It wasn't quite that bad. I'm being a grumpy tourist, unappreciative of the holiday of a lifetime etc etc. But there have to be some down days, and this was one.
Our Independence Day started with a fruitless search for Independence Day festivities. We must have been spoiled by our amazing experience in Montana two years ago, where we happened upon and were happily absorbed into a small town parade, cheering on local fire-fighters and veterans, and waving at floats full of teenage girls who threw candy at Tom's feet..... well we managed to miss those this time. Then (I confess) I misread the map. There are two route 9s through the Adirondacks, I chose the wrong one, and failed to notice for quite a while. Hence a very long way around.
We stopped for some lunch in the little town of Keene, where the Cedar bakery and restaurant got a nice write ups in Frommers New York guide (hmm, still not impressed). Richard and I had been discussing how to define an "atmosphere" here which is puzzling us both: a lack of enthusiasm - or indeed welcome. Richard wondered if, given that the local economy depends so much now on tourism, there's a 'resentment' of us fair-weather visitors. Anyhow, we walked into Cedars, with its many empty tables, to be greeted with a sigh. The food was lovely, really fresh home-made, but grudgingly given. An inquiry about whether we could take our coffee to the Adirondack chairs on the balcony was shot down - no china outside. We might have looked like the plate smashing types.. by now.
Onto the sight I was really looking forward to, driving the 4.5 mile private road, Veterans Memorial Highway, to the top of Whiteface mountain, with spectacular views promised over the northern Adirondacks. It takes some driving to get past the town, past all the signs, to the actual rangers station that gives you admission. A lady in ranger's uniform ran forward to greet us - no camper vans! - parking is full at the top. I asked - politely, I really did - if we could find parking here, wait for campervans to come down, and then go up. No campervans! Not even if there's space? No camper vans! So in fact, no more camper vans today, full stop? No campervans! Yes Seinfeld fans. No Soup For You! Fine, fine, so we executed a five point turn in the narrow steep road with spectator motorcyclists I kid you not standing in same road watching, and forcing us to manoeuvre very slowly and carefully in between them. And set off again.
And the most bizarre coda of all - within minutes we spotted another sign promising a ski gondola experience up another face of the mountain. Could it possibly be open? Could the dreaded campervan possibly be allowed? Would it close just as we reached the front of the queue? Would we have to show American passports to be allowed to proceed? Didn't look so good as we arrived to a big Parking Lot Full sign.......
..... but as a vast empty expanse of car park was apparent behind it, we motored on in.
The gondola was open. A charming guide called Jeff showed us into our cable car. We were so giddy with relief we had a somewhat hysterical ride up, views stretching fifty miles over Lake Placid and beyond, a few photos to prove we'd made it, and down again.
(Hmm the original park ranger could have told us there was another way up the mountain 3 miles from our first attempt.. but darn it, that would have been helpful...)
Lovely couple of hours on the campsite beach. Richard made top garlicky prawns in spaghetti for supper. I spent much of the night awake baking in the heat and battling the Mosquitos that got in through the window we forgot to close. I need a shower. I need a laundromat. I'm fantasizing about a big bed with cool fresh sheets and a power shower.
But today -the fifth - we move on. Oh Canada!
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