Once again my habit of leaving later than planned emerged when it came to leaving my Aunty's place at Nicholson's Point. Until I arrived there a week earlier I wasn't aware of how tired she was, and how much of a struggle an early morning could be for this amazing 81 year old lady. So where I'd initially planned to leave before 7:00am, I wasn't driving away until after 8:30 to head back to Newark. It didn't worry me as my flight wasn't until 4:25pm the next day, and I was staying in Parsippany NJ again for the night, so I literally had all day.
When I asked my Aunty what the traffic was going to be like through Kingston out to the 401, she advised me not to go through Kingston, but to take County Rd 6 out of Amherstview which would take me straight to the 401 without any traffic. After running around for the last six days on the fuel I'd bought in Watertown, New York, I didn't have enough left to take me back to Watertown, so after hugs and kisses and waving bye-bye I drove a couple of kilometres past County Rd 6 to a service station and bought $25 worth of fuel at 8:43am, then doubled back to "the 6". My Aunty's tip was very good, and in a few minutes I was cruising down the 401 once again.
For the most part the 401 between Kingston and Thousand Islands is pretty unspectacular, but still pleasant enough on a nice day, which it was. With clear skies and heading for a top of about 24 degrees C, it's hard not to feel like going for a long drive in the country. Or two countries even! In just under an hour I turned off the 401 and headed down towards the Thousand Islands Bridge, and once again had to fumble with coins, Canadian this time, to pay the toll. Once over the first two of the five bridges, I pulled into the Skydeck as I had on the way up. I had told Heidi that if I had time I would call in and say hello on my way back to Newark, and I was also short of something Canadian to take back for one of my Grandkids.
I received a warm welcome from Heidi, who remembered me from a week ago. Her assistant helped me find a stuffed moose dressed as a Canadian Mounty for my grandson, and this time they threw in the coffee for free. I wished them all the best in their new venture, and went to drink my coffee outside before heading down to the border. Although the drive out here is unspectacular, Thousand Islands itself is a different story. I didn't want to take the time out to go up the tower this time, but in 2004 we did, and it's really worth the effort. I've put three photos in from 2004:
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| Looking North-West over the St Lawrence from the Skydeck Tower. The Saint Lawrence is one of the main drains of the five Great Lakes, and runs from Lake Ontario to the Gulf of St Lawrence and the North Atlantic Ocean. It allows shipping to travel from the Atlantic into Central North America via the Great Lakes |
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| The first two sections of Thousand Islands Bridge coming across from the Canadian Mainland to the North. |
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| Looking South to the US Customs and Border Protection at the Alexandria Bay Port Of Entry, Wellesley Island, New York. The rooftop you can see on the right edge of the picture is part of Canada's Border Control. |
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| US Port Of Entry, Alexandria Bay |
When my turn came to pull into the US Immigration Checkpoint, I was feeling pretty happy and chirpy, but the officer on duty didn't seem to share my enthusiasm for this beautiful sunny day. The exchange immediately following my cheery "Good Morning!" went like this:
"What nationality?" - I told him I was British.
"Passport" - I obediently passed him my passport
"Where do ya live?" - I felt like telling him he just read it, but figured he was just seeing if I'd lie, so I told him
"Yer British and ya live in Australia?" - Yep, I assured him ( didn't mention there's a few million of us )
"Where ya goin'?" - Newark Airport
"Where ya bin?" - Mmmmm....should I say Canada or would that be asking for trouble? Yes, I whimped out, resisted the temptation, and told I'm flown into Newark, driven up to Kingston to see my Aunty, and now I'm going home. And I did it that way because it saved me about $400.
"Did ya git an ESTA?" - well, they wouldn't have let me into the USA without one and it should show on your screen, Knuckle Head. Actually I just said "Yes"
"Pop the trunk open" - click. He lifted his Michelin-style rear end off its perch and waddled up to the back of my car. His morning exercise no doubt.
"This yer cigarette packet?" - guess it must be. He waddled back, handing my passport to me on the way back to his perch
"Drive safe" - Thank you.....have a nice day, I said as I drove away gently, not wanting to upset him. He was already miserable enough for both of us.
The contrast between this guy and his Canadian counterpart a week earlier didn't dull my fervor for the day ahead as I headed off back down the Interstate 81. The road itself was maginficent - smooth, wide and surrounded by lush, green, undulating pastoral land. I planned to do virtually a reversal of the trip up, with stops at the same places, though it did occur to me that I hadn't researched the exits for the two McDonalds I'd stopped at on the way up, and it may not be as simple. So I decided to go with the "Food Exit" signs at roughly the same intervals.
As I was coming into Syracuse it was only about an hour and a half since the border crossing, so I decided to cross the city before looking for a place to stop, and as my $25 worth of Canadian fuel was running low I thought I should look for a food and fuel exit. Eighteen miles further South than my North-bound lunch stop, and six miles clear of the last of the Syracuse suburban sprawl, I spotted the Fuel And Food Exit that I needed at LaFayette, and a sweeping 180 degree exit lane left me pointing straight at McDonalds. I sat on a wooden table in the grass just off the carpark, looking towards what I could see of this cute little town - the epitome of what I perceive as "Upstate New York"
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| Part of LaFayette, NY, from the McDonald's Car Park - a workshop or two, and the white spire of the Columbian Presbyterian Church rising above the trees. |
After a bite to eat and a nice coffee I wandered into LaFayette to find fuel, and took the opportunity to have a little look around this "Upstate" village. Then, with full tank, it was back onto the 81 and into Cruise Control again. Traffic was light, a pretty even mix of cars and trucks, and for the most part I was once again the only one who seemed to care about the speed limit. I had only a short stop at Gouldsboro, Pennsylvania a couple of hours later as I wanted to make a brief detour at Delaware Water Gap before the last few miles into Parsippany. Delaware Water Gap is a picturesque little town at the edge of Pennsylvania, on the Delaware River which forms the border with New Jersey and flows into the Atlantic at Delaware Bay. While far from deserted when I drove through, I imagine the town's population would swell enormously in holiday seasons due to the many recreational attractions the area holds. It would have been nice to stay longer and go for a walk or two to better appreciate the area, but although I had all day, I preferred to reach Parsippany before dark.
It occurred to me that next time I do this trip I might book a hotel in Del Water Gap and have two nights on the way back, giving me a whole day to have a closer look. But for now I decided to just keep going and find my hotel. I'd booked a room at the Howard Johnson Express Inn at Parsippany, on US46, a few doors down from the Red Roof Inn, which I decided I wouldn't use again. I'd stayed at a Howard Johnson (sometimes affectionately called HoJo's) for a few days in San Francisco in the past, and been quite happy, so it seemed like a good plan. As I ventured closer to Parsippany the traffic became noticeably heavier, but still quite fast moving on my side of the road, though the other side seemed to be jamming up quite a bit. I had to spot Exit 45 for Whippany and Lake Hiawatha once again, which put me into a slip road that serves both for vehicles leaving and entering the main highway. Watching for traffic merging onto this slipway from my right to get over onto my left, I had to get myself over to the right to be able to exit, and just to make it interesting there were road works, with various arrays of cones, bollards and flashing lights - I was glad I didn't leave this till it was dark!
But without incident I made it through all that, negotiated my way up South Beverwyck Road and turned right onto US 46. Past the Red Roof Inn and through the next set of lights, the entry into HoJo's came up quickly, part way round the next bend, at just on 6:00pm
At reception I found Veejay, a friendly but matter-of-fact middle aged man of a mixed ancestry I couldn't quite work out. After a mix up of giving me a room which had been stripped for redecorating, Veejay found me another room very promptly on the third floor at the end of the building - you can just see the window in the photo above. There was an elevator in the reception lobby which is in the centre of the building, but at each end there were only stairs. But I didn't mind the exercise.
The room was far from luxurious, but again for just AU$69.30 I wasn't expecting five star. To my delight there was, as per the Hotels.com site and reservation, a coffee maker. I quickly settled in and made contact with home. And a coffee.
The coffee maker only had enough coffee for about two of my regular cups, so I went down and saw Veejay who quite happily gave me an ample recharge of coffee, sugar and whitener. I asked him where he would suggest to get a feed, and he proceeded to reel off an abundance of restaurants of all varieties. When I told him I was thinking more in the McDonald's league, he recommended Wendy's, a short walk on the other side of the road. After rectifying the coffee shortage I made my way across the road, via pedestrian lights, to Wendy's. It was dark now, but there was still plenty of traffic on US 46. Perusing the menu inside Wendy's I couldn't help noticing the sheer size of the servings. I find a "quarter-pounder" to be a substantial burger, but here there were quarter pounders, half pounders - even three-quarter pounders! The Baconater looked appealing, but it was a half-pounder plus bacon. Too much. Then I spotted the Son Of Baconater - quarter pounder, bacon and in a combo with chips and a drink for $7.99. That was dinner sorted. Apart from having to ask for a hot coffee because the one they gave me was cold, I was happy enough with my meal, for what it was. The restaurant was practically deserted. One older couple, another male and female who I think may have been mother and son, and one older guy on his own, who I picked as some sort of travelling salesman.
With my meal on its way to digestion I took my nice still-hot coffee and started walking back to the hotel. The staircase at my end of the building was a little neglected looking, and could really have done with more light. It was a little scary, especially when you could hear someone walking up behind you. The room really had no view to speak of - a couple of houses across the road to one side, and Wendy's and the surrounding shops to the other. But soon after I arrived it was dark anyway, and I wouldn't be hanging around long enough in the morning to admire the view, so it didn't matter. Apart from the coffee shortage and the scary stairway, the only thing I would criticise in this HoJo was that the shower was almost cold. I think it was just the mixer tap that wasn't opening far enough to let the hot water through, as I was getting hot water at the hand basin. I didn't complain, just had a very quick shower.
Next morning I spent some time on Skype with the girls and then because this was my last day with the Corolla I decided to give it a bit of a clean out before leaving the hotel. Packing my carry-on bag proved to be something of a challenge. I didn't bring a suitcase, just bare essentials of underwear, couple of t-shirts and a spare pair of pants - just enough to get me through the trip without doing any washing. Having bought a present for each of my three grandchildren, my bag was now very hard to close, without everything in it. I decided to empty it on the bed, and start again. With a bit of careful folding I managed to get everything in and close it, and made sure to keep anything I might need along the way in my laptop bag, so I wouldn't have to open it up again.
My flight out of Newark wasn't until 4:25 that afternoon, which gave me a few hours to kill even though I wanted to be in the airport by about 1:30. It was quite ironic that the cheapest way for me to get to Canada was to fly into Newark, as I actually have a family connection with Newark and New York. My Grandmother was born in New York in 1892, and as a child lived in Newark for a time. In the few months preceeding this trip I'd been researching family history and found an address in Newark which had been the home of my Great Grandparents in 1900. It seemed almost necessary that I should find this house and take some photos. While still connected to Wi-Fi at the hotel I checked the address in relation to where I was, and it turned out that all I had to do was keep going straight down the US 46 which subsequently would run into Bloomfield Ave, and my Great Grandparents' street, Mount Prospect Ave, runs off Bloomfield.
I made the mistake of not taking a screen shot of the map, so once away from the hotel I couldn't refer back to it. After about an hour of not spotting Mount Prospect, I'd all but given up looking for it when I noticed the sign. I drove down and found the house at the address I had, and I did indeed take a photo, but to my disappointment this may have been their address, but it was not my Grandmother and her parents' home - the house looked like it was built around 1960 ( I looked it up when I got home, and it was). By now it was approaching midday and I decided I should start trying to find my way to the airport. With only a memory of the map and my limited knowledge of the expressways around the airport, I drove around the suburbs of Newark looking for clues.
I turned right out of my Great Grandparents' street, then right again at the next lights, to be confronted by this magnificent cathedral. The corner stone of the Cathedral Basilica Of The Sacred Heart was laid on June 11th, 1899, and some fifty thousand people lined the streets to watch the parade to the Cathedral site where a hundred thousand people gathered to watch the corner stone laying ceremony. Was my Grandmother, then a child just seven years of age, among them with her parents?
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| Without taking time out to go for a bit of a hike, these pictures don't really do justice to the area |
But without incident I made it through all that, negotiated my way up South Beverwyck Road and turned right onto US 46. Past the Red Roof Inn and through the next set of lights, the entry into HoJo's came up quickly, part way round the next bend, at just on 6:00pm
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| The impressive facade of the Howard Johnson Express Inn, Parsippany New Jersey |
The room was far from luxurious, but again for just AU$69.30 I wasn't expecting five star. To my delight there was, as per the Hotels.com site and reservation, a coffee maker. I quickly settled in and made contact with home. And a coffee.
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| Pretty much what I'd expect on my kind of budget. For one night it had everything I needed, including coffee!! |
With my meal on its way to digestion I took my nice still-hot coffee and started walking back to the hotel. The staircase at my end of the building was a little neglected looking, and could really have done with more light. It was a little scary, especially when you could hear someone walking up behind you. The room really had no view to speak of - a couple of houses across the road to one side, and Wendy's and the surrounding shops to the other. But soon after I arrived it was dark anyway, and I wouldn't be hanging around long enough in the morning to admire the view, so it didn't matter. Apart from the coffee shortage and the scary stairway, the only thing I would criticise in this HoJo was that the shower was almost cold. I think it was just the mixer tap that wasn't opening far enough to let the hot water through, as I was getting hot water at the hand basin. I didn't complain, just had a very quick shower.
Next morning I spent some time on Skype with the girls and then because this was my last day with the Corolla I decided to give it a bit of a clean out before leaving the hotel. Packing my carry-on bag proved to be something of a challenge. I didn't bring a suitcase, just bare essentials of underwear, couple of t-shirts and a spare pair of pants - just enough to get me through the trip without doing any washing. Having bought a present for each of my three grandchildren, my bag was now very hard to close, without everything in it. I decided to empty it on the bed, and start again. With a bit of careful folding I managed to get everything in and close it, and made sure to keep anything I might need along the way in my laptop bag, so I wouldn't have to open it up again.
My flight out of Newark wasn't until 4:25 that afternoon, which gave me a few hours to kill even though I wanted to be in the airport by about 1:30. It was quite ironic that the cheapest way for me to get to Canada was to fly into Newark, as I actually have a family connection with Newark and New York. My Grandmother was born in New York in 1892, and as a child lived in Newark for a time. In the few months preceeding this trip I'd been researching family history and found an address in Newark which had been the home of my Great Grandparents in 1900. It seemed almost necessary that I should find this house and take some photos. While still connected to Wi-Fi at the hotel I checked the address in relation to where I was, and it turned out that all I had to do was keep going straight down the US 46 which subsequently would run into Bloomfield Ave, and my Great Grandparents' street, Mount Prospect Ave, runs off Bloomfield.
I made the mistake of not taking a screen shot of the map, so once away from the hotel I couldn't refer back to it. After about an hour of not spotting Mount Prospect, I'd all but given up looking for it when I noticed the sign. I drove down and found the house at the address I had, and I did indeed take a photo, but to my disappointment this may have been their address, but it was not my Grandmother and her parents' home - the house looked like it was built around 1960 ( I looked it up when I got home, and it was). By now it was approaching midday and I decided I should start trying to find my way to the airport. With only a memory of the map and my limited knowledge of the expressways around the airport, I drove around the suburbs of Newark looking for clues.
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| Cathedral Basilica Of The Sacred Heart |
It was time now to start fumbling my way to the airport. Quite by accident at one point, I turned my head and saw this, and had to stop and take a picture:
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| Cloudy and hazey, the New York City skyline has a powerful presence |
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| Central Ave and Broad St, Newark |
I drove through Newark central just for a look, then tried to follow my sense of direction, hoping to find my way out to the airport through suburban streets.
I like to say that I never get lost - just sometimes I'm not too sure where I am in relation to where I want to go. This became my situation as I found myself out of the suburbs, and heading towards some sort of wharf area. Incoming aircraft above me told me I wasn't far from the airport, but I wasn't going in the same direction as them, which meant I was heading away from it. I doubled back, and eventually spotted a sign pointing to the Garden State Parkway ( I-280 ) North. I remembered that this was one of the roads I had to look for coming out of the airport a week earlier, but not take, as it went North and I needed the I-78 West. Though I didn't want to go North now either, I figured if I drove out there for a little way, then came back, I would probably find pointers towards the airport.
I drove north for about fifteen minutes then took an off-ramp to double back southwards. I soon spotted a service centre and pulled in - I was in need of caffeine and at the same time I thought I could ask someone, just to verify that I was heading in the right direction. With coffee in hand I approached a tall African American man in a suit who looked both important and intelligent, and asked him if I was on the right track to the airport. To my relief he told me I was almost there, and gave me a couple of pointers on which turns to look out for. I never doubted myself for a minute!
From here the signs to the airport soon started to appear and within minutes I was following signs to the rental car returns. I spotted a fuel station just before the Avis Returns entry, and filled up for US$28.44, which brought my total fuel spend to $114.50 ( some US and $25 Canadian ). Around the corner I pulled into the Avis Return ramp at 1:30pm, and was quickly greeted by a friendly young African American man who welcomed me back. He and a white girl checked the vehicle for damage ( I'm happy to say there was none ) and that the fuel tank was full. A few moments later the young man handed me my return ticket, and I headed into station P3 for the Airtrain.
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Next Up: Three Flights Home
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