We leave in the morning for a two-week trip to the Adirondacks and Finger Lakes. Fly into Syracuse, rent a car there and do a loop, mostly to the east.
Some people plan the hell out of their trips. We largely wing it. I think the novelist and travel writer Paul Theroux does the same. We’ve only gotten into a bind once. That was on a trip several years ago to New England and the Maritimes.
Coming into New Brunswick late one night from Quebec City, we could not find lodging to save ourselves. So we car camped about 100 yards away from a large motel in Riviere du Loup, near the St. Lawrence. It turned out to be one of the trip’s highlights. It was a pleasant, moonlit night with a light breeze shuffling a row of aspens. The sounds of the wind blowing through those leaves has stuck with me to this day. Pure serendipity.
On this trip, we do have reservations for our first two nights. But after that, nothing. Just vague ideas. Computers make finding places to stay a snap.
The one thing I hate about this trip is leaving my young male cat, Ares. Sure, we have a woman coming over every day to check on him and the other indoor cat, O.B. But somehow it’s a bit of a damper leaving Ares. He’s such an affectionate little guy. I’ll miss him.