Day 49 - October 21 - The Write Stuff

Day 49 — The Write Stuff

Wednesday, October 21, 2026

Rockwood, Ontario → Port Huron, Michigan

160 Miles | 3 Hours

We said goodbye to our wonderful friends Ross, Sylvia, and Jackson this morning. Tad and Jackson had thoroughly enjoyed each other's company, and we humans had done pretty well ourselves! Before leaving, we wrote in Ross's guestbook and pledged that we would see each other again in the not-too-distant future, one way or another.

The first half of our journey was pleasantly uneventful. We listened to the radio and some of our favorite podcasts as the Canadian countryside rolled past our windows.

I enjoy driving. It gives me an opportunity to ponder and reflect on all sorts of things while still accomplishing something. There's something wonderfully satisfying about letting your mind wander while the miles slip away beneath you.

We made one final Canadian Costco stop, filled the motorhome with gas, and walked hand in hand into the store to see what treasures this particular warehouse might hold. The only thing that really caught our attention was a package of frozen green chile firecrackers. We picked up a few other things and headed on our way.

As we traveled, I began thinking about today's blog and the remaining days of our Grand Adventure.

What in the world would I write about?

Aside from our planned stop in Mattawan, Michigan, to visit one of my best friends from college and her husband, we have no particular plans to visit people we know or explore especially interesting places. Just lots and lots of miles across the relatively flat landscape of the Midwest.

Not exactly the stuff of great adventure stories!

Or is it?

The Write Stuff

I've thoroughly enjoyed writing these daily blogs, although keeping up with them can sometimes be challenging. After a full day of exploring, followed by another long day of driving, finding the time and energy to put everything into words isn't always easy.

Our Saturday in Vermont was a perfect example. We had experienced so much with our friends Ken and Jenny that I had more than 100 photographs to sort through, along with a multitude of memories, places, and experiences to weave into a coherent story.

I try to jot down an outline or record names and places along the way so the details don't disappear into the fog of yesterday.

Writing has always been an important part of my life. At one time, I seriously considered making it my profession. My undergraduate degree is in journalism, with a minor in history.

Traveling the way we do provides a wonderful incentive to write. Nearly every day brings new people, places, experiences, and unexpected discoveries. There always seems to be something story-worthy waiting around the next bend.

But perhaps the greatest value of writing isn't simply recording what happened. It's taking the time to reflect on what those experiences mean.

Writing encourages me to revisit moments that might otherwise slip away, to consider connections I hadn't recognized at the time, and to better understand the world around me and my place within it.

When we return home, I hope to continue writing, particularly on two projects I've been contemplating: "The Essence of Being" and "Life as We Know It."

Both will draw upon my experiences and perspectives accumulated over the course of my life, exploring what I've learned, what I believe, what I still wonder about, and what I think it all means.

Where those projects will lead, I don't know.

But perhaps that's part of the adventure, too.

Houston, We Have a Problem!

Meanwhile, back on the highway, the Chariot of the Dogs apparently decided that my concerns about finding something interesting to write about needed immediate attention.

About halfway through our journey, the cruise control quit working.

This has happened before, and usually turning the engine off and restarting it resolves the problem. But this time I discovered something peculiar: the cruise control worked when the headlights were on.

Canada requires daytime running lights, which our trusty 2007 motorhome doesn't have, so we keep our headlights on while driving.

Now, I rely on cruise control to contain my natural enthusiasm for cruising down the highway. Without it, I faced a dilemma.

Do I drive without cruise control, constantly calculating the difference between Canada's 100-kilometer-per-hour speed limit and my preferred cruising speed of 64 miles per hour, risking an expensive speeding ticket?

Or do I turn off the headlights, engage the cruise control, and sail down the highway broadcasting an invitation to every Mountie in Ontario to award a citation to the strange American with the funny look on his face?

I could just imagine the conversation.

"Sir, are you aware that you're driving without your headlights?"

"Well, Officer, you see, my cruise control only works when..."

Never mind.

I could already envision myself receiving an honorary membership in the Royal Unmounted Police.

And after our previous adventures involving New Hampshire's idiots who drive with their lights off when its dark...(see Day 41).

Fortunately, we reached the border without receiving any awards.

Unfortunately, we had also discovered that our turn signals weren't working properly when the headlights were on.

Hmmmm.

After a 15-minute wait, we finally rolled up to the border checkpoint. I handed over our passports, and the officer began asking the usual questions.

I remained outwardly calm while imaginary beads of sweat poured down my face.

Would he notice our electrical difficulties? Would I feel compelled to confess that our motorhome was apparently experiencing some sort of nervous breakdown?

I heroically resisted the urge to spill the beans.

The officer waved us through.

Whew!

I breathed a tremendous sigh of relief.

But our ordeal wasn't quite over.

A young woman stopped us a short distance beyond the checkpoint and asked whether we had any animals aboard.

"Just our dog, Tad," I replied, smiling with what I was sure a guilty expression.

She waved us through.

Welcome back to the United States of America!

Apollo 13 Meets the Chariot of the Dogs

We arrived at our Harvest Hosts destination, Lowe's Lodge, where we had stayed in 2023.

Shortly after checking in, Ron Lowe called to make sure we knew where to park. It was a thoughtful welcome and nice to be returning to a familiar place.

We backed into our comfortable campsite, complete with a picnic table and firepit.

But before settling in, we had some detective work to do.

Janice got out, and we immediately began investigating the mysterious electrical problems.

We soon discovered that our turn signals and cruise control weren't the only things malfunctioning.

Our brake lights weren't working either!

Uh-oh.

Suddenly, the situation seemed considerably more serious.

I was reminded of the famous line from the movie Apollo 13, when Tom Hanks, portraying astronaut Jim Lovell, reports:

"Houston, we have a problem!"

Fortunately, unlike the Apollo 13 crew, we weren't hurtling through space in a crippled spacecraft. We were safely parked in a pleasant Michigan campground with a toolbox, a smartphone, and an ample supply of determination.

While I consulted Google AI about our symptoms, Janice began investigating the electrical system.

She located and replaced a fuse that looked suspicious.

No luck.

The AI suggested that the problem might be a faulty ground connection associated with our rear trailer wiring harness.

We inspected the harness and discovered that the connection was, to use a highly technical automotive term, a little wonky.

Aha!

We secured the connection tightly to the bumper with that most versatile of American inventions: duct tape.

And voilà!

The turn signals worked. The brake lights worked. The cruise control worked.

Houston, the problem is solved!

No expensive mechanic. No emergency roadside assistance. No mysterious replacement parts.

Just a little teamwork, some modern technology, and a strip of good old-fashioned duct tape.

I suspect the Apollo 13 engineers would have approved.

Every Day Has a Story

With our mechanical crisis resolved, we finally settled into our campsite.

We took Tad for a nice walk, enjoyed dinner, and retired for the evening, grateful that our electrical gremlins had been persuaded to abandon ship.

As I reflected on the day, I couldn't help but smile.

Earlier, while driving across Ontario, I had wondered what I would possibly find to write about during the remaining days of our journey.

After all, we weren't planning any spectacular hikes, visiting famous historical sites, or exploring picturesque New England villages.

Just driving home.

And yet, here we were, with another day's worth of memories, laughter, challenges, and discoveries.

Perhaps that's one of the lessons of this Grand Adventure.

A good story doesn't necessarily require a spectacular destination or some extraordinary event.

Sometimes it begins with saying goodbye to friends, holding hands while wandering through Costco, or discovering that your brake lights have developed a mind of their own.

And sometimes the most interesting part of a journey is what happens inside our heads while we're traveling from one place to another.

Life itself is the adventure.

And as long as we're paying attention, there's always something worth writing about.

Together We Are, Together We Shine! ✨♾️8

Day 50: October 22. Headed for Freshwater

At 12:30 a.m., I woke to the urgent prancing of Irish Setter paws. Why so early? Choosing not to argue, I grabbed the leash, and we stepped out into the night. It quickly became clear that something in the dark had sparked Tad’s curiosity and the potty break was merely an excuse. On a leash he couldn’t escape, a very amped-up Tad began running tight circles around his captor. Realizing I’d been duped, I steered us back inside to resume our slumber.

​Tad would have plenty of other opportunities for walks at our Harvest Host stop, the Lowe Lodge. The nearby woods were filled with intriguing scents and exciting "skirrels" and bunnies scurrying through the underbrush. While Kasey caught up on emails, blogs, and reviews between dog walks, I whipped up a batch of banana-blueberry pancakes and loaded our bikes. We had not used them, but we needed to clear space on the motorhome so we could tackle that electrical issue.

​After washing the dishes and getting cleaned up, I scurried around to prep the cabin for travel. Our destination was Mattawan, Michigan, to spend the night with Karen and Les Freshwater. The route was listed as a three-hour drive, though with traffic and construction, we budgeted three and a half.

​Around 10:30 a.m., our host stopped by to say hello. Ron Lowe, who owns a construction company, was a busy guy, but he made time to chat. We thanked him for his hospitality, and he shared the story of his "crystal forest" and Timothy Park, a tribute to a neighbor who had passed away. He admitted we’d been so quiet he almost forgot we were on the property! Since this was our second stay, Ron told us we’re always welcome in the future, even if the Harvest Host app shows the spot as booked. Waving a hand across the expanse of his property, he assured us there’s always plenty of room.

​By 11:00 a.m., we were ready to roll, putting our estimated arrival in Mattawan around 2:30 or 3:00 p.m. We double checked that are lights were still working and hit the road. First, though, we needed a grocery run; Tad had just gobbled down the last of his dry food.

​Just west of Lansing around 2:00 p.m., we pulled in for gas and propane, only to learn no certified staff was available to fill our RV tank. Attaching the high-pressure hose safely requires specific training, so lesson learned: we’ll be calling ahead for propane from now on.

​We stopped for groceries, and I took the opportunity to return our recyclable cans to free up precious storage space.

​From there, the navigation app claimed we were an hour and a half away. Somehow, though, we lost an hour along the way. Between heavy construction slowing traffic and miles that just didn't seem to add up, we joked that we had either crossed into a time vortex or been abducted. We ultimately pulled in an hour and a half later than expected.

​Karen and Les greeted us warmly and guided us into our setup spot. 

Tad got to stretch his legs and run around the backyard for a bit. They have two dogs of their own, but we decided against dog introductions, tucking Tad safely inside the motorhome instead. We joined Karen and Les on the deck for wine and conversation, later moving indoors for a delicious dinner of grilled fish, chicken, and fresh vegetables. Having not seen them in three years, we had plenty of catching up to do.

​After dinner, Karen proceeded to soundly defeat us all in two games of Qwixx, a fast-paced dice game. The evening flew by, and before we knew it, it was time to turn in for the night.

Day 48: October 20, 2026: Dual celebrations.

I woke before light. Knowing we were surrounded by an area teeming with deer and other wildlife, I couldn't let Tad loose in the wide, open field stretching just beyond our motorhome. I made a point to lean in and wish him a happy birthday first thing. Still groggy, he snuggled deeper under his blanket, but gladly accepted my morning greetings and affection.

​"Happy 6th Birthday, Tad. Six years looks incredible on you and you haven't lost a bit of that puppy energy."

​Since I was already awake, I coaxed him out into the cold for a quick, predawn potty break on the leash, saving his real leg-stretching run for daylight. Once the rising sun finally illuminated half the field, I felt it was safe to let him off-leash. And run he did essentially darting across the open grass with pure birthday joy until he wore himself out 15 minutes later.

​Back inside, with the coffee brewed and Tad happily rested, we prepared to roll. Today’s route would take us back across the border into Canada to reunite with Ross and Silvia at Twinholm Lane (a favorite Harvest Hosts/Boondockers plus spot where we stayed three years ago). Memories of their gorgeous home, peaceful walking trails, and the lake with its fountain filled my mind. Along with those fond thoughts came a quiet curiosity: would a new canine companion be waiting to greet us, knowing they had lost their beloved Barney shortly after our last visit?

​With clear skies above, we set off, traveling across the rolling, beautiful landscapes of upstate New York.

Along the highway, a uniquely bizarre police cruiser caught our eye. The New York State Police have been testing vertical light bars, a motorized setup where two 6-foot light towers swing straight up like rabbit ears during traffic stops. The design is meant to clear the rooflines of big SUVs and semi-trucks so oncoming traffic can see the flashing lights from further down the road, folding flat along the roof while driving to keep the car aerodynamic. Word is the mechanical hinges occasionally get jammed upright when hit with northeast road salt and freezing slush, but it certainly makes for an unmistakable sight on the interstate.

Soon enough, we approached the Canadian border where traffic was routed through interchangeable, reversible lanes to manage the flow. Steering through felt completely unnaturalstraddling yellow lines you're trained never to cross, double-checking the overhead signs to make sure you're in an open lane for your direction.

Getting into Canada was a breeze and very little traffic. We hit the open road and found the route to Ross and Silvia's was a slower pace. The signs told us all we needed to know.

I let Tad stick his head out the window to soak in the crisp autumn air. He took in all the new sights and smells, tail wagging non-stop the entire drive. I couldn't help translating his excitement for the world: "Hey everybody, I'm Tad, and it's my birthday today!"

By 1:00 PM, we arrived at our destination. Ross came out to welcome us, and my question about a new canine companion was answered instantly. Out zoomed Jackson, a three-year-old bundle of pure, unstoppable energy. Ross was thrilled to see us after so many years. As soon as we got the green light to let Tad loose, he and Jackson took off, running, chasing, and exploring the grounds together. It turned out to be the absolute best birthday present Tad could have asked for.

After they played a bit, we returned to the task of setting up the motorhome for the night. We are parked next to their very secure chickens. A fortress to keep the predators out.

Nearly two months into this journey, we’ve learned that a solid night's sleep isn't always guaranteed, so we took a quick afternoon nap to reset and ensure we’d be well-rested when Silvia finished work.

After waking, we were eager to revisit the wonderful walking trail we remembered so fondly from three years ago. Ross had only just returned from Australia a few days prior and hadn't yet had a chance to inspect the path, so we were delighted when he offered to join us for the stroll. Walking past their home and stepping into their backyard is always nothing short of magical.

The deck overlooks a fountain in a lake. It is a picturesque place for sure.

Our walk wound through roughly 26 acres of dense, serene woodland. Ross takes meticulous care of the path, constantly clearing fallen branches and keeping the trail open. A neighboring landowner helps with the maintenance as a token of gratitude for being allowed to use the land, and the two of them often leave small notes or messages for each other along the route: a warm, neighborly touch that adds to the trail's quiet charm.

After our walk, we gathered on the deck to enjoy a delicious spread of Vermont cheddar, crackers, pickled garlic scapes, and a flavorful jalapeño-blueberry jam. Silvia stays well-informed on current events and had a few thoughtful questions about our system of governance, leading to an interesting discussion where we acknowledged some of the clear imbalances in our representative system. Before things got too heavy, Ross (who much prefers swapping travel stories) steered us toward lighter topics, and we spent the rest of the evening happily trading memories and future trip ideas.

Over our deck snacks, Ross and Silvia shared the heartwarming story of how Jackson came into their lives. They had gone back to the very same breeder where they got Barney years ago, hoping for another dog of the same breed. But what truly sealed the deal was a striking, heart-shaped patch of fur on Jackson's side, a sweet, undeniable sign that he was meant to be theirs.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the autumn air turned crisp, and Ross lit a fire on the deck. Basked in the warmth, we listened to him recount his recent travels through Australia, as well as the road trip he and Silvia took through the U.S. We were having such a wonderful time catching up that we completely lost track of time and suddenly realized we were late for our online board meeting!

We wrapped things up and said our goodnights. With Silvia and Ross both facing busy schedules tomorrow, it was time for everyone to turn in after a rich, memorable day.

Day 47 — Catching Up with Bright Star

Monday, October 19, 2026

We had a good night's sleep in our cozy little home on wheels. Before turning in, we bundled Tad up in his coat and a blanket and turned the thermostat down to 55 degrees so the furnace wouldn't come on as often. The sound of the furnace wakes Janice up, but I find it wonderfully comforting.

There is something reassuring about hearing it rumble to life in the middle of a cold night, knowing that in a few moments it will breathe warm air into our little cocoon.

Sometimes, lying there in the wee hours of the morning, I feel so grateful that I want to nudge Janice and whisper, "Pssst... do you hear that? Isn't that comforting? Don't you feel grateful? Isn't this romantic?"

But then I think better of it. Somehow, I suspect waking her up to celebrate the very noise that disturbs her sleep might not produce quite the romantic moment I envision.

So I just smile to myself and enjoy the warmth.

We were up and on the road by 9 a.m., right on schedule. We stopped at a bakery for pastries and coffee before heading toward Honeoye Falls, New York, where we were looking forward to reconnecting with someone very special to us.

Our Bright Star.

Ryan Kincaid served as Umpqua Watersheds' AmeriCorps member in 2020–2021 and continued working remotely as our Director of Environmental Education and Outreach in 2021–2022. Janice and I traveled to New York in 2023 to attend her wedding to Ryan Heller.

Ryan is one of those extraordinary people who leaves a lasting impression on everyone fortunate enough to know her. My nickname for her is "Bright Star," because of her fierce determination to bring light into the world in whatever ways she can.

She exemplifies everything the AmeriCorps program was intended to accomplish.

My own relationship with AmeriCorps began in 2012, when I served as a summer AmeriCorps member in my first job in Oregon. Over the following thirteen years, I had the privilege of supervising and mentoring AmeriCorps members serving with Umpqua Watersheds. I also worked closely with AmeriCorps staff and got to know members serving with other organizations throughout our community.

It was an extraordinary program, bringing together people who wanted to make a difference and providing them with opportunities to serve, learn, grow, and discover their own potential.

Sadly, the program that had enriched our community for so many years came to an end in 2025 as a result of DOGE-related federal budget cuts.

The loss goes far beyond the positions and services eliminated. Programs like AmeriCorps cultivate something our society desperately needs: a sense of shared responsibility, connection, and purpose.

Janice and I remain profoundly grateful for the contributions these young people made to our community and for the lifelong friendships we developed with several of them.

Ryan is certainly one of those treasures.

Our Harvest Hosts destination was Calvary Chapel Southside, a nondenominational Christian church in Honeoye, New York, about ten minutes from the Ryans' home.

The church had a huge grassy field beside the parking lot, which Tad enthusiastically approved of. After spending much of the day riding in the motorhome, he was delighted to stretch his legs and run freely.

He sailed gleefully around the field. I wanted a picture with him to capture the joy and it was quite a challenge bottling up all that energy.

Janice discovered a playground and promptly transcended into her eight-year-old self, enjoying the swings and slide.

There is something wonderful about watching someone you love rediscover the simple pleasures of childhood. I suspect the world would be a happier place if more adults occasionally surrendered to the irresistible invitation of an empty swing set!

Before long, the Ryans arrived to pick us up for dinner at Olive Garden.

What a joy to see them again!

Although we've visited several times over Zoom since our last reunion, there's simply no substitute for being together in person, exchanging hugs, seeing familiar smiles, and sharing the easy conversation that comes from genuine affection.

Over dinner, we caught up on their busy lives.

Ryan K. started a new job with The Nature Conservancy about a year ago and is enjoying a much less stressful work environment than her previous position. Ryan H. continues working in the information technology department of an electric utility company.

We shared stories from our Grand Adventure and updated them on the latest happenings at Umpqua Watersheds.

After dinner, we headed to their house for a game of National Parks Scrabble.

Now, I have always enjoyed word games, but this version of Scrabble adds a few intriguing wrinkles. Special cards allow players to manipulate the game in ways that can dramatically increase their scores.

It was a close contest until the stars aligned in my favor.

Earlier in the game, I had strategically used a card that allowed me to look into the letter bag and select two tiles. Naturally, I chose the coveted J, worth eight points.

Later, I drew another card that allowed me to triple the value of a single tile.

Suddenly, my eight-point J was worth a whopping 24 points!

When the opportunity arose to place that J on a triple-letter-score square and spell the word "JO," I seized the moment.

Seventy-five points!

I was positively giddy with delight.

Some might call it luck. Others might call it brilliant strategic planning. I prefer to think of it as a magnificent convergence of preparation, opportunity, and a little Scrabble magic!

We laughed, played, and enjoyed a delightful evening together.

As always seems to happen when we're spending time with people we love, the hours slipped away far too quickly.

Before long, it was time for the Ryans to take us back to our motorhome.

We exchanged warm hugs and said our goodbyes. Then I reached out and hugged RK one more time.

"Keep shining, Bright Star!" I told her.

And I know she will.

As we settled back into our little rolling home with Taddy, I reflected on how fortunate Janice and I have been to share our lives with so many remarkable people.

Some relationships begin through family, others through shared interests or chance encounters. Still others grow from working together toward something larger than ourselves.

AmeriCorps brought Ryan into our lives, but the friendship that grew from that experience has become something far more enduring than any job or program.

The program may have ended, but the light it helped kindle in so many people continues to shine.

Tomorrow we'll set sail once again, crossing into Canada for a one-night visit with more dear friends.

Forty-seven days into our Grand Adventure, the autumn colors have been spectacular, the landscapes unforgettable, and the miles extraordinary.

But increasingly, I find myself thinking that the greatest treasures of this journey aren't the places we've visited.

They're the people whose lives have become intertwined with ours.

And tonight, our hearts are a little warmer because we had the opportunity to catch up with one of our brightest stars.

Day 46: October 18, 2026. heading west

It was freezing overnight, the mercury dipping down to around 27 degrees. At that temperature, the furnace cycles on and off bringing the noisy hum of the blower fan with it every time. It’s that back-and-forth click and roar of the fan that keeps waking me, cutting short any chance of a truly deep sleep.

​Sometime before first light, I bundled up to take Tad out for a quick relief break so we could both get safely tucked back under our respective blankets. Frost glittered across the ground, and a paper-thin skin of ice had formed over the driveway puddles, so neither of us felt like lingering. Back inside the motorhome, I lit the burner under the coffee pot and slid straight back into the still-warm bedding, pulling the covers secure until only my face was exposed. As I drifted in and out of sleep, my mind wandered back to our uninvited hitchhiker rodent. I haven't heard a single scratch or rustle since that campground stay. Perhaps it rethought its travel plans or simply froze in last night’s chill.

​We were parked in the back of the restaurant where the owner had kindly let us set up for the night. It saved us a solid fifteen minutes of driving and, best of all, gave us full cell service.

​A couple of hours later, we finally got moving to prepare for departure. After weeks of steady travel, today is the real turning point. From here on out, we are charting the most direct route home, sprinkling in visits with friends along the way wherever we can fit them in. I always feel a bit guilty that we can’t stop to see everyone along our path, but once your wheels are pointed toward home, the subtle pull of the familiar starts tugging hard.

​To maximize every bit of heat inside, we pulled the living space slides in before the light starts to fade. Our theory is that it minimizes the volume of air we have to warm inside, minimizing the surface area outside,  and creating a tighter seal against the motorhome walls. When those slides are extended in sub-freezing cold, you can easily feel drafts sneaking in through the gaps and see tiny slivers of daylight around the seals. For all its promises, the built-in "Arctic Package"—a tank-warming setup underneath—isn't quite built for true multi-day freezes. And since we’re rarely plugged into power, we have to keep the thermostat set low anyway, or the constant draw from the furnace fan will completely drain our house batteries.

​We managed to scrape through the night just as the battery voltage was teetering on the edge, so I fired up the engine early to give the house battery a much-needed boost. Breakfast was a low-key bowl of cold cereal, and before we knew it, we were rolled out and on the road. Outside, the peak autumn color has officially passed. After a heavy frost like last night's, the leaves are coming down in subtle, steady showers with every mile we head west.

The Okemo Mountain was in full sun today and we got to view it for several miles on our drive westward.

We crossed the Appalachian Trail in western Vermont. It is all downhill from here! Not really but for a while.

Our destination is a brewery which is a little off the direct path but we like to sink ourselves into the smaller communities. This brewery is a Harvest Host called Serious Brewing Company in Howes Cave, NY.

The local brewery where we stopped was officially guarded by a friendly female Lab mix named Chinook—or "Nook" for short. Her command station was a comfortable couch positioned right by the front window. She would nap or keep a lazy eye on the driveway until a car pulled up, at which point she’d spring into action, trotting behind the bar to give proprietor Bill a quiet alert that incoming visitors had arrived. It was hard to tell who ran the place, but Nook clearly took her greeting duties very seriously.

Bill has owned the brewery for 10 years and he and his dad run it. The walls are filled with interesting items: trays, beer taps, beer related sayings, and various other things. Reminded me of Old Soul Pizza back in Roseburg.

Kasey had a flight of beer to sample the various kinds. I had a hibiscus ginger cider.

We were low on fresh water so Bill kindly let us top off our water. This prompted us to return to the motorhome to take care of that and walk the dog around the neighborhood. 

With light traffic and no sidewalks, we took to wandering along the edge of the road to explore the neighborhood. We had just reached the first residence and were about to turn back when a large dog came charging out toward us in an aggressive, threatening posture, a woman giving chase behind and shouting frantically for her dog to stop. A second, smaller and much friendlier dog trailed in their wake, eventually catching up as the woman reached us.

​We paused to chat with her for a bit about the local area and nearby attractions, but as we turned to take our leave, her larger dog, a Golden Retriever with a coat almost identical in color to Tad’s, began to escalate, bearing its teeth, snarling, snapping, and posturing aggressively toward Tad. The woman tried to regain control by grabbing and pulling on her dog’s tail, but with the threat mounting quickly, Kasey and I took immediate action to protect our leashed boy. Kasey stepped in while I delivered a solid kick to the dog’s chest to create separation, and boomed out a stern, authoritative "NO!"

​The sharp reset was enough to break the Golden's focus. We put distance between us as fast as we could and headed straight back to the safety of our spot at the brewery where Nook was undoubtedly keeping a much more disciplined eye on things.

After placing Tad safely inside the motorhome where he could rest away from any more outside excitement, Kasey and I headed back into the brewery to continue our conversation with Bill.

​He takes extraordinary care with naming his beers—you could say he is deadly serious about it. Over the next hour, he shared the stories behind each logo, mapping out how the area's rich history was carefully woven into every design. Local train lines, historic oat crops, and devastating regional fires were all thoughtfully incorporated into the names, artwork, and logos. No detail, no matter how small, is overlooked.

​His absolute pride and joy is his Serious Blonde—a signature brew that seamlessly fuses several of these historical concepts and local elements into a single glass. Listening to him speak, it was clear that every pour was as much about honoring the community's past as it was about great craft beer.

Another tap story Bill shared with us was for Schoharie Burning, a award-winning Belgian Wheat beer named after the tragic burning of the wheat fields throughout the Schoharie Valley during the Revolutionary War. Flavored with sweet orange peel, grains of paradise, and coriander, it’s a beautifully complex brew that honors a pivotal moment in New York history.

​Then there was The Running Red Coats. Originally intended to be a traditional red ale, Bill accidentally doubled up on some of the specialty grains during a batch run. The resulting brew turned out far darker than expected—much more brown than red. Rather than scrapping it, Bill embraced the mishap with his trademark humor, joking that the rich brown color perfectly matched the backside of the British britches as they high-tailed it out of Saratoga!

​The bar closed up at 6:00 PM, and after gathering our accumulated purchases to take along on the rest of our journey, we settled in for the night. As the last of the patrons cleared out, the back parking area quieted down completely, leaving us with a peaceful, silent spot to spend the evening tucked away in the motorhome.

Kasey and i discussed our options for routes to get us home. We could take the long way and avoid tolls or we could pay the tolls and get there faster. I pondered this as I was falling asleep. It's the classic traveler's dilemma.apparently. The tradeoff between time, fuel, and toll fees is something to consider. An RV or motorhome can alter the decision. Many toll authorities calculate fees by axle count and vehicle height/weight, so pulling a trailer, driving a larger rig, or carrying bikes on a rear rack can turn a $5 passenger car toll into a $15 or $20 toll quite quickly. "Avoiding tolls" often adds extra miles and secondary roads with frequent traffic lights, lower speed limits, and stop-and-go driving, which burns significantly more fuel. Sometimes paying a $10 or $12 toll actually saves money overall once you factor in fuel efficiency.The toll-free "long way" often trades smooth, wide-lane turnpikes for winding state routes, small-town main streets, and tighter turns. While it's usually much more scenic and relaxing, it can add real driving weariness if you're trying to hit a target campsite or destination before dark.

Striking that balance usually comes down to whether the hour saved on an easy expressway is worth the fee, or if the scenic backroads are worth the extra drive time!

If you’ve ever driven across the country, you’ve likely noticed a stark difference in how highways are funded and run. In much of the American West, you can drive for hundreds of miles on sprawling, limited-access highways without paying more. In the East and Midwest, however, it can feel like you're pulling through a toll gantry or crossing a fee-based bridge every few miles.

Why the dramatic divide? It comes down to a mix of early history, the timing of the Interstate system, population density, and geography.

The East Built First

The biggest historical reason for the divide comes down to when these expressways were built.

By the late 1930s through the early 1950s, traffic demand along the Eastern Seaboard and around the Great Lakes was exploding. States needed high-speed, limited-access highways immediately, but federal funding for major interstate highways didn't exist yet. To pay for construction, eastern states issued revenue bonds, borrowing money from investors and pledging to pay them back using toll revenue collected directly from drivers.

When President Eisenhower signed the landmark Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, everything changed. The federal government agreed to cover 90% of the cost for building a nationwide Interstate Highway System using federal gas taxes, but not for toll roads. Existing toll turnpikes were grandfathered into the Interstate network, but new routes were built as "freeways." Because most major highways in the West were constructed after 1956, Western states relied on that 90% federal match rather than state-issued toll bonds.

Historically, Western states adopted a different funding philosophy, relying on state gas taxes and general funds to keep highways open and free. In vast regions where travel between towns is a daily necessity rather than a luxury, open access was seen as critical for local economies.

While Western states have added tolling in recent decades, it usually looks different: instead of traditional turnpikes where everyone pays, the West has largely adopted Express/HOT (High-Occupancy Toll) lanes, giving drivers the choice to pay for a faster trip alongside existing free lanes.

Reflecting on the Road Ahead: A Living Map of American Transportation

  

​The next time you cruise across a turnpike in the East or enjoy a long, uninterrupted stretch of freeway in the West, you're experiencing a living map of American transportation history! Whether navigating eastern turnpikes or winding backroads, every mile west brings us closer to home.

Day 45: October 17: Cavendish Vermont - A Grand Reunion

Day 45 — Grand Reunion

Saturday, October 17, 2026 — Cavendish, Vermont

We left home on September 4th, 45 days ago. Leaving home always involves mixed emotions. We love our home and our routines, and one of the most important elements of "home" is our friends.

Janice and I, like many of our closest friends, don't have family living nearby. Over the years, we've become each other's extended family. I think of these wonderful people as our Family-Friends. I'm incredibly grateful for the special relationships we've cultivated, and there's always a little sadness when we or they travel and we don't have opportunities to spend time together.

Several months ago, while watching the PBS series The Revolution with our dear friends Ken and Jenny Carloni, we shared our plans to visit New England in the fall.

Ken grew up in Connecticut, and his father purchased a historic schoolhouse in Vermont back in the 1970s. Ken and his older brother helped their father restore the building, creating decades of family memories in the beautiful Vermont countryside.

Back in February, we talked excitedly about how wonderful it would be to get together in Vermont during our Grand Adventure.

Today, we did just that!

We spoke with Ken on the phone Friday after checking into our Harvest Host at Vermont Vines Winery and made arrangements to meet near the village green in Cavendish at noon.

When we woke up Saturday morning, it was wet and chilly outside. Janice made coffee and brought it to me in bed. She had an impish grin on her face.

"There's a No Kings protest about 15 minutes away today!"

We decided to have breakfast in Bellows Falls before joining the gathering.

Janice found a dog-friendly restaurant called Moon Dog Café. We quickly packed up and headed into town.

We brought Tad into the café, where we were warmly greeted by Susie, our waitress. She directed us to a table where Tad would be comfortable. There were only six other customers in the café, and before long, Tad was attracting attention.

An older gentleman, probably about our age (how is it possible that WE are now in the "older" category?!), even took Tad's picture.

As usual, our handsome Irish Setter was a star.

Susie took our orders and asked whether Tad could have a treat. She returned with four pieces of Vermont cheese.

Tad could hardly believe his good fortune! Apparently, Vermont was turning out to be a pretty wonderful place.

We enjoyed delicious breakfast burritos and friendly conversations with the locals before heading across the street, where a small group of people had gathered on a corner holding signs.

Once again, Tad stole the show. Everyone wanted to greet him, and he happily soaked up the attention.

A young woman named Liz approached us with her ballot in hand and asked if she could pet Tad. He leaned into her, as he always does, and graciously accepted another helping of affection.

The theme of the nationwide No Kings protests was "Vote Early." I was encouraged to see people from different sides of the political divide standing together, smiling and holding signs encouraging everyone to exercise their right to vote.

In a time when our country seems so deeply divided, it was refreshing to experience a little common ground.

After about 45 minutes, we said our goodbyes and headed toward our next Harvest Host, Rockledge Farm Woodworks.

We wanted to check in before meeting Ken and Jenny at noon. We parked the motorhome in a large field across from the farmhouse and woodworking store.

Scott, the proprietor, greeted us as we approached and welcomed us into his workshop and showroom.

There were three rooms filled with beautiful handcrafted woodwork. As we wandered through the displays, we told Scott we were visiting from Oregon.

He mentioned having visited our state many years ago and how much he'd enjoyed Portland. He lamented how much the city had changed because of homelessness.

We agreed that homelessness was a serious problem, not just in Portland but throughout the country, and assured him that Portland was still a fun and interesting city.

As we continued exploring, we noticed a couple of letters displayed on the wall signed by the current president, thanking Scott for participating in the Made in America program.

At about that moment, Janice suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to purge and made a hasty retreat to the motorhome to attend to her symptoms!

I continued browsing and purchased a beautiful cheese-cutting board and knife. I thanked Scott for his hospitality and explained that we'd be returning after seven that evening.

He was kind and gracious, and we appreciated his welcome.

Then it was time for the main event!

A Grand Reunion

We met Ken and Jenny at noon, just as planned.

What a wonderful feeling to embrace dear friends from home more than 3,000 miles from Roseburg!

For a few precious hours, the distance between Oregon and Vermont seemed to disappear.

Ken and Jenny had rented a small sedan for their visit, so Tad got to ride on our laps as we headed off on our adventures.

Our first destination was a special place Ken has loved since childhood: Cavendish Gorge.

I'm not going to reveal its exact location. Ken made us promise to keep it a secret, and apparently even some longtime locals, including Scott at Rockledge Farm, don't know about it.

Some treasures are best left for people to discover on their own.

The fall colors continued to dazzle us as we followed a trail through the woods toward the gorge. Brilliant yellows, oranges and reds glowed against the darker greens of the evergreens.

We chatted cheerfully as we walked, like a bunch of schoolkids reunited after summer vacation.

Early in our hike, we encountered another fellow named Rip about our age accompanied by his dog, Ryder.

We stopped to visit and talked about what a remarkable place the gorge was and how few people seemed to know about it.

Our conversation eventually wandered into politics, and we discovered we shared similar concerns about the challenges facing our country and hopes that the upcoming midterm elections might begin to address them.

Then we continued our exploration.

The geology of this part of Vermont tells a fascinating story stretching back hundreds of millions of years. The Green Mountains were shaped by ancient tectonic collisions that folded, fractured and transformed layers of rock. Much more recently, during the last Ice Age, enormous glaciers sculpted the landscape, leaving behind valleys, ridges and deposits of sediment. As the ice retreated, meltwater and rivers continued reshaping the terrain, carving channels through rock and carrying away material loosened by the glaciers.

The nearby Black River valley offers a particularly dramatic example of this process. A glacial lake once occupied part of the valley, and its eventual drainage helped create the Cavendish Gorge. But nature's work didn't stop there. During Vermont's catastrophic flood of 1927, the Black River carved an enormous new channel around part of the gorge, dramatically altering the landscape. Standing among these ancient rocks and rushing waters, it's humbling to contemplate how brief our own lives are compared with the immense forces that shaped the land beneath our feet.

The human history of this region is equally fascinating. Indigenous peoples traveled through and used these valleys thousands of years before European settlement. Archaeological evidence around Cavendish includes stone tools dating back roughly 5,000 to 7,000 years. Later, the Black River and its tributaries helped support farms, mills and small communities. The same waterways that provided energy for sawmills and other industries also periodically unleashed devastating floods. It's a landscape where geology, ecology and human history are inseparably intertwined.

Tad was delighted to explore another place filled with new smells, sights and sounds. After his unfortunate encounter with a porcupine in Maine, however, I was taking no chances. I kept him on a leash, mindful of both potential porcupines and the steep cliffs surrounding the gorge.

We spent nearly two hours exploring this wonderful place, and by the time we returned to the car, Tad was one tired puppy!

We drove back to Cavendish, where we'd parked the motorhome, and dropped Tad off so we could continue our adventures in places that were a little less dog-friendly.

Our next adventure took us north through more spectacular Vermont countryside.

Along the way, we passed a large historic facility known as the Bates Hotel, which Ken said had once earned the rather unflattering nickname "The Bad Wives Motel."

According to local lore, wealthy husbands from cities like Boston would send their wives and children to Vermont for the summer to escape the heat. Allegedly, some of those husbands took advantage of their families' absence to entertain mistresses back home!

Whether the stories are entirely true or have grown more colorful with the passage of time, they certainly added a little spice to our history lesson.

Our next destination was especially meaningful.

A Schoolhouse Full of Memories

Ken took us to the Wheeler Schoolhouse, a historic one-room schoolhouse that his father purchased and restored in the 1970s.

The building stands in a beautiful rural setting near the intersection of Twenty Mile Stream Road and Chapman Road, with Gilead Mountain looming nearby.

I was fascinated to learn that the Wheeler Schoolhouse was built in 1861, during the first year of the American Civil War. It replaced an earlier schoolhouse known locally as the "Wigwam," which stood across the road.

According to the Cavendish Historical Society, Colonel Wheeler donated the schoolhouse and approximately an acre or two of land to the local school district, with an unusual stipulation: if the building ever ceased operating as a school, the property would revert to the neighboring farm.

For nearly a century, generations of local children attended classes here. Imagine all the lessons learned, friendships formed and memories created within those walls!

The school finally closed in 1955, and the property returned to the farm, just as Colonel Wheeler had stipulated.

In 1964, the Stowell family purchased the farm. About nine years later, they sold the schoolhouse to Ken's father, Al Phil Carloni, who began restoring the historic building with the help of Ken and his older brother.

I was delighted to discover that the Cavendish Historical Society published an article in 2019 that specifically mentions the Carloni family's restoration of the schoolhouse!

The article includes recollections from Sara Stowell, whose family once owned the property. She described how the Carlonis preserved the character of the old schoolhouse while adding a sleeping loft and converting the original outhouses into a storage shed.

What a wonderful piece of living history!

Ken's brother is now continuing the family's stewardship of this remarkable building. He has already installed a new basement and foundation, helping ensure that the schoolhouse will survive for future generations.

Standing there, listening to Ken reminisce about helping his father restore the building, I could almost hear the voices of children arriving for school, horses and buggies traveling along the country roads, and the sounds of a bustling farming community.

The schoolhouse has witnessed more than 165 years of change, yet it remains a tangible connection to the people who lived, worked, learned and raised families here long before any of us were born.

I love places like this. History isn't simply a collection of dates and names in books. It lives in old buildings, stone walls, country roads and the memories we share with one another.

And now, through the continuing efforts of the Carloni family, another chapter is being added to the story of the Wheeler Schoolhouse.

How special to stand in this historic building with Ken, whose family has helped preserve it for more than half a century! brother is now in the process of updating the building and has already installed a new basement and foundation.

And now Ken's family is adding another chapter to the story of the Wheeler Schoolhouse.

From there, we continued our exploration with a stop at Buttermilk Falls, where we enjoyed another beautiful walk to the cascading water.

Our next stop was the Green Mountain Sugarhouse, where we purchased a few souvenirs and treated ourselves to maple creemees, Vermont's delicious version of soft-serve ice cream made with maple syrup.

What a wonderful way to celebrate being in Vermont!

The Green Mountain Boys

We finished our afternoon by driving up Okemo Mountain, a popular ski destination overlooking the surrounding countryside. The quarter mile walk uphill in 30 degree weather was not enough to counter the forces of nature zapping every bit of warmth the moment our bodies generated it. 

The views from the mountain were spectacular. Forested hills and valleys stretched into the distance, with the Green Mountains rising beyond them.

Standing there, Ken and I had a wonderful conversation about Ethan Allen, the Green Mountain Boys and their role in the American Revolution.

The history of Vermont during the Revolutionary era is particularly fascinating because the people living here were fighting for more than independence from Great Britain. They were also struggling to protect their farms and communities from competing land claims by New York and New Hampshire. Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys emerged from these disputes in the early 1770s, organizing to defend settlers' land claims. When the Revolutionary War began in 1775, they became an important part of the struggle for American independence. Allen and his men, working alongside Benedict Arnold and other colonial forces, captured Fort Ticonderoga in May 1775, securing a strategically important British stronghold and its artillery.

The people of this region experienced the Revolution not simply as a distant war fought by famous generals, but as a struggle that affected their homes, farms and futures. Cavendish itself was a tiny frontier settlement when the war began, with only five families living here. Its first European settlers, John and Susanna Coffeen and their children, had arrived in 1769. The Crown Point Road, built during the French and Indian War, passed through the area and connected important military outposts. Families throughout the region faced difficult decisions about allegiance, security and survival. Vermont even declared itself an independent republic in 1777 and didn't join the United States until 1791.

Looking across the mountains, I thought about the ordinary people who lived here 250 years ago. Farmers, craftspeople, mothers, fathers and children whose lives were shaped by the extraordinary events unfolding around them.

It seemed especially meaningful to be reflecting on this history during our nation's 250th anniversary year, just hours after standing with fellow citizens in Bellows Falls encouraging people to participate in our democracy.

The struggles of the past and the challenges of the present are separated by centuries, but the responsibility of ordinary people to shape the future remains.

A Perfect Ending to a Wonderful Day

Eventually, it was time to head back to Cavendish.

We had about 45 minutes before our dinner reservation at Murdock's on the Green, so we decided to pop into Outer Limits Brewing, conveniently located next door.

The brewery has a fun science-fiction theme inspired by the classic television series The Outer Limits, and its beers have appropriately imaginative names.

A friendly waitress named Frevy served us, and we enjoyed relaxing together after our full day of exploring.

Then it was time for dinner at Murdock's.

We enjoyed a delicious meal, lively conversation and the pleasure of reliving the day's adventures together.

What a wonderful day it had been!

The manager at Murdock's graciously gave us permission to stay overnight, which meant we wouldn't have to drive back to Rockledge Farm Woodworks.

I took Tad out for an evening walk around the village green before we all settled into the motorhome for the night.

As I reflected on the day, I kept coming back to the wonderful feeling of being reunited with Ken and Jenny.

Forty-five days ago, we left behind our familiar routines, our beautiful home along the North Umpqua River and the people who make our lives so rich.

Since then, we've traveled thousands of miles, explored extraordinary landscapes, learned fascinating history and shared countless memorable experiences with family and friends.

But today reminded me that some of life's greatest treasures aren't places at all.

They're the people we share our lives with.

A few months ago, four friends were sitting together in Oregon watching a documentary about the American Revolution, imagining how wonderful it would be to explore Vermont together in the fall.

Today, surrounded by the brilliant colors of New England, we turned that little dream into a beautiful memory.

Home isn't just where we live. It's also where we find the people we love.

And sometimes, if we're especially fortunate, we find a little piece of home waiting for us 3,000 miles away.