After a unique start at the hotel in Binghamton, NY this morning – the electrical part of a cooler set on fire in the breakfast room and the fire department arrived en tenue complète with flashing truck and sirens screaming – we recovered nicely this evening in the rooftop lounge of our hotel in Harrisonburg, Virginia with a wide assortment of tapas followed by a modest dessert of vanilla ice cream. This after a swim in the saltwater pool. All part of our on-going athletic endeavours.
We highlighted our tedious journey through the Moosic mountain ranges of the Appalachians and the practically impenetrable fog by telephoning our dear friend Jill and my sister Linda and her husband Ed. We collected all the latest news from home. And made certain to report the rising temperature in our southern territory. Tomorrow it’s short pants.
The travel through the northeast was oddly distinguished – that is, whenever the fog lifted – by vast rural areas surrounding the famous urban centres. It was a hopeful reminder that the discovery of America is far from diminished. This in spite of the overwhelming traffic of transport trucks. What ever happened to the trains?
The descent to Hilton Head Island continues to North Carolina tomorrow, nearby Nikki Haley country. Potentially the last and only chance Republicans have to recover.