“……The sun peaks through low clouds as we near the first of the falls that are part of this amazing landscape and the light and colour improves immediately, and the scene at ground level is truly dramatic, encompassingly beautiful. We meander up towards the major part of the falls and see the Maids of the Mist boats with their candy pink trench coat cloaked human cargo on the boat’s top level heading upriver to the spray and more turbulent areas of water directly at the base of the falls. The boats wait in line as one after the other they do a dance for several minutes near the base of the curtain of thunderous torrents cascading on three sides. Then when they move on downriver to the lower falls each boat is instantly replaced by another ladened with thrill seekers, which then powers boldly up to the plate.
MB and I make our way along upriver by slow degrees and each few metres the majestic water play of the falls unveils another aspect of its personality, another dramatic viewpoint, another voluminous visual feast, another photo opportunity. It is so captivating that the activity in front me invites me to diversify my camera angles as I approach the falls, to alter my shutter speed, tweak my exposure levels, and vary my viewpoints. It’s visual, it’s exciting, thrilling even and very very unbelievable. Like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before. I imagine the falls being blocked off and for a second the catastrophic effects such mass volumes of liquid would have on the surrounding landscape as the river levels would rise dramatically upstream and inevitably spill over in other places. The immediate reality is, that the volumes of water cascading over Niagara Falls appears simply unstoppable…..”
Day Forty One – 25th. October – Tuesday – We are departing New York this morning. I’m a bit sad as I love this city, its charm, its friendliness, its pace. It truly is the city that never sleeps. There’s always something to do, something to see, something to enjoy. But gees it’s expensive! I keep converting things to Australian dollars. An everything Bagel, (a seeded bagel) with butter, two fruit salads in two cups, a Greek yoghurt with fruit and granola in a cup, a black tea and an almond croissant, take out $24.00 USD plus tax and tips was more than $48.00 AUD. And lunch yesterday, for two bowls of French Onion Soup at $17.00 each plus two coffees $8.00 USD plus taxes and tips, converted to over $100 AUD. That my friends, is frightfully expensive, but also New York.
So I am leaving, but maybe, just maybe it’s time, and after only three days, I imagine my credit card would certainly agree. We catch a cab to the station, Grand Central, with all my luggage, and MB’s single small suitcase. I have four objectives this morning at Grand Central. Buy some postcards of the station. Photograph the station. Eat breakfast at the station. And buy a New York authentic bagel, at the station. And I achieve all four things as MB is wonderfully accommodating while I run around checking the things on my list off like a madwoman. 
We catch the Train from platform 37, north bound and travel underground for a start then on through New York’s outer suburbs including Harlem. We then trek alongside the Hudson River for a time. Then suddenly the train pops out of suburbia and into autumn kissed landscapes and wider open spaces. And before long we are disembarking at the station where MB had left her car for the last three days.
We load the car up with our luggage and then we are off again, this time heading for Lake George, in our roundabout road trip trek to Honeoye Falls MB’s hometown across state. Lake George is a resort town that nestles next to a beautiful lake on the southeast end of the Adirondack Mountains, and it is our overnight stop on our two day road trip. From Cortlandt Station to Lake George it is lightly hilly with the odd tight turn, but otherwise a comfortable drive at an easy pace and the tree peeping is lovely, as the New York State landscape is dotted with autumn colour everywhere but it is particularly colourful between Bear Mountain and Lake George.
Lake George is loosely called the Queen of American Lakes, and is a long, narrow, oligotrophic lake north east of New York. The lake lies on the direct land route between Albany, New York State and Montreal, Canada and extends 51.8 km on a north-south axis. Lake George is quite deep, and varies from 1.6 to 4.8 km so it does present a significant barrier to east-west travel. The lake was originally named the Andia-ta-roc-Te by local Native Americans but it has loosely been called the Horican, after a tribe which may have lived there, and found the original name too hard to pronounce.
On May 31, 1791, Thomas Jefferson wrote in a letter, “Lake George is without comparison, the most beautiful water I ever saw; formed by a contour of mountains into a basin… finely interspersed with islands, its water limpid as crystal, and the mountain sides covered with rich groves… down to the water-edge: here and there precipices of rock to checker the scene and save it from monotony.”
At Lake George, it is “off season”, so most of the average 50,000 tourists that flock here during the summer months, are gone. There are only a sprinkle of cars on the roads today, year round living, local residents mostly, and as we enter the town in earnest we find “housekeeping” occurring as the main and extremely wide thoroughfare street access through the town is being completely resurfaced with thick bitumen by road crews. We check into our hotel, a huge resort, and we are told by the receptionst we are the only ones to check in so far today, so we virtually have the place to ourselves. The town even, almost to ourselves.
Again I desperately need to do laundry, so I change some money and ask directions to the hotel facility. I read it closes at 10:00 pm and it’s only 3:00 pm, but we haven’t had lunch so we decide to eat then go for a scenic drive before doing laundry as we also learn the mountain closes at 5.00 pm. So whilst there is still good light for some photos we head up the mountain, and pay a $10 toll to trek further up to the peak that overlooks the tiny settlement of Lake George.
There are three main viewing lookouts on the trek up to the peak, the first however is, in my opinion, the prettiest. It has stunning fore and middle ground colour with deciduous trees carpeting the hills with rich golds, bursts of orange, tangerine and vermillion, flaming ruby reds, mossy greens and earthy browns. And in the distance, the leaden grey of the lake and deep blue hues of the mountains beyond are pure velvet as they blend with long low pillowing layers of grey clouds painted across the skies above.
When we venture past the third lookout stop we find a shuttle bus service a further 1000 yards ahead so we park our car to hop out to catch the free service that will take us the last winding 1000 yards or so to the mountain peak viewing platform above. Within a few minutes we are standing at the top, surveying the majestic colourful vista around us and Lake George, snugly nestled below. It is lovely but very chilly with the odd snow flurry falling as the temperature on the peak has dropped to zero degrees Celsius, but we enjoy ten minutes of perfect solitude and photography time before the shuttle returns to pick us and a couple of other visitors up from our perch. The bus is on its last run for the day as we are told the mountain is closing and the driver needs to ensure everyone is down past the toll by 5:00 pm.
I return to the hotel to do my laundry and I spend the time waiting for it to finish using the hotel’s free wifi. I make some phone calls, and send an email. Upload pics on Facebook. Read some things and do some banking. MB and I’ve decided on pizza and a bottle of wine for dinner tonight in our room as it’s a lovely room situated on the edge of the lake, and our time here is brief. It also means no driving after having a few drinks.
I probably should have bought an American wine, but I find a bottle of Australian Yellowtail in a Liquor Store and in my mind I imagine I’m introducing MB to something new. But when I get to the car she tells me “no, we buy Yellowtail all the time”. I am a tad disappointed. We then we go to a pizza parlour. We order a medium pizza, but it’s bigger than any pizza I’ve ever seen before, about sixteen inches in diameter. I struggle to eat even a quarter of it but it’s delicious so we have some left over for our lunch tomorrow.
Day Forty Two – 26th. October – Wednesday – Lake George, four metres away, is a picture of tranquil serenity this morning as MB and I step outside the door of our gorgeous hotel room. The al fresco area between our door, the boat dock and the vista that spreads before us is bathed in autumn sunlight, the water on the lake’s calm mirror surface is an exquisite shade of sapphire blue, and the boats moored at the edge of the wooden dock are sitting prettily before us. But I don’t stop to sit. I take some photos then we head off as it’s just too cold to hunt, gather and bring our breakfast back here this morning. There’s snow on its way, we’ve been told, and it’s been forecast for tomorrow.
Again, today, the weather I ordered is beautiful. Everywhere I’ve been on this trip, the weather has been sensational, even the single day it rained in earnest in Ireland, it was a day to enjoy as I was travelling in a luxury coach and cocooned in blissful warmth. And the dreary sky that day leant the photos I took a magical atmosphere where colour blended into the soft greys and muted light of the gloomy skies above and its pretty waterfall curtain of falling rain drops.
Breakfast this morning is at a cafe, about two kilometres from our hotel. We are the second customers to arrive when we sit down but by the time we leave the place is almost full. The cafe serves hot breakfasts and has a comprehensive menu, but a fridge filled with cold pastries and cakes looks deliciously appetising as well. I order a three egg cheese omelette with bacon, spinach and onion, MB has pancakes with maple syrup. The cafe is decorated with giant spiders, pumpkins, cobwebs, goblins and witches as Halloween is now only days away.
We are heading to Blue Mountain Lake this morning and MB takes the scenic route. We pass several rivers including the Hudson, flowing swiftly, with rapids and rocks, and there’s mountains in the distance. The autumn colour on the trees starts to dwindle in places and the leaves as we drive a little higher up have already fallen so tree peeping is past its best here. There’re lots of small lakes, some privately owned, and MB says the area we are in is quite remote in the wintertime. We see snow in places, just small patches but the temperature outside is cool enough that it hasn’t yet melted. The falls we are told in Lake George, occurred last Sunday.
We stop for photos several times, to capture the river and autumn colour in the pockets where it’s still prominent. But mostly we just drive and talk until we stop in a town next to a park to eat our left over pizza for lunch. Woodland and towns, American barns and farmland soon replace the lakes and mountains as we travel on, and as the day’s light starts to fail and we near our destination Honeoye Falls, we stop at a supermarket to hunt and gather for MB to cook us dinner when we arrive at her home.
Honeoye Falls is a village located in Monroe County in New York State and has a population of over 2,600. The village includes a small waterfall on Honeoye Creek which flows through the village and gives it its name. It is pronounced honey-ou and is a Seneca word translated as “a lying finger” or “where the finger lies”. The village was founded in 1791 by Zebulon Norton when he purchased 1820 acres of land for the price of 12.5 cents per acre. Norton built a grist mill and later sawmill at the waterfall on Honeoye Creek. The area was then known as Norton Mills. Another mill was built in 1827 and it became known as the Lower Mill.
It’s not long before we arrive and MB takes me on a quick tour of her home village before we head for North Main Street. It’s almost dark, but I walk to the bridge below the falls and take photos of the falls that, just now, have a good quantity of water cascading down their height. MB says they stopped running last week, so I am fortunate to be enjoying the substantial water flow that’s made its appearance here this evening.
MB’s home is lovely. A genuine, homey, bungalow of cuteness. Colourful, cheery and very comfortable with everything in it purchased for its aesthetic appeal and genuine purpose. Ornaments are here and there, and unique items are all placed just so. She has an arty eye and I love it. I meet her husband JB who is her rock and childhood sweetheart, and Noelle the cat, the temperamental fluffy tabby who has a distinct dislike of strangers who monopolise her owner’s time and take them away from hearth and home. My mission is suddenly, to win over the cat.
JB is lovely, genuine, warm and thoughtful. He welcomes us enthusiastically, MB back home, and me to Honeyoe Falls and their home for the first time. I am shown to the guest room and on my bed is a welcome package of thoughtful things including soap, tissues and Turtles, my favourite American chocolate, and I settle in and whilst MB makes dinner, a three core ingredient autumn stew made with corn, squash and beans. It is very tasty and she serves it with fresh made corn bread and whole baked apples. MB says it’s a typical American meal. We share an excellent wine and chat but bed looms fast as we are planning a big day tomorrow. Niagara Falls with an overnight at the falls on the Canadian side of the border. Another fabulous day in the USA over.
Day Forty Three – 27th. October – Thursday – I awake this morning to see Honeoye Falls’ first fall of snow. I run around like a mad thing capturing the event as I have seen snow only a few times in my lifetime, and it’s now lightly raining so the snow is starting to disappear before my eyes. It wasn’t a heavy fall but the two or so inches of fall blankets MB and JB’s yard and the nearby vacant lot woodland in a pretty display of winter wonderland splendour.
Breakfast this morning is at MB’s and it’s a lovely meal of fresh fruit, yoghurt, crispy granola, and a large pot of green tea. I feel very spoilt as I am invited to simply sit and enjoy. There’s a pretty flowery tablecloth, and the China is brightly patterned. It’s all very gaily presented but Noelle the cat is in a mood this morning. Her pleasant demeanour from last night when she allowed me to pat her and tickle her back has soured, I think she’s figured out I’m stealing her mistress away again this day and she’s had a change of heart regarding me being friend or foe. This morning, her snarl and lightning quick swipe at my leg with her clawed paw the first time I pass by her, reeks of feline anger and disapproval. I’m on an uphill battle with this one but I instantly regard it as a challenge.
MB has organised her hairdresser Shannon who lives in nearby Rochester to colour my hair this morning. It’s a treat but I’m a bit nervous as it’s my hair, and like most people, I don’t like it done by “just anyone”. But I’d asked to do this and I trust MB’s judgement implicitly. I have sent her the formula combinations for Wella products for which I’m told Shannon has already faithfully shopped, and we settle in for a pretty thirty minute drive and a full morning of lively entertainment. Shannon I’m told is a “trip”. I’m not at all sure what this is, but I look forward to finding out as I’m advised the woman is worth the twenty years of devoted clientele that MB has invested in going to her.
Shannon is fifty one, and is animated, lively and an absolute bohemian gem who cannot speak a word of conversation without having and maintaining your full attention. As she speaks she does a wild wave of her hands in animated gesticulated movement and her face mirrors her expressive vocal theatrics. She holds the floor for almost the entire length of our session and eye balls me demanding my complete focus at regular intervals. And surprisingly Shannon stands in front of me for the majority of the time she speaks, which makes for a very long hair appointment. Once or twice I look away towards my phone to reference a picture she might like to see as I add the odd remark to her repartee but each time she leans forward, taps my knee, bends towards me, searches my face for approval, then smiles and relocks eyes with me before she can continue. She is captivating and, once again, she has the floor.
Shannon is a talker, but she doesn’t just have a story to tell, she has a book to relay to you. She is on a mission to enchant and she doesn’t, for one second imagine that you won’t be anything but completely captivated by her spellbinding tales told with her clever and artful use of language and extensively expansive verbal gymnastics. Shannon you see, doesn’t speak with words, she paints. Her verbal joust is magical, colourful, expressive. And she doesn’t just tell you facts, she actually weaves her tales. First she constructs the setting and relays the moment, then she describes the emotion, and vocalises the heart of the memory.
Shannon is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. We hear about her dying father, and his admission to hospital today, his birthday. And how she hopes he doesn’t die today, of all days, as to die on his birthday as that would be horrid. Her brother and his more than wealthy means but less than happy disposition and her brother’s folly with spending money. Shannon tells us about her son, her two fabulous motorbikes and her new car. Then she speaks comprehensively about a trip in 1992 with her girlfriend to Greece and their adventures with friends and their families. Her impromptu excursion to three beaches whilst in Greece, paradise 1, paradise 2 and paradise 3. Sunbathing in skimpy risqué bikinis and then ultimately nude. Cutting hair there. Being welcome by strangers and the fabulous shopping.
Drugs, her marriage then subsequent divorce, her mother, her son. Her friends and redoing a wet room bathroom for another friend, a single mum. A moment of inappropriate behaviour and then her laughing till she cried rolling around on the floor during the bathroom repairs. Migraines. Medications. Halloween. Costumes and trick or treating. Life and loneliness. Money versus happiness. Her Indian friend’s art gallery in Green Lake in Wisconsin. And before I leave I know. With absolute certainty. If I stayed here today, all day. This intriguing woman with her genuinely captivating personality, and animated expressions, would not, absolutely positively most definitely not, run out of conversation, detail, delight and flamboyant vocal prose for one second.
I am, by small degrees, over four hours, through avid skill and focus, with conversation and complete theatrical entertainment, transformed from ageing 57 year old flagging mountain lion with a grey skunk strip down my centre part, into a dark haired with golden highlights, curly locked, vivacious cougar-goddess. (Well I am, aren’t I?) And I am wrapped in an American flag protective apron cover for the last half hour of my transformation as Shannon blow waves, curls, and hot tongs for the final unveiling. We are all laughing hard by this stage. It’s like there’s been wine drunk liberally throughout this session, but it’s simply humour and hearty conversation that has fed our inner souls and lightened our hearts and I am enchanted.
MB and I depart Shannon’s inner sanctum of peace and good will in her converted garage, to find lunch at a Thai restaurant in Rochester. I enjoy a hearty Pud Thai and Rice lunch before we head out to get in the car when there’s a pause in the rain. MB does a quick shop for a new pair of shoes before we depart though, then we head off, at 1:30 pm for Niagara Falls, Canada, via Buffalo. The rain is pouring down in earnest however by the time we pass through Buffalo and the freeways with their fast paced traffic, become more difficult to drive. MB, with the aid of Suri, finds the correct route to the Falls and around 3:30 pm we check into our hotel The Marriott, and make our way to our room on the 17th. floor.
The view out the window is spectacular. The falls are directly across from and below our window, are less than five hundred metres away, and although it is raining and overcast with low cloud and later fog, the waterway viewed from this height is full of drama, majesty and beauty. The wide body of water that gathers and funnels rushing towards the sharp horseshoe shaped edge of the falls, cascades over the drop in wild voluminous activity and is a rich blue green teal colour broken with spray and the white froth of the water’s heaving motion.
We decide to stay in the hotel and walk to the edge of the viewing area near the falls in the morning as the weather clears more, so we head down to the lobby and look around the hotel. We eventually end up in the bar next to the lobby for a beer. A rest in the room follows drinks, then dinner at 6:00 pm is across the road at a ribs and steakhouse. I have nachos, MB eats vegetarian, French Onion soup, a baked potato and vegetables. Tonight dinner was on MB’s son SB. He sent MB a cheque for one hundred dollars and a note for us to have a meal on him. Thank you SB!
We head to bed early. We are busy again tomorrow with a walk around the falls, and later after we trek back to Rochester, we plan to visit Tree (Theresa), MB’s ailing sister. The room at the hotel is lovely and very comfortable, and all too quickly we are asleep.
Day Forty Four – 28th. October – Friday – The beds so far in the USA have all been exemplary and although I struggled to sleep well last night, I was comfortable and warm in my cosy nest on the 17th. Floor of The Marriott Hotel. I awake to the early morning blue of first light and snap images of the falls from my perch above, then the sky colours from blue to grey lightening by degrees over the next hour. Niagra Falls are indeed, a most amazing phenomenon. 
The goal today is to walk down to the falls and along the fence that cordons off the river and falls area from the public access areas. As we leave the hotel at 7:50 am there are snow flurries falling and the temperature is at freezing point 0 degrees Celcius. A light wind is icy cold. The tiny train car that goes up and down the track on the hill directly below our hotel is not open yet so MB and I walk to the public area nearest the lower bridal veil section of the falls first, some two kilometres from the hotel via a meandering route.
The sun peaks through low clouds as we near the first of the falls that are part of this amazing landscape and the light and colour improves immediately, and the scene at ground level is truly dramatic, encompassingly beautiful. We meander up towards the major part of the falls and see the Maids of the Mist boats with their candy pink trench coat cloaked human cargo on the boat’s top level heading upriver to the spray and more turbulent areas of water directly at the base of the falls. The boats wait in line as one after the other they do a dance for several minutes near the base of the curtain of thunderous torrents cascading on three sides. Then when they move on downriver to the lower falls each boat is instantly replaced by another ladened with thrill seekers, which then powers boldly up to the plate.
MB and I make our way along upriver by slow degrees and each few metres the majestic water play of the falls unveils another aspect of its personality, another dramatic viewpoint, another voluminous visual feast, another photo opportunity. It is so captivating that the activity in front me invites me to diversify my camera angles as I approach the falls, to alter my shutter speed, tweak my exposure levels, and vary my viewpoints. It’s visual, it’s exciting, thrilling even and very very unbelievable. Like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before. I imagine the falls being blocked off and for a second the catastrophic effects such mass volumes of liquid would have on the surrounding landscape as the river levels would rise dramatically up stream and inevitably spill over in other places. The immediate reality is, that the volumes of water cascading over Niagara Falls appears simply unstoppable.
Birds sit on the posts of the fence near the top of the falls and they seem to pose as you can get quite close. MB folds her large warm jacket’s hood back a little Paddington Bear style and sneaks in on the side next to one individual. With the falls cascading in the background, it’s a funny moment as we snap a pic of the bird and Paddington.
We move along slowly to where the crowd mingles in greater numbers. And although there’s not many here this morning, the majority line the fence at the very edge of the falls, at the edge,where the water is most dramatic, and where the wide thick ribbons of liquid fluid spew over the crest in an almost ceaseless viscous appearing flow. Like hot thick runny almost transluecent fudge.
At the crest of the falls , only a few metres from where I stand, the flow of water is mesmerising. I video the action of the water as well as photograph it, and then simply stare at it as it’s completely enthralling. Beautiful. Surreal. It appears alive. Tangible. And very very dangerous. Pushing behind the water cresting the edge, is a funnel shaped wider flow of rushing volume, enormous in its capacity, ferocious in its intent. Unstoppable. Determined. Set in its course. 
I read later, only one person has survived going over the falls, in a life jacket, a young child aged seven who was in a boating accident above the falls in 1960. It is a true testimony to the falls’ treacherous action.
Breakfast is at The Marriott at 10:00 am, two hours after leaving the hotel. It’s not cheap, with tax plus tips $63.00 USD all up, breakfast for the two of us is well in excess of $100 AUD. So MB and I make it count. It becomes lunch as well. The bill is settled, the car is brought up from parking, more tips, then we head off towards the border and a customs check before driving back to Honeoye Falls via Rochester. And it’s a gorgeous day again by the time we set off, blue skies filled with thick fluffy clouds.
We head through Buffalo, my departure point on Monday, then onto Rochester. MB says the city has about five hundred thousand residents. JB says with the support areas nearby it has about a million. It is where both MB and JB work and is about twenty five minutes from their home in Honeoye Falls.
We head to Tree’s house, MB’s younger sister. We are visiting her today as Tree, 51, can’t leave the house as she bound in a wheel chair following a stroke earlier this year and she has no ramps into or out of her house and MB’s not seen her for a few days and wants to introduce her to me. We stay half an hour. Tree is going ok, she has therapy and assistance, but after many years fighting cancer this is now a real set back, MB says she’s a shadow of her firmer vivacious self. It’s quite heart wrenching.
From Tree’s house Mary drives to a park up the road a little which takes us to the edge of one of the Great Lakes, Lake Ontario. It’s a huge fresh inland lake and one of the Great Lakes which is on the border between Canada and the United States, and part of the natural lake system that is so important to shipping and fishing in the region. Nearby is Abbott’s, a frozen custard ice creamery, and although very sweet, the chocolate almond flavoured treat MB loves and insists I try, is rich, delicious, creamy and just the thing at 3:00 pm after a late morning brunch and long drive. And we feel like school kids indulging in a childhood delight licking the delectable cones as we drive on.
In Rochester MB shows me where she works and some icons like the Kodak factory which, in the height of its film success she says, employed around one hundred thousand residents in Rochester. Apparently with the introduction of digital photography and the company’s failure to change with modern photography trends, it now lies almost at a stand still, semi shut down. We drive on towards Honeoye Falls but then drive through a park where MB tells me her family visits in the summer for picnics. Mendon Ponds is a huge park and its a few kilometres drive around a winding road. There’s unusual drumlins in the park, grassy knoblike tiny hills, and lovely pond like lakes. Autumn trees and wide grassy expanses. We see deer, squirrels and birds. It’s really very pretty and very close to MB’s home only a few kilometres down the road.
We arrive home at North Main Street with time to have a rest before we head out to a pub for dinner with some of MB and JB’s friends. It’s Friday night and typically, as it is all across the USA, there’s fish fry, so five of us order cod, JB orders salmon. It’s delicious, and the night is spent chatting over drinks and meeting new people. Too soon the night is over and we are heading home to North Main Street. Tomorrow we head to Ithaca for the Farmer’s Market then Elmira and a family get together where we are to enjoy an all American Picnic.
Day Forty Five – 29th. October – Saturday – MB and JB’s daughter arrives this morning. I’m just a bit excited as I get to meet the sweetheart of the family. Young MB is 32, and quite the confident young woman. After twenty five years of writing letters to her mother, the little 8 year old has finally grown up, flown the coop and blossomed. Young MB is a teacher now, first graders in Elementary School. As we set off on our journey to Ithaca then Elmira today young MB tells me all about her schooling, the college education required for her teaching qualifications and the education system she works in. It’s an interesting time. Young MB is generous, articulate and gracious. A lovely lass of whom her parents, in the front seats, are quite rightly, enormously proud. And I regularly see them smile and nod in agreement as young MB chats. The puzzle pieces of a long term friendship with my pen pal MB will all finally all fall into place later today as I am also to meet my pen pal MB’s son SB and grandson little MB, her siblings and their families and see some of the places I’ve read about in her letters over the last quarter century.
We head off from Honeoye Falls but stop for a bite to eat at a rest stop an hour into our journey. There’s a Starbuck’s Cafe there and I buy a cappuccino and cinnamon raisin toasted bagel with cream cheese for a post breakfast snack, it’s wonderful. And as the others and I munch on our choices and we journey on, we discuss American politics and the current state of affairs in the Presidential campaign with the Trump and Clinton nominees.
Our first stop on this full day’s excursion is Taughannock Falls, and we walk across to the nearby lookout platform that sits directly in front of the falls. It’s a very pretty sight. Autumn colour, blue skies with white clouds, a stunning waterfall.
Nearby are cabins at Cayuga Lake and the cabin MB and JB rent for one or two weeks a year every October, or both May and October, for a quiet getaway. Cayuga Lake is a short distance away and can be seen through the tall deciduous trees which are losing their leaves. They are a bright sunny yellow and full of autumn colour. Another puzzle piece falls into place.
Next stop is the Ithaca Farmer’s Market, full of stall holders and produce from the local hippie community, Amish farms, and small farmers in the region. There’s not a huge crowd here today, so it’s easy to amble and view the stalls. Tables and stands full of handmade items like pottery and art work, sewing and jewellery, rugs and woodwork, photography and soap, are surrounded by stands full of home grown vegetables, flowers, eggs, meats including bison, free range chicken and pork, honey, maple syrup, corn, cheese. Then there’s manufactured goods like hand creams, lip balms, homemade beeswax candles, cider vinegar, cider brews, distilled brews, wine, craft beer and moonshine. Baked items include cakes, biscuits and pastries, bread, slices and sweets. Can I take a photo? “Of course”. And image after image soon records this quaint farmer’s market stop for posterity.
I buy a delicious freshly made cheese, sausage and tomato pizza for lunch, whilst JB buys a Bean Burito with coffee and pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting. MB and her daughter young MB buy Falafel’s. And shortly after, as we are leaving, I am asked to make my selection of a pumpkin, whilst they make theirs, and soon three huge pumpkins are put into the boot of the car to take home in preparation for Halloween which is on Monday.
Elmira is down the road aways and is our next destination. Here we are doing a personalised tour. “That’s the shop where I used to hang out as a kid” says JB. We then drive past the school Notre Dame. “And that’s where we went to high school” MB and JB say in unison. “Remember the Prom? Remember this … remember … ” they both recollect out loud and it’s a trip down memory lane for the two in front and a time of connection with two people I have gotten to know over the years for me. We drive out to the football field out back near Notre Dame, “… and that’s where I got dumped from the football team” says JB, we drive round front, ” … and that’s where I got dumped from track and field” JB adds. Everyone collapses laughing. We head across the way a bit. “This is where I used to walk a lot” says MB, ” … and that’s where friend’s lived” adds JB “I used to go there after school”.
We drive past a locked parking lot that have dozens of yellow school buses parked on it ready for Monday morning. They look like they were all manufactured in 1950 but instead of being vintage they are actually the modern buses the powers that be have deemed be the school transportation system “uniform” and therefore easily recognisable on the roads all across the USA. They all look the same although some are bigger than others.
Around another corner. And out of nowhere a soulful JB says, “… and that’s where MB dumped me”. Young MB and I double up laughing in the back seat. “I should have brought a violin today” I say. They all laugh then, even harder than I had been just before, including JB. We continue on. “That’s my old home …” JB says next, pointing, “… where I was raised. Oh it looks good they’ve kept it up”. “Oh they have …” adds MB agreeing with JB. “Which one” I say unsure? “The yellow one” JB adds. We drive on further, ” … and that’s my old home” says MB “… oh it’s sad. It looked better than that when I was a child”. Again, “which one” I say? “The gray one” MB says. We stop out front and all quietly lament the sad demise of MBs former childhood home. It is in disrepair.
Young MB has seen all this before but is enjoying the ride she tells me, the ride down memory lane that is. We then head for the cemetery. It’s a rambling lot with several areas, we pass a house that is encompassed on three sides by graves. Not a prime place to live I think. We head inside and locate the resting places of MB’s parents, Mary and Alfred. It’s been a lot of years since they passed but I am told there’ll be Christmas wreaths laid there in a few short weeks by MB’s sister, Carol, as always.
We pass Trump and Clinton sign posts stabbed into lawns out the front of houses here and there. It sparks more political debate. And goblins, witches, pumpkins and Halloween decorations are on almost every house. I notice there are virtually no fences. Makes it hard if you have a dog I figure, or if you wish to mark the boundary of your piece of real estate. Pools are above ground here and don’t seem to require additional fencing. A bit of a nightmare for toddlers who get loose is the reality. We drive past MB’s sister Betsy’s house, she’s out back behind some railing, and she ducks down behind it, caught staring at our car as we drive past. We stop and young MB calls out. Caught. Betsy laughs and heads across to say hello and meet me. I was having a cigarette she admits.
The next stop is MB’s sister Carol’s house. It, like all the houses I’ve seen in Elmira, is three storied with a small attic at the top and it also has a basement. It it square, has steps at the front, a deck out back, and steps from it down onto the lawn which lead a small swimming pool area. You can see into all the neighbour’s backyards, and as there’s no fences, it lends itself to looking like each house lot is bigger than it really is.
I meet MB’s sister Carol ‘s family and for a time after we settle in, more family members arrive and are introduced. The afternoon is to be an all American picnic, so preparations for a grill start, the men then women move outdoors. Drinks are all handed around and potato chips mark the start of the afternoon’s formalities.
I’m awaiting MB’s son SB’s arrival, but they are to come from Virginia some four and a half hours from Elmira. MB has said son SB’s plans may change last minute and he may not come. So I have it in my head I won’t be seeing him, his wife or son. Then around the corner he walks with his small family in tow. They come inside and SB’s a wonderful young man, warm, and tall and all grown up. So different at 35, than he was at 10. And I’m so pleased to meet him as I’d thought I may not meet him at all, and I was so looking forward to meeting both of MB’s children today.
I surprise myself and simply burst into tears. I’m thrilled to have MB’s family all here, to be in the middle of this wonderful group, I am welcomed, coddled, celebrated. They’ve all followed the journey at some point. MB has shared snippets of our years of writing, and they all are keen to meet me and are genuinely curious to get to know the “Australian” who has taken the time to correspond with their loved family member. It’s a warm, genuinely delightful afternoon, with conversation, and me taking a heap of photos of everyone. We also look at and share information about each one’s family and look at family photos on everyone’s phones. Then we look at pics on facebook from MB’s and my time in New York on a large computer screen.
We drink beer, cider and wine, and eat American picnic food. Burgers, hot rolls and dogs, MB’s mum’s famous macaroni salad (MB’s mum passed many years ago), beans and fake bacon (MB doesn’t eat red meat), beans and regular bacon, devilled eggs, coleslaw, chips, and for dessert half moon cookies, made with flattish dollops of cooked brownie with coloured frosting on top in two colours, spread half and half. Typically chocolate and white but today chocolate and orange as it’s almost Halloween.
The day is balmy and warm. About 18 degrees Celcius. And the afternoon soon extends into early evening, then all too soon we are saying goodbye. I invite them all to visit Australia and stay with me, and soon each family member heads off to their individual homes before we too, make tracks to head back to Honeoye Falls. Today was a full, vibrant and wonderful day.
Day Forty Six – 30th. October – Sunday – A sleep in. Wonderful. It’s raining lightly when I rise. After breakfast MB and I do a drive by tour of Honeoye Falls’ main sights. The rain has stopped whilst we do this but it returns later.
We go to Honeoye Creek first and an adjoining playground. MB likes to walk here. It’s very pretty with a gurgling stream, autumn leaves falling all around us, and the colour of the scene dappled with the sunny yellows and tangerines of autumn. A peaceful spot. We then trek around the streets and see MB’s children’s former kindergarten, the library, school’s and churches, the Town Hall, Monroe Street and a former home, young MB’s secret hiding spot. The falls this morning are beautiful. We then head to a lookout at the back of the Town Hall. Here we see American flags waving in the breeze, and Halloween symbols on almost every house. Pumpkins, witches, goblins, ghosts, spiders and cobwebs. Halloween is tomorrow.
The Honeoye Falls Market Place is our next destination and MB buys some items for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning. Then we head to the liquor store for a bottle of Italian wine as we are eating pasta tonight. At the store I see Honeoye Falls Distilled liquor including Moonshine and Vodka. We chat to this one and that one as we go. And out front is a Boy Scout’s fundraiser, selling flavoured popcorn. MB supports the cause, and buys a tin of Salted Caramel for $10 USD. I can imagine MB’s son at ten years of age doing the same. Tomorrow night MB says the trick or treaters will come but she is ready and has sweets to sort into bags when she gets home later.
We head back to North Main Street and have a bite to eat whilst JB finishes a few jobs. We then all head to young MB’s one bedroom Studio Apartment at Fairport on the Lake Eerie Canal, some thirty minutes away. It’s now settled into raining lightly but the drive is very scenic, through autumn coloured trees and green farmland, past beautiful American houses and along busy but secondary roads. Young MB’s apartment is small but bigger than I had imagined and we have afternoon tea as young MB has baked banana muffins. And all too soon we head off again to make our way back to Honeoye Falls.
Tonight is a special Halloween Dinner so when we arrive back at North Main Street, we have pumpkins to carve. Having never done this before I am eager to do it well, but my ignorance puts my Australian reputation as well as my artistic skill, on the line. I google for inspiration. MB sets the kitchen table with a plastic cloth, carving implements, a tiny bladed long handled saw, mini saws, and a spoon each for scooping the seed pulp out. I am advised how to cut the top. Then I proceed to scoop out the almost hollow contents of the pumpkin. This is not a butternut pumpkin I discover and the flesh cuts easily like warm butter.
Now the serious work begins. I freehand sketch my design, a scary pumpkin headed monster. It is fairly adventurous but I don’t know what MB and JB are planning, and I assume they could be planning on something intricate as well. I’m engrossed in the activity and only minutes into the exercise I realise that it’s become a competition for me, and I sorely don’t want to look stupid by doing something really feeble. It’s not a competition John assures me, however I assure him back, that indeed it is, as my reputation as an artist of sorts is on the line here. Both JB and MB laugh at me. And it is sort of funny.
It’s hard work all this pumpkin carving, so we drink beers and carve in earnest for about half an hour enjoying the task but it’s surprisingly quick work carving a pumpkin. Friends arrive to visit MB, JB and me as we finish the last touches to our Jack O Lanterns. JB lights tea light candles and pops them inside then puts the lids back on and we line our pumpkins up on the table. They look amazing, all three.
MB and JBs friends stay for half an hour and as they leave they give me a small gift, watercolour pics on four gift cards of Honeoye Falls. I am warmly pleased. It’s a sweet gift and I’ll frame one or two when I get home for my watercolours prints wall. Dinner follows and we enjoy an Italian dinner of red wine, slow cooked meat and pasta in a delicious tomato sauce sprinkled liberally with parmesan followed by homemade blueberry pie and vanilla ice cream. It is wonderful and the Jack O Lanterns sit to one side of the table.
After dinner MB gives me some trick or treat bags, and a bag of the pumpkin seeds she has just roasted in the oven. Apparently after Halloween the pumpkins are left to rot. They slowly disintegrate, and turn black. But tomorrow night they will be put outside on display so the trick or treaters will see them. It’s an early night tonight as we are all tired. JB is back at work tomorrow and MB will drive me to Buffalo to catch my flight to Chicago. It’s a 7:00 am start.
Day Forty Seven – 31st. October – Monday – This morning is my last morning in Honeoye Falls. It is hard to say goodbye. I have felt welcomed, coddled, look after and looked out for. Such a warm and wonderful family are the B’s, and no better friend, for twenty five years could one have ever hoped to have. It’s been even better in company however, so much time to talk, share experiences and simply be in each other’s amiable presence. MB you are a treasure!
So I depart the state of New York driving first to Buffalo then I board a smaller American Airlines Eagle Jet, (only three seats across the width of the plane), as it is a domestic internal flight. My flight is I hour 20 mins duration, and all too soon I am in the air and on my way to Chicago, Illinois. There I will meet up with KP, a newer friend I made after briefly meeting in Italy on a Cosmos tour two years ago, who has invited me to stop by on my trek across the USA. KP almost 70, is retired, and lives with “Digger Da Dog” in West Bend Wisconsin and is going to show me some of the sights of Wisconsin which nestles next to the easternmost Great Lake, Lake Michigan.
And as I head towards Chicargo I am reminded of how travel enables you to meet new people and make life long friends that can enrich your life and broaden your knowledge, and how fortunate a person can be if they embrace the opportunities afforded them.
Please go to … for Part Six of Around The World in Seventy Five Days
