks, and Main Street. While the area has grown exponentially in the last decade, people are friendly and there’s plenty of greenspace. Five days didn’t seem like enough. Uh-oh. It was just a 108-mile push west to Frostburg, a small college town at a higher elevation. This was a month-long location of mine during the COVID lockdown when nearly everything was closed, so it seemed like a revisit was a good idea. Plans were made for two weeks in a cozy studio with Easton friends visiting, biking and walking the GAP Trail, a Historical Museum stop, focused writing time, and much more. Ah, but the universe had other plans for me though mercury moved out of retrograde early and the full moon came late in my stay. Weather deterred my friends who were coming to play outside, and it reduced my outdoor time drastically, too. Gray skies, along with plenty of rain, wind and even a morning of snow squalls kept me indoors far too much, but it also took my Honda out of its element as well. Yes, car trouble in the hills. After an unsuccessful mechanic visit, I’d had enough, and pushed out after 10 days holding my breath for 152 mountainous miles to my Pittsburgh family. At this moment, the days are wavering between winter and spring as I await the auto diagnosis. Time to rethink the northern relocation? Perhaps. While I’ve made a few stops in Sanford, I often felt rushed, so this season I booked 10 nights in a house in the quaint Historic District. It was a good idea! Sanford’s downtown is known for its brick-lined streets, towering oaks, and Victorian homes. But, it wasn't always known as "Celery City". When the Great Freeze of 1894 and ‘95 ruined the area’s citrus groves, farmers diversified by growing vegetables. Sanford then became one of the largest vegetable shipping centers in the United States by the early 20th century, with celery as the most successful crop. With time to play, I learned a great deal about this small city at the Henry Shelton Sanford Museum and the County Library. While I was quite familiar with the Sanford RiverWalk, I was also able to extend my two-wheel journeys around Lake Monroe by natural spring parks and by the towns of DeBary, Enterprise and Osteen. In late 2024, Sanford was recognized as a Florida Trail Town, so while the RiverWalk now connects to three trail networks, they’re committed to expanding recreation and ecotourism county-wide. Very nice. It’s been a good stay and with just one day to go, I’m pondering one last ride and a relaxing breakfast at El Coqui Bakery before hopping the train. Since I’d booked an Auto Train ticket for late March it was time to head toward the middle with a stop or two. Returning to tent mode was desirable though a state park during spring break was out of the question. When I tapped Hipcamp once again, I found Black Horse Resort Ranch offering camping, a swimming pool, trails, a community kitchen and clubhouse. With the Ocala National Forest on three sides, I could be an active camper without being an equestrian, so why not? A new experience. On day one with map in hand, I set out walking the longest trail until I dead-ended at the ponds. The trails are sandy so with temps in the high-80s it felt like I was walking in the desert not the woods. Much to my surprise I never saw another soul on foot or horseback. When I returned, I tried to confirm the trail length, but what I heard was that it was bear breeding season so I best be careful. “You walked all that way in that deep sand today?” I was also asked if I wanted to see a photo taken by a horse lover the day prior of a 5’ rattlesnake. All of this info was brought to my attention after my two-hour journey. I did not repeat this activity. My second night, I was enjoying the sunset from my site but it was obvious that a group was gathered around a large campfire. Very few sites have firepits so I wondered if this was an invitation only situation. Indeed it is, and since I was a week-long tent camper (the only tent camper), I never received an invite. As it turns out, there’s a group of equestrian RVers who have been seasonal visitors here for 20-to-30 years and penetrating that clique takes more than simply showing up. Woe is me, but they definitely wanted me to “have a blessed day”. While I did get myself into the nearby town of Umatilla for two days of pedaling, the Ranch is a nice property where I could walk the perimeter trail, lift weights at the clubhouse, and relax poolside with a book. It was a hot day by the pool when I started chatting with Monique, a young, single woman who was also a novice ranch resident. She hails from Sudbury, Ontario, Canada, so alas, we had plenty to talk about and plan to stay in touch. Was this the experience that I had envisioned? I’m not sure I had a vision, but I’d say that this did not feel like the Ponderosa. |
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June 2025
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